“The bottom’s slimy,” Liam yells out to me. “Be care—”
Too late. I’ve already put weight on my submerged foot. It shoots out from under me, sliding sideways on the slick layer of algae.
“Oof!” I try to catch myself, but end up splashing ungracefully face-first in the water.
When I surface, I’m surprised to find myself laughing. When Liam sees I’m not hurt, he laughs, too. So of course, I have to splash him for laughing at me, and he fights back. I squeal and splash and drink more water and revel in the sheer joy of being outside, swimming in the sunshine on a cloudless day, feeling the wind on my skin. Being with a cute boy doesn’t hurt my mood, either.
I sneak another quick peek at Deke, but he seems oblivious to me, which is weird since Liam and I are making a major ruckus.
After we finish our splash fight, we float on our backs for a while and rest, sitting on the bottom of the pool. The water only reaches our necks. My hand touches a lumpy object on the bottom of the pond. It’s my soap packet.
“What’s that?” Liam asks, staring suspiciously at the dripping bag in my hand.
“It’s full of liquid soap. I’m going to wash my hair.”
He tilts his head, studying me. “Your hair is so long. I guess it’s hard to reach the back of it.”
“You have no idea.”
“Do you want me to help you? I could get the back.”
Now, I’ve been washing my own hair for more than a decade, and I’m perfectly capable of reaching all of it, but Liam doesn’t need to know this.
“That would be a big help,” I say, trying to sound sincere.
Liam soaps my hair while the others paddle around in the pool. Apparently, hair washing is an acceptable form of touching in a public place—no one gives us a second glance.
Except Deke.
Even from across the pool, I can’t miss the dead-even stare, the tightening of his jaw, the face filled with hurt. My cheeks flame.
It’s not his business, I tell myself for the zillionth time.
Why in the world am I obsessing over Deke? I should be obsessing over Liam’s abs or something. What the heck is wrong with me?
I force myself to study the murky green depths of the pond, then the endless blue of the sky—to look anywhere except at Deke.
I am here with Liam and he is touching me. I’ve dreamed of this forever. I will not think about Deke. I will exist only in this moment with Liam.
My breath catches in my throat. Was it my imagination, or did Liam’s hand just caress the back of my neck? I’m paralyzed, waiting to see if he’ll do it again.
Coming closer.
Oh, crap. Please let that not be my voices.
“Did you say something?” I ask Liam.
“No.” He seems kinda nervous. I wonder if Deke told him about my “abilities.” If he did, I’m gonna kill—
Coming closer.
Yep. Definitely heard it that time.
“Did you hear a voice?” Liam asks me, his face serious.
I ignore his question. “Liam, we need to go back.” I hurriedly splash at the soap dripping in my eyes.
“But we just got here.”
“No, honestly. I…I have a bad feeling,” I add lamely.
Liam stares at me. “Donna, this is important. Did you hear a voice?” he repeats.
“Did you hear it, too?” I ask, confused.
“I knew it,” he says, pounding his fist into the water, “I knew it.” He smiles like crazy. “My mom’s been studying girls like you. Girls with silver—”
I interrupt him. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but it will have to wait. I have never heard my voices so insistent. Which means we need to get out of here. Pronto.
“I want to leave now,” I say, tears in my voice. “We all need to go.”
“Okay, I’ll take you back.” But he doesn’t sound convinced.
“Deke!” I yell, turning on the spot.
Beside me, Liam checks his watch again.
Closer and closer.
“Deke!” I yell again, louder this time as I climb out of the water, dripping everywhere.
Deke looks up from the other side of the pool, where he’s sitting with Bo. “What’s up?” he yells, his voice cold.
“We gotta bail,” I shout back. “Now.”
Our eyes lock. A wave of understanding passes between us. Instantly, all the Liam/Deke drama slides away.
Deke hops out of the pool. “Everybody! Out of the water. Fast.”
Closer and closer and closer.
Why did we come here? It was idiotic to think we were in the clear.
