“I didn’t do good, Deke. I just screamed and ran. Like always. And oh yeah—you had to rescue me. A-gain.”
The tears intensify, sliding down my cheeks into my nose. I’m ashamed about the way I acted at the fountain, screaming at Deke. And sad about Gretchen and Stanley. But mostly I’m just devastated over Phoebe.
My BFF. Her snarling, pallid face is branded inside my eyelids. I can’t believe she’s gone. I mean, I know her body is still around—still living—but like Deke said, that thing isn’t really Phoebe. And unless some genius invents a miraculous cure, she’ll never be Phoebe again.
No more late-night chats about guys we like. No more private jokes. No more giggling hysterically over stupid stuff other people wouldn’t find funny. My phone would never buzz again with one of her texts.
I push my face against my knees, letting my jeans soak up the tears. Waves of self-pity wash over me.
“I can’t take this anymore. So many people are dying. Have already died. It’s too much.”
Deke puts his hand on my back. His touch is heavy and comforting. I’m tired of pretending I’m not scared. For the first time in days, I drop my defenses. I allow myself to be terrified and angry and heartbroken and all the things I’ve held back since this zombie crap began.
“It’s just…so…so…unfair, Deke. So…fricking unfair. It used to be that all I wanted to do was edit the newspaper and hang out at the beach and…and listen to music and f-flirt with Liam and…wear my red dress to the winter semi-formal. These stupid ass zombies ruined everything. Now I want different things. I want…I want to get everyone to the port. And I want to know if I can trust my voices. Dumb voices. I hate hearing them. They’re so…so…confusing…so erratic…so…unreliable.”
Deke keeps his hand on my back.
“But most of all, I want my dad to come back!” I rant, my voice growing louder. “What if he and Muriel don’t make it? It’s bad enough having one parent, but zero parents would be infinitely worse. I-I don’t want to be an orphan.”
Deke’s firm expression slackens. “I won’t lie. It sucks to be an orphan. But I’ve survived.”
“But you’ve had Muriel. What if you lose her, too?”
The corners of Deke’s mouth twitch downward. “Then you and me will keep tabs on each other. We’ll be orphans together.”
“You and I,” I correct.
“Grammar nerd.”
I don’t laugh. “Phoebe used to c-call me that, too.” My words dissolve into broken snivels.
“Oh, Donna. Don’t cry. It’s gonna be all right,” he whispers, rubbing circles in my back. “It’s all gonna work out.”
I pull away. “You believe that?” I wipe my nose on my sleeve. “After everything that’s happened? Everyone we’ve lost? You still honestly believe that?” I can’t keep my volume level from creeping back up.
“Yes.” His voice is steely and I stare into his dark eyes—so brown they’re almost black. The vise grip on my lungs seems to dissipate. For a long, free-floating moment, I can feel my body ease into something that could almost pass for calm. Deke’s not just feeding me a line. He truly thinks we’ve got the strength to make it out of this nightmare alive.
His face softens, and Mr. Tough Guy Zombie Slayer morphs back into my sweet, slightly nerdy childhood buddy. He reaches into my hoodie pocket for my phone. “You know, until they cure Phoebe, I can be your best friend. Your bestie. I can send you texts every two seconds, just like Phoebe did.”
He flips open my phone and presses buttons.
“O-M-G,” he says in a high voice, staring at the phone screen. “You should have seen Liam in the cafeteria today. He was so smokin’ hot.”
I sock Deke in the shoulder and he laughs and closes the phone.
“You’re my best friend anyways,” he says, tucking the cell back in my pocket.
“What?”
“My best friend. You knew that already, didn’t you?”
For a long moment, I stare at the black-haired boy sitting calmly beside me, wanting nothing more than to keep me company while I suffer an emotional breakdown. It’s so easy for me to take Deke for granted. Guilt kicks in as I remember how I treated him at the fountain. I try to stop crying long enough to apologize.
“Y-you saved my life today,” I choke out. “And then I hit you and yelled at you…I’m sorry, Deke.”
“No prob.” He waves away my apology. “I’m completely used to you abusing me, both mentally and physically.”
“And you still want to be my b-best friend?” My face can’t figure out if it wants to smile or break into fresh tears.
