Absentmindedly, I run my fingers over my lips.
My first kiss had been with Deke? Is this a good thing or a bad thing? The truth is—I’m not sure.
A smile tugs at the corners of my mouth. Maybe I should kiss him again? A second experiment. Just to test it out. See if I really like kissing him.
I am smiling. Whoa. I want to kiss him again, don’t I?
He appears in front of me, like I’ve conjured him. My heart trips.
“Sorry,” he stammers, backing away.
I’ve spent the last hour sitting on a beanbag chair in the children’s wing of the library. I flounder around, trying to get up so I can follow him.
“Deke! Wait…hold up a…stupid fricking beanbag…”
By the time I catch up to him, he’s already halfway back to the staff kitchen.
“Where you going?” I ask.
“Just trying to find Marcella. Nothing important. You don’t have to come with me.”
He seems weird. Maybe that’s to be expected. I wasn’t exactly being nice to him before he kissed me. Or after he kissed me, either—since I probably should’ve followed him, sorted things out then and there.
“Wait, Deke. I’m not doing anything right now,” I say, hurrying to catch up with him. “Just killing time until the big zombie showdown. I’ll tag along, wherever you’re going.”
No response.
I completely understand why he’s acting distant. I bet he’s still angry about me saying we didn’t have a special bond. But Deke never stays mad at me for long. If I stalk him a while, force him to talk, he’ll get over it. Then maybe we can experiment with that whole kissing thing again.
“You and Marcella gonna brainstorm about the rescue?” I ask, hoping to lure him into a conversation.
“No.”
Are you gonna inspect the bookmobile?”
“No.” He tosses the word over his shoulder.
“Are you gonna—”
“You’re not getting the message, Donna,” his voice cuts across mine, bitter and cold. He stops walking, but doesn’t look at me, doesn’t face me. “I don’t want you to tag along. I’m planning our escape. I don’t need you in my way. Just…just…go read a fashion magazine or something.” He throws his hand up in a careless gesture, like he’s dismissing me. “I’ll call when it’s time for you to show up and scream and run.”
I freeze, mid-step, my foot in the air, feeling like I’ve been hit in the gut. I open my mouth, ready to blast Deke—ready to find out what the hell he’s talking about.
But I don’t get the chance. At that moment, someone yells my name. At first I think it’s my voices. And then I realize the sound came from outside the building. It takes only an instant to recognize the voice. The unnaturally loud voice.
Bo.
…
I take off for the door at a dead sprint.
“Donna, no!” Deke yells after me. “It’s a trick.”
“It’s not a trick!”
Bo waits on the other side of the glass, panting hard, and checking over his shoulder. His fear is so genuine, so palpable, I trust him instantly.
“Bo! Bo! Holy crap! Are you okay?”
“Donna! Let me in. Before Saul realizes I’m gone.” His eyes are wide with fright.
I reach for the lock. Deke’s hand covers mine. “No.”
“Deke!” Bo shouts excitedly.
Deke doesn’t answer. His face is stone.
“Let him in,” I plead.
Beside us, there’s a metal slot for returning books; Deke yanks it open and yells through the gap. “Where have you been, Bo?” Mistrust coats each word.
“Deke,” Bo wails. “You gotta listen. You gotta hurry. Let me in. Please.”
“Not yet, little man. Tell me where you’ve been.”
Bo jerks his head left, then right. “What if some of those things are out here? I don’t want them to catch me again. I don’t wanna get eaten up.” His voice is a mix of terror and tears.
“Deke, let him in,” I beg. “He’s only six years old. He’s not a good enough actor to dupe us.”
“No. Saul could be hiding nearby. Like he did with the mailman.”
“He’s not. I don’t hear voices. Nothing. It’s okay.” I put my hands over Deke’s. He throws them off.
“Yeah, well maybe I don’t trust those voices of yours. They don’t have a good track record with half-deads.”
“Deke, I swear,” Bo pleads. “I’m not one of those guys. Liam took me out of the arts building. And…and Saul locked me up. In a room at the hair salon. He said he was going to trade me for Donna. ’Cause she has special eyes.”
“Then how did you escape?” Deke’s eyes narrow.
Bo’s breathing is short. Panicky. “Liam snuck me out. A few minutes ago. He said Saul’s gonna attack the school. He sent me to warn you.”
“I don’t believe you,” Deke says.
Bo’s face crumples. “You’re not gonna open the door?”
“Deke.” Tears stream down my face. “Quit. You’re being such a total butt—”
Marcella turns the corner.
“Ah, there you are, children. I’ve been trying to find you. Oh my! Who is this?” she asks, spotting Bo through the door.
“This is Bo,” Deke says. “And he’s a half-dead. Right now, he’s lying through his teeth, trying to trick us into opening this door. He says Saul is attacking the school.”
“Well, I don’t know this young man, but I think he’s telling the truth. Donna, your phone was ringing incessantly. I hope you don’t mind, I went ahead and answered it. A boy named Quentin was on the line and he was downright frantic. He said to tell you, now, let’s see if I get this right, ‘The server battery crashed, and the creeps is getting in.’”
Beside me, Deke sucks in a sharp breath. “Saul did it. He wore down the battery. They’re under attack.”
