Dia of the Dead (18 page)

“Dia! Dia! Help me, please Dia. Please! Help!” Kaci cried as she reached for me, her face contorted into an ugly mask of fear and pain.

I looked down at my hand on the doorknob. I could open the door and follow Reagan to the offices, hoping to make it there safely.  The temptation to open the door and forget about Kaci was great. I considered it for a moment, my fingers itching to turn the knob but my conscience wouldn’t let me go through with it. I couldn’t abandon my best friend. I looked back at Kaci. It seemed like Will was considering what part of her he wanted to tear into first. His head tilted from side to side as if he was trying to see what looked more appetizing, unfazed by the water the sprinklers rained down or the alarm’s noise.

What would Dia do?

I didn’t know if I was asking about Summers or Muerto but once my hand let go of the knob, I knew lugheaded Dia Muerto had won out. I rushed over to Kaci. Tears and snot mixed with the water streaming down her frightened face as she called for my help. Will’s grip on her arm was so tight that the color began to drain from
her skin. She squirmed and whimpered, trying to get him to let go as she reached for me. I offered my good arm to her. She grasped at it desperately, nearly yanking it out of the socket. I pulled. Kaci screamed as Will’s nails left deep, bloody lines in her flesh but she was free. We ran toward the door, trying to keep our balance on the slippery floor. 

I twisted the knob and found it was stuck. I jiggled it again. It didn’t open. Kaci pleaded for Reagan and Brendan to try to get the door open and heard nothing. Will had his black eyes focused on us and began a
slow creep our way. My pounding on the door became more urgent. I twisted and yanked and screamed for Reagan and Brendan’s help with a mix of fury and fear.

Will was closing in on us; a few more steps and he’d be able to sink his teeth into one of us. Then we’d definitely be goners. I gave the knob another twist, this time it opened. I grabbed Kaci by the wrist and pulled her outside with me. Brendan and Reagan waved us to the opposite wall where they stood. We were on the backside of the building, standing in the alley between Buildings Five and Six. Luckily, the alley was empty save for us.  But that wasn’t the case for the space beyond it. Growls, snarls and moans filled the air in a chilling symphony from the meandering bodies on the lot. There were at least fifty former-people that I could se
e,
and I knew there were more beyond them.

“What are we supposed to do now?” Kaci whispered.

I couldn’t pin down a thought long enough to come up with our next move. I blurted the first thing that came to min
d
.

“Try to blend in.”

“What? That’s the dumbest shit I’ve ever hear—“

A thud at the door that knocked it off its hinges was enough to shut Reagan up. In that instant, there wasn’t a barrier between
Will and us. His head emerged first then the rest of him. He clawed at the air and snarled. Brendan and Reagan hustled toward the opening, stopping just a few inches short of it. I turned to Kaci who appeared to be frozen, her eyes wide and staring at Will.

“Come on,” I whispered, taking her hand and leading her—in a hurry—to join the rest of the group. Getting to the office building with the amount of undead hanging out on the lot seemed like a daunting task. I took a deep breath, closed my eyes and said a quick, silent prayer. I opened them and began my Dia Muerto shuffle out of the shadows. I held my breath with each step I took, trying to avoid bumping into anyone. I looked around to see if I could find Brendan, Kaci, and Reagan. They weren’t too far behind, each of them trying their best to imitate the stiff or manic movements of those around us.

My plan to blend seemed to work as we slowly made our way toward the office building. My heart pounded so hard that I could hear it in my ears. I hoped those around me couldn’t. It seemed like we shuffled through the crowd for an eternity before we made our way to the entrance of the office building. On the other side of the glass door were several zombies milling about, including the receptionist.

“Dad’s exit is this way.” Reagan led the way, moving faster than I’d ever seen her move.