I dash for the bench and scoop up my hoodie. I don’t care if I drip on it. I barely have time to pick up my bottle of water before the voice speaks again. Only one this time; not the usual chorus. It’s the woman—the one whose voice shows up only at certain times.
Her words are soft and precise, and for some reason, that’s scarier than any other time my voices have spoken.
She whispers in a low hiss, “Look over your shoulder.”
I turn in slow motion. Behind me, emerging from the trees, is my best friend, Phoebe.
Chapter Seventeen
It’s Phoebe. Overwhelmed by a sudden flash of joy, I yell her name and rush toward my friend. She lifts her arms like she’s ready to hug me. But something is wrong with her manicure. Broken fingernails, chipped polish—but something else, too. Something black embedded in the nail beds. Dried blood.
I realize it’s Pheobe, and yet, it isn’t. Leaves are matted in her pink hair, and one of her front teeth is missing.
It was Pheobe.
“No!” I shout, despair and heartbreak paralyzing my body. I try to step back, but it’s too late. Phoebe’s hands clamp my neck. The glass bottle slips from my fingers, shattering against the cement. Over the thrumming of my heart, I can barely make out screams ringing out from the opposite side of the fountain.
We’re under attack.
I can’t focus on anything but Phoebe—the girl who’s been my best friend for ten years—the girl who’s trying to wrench me close enough to bite.
Too late, I remember my golf club, sitting on the bench, at least ten yards away.
Someone calls my name. But it blends with my voices, who are also calling me.
Donna! Donna! Donna!
I lose oxygen. The landscape tilts. Above me, palm fronds crisscross against the blue Florida sky. Phoebe’s growl is loud in my ear; her breath hot against my cheek.
Thwack. My neck is suddenly free.
I gasp for air. My vision clears enough for me to make out my rescuer. Deke. Always Deke.
“Get out of the way!” he yells, pushing me aside.
He socks Phoebe in the stomach with his bat, and she crumples to the ground. He spins to strike another monster lunging from behind.
Donna Donna Donna
The voices are unable to focus, either—simply yelling my name over and over like a recording stuck in a loop.
Donna Donna Donna
In my peripheral vision, I see Liam slam his fist into a soccer player’s snapping jaws. The goon lets out an unearthly howl and topples backward over a bench, landing headfirst in the shrubbery.
Fabio and Stanley are on the opposite side of the pool, each taking more than his fair share of zombies. Fabio’s copper pipe flashes in the sun. Thwack. Thwack. Thwack. Several zombies collapse to the ground, temporarily unconscious.
Nearby, Gretchen swings her weapon, throwing her weight into the blow. The pipe crashes into a zombie’s rotting backside.
“Urrrrggghhh!” the zombie protests.
“Hit them in the head—only the head!” Deke shouts.
The advice comes too late. Gretchen screams. Her blond curls disappear in a mass of grabbing, ashen hands.
“Gretchen!” I yell, but she can no longer hear me. She swoons and collapses to the ground.
Donna Donna Donna
Stanley and Bo are surrounded. Stanle
y hefts his ax, but he’s too slow. Three zombies lunge for Bo at once.
“No!” Stanley shouts, putting himself between the ghouls and the little boy.
“Bo!” I scream. “Run!”
He darts away, just as a zombie sinks its teeth sink in Stanley’s shoulder. Stanley grunts once and slumps to the ground, his ax clattering useless against the cement.
Bo flies past, sobbing, with Fabio close on his heels yelling his name. Everything blurs. I fumble on the ground, instinctively grabbing what’s left of my broken bottle.
Beside me, Phoebe writhes on the walkway, trying to get up. Her pale, translucent skin seems to glow in the sunlight. Deke stands over her, raising his bat.
“Don’t!” I turn away, unable to watch him crush my best friend’s skull. The bat falls with another ear-splitting thwack.
Deke spins me back toward him. “Did she bite you?” he gasps.
“You beat up my best friend!”
“Are you bitten?” he repeats in a panicked tone.
I punch him in the chest. Which does absolutely nothing because I’m a major wimp. Hot tears spill down my cheeks.
