Zomb-Pocalypse 2 (11 page)

We pull in, and I’m relieved to see that there aren’t zombies scratching at the outside of the house. Everything looks quiet. The garage door opens as soon as we pull in, and I know that Ryan was watching for us. I can imagine how worried he must have been because, if our roles were reversed, I would have been a wreck.

Silas backs us into the garage, and Ryan pulls the garage door shut. There isn’t a lot of light left, but I can still see a bit in the dimness of the garage. My door is wrenched open, and Ryan pulls me into his arms. I hug him back tightly, glad we made it back to him.

“Sunny was worried about you,” Ryan tells me, and I nod, hiding a smile in his collar—I don’t think Sunny was the only one.

“I’ll go and let her know we’re back,” I tell him, and he presses a kiss to my cheek before letting me go.

“Play nice,” I warn them as I walk away through the darkening house, my cheek tingling where Ryan kissed it. I wonder, not for the first time, what is up with all the chaste pecks? I crave the hungry, open mouthed kiss he gave me back in New York, but he hasn’t made a move like that since. The teenage girl part of my brain agonizes over it. Did he hate it? Is he just not that interested in me? The survivor side of me knows that we don’t have time for fooling around. I make my way upstairs and see a light coming out from underneath the bedroom door.

I walk in to find her playing with the dollhouse. A black garbage bag is taped over the window, and a camping lantern is lighting the place up.

“I’m back,” I say to get her attention, and she jumps up and races over to hug me.

She almost knocks the breath out of me when she connects with my waist with all the grace of a cement block.

“Hey,” I laugh, and she joins in.

“I’m glad you’re back,” she squeals, and her enthusiasm warms me up.

“Me too,” I tell her, and I really mean it.

“Do you want to play dolls with me?” she asks, and it’s a tempting offer. I look back at the door. Silas and Ryan are busy in the garage, so there is no one here to judge me. I look into Sunny’s hopeful face and nod.

“Okay,” I tell her, walking over and grabbing a doll in a sparkly purple dress. Dolls sound like the perfect way to unwind after almost getting eaten alive by zombies.

Chapter Eleven

“You going up to bed?” Silas asks, and I nod.

“I’m gonna go check on Ryan and Sunny, see how he made out putting her to bed,” I tell him, a smile tugging at my lips as I remember the way Sunny insisted that it had to be Ryan who read her a story. “Besides, it’s creepy down here in the dark,” I admit my ulterior motive, and Silas chuckles.

“It is a little grim, being in someone else’s house in the middle of all of this,” Silas admits, and I’m surprised that he’d admit such a thing to me. The living room would have been an ideal place to crash, but with the dog attacks—it’s too gruesome. That’s another reason this place is creeping me out!

We’ve had to hang out in the kitchen all night, and in addition to the chairs being hard and uncomfortable, the entire wall facing out to the back deck is made of glass. It lets in enough moonlight to see, but it’s also creepy and far too big to cover up with garbage bags. So candles and lanterns are out. Glass walls don’t exactly leave me feeling safe from the thousands of zombies wandering the countryside. When I raised the alarm, both Silas and Ryan assured me that the six-foot-tall wooden fence surrounding the backyard would keep the zombies away. I try not to think about the town where I met Silas and how the zombies had managed to push up against the back gate and break it open…

“I might come up with you,” Silas says, pulling my attention away from my dark thoughts. “It’s getting a little cold down here, a smaller room will hold the heat better,” he says, getting up off his chair and stretching his long body until I hear his back pop and crack. I wince, and he smirks at me, having seen my face in the moonlight. I give one last look out at the yard. Tonight is one of those cold, clear nights where the stars look extra bright, and the grass is covered in a thin layer of white frost. Winter is coming, and I am not ready to spend it without electricity and heat.

“Come on,” Silas says gently, touching my arm, and I jerk my gaze away from the window. “It will be alright,” he says, thinking my worry is only for the glass wall. I nod, and he keeps a warm hand on my arm to guide me through the dark house as we make our way upstairs. A crack of light escapes out from underneath the girly bedroom that Sunny has claimed for her own.

Silas and I creep in, not wanting to wake Sunny. Well—I creep—Silas is just naturally stealthy. We both stop and stare at Ryan and Sunny, a smile tugging my lips upward. Ryan is lying on his back with Sunny snuggled up against his shoulder, both of them sound asleep, tucked underneath the pink blanket. Though Ryan has also unzipped his sleeping bag and stretched it overtop the two of them for added heat. I walk over and gently remove the princess book from Ryan’s chest.

Silas grabs his own sleeping bag from our pile of stuff by the Barbie dream house and climbs the ladder to the top bunk. I hesitate, not sure what to do. The beds are only twin sized, and Ryan and Sunny are both sprawled out, leaving me no room to join them.