We followed her toward the other side of the building. Reagan pressed a few buttons on the pad attached to the door where the knob should’ve been and we heard a click. She opened it, stepping back into familiar territory. We followed her up the endless set of stairs to Mr. Bixby’s office. The adrenaline that coursed through my veins as we navigated the zombie minefield from building Six to here wore off as I walked up the stairs, leaving my hand with a slight tremble. By the time we reached the top, my wet clothes weighed a ton, and I felt like I might keel over. We dragged through the second set of doors into the small space between the stairwell and the office. I wasn’t the only person who struggled to keep placing one foot in front of the other. Reagan, Kaci, and Brendan all looked as exhausted as I felt. I rested against the wall while Reagan pecked a series of numbers into another keypad. The keypad beeped and the wall slid aside. Reagan hesitated, craning her neck from side to side, scanning the room. Her shoulders relaxed and she stepped inside.

Mr. Bixby’s office was just as we’d left it.  The furniture blocked the door and BB’s moans and groans could be heard from the hall. The TV was still on the local news though the scene outside the hospital had changed. The line of police cars that were lined up in front of St. Damian earlier were either flipped over or engulfed in flames. The policemen, suited in their heav
y-
duty armor were now among a crowd of people either savagely attacking one another or fleeing from the danger. The helicopter’s cameras couldn’t zoom in close enough to see the faces of the people in the crowd but from the movements of those chasing the people running for their lives, I could tell they were like those on the Bixby lot.

The problem was much bigger than a few drugged up actors wreaking havoc at a studio lot and turning people into zombies (as ridiculous as that sounded).  The situation had spread into the city and possibly further. I took a few steps back, my mind reeling from the gravity of the situation. My thoughts immediately drifted to Trisha Summers.

I’d been worried about her since all of this began but after seeing the footage on the news, I was even more so. Several scenarios featuring my mom in peril flashed in my head. I grabbed at the large pocket of the belt on my hip in a panic. I had to know where she was and I had to know immediately. I got the pocket open and pulled out my phone, holding it awkwardly in my left hand.

“This isn’t the time for texting,” Brendan’s voice interrupted my attempt at turning on the phone. He stood in front of the furniture in front of the door looking, looking very annoyed.

“I’m not texting. I’m trying to check on my mom.”

“You can do that later. Right now, we need to start making sure this place is safe enough for us to stay for the night. Put your phone away and help out.”

“Excuse me?” I was taken aback by his tone.

“You’re wasting time on your phone instead of helping check the doors.” 

Looking around for the doors he had referred to, I only noticed one extra from my previous count past where the bookshelf had been was a door. I didn’t notice it before because it seemed to blend with the wood paneling and eggshell painted wall, hidden in plain sight. Reagan opened it slightl
y,
and I caught a glimpse of cream-colored marble flooring of another room before she closed it again.

“Everything looks to be all right from where I’m standing.” I shifted my weight, placing my hand on my hip.

He looked over at the door. “Then make yourself useful by checking out the rest of the place.”

“I don’t like the way you’re talking to me right now, Brendan. I’m worried about my mother, and I want to try to see if I can get in touch with her again.”

“You’re not the only on with a family out there, Dia.”

“I didn’t say that
,
Brenda
n
. I just need to talk to my mom.”

“We all need to talk to our moms or dads or uncles or aunts, brothers, sisters, but we can’t.” His face had began to flush again as he approached me.

“We’ve tried to get in touch with them but couldn’t! You can do that later!” he barked.

If looks could kill, Brendan would’ve been a dead man. I glared at him, my left eye beginning to twitch. Anger bubbled in the pit of my stomach, growing and growing until my whole body radiated with the heat. Suddenly, something inside me snapped.

“I have had it! You guys are selfish, spoiled jerks!” I yelled, jamming the phone back into the pocket and glared at Brendan and Reagan. “You treat others like garbage and expect them to treat you like royalty! I’m tired of being nice! I’m tired of being too afraid to say the wrong thing and lose my career! I’m tired of trying to make friends and protect my image in this town! All of it’s bullshit now anyway!”