“Always.”
He reaches to hug me. And for once, I let him. It feels good and comfortable to touch Deke. Not intimidating and overwhelming like when Liam held me on the roof. He is warm, and more solid than I expected—muscles hiding underneath his black tee.
The hug lasts a second too long. Deke and I pull back at the same instant to find ourselves staring at each other.
For a moment, it’s more awkward than anything in the world. Which is dumb because Deke is my friend. He doesn’t like me that way. Right?
Deke reaches forward, just to wipe a stray tear from my cheek, but my breath catches in my chest.
At the sound, his hand freezes. Every ounce of blood in my body rushes to the spot where his skin meets mine. His hand hovers for a moment, like Deke’s deciding what to do next. Then his fingertips trace my jawline, coming to rest at my chin. He tilts my face upward.
My lips part.
Deke leans forward.
“Donna? Deke? You in there?” Fabio’s voice jerks me back to reality.
Deke drops his hand. Fast.
Fabio’s head peeks around the corner of the closet. His face is drawn. “Have you guys seen Bo?”
“No,” Deke says, blinking a few times like he’s trying to bring the world back into focus.
“Is he hiding?” I ask, strangely unable to take my eyes off Deke.
“I don’t think so.” Fabio’s voice rises with hysteria. “I’ve searched the entire building. I can’t find him anywhere.”
Chapter Eighteen
“Are you sure he made it back to the building after…after…the fountain?” Deke asks.
A few of us are grouped by the front doors, trying to figure out what happened. A cluster of infected emo kids lurks on the outside stairs—it’s taken a few days, but they’ve found their way back to the same place they always sat, even before they started eating brains and sweet meats.
“I’m positive Bo came in with Fabio,” Veronica answers. “He was crying hysterically about Stanley. Fabio was pretty upset, too. I chained the door behind them. The only other time I opened it was when you three came back a few minutes later.”
Deke nods. “I didn’t see Bo then, but I figured he was okay since he ran here with Fabio.” Deke turns toward Lara. “What about you? Did you open the door today?”
She shakes her head.
“Well then, we know Bo didn’t leave. He must be in the building,” Deke says, anxiety clouding his face.
“Maybe he’s hiding?” I suggest. “Little kids do that when they get crazy-scared.”
“Let’s split up and search for him,” Veronica says.
“I’ll take Scooby and Shaggy,” I tell them automatically. The second the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. God, I sound like such a callous jerk.
No one laughs.
“I’m sorry,” I say quickly. “I’m not—really, I don’t mean to sound this way. It’s just—well, when I get frightened, I try to be funny. I make bad jokes.”
Deke’s eyes flash with understanding.
“You must be scared a lot,” Veronica says, with a hint of a sad smile.
I pretend-punch her arm. It feels half-hearted. No one’s in the mood to joke around. Not even me. But at least now they know I’m not intentionally being cruel.
“Okay, Donna, you and Deke take the second floor,” Veronica says, getting
back to business. “Lara, you stay here and keep an eye on the door. If Bo’s managed to get outside somehow, open up and let him back in. Unless…uh…well…”
“I get it,” she says, her voice even.
Deke and I head to the building’s second level. Our footsteps seem extra loud on the linoleum and I fixate on the silence in my brain.
What’s up, Voices? No whispers? No warnings? Let’s not wait until the last minute like at the fountain, okay?
The instant we hit the landing, scuffling noises filter into the hallway from behind a closed door. I put my hand on Deke’s shoulder and point at the classroom.
He frowns. “Stick close to me. I don’t like this.”
We creep, ever so slowly, toward the classroom. I duck my head to squint through the crack under the door. The room is dark. But there’s movement inside.
Definitely movement.
“Let’s get backup,” I whisper.
From the other side of the door, there’s the sudden, unmistakable sound of glass crashing against the floor.
I jump away, startled.
“We don’t have time for backup,” Deke hisses, “A zombie might have Bo—what if it’s about to bite him?”
Crap. He’s right. We need to get in there. Fast.
I will not be a wimp.
I grip my golf club tighter. “Open the door.”
