“The truth?”
Mackenzie protested, but Cole said, “Yes.”
I opened the dining room doors and Nana rushed inside, Mr. Holland close to her heels. Both of them scanned the room.
“Carl!” Nana gasped, throwing herself on top of Pops’s motionless body, as if to act as his shield from further damage. “Wake up. You have to wake up.”
I had to choke back my sobs. “He can’t, Nana. He’s…he’s gone.”
“No. He’ll wake up. He will.”
Eventually, though, she realized the truth and cried all the harder.
Cole helped her to her feet and led her to one of the chairs he’d righted. “There’s something Ali wants to tell you before the authorities arrive.”
I sat next to her. I was shaking, breathing so shallowly I knew I’d hyperventilate if I failed to calm down.
Though I feared she would decide I was crazy, that we were all crazy, I told her about the zombies. About Dad’s ability, and now mine. I told her that people trying to control the zombies had broken into the house, that somehow a zombie had bitten and infected Pops.
Zombies had changed Pops. Killed his body—and I’d had to destroy his spirit.
With every sentence I spoke, she released a pained moan, and each of those moans choked me up. By the end I could barely understand myself.
“This is…this is…” She couldn’t quite make herself say the words that would condemn me, but I knew she was thinking them. She had to be.
“Unbelievable, I know,” Mr. Holland said, picking up the slack. “But she’s telling you the truth. This is why she’s been gone so much. This is why she’s been bruised. This is why she snuck out that night.”
Cole crouched between us, his solemn gaze on Nana. “It’s time to call 911. You can’t wait any longer, or there will be questions. Tell them he collapsed.”
I knew why he wanted that. The authorities would do an autopsy and decide Pops had died of that “rare” disease.
Her chin trembled, tears continuing to track down her cheeks and leave red marks. She looked at me, taking in my battered face. “He was so ashamed. He told me only this morning that the people who broke in dragged him outside. He was so scared, thought they were going to kill him. But they took him past the fence, held him down, told him about the horrible things they were going to do to him. He said the more terrified he became, the more he felt little pricks of heat in his chest. He thought he was having a heart attack. Then he heard the sirens. They let him go, and he rushed back inside.”
Rage bloomed inside me, white-hot, consuming. So. The people Justin worked with were responsible. They had forced my Pops past the Blood Line, had filled him with fear, an aphrodisiac to the zombies, and then watched as he was devoured.
Maybe Justin and Jaclyn hadn’t known. Maybe they had. Either way, their leaders had expected Pops to infect me—to turn me into a zombie. What I wasn’t sure about was whether they wanted to experiment on me or end me.
“I’m sorry, Ali,” Cole whispered, and I knew he’d arrived at the same conclusion I had.
My life had just taken another terrible turn, and I had a sick feeling things were only going to get worse. And you know what? I’d had this feeling several times before…and not once had I been wrong.
17
A Nightmare of Zombie Proportions
For the third time in less than six months, I attended a funeral. Unlike the others, this morning dawned bright and beautiful. The air was cold enough that I needed a coat, the wind a frenzy; it was the kind of day my dad had loved.
This time, I wasn’t closed off from the proceedings. I couldn’t be. Nana needed me too desperately. I sat beside her and clutched her shaky hand. I let her cry on my shoulder, and then I cried on hers.
Cole sat on my other side and held my other hand. He was my rock. He’d picked us up, not wanting either of us to drive while we were so emotional. We hadn’t had a vision, and that had surprised me, but I hadn’t had the energy to figure out why.
An even bigger surprise—Cole had given me an iPod loaded with music he’d thought I would like. He’d noticed I was without one. I’d been crying too hard to say thank you. I know he felt bad about what had happened to Pops, and he was trying to make things better for me, but the fault was not his.
“We’re digging into Anima Industries,” he’d said when I’d calmed. At my quizzical look he’d added, “The company Justin works for. We’ll find a way to take them down, once and for all.”
“Good.” The sooner the better.
I watched as people walked past Pops’s casket to pay their respects—and saw Emma winding her way through them, the wind not touching her. No one else spotted her. Tears tracked down her cheeks. She stopped in front of me and placed her dainty little hands on my shoulders.
I felt the slightest pinprick of heat.