chapter Twenty-seven
The world I had created was crumbling all around me. I didn't have far to look to know whose fault it was. Sybil was becoming a zombie. Dark circles had formed under her eyes--eyes that were slowly becoming a sea of red.
"I think it's Principal Taft," she said again. "Or maybe it's Mrs. Mars. You're the only person in class she can't control. Turning you into a zombie would put you under her thumb like the others."
"Sybil, we've got to do something about that bite!" I couldn't think about who might have caused the attack, not with her life slipping slowly away. "We may not have much time. Remember what Principal Taft said about the carnival? They started changing right away."
'I know," she said softly. She sat there calmly, but I could smell the fear on her, like the stink of cheesy tennis shoes stinging in my nose ... or perhaps it was my own fear I smelled.
Cough.
"What was that?" Sybil whispered, looking around.
My breath caught in my throat as I recognized the odor stinging my nose. I'd smelled it before.
I put a finger to my lips, signaling for silence, and then pointed to the landing below us. "Someone's listening, "I whispered.
There was a slight rustling of clothing from the landing below.
"Whoever it is has all the answers." I grabbed Sybil's hand.
"What are you doing?"
I didn't respond. Silently, I pulled her downstairs. As quiet as we were, with every step we could hear the person retreating.
"He's on to us," I said. "Let's go!"
We bolted down the stairs two at a time, but the person we were chasing was doing the same. The culprit hit the first-floor landing and shot through the swinging door-- swoosh. We arrived seconds later and barreled through into the first-floor corridor. Silence. Empty. We looked up and down the corridor. Nothing.
"He got away," Sybil said, catching her breath.
"Or maybe it was she who got away."
Sybil slid to the floor. "I'm so tired."
"Rest," I said. She looked horrible. It was as if she'd aged ten years right before my eyes. But at least she wasn't a zombie ... yet.
That's when I saw it. In their retreat, the person's clothing had caught on a tiny nail sticking out of the door. A small piece of fabric now clung to the nail. "Look," I called.
I removed the tiny swatch from the nail. We examined it closely under the light. I rubbed the silky blue swatch between my thumb and forefinger, getting a feel for the soft material. I'd seen the fabric somewhere before. But where? I couldn't
remember, but I knew I had to. My best friend's survival might well depend on deciphering the tiny clue.
I turned to Sybil, slumped on the floor. Her complexion had turned ghastly pale. "Let me see the bite."
"Margot, it's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."
"I need to see how bad it is." I grabbed her hand and examined it. There were two tiny puncture wounds. "The thing's teeth didn't break much flesh. Maybe only a tiny bit of the virus got in. Maybe this is the worst of it."
She nodded. "I am feeling a bit better."
"Maybe I should try sucking it out."
She drew back her hand. "You mean like snake venom?"
"Yes. We might be able to limit the damage if I suck it out."
She smiled.
"What?"
"I knew the real Margot was in there somewhere." Her smile broadened. I looked away. The smile was as bad as her accusing stare. Same effect--heavy guilt.
"Give me your hand, Syb," I said, avoiding her eyes.
She shook her head. "You know I can't let you suck on my wound. It's too dangerous. Someone has to be around to end this thing."
Just my luck that someone would be me, the person who'd caused all this misery in the first place. "The boys," I said all of a sudden. "Maybe they have some of the antidote left." My voice rose with hope.
"They finished the antidote?" *
"Urn ... Yes. Baron didn't tell you?"
"No."
I couldn't tell if not knowing had hurt her. She was so out of it.
"Umm... He probably didn't tell you because he gave me
some to give to Dirk and it didn't work," I said, trying to justify Baron's silence.
"0h," she said softly. "But if it didn't work, what good would it do now?"
"Well... Maybe it just didn't work on Dirk. Maybe it'll work on you."
"No offense, Margot, but I wouldn't put much faith in a failed antidote." She was smiling again. "Although I appreciate your optimism."
"We have to try something!" My words reeked of desperation.
She nodded and heaved a deep sigh. "I guess we do." She shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."
School was out by the time we reached the basement. The zombie students had all vacated the premises. Walking the halls with Sybil made the dimly lit basement seem even creepier. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, punctuating the silence around us. She's beginning to sound like one of them, I thought. I quickened my pace.
Up ahead we saw the handwritten cardboard sign declaring THE FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE hanging on the door. I was flooded with relief.
We entered. The room was empty ... abandoned was more like it. Baron and Milton's hideout, which had once contained lab equipment and youthful optimism, now appeared to have been ransacked. A prickly feeling spread over my entire body, as if someone were sticking me with hundreds of tiny needles.
"They're not here." My eyes darted around the room. "This cannot be happening." Hurriedly, I began rummagmg through the dusty bins and cubbies, hoping to find the antidote. Nothing.
Sybil seated herself on a lab stool, watching me go through
my search. I glanced over at her a few times. She appeared to be resigned to her fate.
"Someone got to them," she said. These were words I didn't want to hear, couldn't accept.
"I bet they went into deep hiding. You know, until they could fix the formula. You know how secretive Milton can get." My mind raced, searching for a plausible reason as to why they weren't here.
She shook her head, "Looks like there was a struggle."
She was right. It appeared more than a hasty retreat. It appeared forced.
"Someone got to them," she repeated.
So much for plausibility. We were silent for what seemed like forever. I could hear the sound of our hearts beating, hers with a slow, rhythmic pulse, mine racing like the wind.
"You need to stay away from me. Who knows when the change will come? When it does, I may try to kill you."
"You wouldn't," I said, my voice cracking. "Even as a zombie, I know you wouldn't."
"Don't be so sure. Dirk tried to kill you."
"Dirk's not my best friend. He's practically a stranger."
"He's your boyfriend."
Some boyfriend, I thought. "Sybil, we need to look for Baron and Milton. I'm not going to leave you until we find a way to stop the change."
"And if we don't?"
"We will," I replied. "Now, let's get out of here."
We took the long walk back up to the first floor. I had no idea where to look for the boys. For all I knew it was too late. They could already be zombies.
When we arrived back in the main corridor we heard
voices coming from down the hall. We exchanged a quick glance and headed in the direction of the voices.
I prayed it was Baron and Milton. Only they could end this nightmare and save my friend's life. As we got closer, we realized the voices were coming from Mrs. Mars' office.
A questioning look passed between us as we approached the office. The office door contained a huge pane of thick, opaque glass taking up most of the top half--impossible to see through.
Mrs. Mars was inside. She was arguing with someone.
"You failed!" she boomed in angry hoarse tones.
"Who's she talking to?" I whispered.
We crept up to the door, making sure we stooped below the glass pane so as not to be seen. We pressed our ears firmly against the wooden door. The sound of things crashing to the floor reverberated in the corridor as Mrs. Mars paced back and forth in silence.
"Is she arguing with herself?" I asked.
"Shh."
Suddenly she stopped, and I was certain she'd heard us. I held my breath, fully expecting the door to come flying open.
"Perhaps there's a way," she said. Her voice was much calmer now. Then she said something we couldn't make out, but the last part was crystal clear: "... and after that, Margot Jean Johnson, you are mine. Zombies rule!" she finished with a sinister, throaty chuckle.
Sybil and I looked at each other, astonished.
Mrs. Mars was the person who wanted us... er, me ... dead... er, undead.