On Your Mark...Get Set...STOP!
I woke up alone, drenched in sweat and gasping for breath, another dream of the accident hovering at the back of my mind. I’d seen my mother reaching for me. Felt the unusual heat of her touch. Heard her yell at me. Then I’d watched as the zombies finished eating my dad, glided to our car and jerked her out, ready for dessert.
She’d fought against their hold, her expression panicked. She’d called my name again. “Alice! Alice!”
I’d struggled to reach her, begging the creatures not to hurt her.
Then nothing.
Now I wanted to cry.
Why was I seeing this? It hadn’t happened. Not really.
Had it?
Had I woken up in the car and just didn’t remember? Could this be my mind’s way of reminding me?
Mom had ended up outside, next to my dad, even though she’d been in the car when I’d lost consciousness.
“Cole,” I said, patting the space next to me. I needed his arms around me, strong and sure. He would comfort me, whatever the answers.
The mattress was disappointingly cold. He was gone.
I thought...yeah, I remembered hearing him speak to me before he’d taken off.
“I’m supposed to believe you? Just like that,” he’d said, his tone angry.
No, he hadn’t been speaking to me. There’d been a tense pause before he’d snapped, “Stop calling me, Justin. I told you a long time ago I’m done with you. There’s nothing you can do or say to change that.” Another crackling pause. “No, I don’t want to hear the info you’ve got.”
I knew of only one Justin. Either Cole had been on the phone with a boy he’d sworn never to speak with again, or my mind had played tricks on me. Right now I wasn’t exactly in a mind-trusting mood.
Gingerly I sat up to gaze around the room. Bright sunlight slanted through the window. The ice-blue comforter draping the four-poster bed was wrinkled, and one of the pillows was stained with flecks of black from Cole’s face paint. Oops. I’d have to clean that off before I left.
His weapons were no longer piled on the floor, and neither were his clothes. In fact, the only other sign that he’d been here was the note on my nightstand.
I’m at the gym. Call me and I’ll come for you. X C
Humming with sudden happiness, I brushed my teeth, showered and dressed in my winter workout clothes. I dialed his cell, and...went straight to voice mail.
“I’m awake and ready,” I said. “You can come get me anytime.” I didn’t have a car. Or a license. Only a permit. If I didn’t hear from him soon, I’d walk. The gym was at a barn a few miles away. “I hope you’re prepared to have your butt handed to you.”
When I hung up, I noticed there were eleven texts waiting for me. All from my best friend, Kat. I grinned as I read.
One: Frosty SUCKS!
Two: Have I mentioned Frosty sucks it raw??
Three: How do U feel about murder? 4 or against?? Before U answer, know that I have good reason!
Four: If 4, do U know good place 2 hide body??
The rest described the many ways she’d like to kill him. My favorite involved a bag of Skittles and a silk scarf.
Mmm. Skittles.
My stomach rumbled, and I set my phone on the nightstand. I’d call Kat after breakfast, when she was more likely to be awake and I was more likely to be lucid, and find out what happened. There was a good chance Frosty had simply failed to call her after the fight last night, and she’d worried. I wasn’t sure how to comfort her about that. She’d made it clear the zombies weren’t a topic of conversation she welcomed.
First, though, I cleaned every inch of my room. I refused to let Mr. Ankh’s housekeeper do it for me. I wasn’t a sponge and wasn’t going to take anything for granted. I was determined to give back, somehow. Thankfully, water and hand soap removed the paint from the pillow.
“Alice.”