Deke grabs my free hand, “Listen, Phoebe was my friend, too, and that,” he points in the direction of her motionless body, “was not Phoebe.”
I sob hysterically. I know he’s telling the truth, but I can’t…I just can’t…anything.
“Stanley,” I tell Deke through my tears, “and Gretchen.”
“I know,” he says, sounding anguished. “I know, Donna. But we have to go.”
Across the pond, three zombies huddle over Stanley’s body. His purple boots twitch and spasm.
Liam slides next to us, out of breath, his face shining with sweat. There’s no time to register how glad I am he’s not hurt.
“They b-bit Stanley,” I stammer. “And Gretchen.”
Liam is completely stunned. “There are so many of them,” he says, staring at the zombies on the far side of the fountain. “Why are there so many? Let’s get out of here. While they’re distracted.”
“Where’s Bo?” Deke asks.
“He ran back. With Fab—” Liam breaks off and we follow the line of his gaze. More infected emerge from the nearby undergrowth.
Donna Donna Donna
“Oh my God—” I move to my right, searching for a way out of the fenced garden.
No escape in that direction, either—a second line of undead steps from the shadowy foliage behind the benches.
“Your theory about the orcs and the sunlight might’ve been off,” I tell Deke.
“Ya think?”
Instinctively, I back away, pulling Deke along with me. Behind us, just a few yards away, Gretchen tries to rise from the dead. Liam kneels to pick up the copper pipe she dropped on the ground.
“Make a run for the gate,” Deke says under his breath. “Quick, before they block us in.”
Gretchen does the herky-jerky dance of reanimation. Her skin has already lost what little color it had. She stands, white-eyed and foaming at the mouth, curling and uncurling her fingers like claws. Somehow, she zeroes in on my exact location. She lets out a series of bark-like grunts that barely sound human, and staggers toward me.
I freeze—just like when Mrs. Annunziato attacked. I’m paralyzed in place, unable to think, unable to breathe.
Donna Donna Donna
Shut up, voices. I’m trying to concentrate.
Liam, Deke, and I stand with our backs together. Gretchen moves directly between me and my golf club.
“I’ll get the ones on the left,” Deke says. “Liam, get the right. Donna, you take out Gretchen.”
“No, Deke, I can’t—”
But I have to. There’s no choice. I clutch the piece of glass so hard, a trickle of blood slides down my wrist.
I will not be a wimp. I will not be a wimp.
Beside me, Deke steps forward to meet his attackers. A second later, Liam does the same. I can’t even turn my head for a fraction of a second to check if they’re all right. I have tunnel vision for the girl heading straight for me.
Stanley’s voice echoes in my mind. “Hit first and hit hard.”
Stanley. He was so tough. The toughest of us all. And they still got him. I don’t stand a chance.
When the time comes, you’ll be able to do it. Hit first and hit hard.
Gretchen lunges.
“Aaaaagggh!” I scream, and stab the glass in the side of her neck, where her jugular vein should be. Oily black goo spurts from her skin.
“RAWWWRR!” she moans, sticking out her tongue and grabbing with both hands for the glass.
“Get the hell away from me!” I screech.
The injury only slows her for a millisecond, but it’s enough. I sidestep her and dive toward the bench. In one fluid motion, I seize my pink golf club, hoist it in both hands, and take a hard swipe at our class president. My aim sucks, and I miss her head, but the base of the club smacks her shoulder. Spinning sideways, she tumbles into the fountain.
Donna Donna Donna
Closer Closer Closer
What the hell does that mean? More zombies on the way?
I don’t wait for anyone to come up with a plan. I take off at a dead sprint, Deke and Liam close on my heels.
My thoughts run wild as we bolt through the gate. Why didn’t my voices warn me sooner? What happened when Deke knocked Phoebe in the head? Did he kill her?
And the realization hits me, she was already dead.
Tears cloud my vision, making it hard for me to run. “Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe,” I find myself crying her name over and over in ragged gasps.
I can’t believe she’s gone.
