Barely Alive (11 page)

Heather curtsied – uh, curtsied I think, I’ve never seen one before – and replied in equally hushed tones, “Yes, ma’am. I apologize for this untimely intrusion. Can I please have a moment to speak with you and Mr. McCain? I will not take long, I promise.” Desperation colored her cheeks, but embarrassment kept her eyes downcast.

Mrs. McCain studied Heather, disappointment hardening her smile. She turned her gaze to me and studied the cockroach shell I seemed to have grown. The faint graying on my fingertips missed her search by mere millimeters since my thumbs were hooked in my pockets and my fingers had curled into my palms.

She adjusted the V of her robe, revealing more flesh with freckles and elongated shadows. Lady got too much sun. The woman tilted her smile and pouted her lips at me. “You can come in. I’ll check on
her
.”

And the wench went on my about-to-be-bit list and not in a good way. I intertwined my fingers with Heather’s and pulled her into the house, pushing past the hussy she had for a mother. “We aren’t here for a visit. Where’s your husband? Is there anyone else in the house?”

A hand pressed to the sun-damaged skin, she called into the guts of the house. “Mr. McCain, we have visitors.”

Colorful language – words even I wouldn’t say – pummeled Mrs. McCain from down the hall. Stomping. Something hitting the wall. Both women winced. I grinned. Oh, please, please, let me stretch out my strength. Carrying Heather in all her thin petiteness wasn’t nearly exerting enough. I’d love the chance to beat the crap out of a “big man”.

He walked out, hands on his hips. Stubble darkened his face under thick glasses which magnified his eyes. I assumed he was Mr. McCain because of his presence, but he moved to stand on the third step of the nearby staircase to be on eyelevel with his wife.

No way in hell had this short imbecile created Heather.

Chapter 9

“
I understand you don’t believe me, sir. I wouldn’t either were I in your shoes, but your life is in danger.” Graying would come in handy at the moment, evidence to push our point home. But the mom and dad didn’t give a crap what happened to Heather and they were more annoyed with our presence than interested in the message we brought. I felt like a friggin’ missionary knocking on a “No Solicitors” sign.

Mr. McCain leaned forward in his large chair. Everything was large in the house. Everything but the owner. Real overcompensation was going on, but it looked like he had the bank account to support super-sized living. He curled his lip at me. It wasn’t pretty. “Look, kid. There’s no such thing as zombies. You say you’re one? I want to know what you really want. Money? Heather’s is locked up until she turns eighteen or I die. Neither of which are happening tonight, do you understand? You knock her up? Not my problem. She’ll get it taken care of, and you don’t need to be involved. As far as I see it, there’s no need for you to be here, spreading your stories.”

He pointed his short finger at Heather and I bristled. He was like Dominic but tiny. “Missy, I don’t know what you’re doing and I don’t care. This is the last straw. You’ll leave for boarding school next week. Until that time, get to your room. You’re grounded. Nothing – no friends, phones, TV, books, nothing until you’re out of my house. Understand?”

Mrs. McCain stared over everyone’s heads and twirled the ends of the robe tie in her fingers, perfectly poised, perfectly bored. I was tempted to make her perfectly dead.

Heather nodded, her eyes focused on the floor somewhere. I couldn’t believe the same girl sat next to me who had shoved me and held a knife on me. Had her dad hypnotized them, too?

I stood, grateful for my height, and crossed my arms. “No. She’s not doing anything of the sort. Heather is in danger. You’re in danger. You might not want to face it but it’s there.” I leaned down and grabbed Heather’s hand, the feel of her skin on mine tingled more than before – the food was wearing off. Her dark eyes had focused on me, hope in her gaze. I squared my shoulders. “She’s coming with me, even if you don’t want to. Understand?”

His eyes narrowed. The small man grew as he stood on the couch, puffing his chest out and leaning his head back in an odd rooster pose, claiming his territory. His voice boomed. “You will do nothing of the sort. I refuse to be talked to in this way by a —”

An explosion cut through the back of the house. Mr. McCain fell to the floor from his high chair.