“I don’t bite,” Silas says with a chuckle from the top bunk, and I pause. It’s no big deal, I tell myself as I walk stiffly over to grab my own pink and red sleeping bag, courtesy of the camping store.

“Will you bring my backpack too?” Silas asks, and I nod as I snag the strap around my wrist and pass both things up to him before kicking off my shoes and climbing the ladder.

I roll my sleeping bag out beside Silas while he’s busy digging in his bag. “I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you,” he says suddenly, and I freeze, my heart accelerating to beat wildly in my chest.

“What?” I squeak, sure I am overreacting.

“Yes,” Silas confirms, grabbing my hand, and I look up at him sharply.

“What are you doing?” I ask in confusion, finally noticing the first aid kit in his lap.

“I want to take a look at those stitches I gave you, it’s probably time for them to come out,” he says, rolling up my sleeve, and I let out a big sigh of relief. I was overreacting, thank God. Silas isn’t interested in me like that. I’m so glad I didn’t freak out at him and make myself look like a fool!

I watch Silas gently poke and prod at my arm. It’s healed up a lot in the last week and a half, and now I barely think about the six-inch cut that runs a ragged line from my wrist towards my elbow. I look like I tried to kill myself.

Silas take a small pair of scissors from the bag, and I snatch my arm away from him. “What are you doing?” I demand, not liking the idea of anything sharp coming too close.

“I have to take out your stitches,” he tells me, surprisingly patient, and I hesitate.

“For Christ sake, you let me put them in didn’t you?” he demands, losing a bit of his cool.

“Yeah, but that was an emergency, and I didn’t know you then,” I quip, making him look up angrily. Though when he sees the smile on my face and knows I’m only teasing, he relaxes again.

“Keep it up and these stitches will start growing into your skin,” he warns me, and that does it for me. I hand over my arm.

“Is this going to hurt?” I can’t help asking. I’m a baby, and I know it.

Silas shrugs, and I narrow my eyes at him suspiciously. “No vodka today?” I ask, and he laughs.

“It won’t be
that
bad,” he promises, using the scissors to snip the knots at either end of the stitching. I wince, expecting pain, but it doesn’t hurt.

Silas carefully picks up one end of the thread and starts to tug it loose, and a burning sensation tears through my wound.

“Hey!” I almost yell before remembering to lower my voice, so it’s a whisper yell.

“It burns a bit, kind of like rope burn, but that’s all,” Silas tells me as he gives it another tug. It’s not horrible pain, but it’s also not pleasant. My eyes water a bit as Silas tugs the last piece of thread out. “All done,” he tells me, holding the string up like some sort of prize. “Do you want to keep it as a memento?” he asks.

I frown at him and shake my head. “No thanks,” I say, wrinkling my nose. “I think the scar will be memento enough to remember the time I almost died,” I tell him, and he nods, tossing the string over the edge of the bed. I almost tell him to get up and put it in the garbage properly, but I guess it doesn’t matter.

I stare down at my arm, at the jagged scar. It isn’t pretty, but I’m alive, and considering the circumstances, Silas did a pretty good job. I look over at him as he tucks away his tools and have to suppress a snicker. I can’t believe I ever thought this guy was a doctor.

Silas looks up and sees me grinning at him and smiles back. I run my hand over the scar, surprised at how fast the human body can heal itself. It barely hurts anymore, just the odd twinge when I try and do something crazy.

I tug my vest and weapons off, but leave them close by. Then I crawl into my sleeping bag that Silas has kindly unrolled for me and settle in, letting out a sigh as my tired, aching body finally has a chance to relax. I’m much too young to be this sore and tired at sixteen!

“What was your life like before?” I blurt out and feel Silas stiffen beside me. “Sorry,” I apologize, but he shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” he says, surprising me. “I’d just graduated high school a few months before all this started,” he says after a minute of silence—I didn’t really think he was going to answer. “I still lived at home, didn’t go to college or anything like that, but I was working in a welding shop, making pretty good bank.” I look over at Silas, but he’s staring up at the ceiling like he can see his old life up there.

“I partied on the weekends with my friends,” his voice catches, but he clears his throat and continues. “I hunted with Dad and my little brother, we lived on a great parcel of land that sat at the edge of some woods…” He trails off and then looks at me.

“What about you?” he asks, and I’m kind of disappointed. I wanted to learn more about Silas, but that was a lot for him to share though, so I don’t push.

“I was a junior,” I say, picking through my life in my head, trying to think of what to share. “Head cheerleader,” I add, and, predictably, Silas laughs.

“Figures,” he says softly, but I don’t detect any disdain in his voice.