I stomped over to a set of golf clubs tucked in the corner of Mr. Bixby’s office. I grabbed one, setting it on the floor to lean against Mr. Bixby’s brown leather bag and snatched the navy cozy from it, tossing it aside.

“Since you’re barking orders Drill Sergeant Baker, Private Summers reporting for duty, Sir. I would salute but my arm’s all messed up now, Sir!” I stood rim-rod straight with the club at my side like a staff.

Brendan cut his eyes at me.

“What? Cat got your tongue now, Sir?” I marched around the room with the club as Reagan watched me in amusement while Kaci sat on the floor near the window. Brendan’s face began to turn red again.

“Dia, this isn’t funny.” He frowned.

“Are you upset, Sergeant?” I asked, marching through the room like a soldier on duty.

“Dia, come on. Stop dicking around.”

I stopped. “Stop being an asshole,” I shot back.

“He can’t stop being what he is,” Reagan said.

Brendan huffed. “Please not this again.” 

“I’ve been biting my tongue about this all day but since we’re probably going to die soon, why not? It’s about time we address this, don’t you think?” She raised a brow at Brendan who avoided her gaze. She stepped closer to him.

“I need to know what kind of guy flirts with another girl when they’re already dating someone, Brendan? In front of their girlfriend’s friends no less? And at an industry event?” Reagan’s voice was even and scarily calm.

“You two are dating? I thought you guys had broken up,” I said.

“We aren’t dating,” Brendan said quickly.

“We’re totally dating, Brendan. Our dinner at Nourriture was featured on like a million blogs just two weeks ago. That was a date. That means w
e
ar
e
dating.”

I wasn’t exactly up on top of the blog thing. In fact, I hardly, if ever, checked them. That was more of Kaci’s thing. She hadn’t mentioned any of this to me. I turned to her, waiting for her to chime in with her expert opinion but she remained quiet. She had ripped the hem of her pale pink tank top and tied it around her arm to stop the bleeding from Will’s scratch and had settled on the floor. She was looking out the window, not tuned into Brendan and Reagan.

“We aren’t dating,” Brendan repeated through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

“We’ve gone out more than once.”

“We went out as friends,” he said.

Reagan snarled.

“Is this why you don’t like me, Reagan?” I asked. “Because of Brendan?”

Her gaze shifted from him to m
e
.

“The reason why I don’t like you has nothing to do with Brendan, though flirting with him did nothing to help your case.”

“Then what’s the reason? Why don’t you like me? When we’re at events together, I’m polite. I smile, say ‘Hello,’ and when I try to have a quick chat, you completely shut me down. I don’t understand it. If it has nothing to with Brendan, then what is it? What have I ever done to you in my time here at The Bixby Network to make you hate me?”

“You didn’t do anything. I just don’t like you. You’re annoying.”

“What?” I cocked my head to the side in disbelief. “How am I annoying?”

“How are you not? You came to The Bixby Network with your sickeningly sweet cartoon princess act and everyone just fell head over heels in love with you. The guys fawn over you. Sloane constantly brags about how easy you are to work with. And my dad… my dad sings your praise
s
al
l
of the time. He never shuts up about the numbers fo
r
Dia of the Dea
d
. You’re like his little special snowflake star. Just like Missy
.
That’
s
why I don’t like you. You annoy me by existing.”

“…Oh.” I was speechless. I didn’t know how to react to Reagan’s laundry list of reasons she hated me. I’d saved her life at least a dozen times over the last couple of hours, and if that wasn’t enough to change her mind about me, then nothing would. I remembered one of my mother’s speeches about tough skin and decided to let it go. I didn’t need her to like me now anyway. The renewal o
f
Dia of the Dea
d
didn’t matter. Most of the cast and crew along with most of the city were real zombies. I had more important things to worry about than a stupid TV show.