I curled my arms around Heather, protecting her from the falling debris and dust. Mrs. McCain fell to the cushions of the couch, her whimpers smothered behind her hand.

Heather’s father crawled under the coffee table and grabbed his wife’s leg, pulling himself up and grunting. Coughs filled the room from Heather and her parents.

Shoving Heather into the corner behind an oversized vase, I blocked her with my body.

Dominic picked his way over rubble littering the hall. Nothing had changed, except his clothing to a sleek shiny business suit. Grace filled his steps and he seemed more adept at handling himself. The three red scratches screamed in his even paler face. Red smears around his mouth suggested a lack of control.

I started to relax, dropping my hands from the wall. I could take him. Easy. His tardiness in arriving at the McCains’ helped foster the doubt about his abilities. He was like me, but I had experience on my side. Bastard was going to be fun to beat the hell out of.

I started forward but stopped by the presence of a new creature in his shadow, even more like me. His broad shoulders and lanky legs pushed him taller than Dominic, taller than me. Shaggy hair brushed his defined jaw and the tops of his ears. But his eyes. The light flashing in his brown eyes matched mine.

He spied me in the corner, a tight snarl to his lips. “Hello, Paul.”

I winced. His voice reeked of hatred and anger. Nothing had changed, yet everything had changed. My whisper carried through the silence to my brother. “Hello, James.” I shot a glance at Dominic. “You know I’m going to kill you for this, right?”

Dominic laughed and clapped his hands. “Dear Paully. You and I both know you’re not going to do anything of the sort.” He stood on tiptoe and wrapped his arm around James’s shoulders, filling me with rage that burned my sensitive nerves. The bastard smiled, recognizing the tightness in my fists and the thrusting of my chin. He even motioned to Heather. “Give me the girl. The sooner I get started, the sooner we get a cure for your brother… and you.”

Oh, James.
I couldn’t breathe. The air had been sucked from my body by an evil man who didn’t understand loyalty or love. He was the devil incarnate and I stood between him and his goal.

Heather had the cure in her blood. She had to. Why else would she be immune? She gripped my shirt, the heat of her hands matched the burning under my skin. She needed me.

But James needed me, too. He didn’t know it, and judging by the hard slant of his lips, he remembered our fight, the things I’d said. Making things up to him would take a lot.

I looked at Dominic, pulling Heather toward the other corner, closer to the front door. “Did you bite him?”

Mrs. McCain squeaked. She stood in the center of the room, looking at us all as if seeing us for the first time.

Dominic ignored her. He folded his fingers together and hung his hands in front of his pants zipper. A tilt of his head and he said with a smile, “Of course. I had to use my last syringe on myself at the compound which means I bite and I spread it.” His grin darkened. “Now, you’re going to help me return to a human state or your brother will be where Tom was but under the animal building.”

So it
had
been the original holding tank for my kind. James didn’t know what Dominic referred to. His eyes hadn’t dropped from my face. Another boy about sixteen or seventeen moved to stand behind Dominic, and then two more.

Dominic held out his hands. “I will get what I want, Paul. It’s not
if
, it’s
when
. If you help me do it sooner rather than later, I’ll do my best to help the girl avoid pain.” He chuckled, and fiddled with the cuffs of his coat. His gang copied him, guffawing without understanding the joke.

“
Don’t you want her parents?” I pointed toward the frozen woman and the small man hiding behind her on the couch. Wouldn’t they be as helpful? I didn’t want Dominic to have any humans, but at that point, it was better them than her.

He inspected his nails. He seemed unable to hold still without fidgeting. “Nah. They aren’t even her real parents. They adopted her or something. I want her real parents, but I’m not sure where I would find them.” He shrugged. “I’ll take her. She has enough blood and DNA for my research.” Dominic waved his hand through the air, frustration laced his rising volume. “Look, she’s a girl. She’s not worth it. Don’t fight me on this, Paul, and you can lead the group again.”