Hoisting my club a little higher, I grit my teeth, ready for whatever’s waiting. Deke turns the knob, slowly…slowly…then wham!—flings the door aside, banging it against the wall.
In the shadowy room, two figures wrestle against each other.
“Get your hands off him!” Deke yells.
“What the hell?” says a female voice within the darkness.
Deke hits the light switch. Tara’s sitting on a lab table. Quentin stands pressed against her. His shirt’s on the floor nearby.
Quentin and Tara? Alone? In the dark?
My eyes widen. “Whoopsy.” I start walking backward, tugging on Deke’s shirt and trying to pull him with me.
Deke blinks like a deer in headlights. “We heard a noise. Glass—”
“Knocked over a beaker or test tube or somethin’,” Quentin mumbles, pulling away from Tara.
“Sorry!” I continue, yanking Deke’s shirt a little harder. “We’re just searching for Bo. Come on, Deke.”
“Bo’s not here,” Tara says.
“Obviously,” I retort. “We’ll leave you two alone now.” I start to pull the door closed.
“Wait!” Quentin calls after us. “Whaddup? Somethin’ wrong with Bo?”
“We can’t find him,” Deke says, trying not to peek back in the room. “Uh, you haven’t seen him, right?”
“Nope,” Tara answers, “How long has it been since anyone—”
“Hey guys.” Veronica comes up behind me. “No luck downstairs. How ’bout with you?”
“No.” Through the half-open door, I notice Tara hopping off the lab table. Quentin grabs his shirt off the floor.
“Where Fabio at?” Quentin asks.
“Said he was checking the roof one more time,” Veronica answers.
“Let’s not panic,” Deke says. “Let’s give Bo a few minutes. Like Donna said, he might be hiding. Scared.”
Veronica points at the cabinets in the lab desks. “Anyone check in those? He’s small enough to fit.”
Quentin sighs in a resigned way and tucks his shirt in his pants. “Watch out for glass by ’dat table.”
We open and close every cupboard door, one after the other. There must be thirty cabinets in this room.
“Hey, what is this place?” I ask, eyeing the vials on the shelves.
“Chem lab,” Tara responds. “Don’t you take chemistry?”
“Uh, no. Sophomore. Science-challenged sophomore. I’m still in bio. I didn’t even know this place existed.”
I stare around the room, getting excited. There’s a gazillion different types of chemicals and glass bottles in the cabinets.
“What’s up?” Deke asks with a quizzical expression. “You’re like a kid in a candy store.”
“Or maybe a nerd in a Lego store,” Tara quips.
“I’m thinking,” I tell them.
“Oh, no.” Tara mumbles. Quentin shoots her a quit it look.
“Can’t you do scientific stuff in here?” I ask.
“Yes,” Deke answers. “That would be the point of this room’s existence.”
“So, you smart people,” I wave toward Deke and Veronica, “you could make something—like, combine chemicals or…or…maybe make one of those Mai Tai cocktail things?”
“You want to make mixed drinks?” Tara asks.
“No, those exploding things.”
Deke slaps himself in the forehead. “I think she means Molotov cocktails.”
“Yes,” I point at him. “Those. Maybe….maybe…if we can’t get close enough to chop off their heads, we can kill them in other ways—like burning. And exploding.”
“You know, that’s not a bad idea,” Veronica says. “The Molotov cocktails. There’s rubbing alcohol here. Plenty of it. And I think I saw paint thinner in the janitor’s closet.”
“We would just need a thickener,” Deke says.
“Liquid soap,” they both say at the same time.
“Thickeners? Liquid soap? Where do you guys learn this crap?” I ask.
“TV,” they answer in unison.
“Wait,” Tara says, “I don’t want to put a damper on things, but what about ‘the cure?’” She puts air quotes around the words. “You start blowing up zombies and well, the whole ‘what if there’s a cure?’ option goes out the window.”
“True ’dat,” Quentin agrees.
“Also,” Tara continues, “Molotov cocktails could set the school on fire. Not a pretty picture.”
I stare at Tara. I’ve always stereotyped her as a stupid cheerleader; but I might be wrong.
“Those are excellent points,” I tell her, “but the truth is, before this is all over, we might need to choose between the cure and saving our own skins. I know what I’ll pick. To make the explosives and kill every last one of these things that gets in our way.”
