Through the Zombie Glass

“Ever heard of a phone? Texting?”


“Cole watched me the entire time. And do you really think a zombie is capable of taking my calls?”

“You were in the locker room alone for several minutes. You could have gotten a message to someone at Anima,” Trina spat. “They could have arranged this.”

“You think I’m wearing a wire, too?” He ripped his shirt over his head, revealing a hard, cut physique I hadn’t known he had.

A hand penetrated my line of sight, and I glanced up. Gavin stood in front of me, offering me assistance. I twined our fingers, and he tugged me to a stand. I wasn’t as strong as I’d thought, because my knees almost buckled. He wound his arm around me and held me up.

A chair skidded. I saw Cole stand, brush Mr. Ankh aside and stalk into the locker room. The door slammed shut with a loud bang.

Of course, Veronica followed him.

*

I fell asleep thinking about ways to disable Z.A. Cut off my hands? Remove all my teeth? Then I’d live, and she’d have no way of hurting anyone.

Let’s make that plan B.

The ring of my cell woke me. From the bed, I blindly reached out, patting my nightstand. “Hello,” I rasped when the phone was at my ear. What time was it?

“You missed our appointment, Miss Bell.”

Dr. Bendari?

I jolted upright. The fancy wall clock said it was 5:59 a.m. I’d set my alarm for six, and—my phone vibrated, right on cue. I needed to get ready for school.

“Something came up,” I said. “I tried to call, but you shut off your phone.”

“A necessary precaution.”

“And why is that?”

“Do you expect me to believe you don’t want your slayer friends to capture me?”

Reverse psychology? Please. “I’m the one with doubts, Dr. Bendari. You could be planning to murder me.”

“I guess we’re going to have to trust each other. Are you still interested in meeting?”

“I am.”

“Good, because I’d like to hear about the trouble you had last night.”

Had he sent the spy...his source? “How do you know about that?”

I imagined him shrugging as he said, “How else?”

“Well, the only way your source could have heard about last night’s activities was if he was at the scene.”

A chuckle devoid of humor crackled over the line. “Is that so? Well, you should check the morning news reports.”

The news? I scrambled for the TV remote, pressed Power. Colors filled the screen. I switched channels and came to—

“—awoke to find twenty-six people had died from antiputrefactive syndrome,” a reporter was saying. She stood on a street, the address of a neighborhood close to Cole’s scrolling across the screen.

Antiputrefactive syndrome: when the human body was infected with zombie toxin. Although civilians had no idea that was the cause.

The reporter continued. “Last year, two local high school boys died of this rare disease, and citizens were told it was not contagious. Just a month ago, an elderly man died. How and why are so many infected? The CDC has arrived, and the houses of the affected have been quarantined.”

Dr. Bendari sighed with regret. “People were killed, Miss Bell. People who will rise again. Zombies entered their homes and ate every bit of their humanity, leaving only evil behind.”

“Why?” The moisture in my mouth dried. “How?”

“Not every home has a Blood Line.”

That would change, I thought, fisting the comforter. Soon.

For once, the C word actually empowered me.

“The zombies are mutating,” he explained. “Just like you are mutating. They’ve become hungrier. They’ve become stronger. They—”

My door burst open and banged against the wall. Mr. Ankh and Mr. Holland strode inside. Both were scowling with a fury they’d never before directed at me. My heart drummed inside my chest, nearly cracking my ribs.

“What’s going on?” I demanded. “What are you doing?”

Dr. Bendari said something, but I couldn’t make out the words.

“Come with us, Ali,” Mr. Holland said. “Now.”

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