I’m panting now, trying to keep up with Deke and Liam. I’ve never been the most athletic person. And running with minimal food and water is not a good idea. My feet don’t want to listen to my brain.
Phoebe, Phoebe, Phoebe. I can’t stop my thoughts. The tears make everything worse. I can barely see now. No. I’ve got to stop crying. Got to concentrate. Got to keep my feet in line.
My legs threaten to twist out of control. My head becomes light and hot. What if I pass out here? Deke is getting so far ahead.
I’m panicked now, running blindly with no sense of direction. In my mind’s eye, I imagine the boy in the red hat, right on my tail. I crane my neck, checking behind me. Bad idea. My feet tangle and I stumble.
“Deke!” I shout as I crash to the sidewalk, my check scraping the rough pavement.They’re so far in front of me. There’s no way Deke could hear me. Will he notice I’m missing? Will he leave me behind?
My eyes close. I’m dizzy. So dizzy. I should try to get up now. The monsters must be getting closer. How much longer before they reach me? I crack open one eyelid.
A hand grabs for me. And another.
Deke’s hand. And Liam’s.
“We’ve got you!” Deke shouts.
My breath comes out in a relieved rush.
“Let’s move it,” Liam yells. “They’re gettin’ too close for comfort.”
The horde advances. Gretchen is in front—the leader, like always.
“Grrrr…rawr…ruff…” she barks. her curls dripping. Like a just-bathed zombie poodle.
Deke and Liam hoist me to a standing position, and like contestants in some crazy, six-legged race we hoof it back to the school. We reach our building far ahead of the stumbling, slow meatheads. But they do follow us. And they stay. As the afternoon lengthens, they rest on the shady side of the building, adding their numbers to those who guard us at night.
…
A few hours after the fiasco at the fountain, Deke finds me in the janitor’s closet, sitting on the concrete floor, weeping silently into my knees.
I like the janitor’s closet. The row of mops and brooms, the boxes of rubber gloves and paper towels—they don’t mind if I totally break down and cry my eyes out.
“You won’t believe this,” Deke says, dropping beside me, “but it’s raining.”
“Oh
, please say you’re joking.” I can’t bring myself to look at him. I’m embarrassed for anyone to see me this way.
“Nope. We brought trash cans to the roof to collect water.”
“Damn. Damn. Damn,” I hammer my fists against the floor. “So that whole trip was for nothing?” My breath comes in sobs.
“Oh, wait,” he continues in a sarcastic tone, “it gets better. An hour after the rain started, the building’s water supply magically came back on.” He wiggles his fingers as he says the word “magically.”
“We have water? God, that kid in the hat is totally screwing with us.”
“Yeah, and you should be extra glad Veronica’s in charge now. Gretchen would’ve made you flush every stinky toilet in this building.” He digs an elbow in my ribs. I try to laugh, but it comes out as a hiccup.
“Gretchen,” I wail. “Oh, Deke. I stabbed Gretchen!”
“You stabbed Zombie Gretchen. That’s different.”
“We never got along. She probably thought I stabbed her because I hated her.”
“She’d lost all cerebral function. She wasn’t thinking anything. Now, stop blaming yourself.”
Deke tries to hand me a Kleenex-wrapped pack of peanuts. “Your daily rations, Mademoiselle.”
“Thanks, but I’m not hungry. Stabbing people makes me not hungry.”
“Eat,” he orders, thrusting the bundle in my hand and closing my fingers around it. “You almost passed out while you were running. Get some protein.”
I rip open the pack and chew mechanically, not caring that I’m crying all over my food.
“Sh-should I save half of these for Bo?” I ask, holding up a peanut.
“No. We’ve got enough for everyone.” The familiar hint of humor sparks in his eyes. “Besides, Bo wouldn’t want any snot-covered peanuts.”
I smile weakly and continue eating. Deke and I sit in silence for a few minutes before he finally speaks again.
“You did good today, Donna. You realize that, right? Your warnings saved us. Well, at least some of us.”
Donna of the Dead Page 15