James turned his attention to Dominic. He stepped to the side, from under Dominic’s arm. He tilted his head. “But I thought you said…”

Dominic cut him off. “I know what I said, but Paul has more experience than you. Don’t worry. He’s a few weeks ahead of you. You’ll have glory whether it’s now or later. Not a big deal, James.” He patted James’s arm. He turned to me. His eyes hardened. “Now. I want her.
Now
.”

Heather didn’t speak, or move. I worried about her breathing, she was so still. She was adopted. I couldn’t imagine what she was going through having just discovered the truth and from such a cold delivery. But it explained the differences between her and the people standing in the center of the living room.

James watched me and Dominic. His doubt had been smoothed over by Dominic’s words. He’d been hypnotized, but it couldn’t have been that thorough. Dominic hadn’t had much time with him. My crew and I had been worked for a couple hours a day for the first week. How long had James been worked on? The other guys?

How had Dominic gotten James? Was Mom okay? The questions came fast, knocking me out of the moment. I spoke to my brother before pride shut my mouth. “Where’s Mom? Did you eat her, James? Did Dominic tell you you’ll live forever, huh? ‘Cause he told me the same thing and guess what? Twelve weeks is
not
forever.” I pressed my lips together.

My brother looked at me, his forehead wrinkled with thought. “I…”

Dominic sliced his hand through the air. “Enough. James doesn’t care about your lies, Paul.” He looked at James whose eyes glazed over.

I had no idea what had happened. I’d never seen the effects of hypnotizing so clear, but there was a complete control I wasn’t sure could be attributed to hypnosis. The other guys didn’t react the same way and yet they orbited themselves around Dominic. He moved, they moved.

James and the other three zombies stepped toward us. Dominic hadn’t spoken or motioned them forward, and he didn’t stop them.

Mrs. McCain slapped her hands to her face and screamed. Again. I almost yelled at her to shut up.

Heather pushed to get past me, but I held her back. They weren’t even her family. My main priority was preserving her DNA. She was better off without them.

James would figure the truth out. He had to.

Dominic wouldn’t save us. He’d figure out how to manipulate the virus to keep us mindless, slave-like. Why would he return us to a human state when, as zombies, we were his soldiers? If anything, he’d work on a way to alter the atrophying process, improve the muscle tone rather than eat it, so that the body and mind would live together forever. But he’d apply it to himself and never to any of us.

Least of all me.

No, my original plan had to take precedence. I had to find Dr. Duncan.

The moment had frozen. The guys prowled in a circle around the McCains. Mr. McCain shoved his wife toward the nearest boy and made a run for it, trying to dodge under another guy’s legs.

The adults wouldn’t make it out of there alive. Their death would be the moment I’d need to get Heather out of there. She didn’t need to see them die and James wouldn’t be able to look away from the carnage. He’d lick his lips and drool. His hunger would be unreal this first week. And judging by his clean clothes, Dominic hadn’t fed him yet. That boded well for my mom.

I grabbed Heather’s hand and squeezed. Under my breath, I offered three syllables. “Get ready.”

She squeezed back.

Dominic’s gaze didn’t stay on us for long. He’d never had to face the severe, never-ending hunger the virus exposed us to. He watched the game the boys played as they pushed Mr. McCain from one to the other, a wide smile slicing across his face. Dominic couldn’t focus. He was hungry, too.

Hells yeah, I’d take the diversion. “Run to the car.” I whispered and slid around the corner into the front hallway behind her. Each step filled with desperate pleas to the universe that they wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t notice, wouldn’t notice. We made it to the front door before Dominic roared.

Human screams filled the air but I slammed the door behind us, cutting them off. I pushed Heather toward the Nova. We shimmied in and the engine turned over with sleek speed. I flipped the shifter on the steering column, grateful for automatics, and put all my weight on the gas pedal. One last look out the rearview mirror revealed James staring after me, which disturbed me more than the blood splattering the front room window. Then nothing as I revved out of the driveway.