Gods of Anthem (47 page)

The guard forces me back into my seat, but I’ve already wilted anyway, sniffling and wiping my eyes. I face the black, night-filled window, where a flash blossoms, and in it are small, barely visible people—a legion of them running up the grass, hunched and hiding.

My gaze snaps to Reginald.

The Skulls, or whoever is with them, are at our doorstep already.

Had he seen them?

But Reginald’s lighting another cigar and hasn’t noticed.

Nonchalantly, he says, “My son has always fancied himself a poet. The day he gave me his first book of poetry, do you know what I did?”

I force myself not to glance at the window again, even though it’s like a burning ache in my sternum to ignore the visual proof of freedom at our gates.

“I threw it into the fire,” he continues. “After reading every single word, I burned it, and then I sent him to be purged. That book. The fire. It’s what gave me the idea. His first poem even said ‘poison in the veins.’ He’s a brilliant boy, even if he is willful.”

Reginald laughs haughtily and slaps his thigh.

“Is that what you’ll do to me?” I ask, trying to distract him.

“Certainly,” he says. “One way or another. Do you know what the purging is?”

Curiosity drives me to reply. “Some say it’s spider venom.”

He scoffs. “Oh, no. That would be … useless. Let me explain. Have you seen any of the resuscitated dead up close, what they really look like? The idea is to basically short circuit the brain, except for a few parts. Despite the rumors, they’re not as dead as we’d like to believe. It only seems that way because they fight a constant battle of rigor mortis.” He grimaces, and my stomach spins. “Nasty business.”

Then, Reginald holds up one finger, like his points need help being made. “But! If you’d seen it in the small stages, the early infections … Oh, how to explain … This mutation of cells, whenever it happens in a microscope, it’s like lightning in a bottle—in a body. The change happens like that.” And he snaps his fingers. “So, I got to thinking: what if there was a way to slow down this process? This, I wanted to know most of all. So we tried it by purposefully introducing it into the bloodstream a bit at a time through breaking the virus down to almost nothing.”

My jaw drops.

“Sure, we learned it has side effects, that the patient will eventually turn into a zombie at a much later date. But at just the right ratio … ah well, it’s certainly a thing of beauty. Loss of pain, lack of resistance, and stiffening. Best of all, incredible strength. Almost impossible to kill.”

I grip my face, hands shaking. “What do you mean they turn into a zombie…?”

He shrugs, as if it’s no consequence. “They always turn eventually, no matter what.”

“Even after one time?” My middle is hollow and echoes with each word.

His smile is nothing short of evil. “Even after one drop, my dear. Shall I give you a demonstration?” He gestures to the guard who was holding my arms before. “Remove your helmet.”

My eyes spring open. I’ve never seen them without helmets, except for that one who’d attacked me, but he was already a zombie. This one’s unlatching the black visor with a pop, lifting it to release a familiar thatch of floppy brown hair that just touches his brow.

Eyes of purple haze watch me impassively.

The world burns.
Orange skies blend into purple ones, while the ocean laps peacefully in the distance. I walk into the soothing green.

But what I thought was the ocean turns out to be the lake by my farm. Somehow, I’m back home again.

I roll my pants up and wade out.

“Tommy,” my sister calls to my back. “Dad’s gonna be mad if you don’t go help them with the well.”

I shrug.

After she leaves, I take in the tranquility with a sigh. It feels like forever since I’ve truly been at peace, and this is serene. The sun’s almost set, and the sky has turned a perfect blue, like time has rolled all the way back.

“Remember this?”

I pivot to find Daisy standing there, only she’s not a zombie anymore but her old self. The other had been the dream.

This version’s true.

She grabs my hand. “We used to hang out here for hours. I never wanted to go home, and you never wanted to do chores.”

“It was perfect.”

“Yeah.”

I frown down at the water. Something feels missing, some important puzzle piece I should know about, yet when I focus too hard, it flits away.

Daisy pulls me around to face her, linking her other hand with mine. “But we aren’t here, Tommy, and we never will be again. You need to wake up. Please. Wake up.”

I stare back in confusion as her face greys, her lips turn blue, and red blossoms around her green irises again.

“Wake up!”

My eyes snap open. Vero’s sitting over me. She’s panting while blood drips from her face and onto mine. “Wake up, Tommy! Wake up!”

Behind her lurch zombies, too many to count.

And fire.

Pain, a relentless sizzling, biting pain jolts like lightning through my legs, my neck, my stomach, and my back.

It peaks, and my vision shrinks.

“No, no, no!” Vero shakes me. “Wake up!”

I do, and the pain is gone, replaced by a feeling of freezing over. I’m so cold.

I tell her this, and she places a hand to my cheek, eyes filling with tears, mouth moving so fast nothing comes out of it.

I feel as though I’m smiling.

I want to touch her face, but can’t seem to move.

She kisses my forehead, and even though I can’t feel it, I’ll never underestimate that gesture again. Warmth spreads into that spot and down through me like hot cocoa.

That’s when I realize it’s her Special; her hands are lit up.

“No,” I manage to say.

She draws her lips close to my ear. “Let … me … help,” she chokes out. “I love … you.”

When the heat dissipates, Vero slumps over, head on my lap, blood oozing from a gash on her head. I sit up and grab her by the shoulders. She has too many scrapes and bites to count, and her eyes are closed, mouth softly open.

“No, Vero, no, don’t do this! Please wake up!”

I pull her close.

“Vero, don’t go.”

But when I search for a pulse, I find none.

And that’s when I start to transition.

Blackness swallows me
,
and I let it.

Wind on my face. I’m running. He’s running, the monster.

A warm splatter.

Then … nothing.

I come to myself feeling wet. My cheek scratches on a gritty surface, and my body moves without effort. Liquid flows over my face, into my nose and mouth—I choke on it.

Salt burns my sinuses.

I wake, sputtering and coughing. It’s long past dark on the beach and I’m lying on my side on the sand.

The water rushes toward me, and I’m submerged again.

I let it roll me out, and then back in again.

My ragged memory fills in the blanks: The ship. Joelle. The fight. Vero. She’d sacrificed herself for me. I sit upright with a choked sound; my legs are too weak to stand. The shoreline’s empty. No idea how long I’d been in transition.

A distant explosion on the water erupts, then a bright light floats so far off, it’s a mere dot.

Takes me a moment to realize what it is.