“You saw the house I grew up in,” I tell him, and he nod.

“Yeah, it was nice,” he agrees, and I start to feel like I actually like the person lying beside me.

“My Dad is…was an investment broker, and my Mom was a house wife. We had these huge dinners every Sunday night—we were always so busy during the week—but we always came together on Sunday, usually Abby was there too.” A tear leaks down my cheek, and Silas reaches up and brushes it away.

“Do you think we would’ve been friends before?” I ask to change the subject as much as for my own curiosity, and Silas chuckles.

“Definitely not, Blondie,” he says honestly, and I know he’s right. Silas is the type of badass that good girls like me were warned to stay away from. I fall asleep with a smile on my face, remembering the good times even though they’re gone.

I’m having a great dream about my parents, life is back to normal, and we are happily planting a garden out back in our yard… A scream rips through the night. At first I think it’s part of my dream, but when I hear it again, it startles me awake.

For a second my confused brain teeters between wakefulness and sleep, trying desperately to hold onto the image of my parents—but they’re gone. I struggle to sit up, glancing blearily around. The lantern is still on, and the room is lit up like a Christmas tree. I accidentally elbow Silas in the stomach, and I hear him groan.

“Sorry,” I whisper automatically, “What’s going on?” I spy my weapons belt pushed down near the end of the bed and lunge for it, strapping it around my waist by muscle memory as my eyes adjust to the light, and I scan the room.

Silas jumps down off the bed and, after grabbing my vest, I scurry down to follow him. Sunny is sitting up in the bed, tears falling down her cheeks, and Ryan is sitting beside her, trying to comfort her. “What’s wrong?” I whisper, and Ryan shrugs helplessly.

“I think it was just a bad dream,” he says, but Sunny shakes her head.

“I heard them,” she sobs harder, and I start to get the creeps. Silas walks towards the door like he’s going to throw it open to prove there is nothing outside, but Sunny screams, and starts freaking out when he gets too close. “NO!”

“Silas, don’t,” I warn him, not sure if I’m siding with Sunny because opening the door will upset her further, or if I’m now just as scared as she is. Silas pauses outside the door, and then we hear it.

There is a sudden flurry of scratching at the door. In the quiet room it’s overly loud, and we all stop and stare at the door in shock, unable to look away. Sunny opens her mouth to scream, but Ryan slips a hand over her mouth. I look over at Silas, but suddenly I can’t see him because the entire room goes dark as the flame from the lantern flickers and dies.

“What just happened?” I whimper. I feel something brush past me and jump.

“It’s just me,” Silas murmurs, and I can hear him digging around. I can’t see anything, but I still pull my pistol from my hip. It makes me feel a little less helpless, even if it probably won’t save my ass in the dark.

The light from a flashlight beam cuts through the oppressive darkness. With the bag over the window, there hadn’t even been light from the moon.

Ryan still has his hand over Sunny’s mouth, and the scratching at the door hasn’t stopped.

Silas stops to check out the lantern. “It ran out of kerosene,” he tells us, and I’m only slightly relieved that it wasn’t some sort of ghostly intervention, just good old fashioned bad luck.

“Put the kid in the closet,” Silas barks out orders, and I half wish I could go hide in there too.

I watch Ryan carry Sunny, wrapped up in the pink blanket, and sets her in the closet, urging her to close her eyes and be very quiet. She whimpers when he shuts the door, but other than that, she stays quiet.

“What in the fuck is out there?” Silas demands when the scratching stops and a low chorus of growling takes over.

All three of us stand with our weapons out, pointed at the door, not sure what kind of monster is out there.

A bark interrupts the quiet, and all three of us stare at each other in surprise. “Dogs,” I whisper, my heart sinking. “There were more of them?” I ask, and the guys shake their heads. They don’t know any more than I do.

“It makes sense,” Silas says after a moment, looking pissed off. “We were so stupid. How didn’t we think this through?” he demands, pacing back and forth in the small room. I’m not following, and, by the look on Ryan’s face, neither is he.

“What?” Ryan demands, and Silas turns to us with an ill look on his face.

“One dog couldn’t have taken out that family we found downstairs,” his words sink in, and I start to shiver. It had been a family?

“Can they get in here?” I ask, not feeling as reassured as I should at finding out it isn’t zombies outside our door. The dogs are just as bad; they will still shred us apart, we just won’t turn into zombies after.

Silas nods his head. “Eventually,” he confirms all our fears.

“How’d they even get in here?” Ryan asks, and the glass wall flashes through my mind before I dismiss it. The dogs probably didn’t smash a window. We would have heard it break. Something tugs at my memory, and I suddenly remember the doggy door.

“The dog door,” I say out loud, remembering now that I saw one that led into the house beside the blood-stained dog house.