Veronica lets out a low whistle. “What happened to the other Donna, the totally wimpy one? And who is this badass who took her place?”
I scoff. “Yeah. I was kinda wondering the same thing. I guess I’m only brave when I’m attacking zombies from a place of total safety—like from inside a car, or in this case, when all I have to do is toss explosives from three stories up.”
Fabio hustles into the room, breathless and flushed, his flip-flops slapping against the linoleum tiles. “I still can’t find Bo. I’ve searched friggin’ everywhere.”
“Did someone check inside the fridge in the teachers’ lounge?” Tara asks.
“Yes,” Fabio says. “I’ve searched every damn inch of this building. Air ducts, broom cupboards, I even popped out ceiling tiles. He’s gone.”
“He can’t be gone,” I say, my mind reeling. “We didn’t hear the door go Bzzzzt.”
“Do you think he jumped off the roof?” Veronica asks.
“Oh no. If he jumped—” Tara puts a hand to her mouth. “The zombies…it’s dark now…”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Deke says. “I’m sure he was upset about Stanley, but I can’t imagine Bo actually jumping off the roof. Or falling. He’s not suicidal and he’s not stupid.”
“So, what are you saying?” Fabio scoffs. “That zombies found a way to kidnap him? From inside our building? Right under our noses?”
Deke doesn’t answer. No one says anything for a few seconds.
Is this possible? Was Bo zombie-napped?
“No way,” Tara says. “We’ve missed something.”
“What about the big air handler on the roof?” Veronica asks. “Anyone check there?”
“Yes,” Fabio answers.
“The bathrooms?”
“Yes. I’ve walked all ov
er this building ten times. Called his n-name again and again.” Fabio chokes a little. Veronica puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m such a failure,” Fabio moans. “If Stanley was still here, he’d have kept a better eye on him. I just gave Bo his peanuts and went off to guard duty. I didn’t think…inside the building…how the hell did they…”
“Quit it, man, there’s nothing you could have—”
“No.” Fabio throws Veronica’s hand off his shoulder. “I’m done now. Done with all this crap. Done with these stupid-ass zombies. If they’re gonna take a little kid…”
He covers his face with his hands. Everyone looks away.
I wish I could make some kind of dumb Donna joke. Put everyone at ease. But there are no words. No solution. All the anguish I felt for Phoebe is now multiplied—with hurt and loss for Bo.
Guilt creeps in, shaping my thoughts. I should have kept better tabs on Bo. Helped him deal with all this scary stuff. The first night we stayed here, when he was crying, why didn’t I try to comfort him? I could’ve at least given him a hug.
I struggle not to break down again, remembering how he rubbed his eyes with his tiny hand…how excited he got when Deke told him about the ice cream…
How Deke was the one to reassure him that things were gonna be okay.
Tara surprises me by sobbing. It’s a quick, quiet little sob. She smothers it instantly.
“He’s so young,” she whispers. “He’s just a kid…”
“Please, Tara, don’t.” If she says one more word, I’m going to lose it.
Quentin puts his arm around her. She flicks tears from her eyes.
I suddenly realize that everyone’s been using the same defense mechanisms I have. Joking around. Trying to act strong. Trying not to come undone.
A strange feeling sneaks up on me. A wave of camaraderie and kinship. A few days ago, I didn’t know any of these people very well. Now, I’m terrified that more of them might get hurt or bitten or stolen. I don’t want to lose anyone else.
I take a deep, steadying breath. “I’m with you, Fabio. I’m done, too. We can’t let the zombies get away with this crap. Other than Stanley’s ax—which I’m guessing he dropped at the fountain—all our weapons are designed to knock zombies unconscious—copper pipes, golf clubs, baseball bats. Even if we hit first and hit hard, it’s still not enough. Let’s stop being a bunch of wusses. Guys, we need to think up ways to kill the zombies. Cut their heads off or burn them up. We need to make the Molotov cocktails. We’ll be careful, Tara. Throw them far away from the school. It’s just…we’ve got to do something. Got to fight back. We owe that to Bo.”
Donna of the Dead Page 16