The meaning of his words click into place. “We can’t wait until morning,” I say. “We’ve got to go. Now.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
I never thought I’d get to ride in the bookmobile. When I was younger, our neighborhood was so new, we didn’t have a real library. Instead, a mobile library the size of a luxury camper rolled into town every Monday. My dad would joke that I’d read every children’s book on the shelves. Twice.
Back then, I would have loved the idea of riding in the bookmobile. But today, my stomach churns as we unlock the back door of the library and prepare to board the oversized book-bus. I mean, just how safe is this thing? It’s not exactly an armored Hummer or anything. The vehicle looks more like an RV than a Hum-vee. The undead could probably rip through the tin siding in a matter of seconds. Saul could, for certain. Especially since it’s still dark out.
“Anything?” Deke asks, peering into the night.
I shake my head. No. The voices are quiet.
Deke goes first, scoping the murky alley behind the library, checking for goons, his bat in one hand, pepper spray in the other. After a quick scan, he motions us out the door. Bo clutches my hand, and together we tiptoe across the dimly lit parking lot.
Despite Deke’s concerns, Bo has been fine. No attempts to bite us, no talking like an evil overlord. And while we hastily gathered weapons, Bo scarfed down two Cokes and the rest of the spray cheese. As I suspected, he’s still one hundred percent human.
When we reach the side of the vehicle, he buries his face in my stomach, like Saul is going to jump out from the shadows and carry him off again.
I stare into the shrubbery, listening hard. The voices keep mum. A streetlight flickers, casting long shadows down the narrow strip of pavement.
Right now, I miss my golf club. The pepper spray canister weighs only a few ounces, and seems small and insignificant in my grip. With my luck, I’ll probably shoot myself in the face with the stuff.
It takes Marcella for-ever to unlock the bookmobile. She has this huge ring of keys, and can’t seem to remember which one opens the door.
&n
bsp; “Let’s see. I think it might be this…no…”
I try to catch Deke’s eye, to shoot him an exasperated look, but obviously he’s still pissed and won’t meet my gaze. What’s he so fricking ticked off about? The kiss? Me being right about Bo? What I said about Liam? Sheesh. How can somebody hold a grudge in the middle of a zombie showdown?
The last key on Marcella’s ring unlocks the bookmobile door. We hoist ourselves inside and the engine roars to life. Marcella beams at us.
Bo scrambles to the back of the vehicle—where they keep the books—and I think Deke expects me to do the same, but I cram myself in the passenger seat, smashed between Deke and the door. It’s awkward to sit this close, my shoulder pressed against his. He tries to draw his arm away, but there simply isn’t enough space.
His voice, when he finds it, is brittle as ice. “Go sit in the back, Donna.”
I’ve never let Deke boss me around before, and I’m sure not going to start now. “There aren’t windows back there,” I say matter-of-factly, “and I want to see what’s happening.”
What’s happening is nothing. No zombies. No Saul. No Liam. Deke shifts to face Marcella, ignoring me as we roll through the dark, deserted streets. The vehicle’s oversized engine whines loud in my ears. Every zombie within a two-mile radius will hear us coming.
A heartbeat later, the voices kick in.
Skip school. Skip school. Skip school.
“Uh-oh,” I tell Deke. “Voices.”
A hint of interest lurks behind his glacial scowl.
“Skip school,” I say.
“What?”
“Skip school,” I repeat.
He gives me a withering glare. “No can do. Nice try, though, Donna. We’re going. Whether your voices want to or not.”
My head jerks back like he’s hit me. “What are you trying to say? You think I don’t want to go to the school? You think I’m gonna bail on everyone? Just go to the port and leave them here to die?”
“Of course that’s what I think. You said as much when we first got here. Remember? Self-preservation?”
“That was a few days ago. Before everything…changed.”
He levels an accusatory gaze on me. “You mean, before you fell in love with a zombie.”
My face goes hot. “I’m not in love with a zombie. And I don’t want to—”
“Will you two please shut up?” Marcella’s voice is uncharacteristically harsh. Her fingers are white where they grip the steering wheel.
She’s right. We shouldn’t do this—shouldn’t argue now. I turn away from Deke and stare out the window. Silence envelops us as we drive along Hibiscus Road, passing the community college. Somewhere—in the midst of all those Florida-pink buildings—is the garden and the fountain. And Phoebe.
That’s what I meant when I said things had changed. Stanley getting infected at the fountain as he tried to protect Bo. Veronica scrambling to arm the doors with the server battery. Deke rescuing me from Zombie-Phoebe. My friends have been all kinds of brave since we’ve been here. And I’ve mostly sat back and watched—doing exactly what the voices told me in order to keep myself safe. Well, I’m done now. Done being that kind of girl. The selfish kind. The cowardly kind. The kind Deke thinks I am.
“Bo,” I say over my shoulder, “no matter what happens, stay in the back. Out of sight.”
He nods. I reach behind the seat and give his hand a squeeze.
Skip school. Skip school. Skip school.
We make a left on Broward Boulevard, cruising past the orthodontist’s office, the auto parts store, and Lara’s hair salon—where Saul held Bo captive. Behind the plate glass windows, the shops appear dim and cavernous. Every alleyway is like a black hole. Are there eyes peering at us from within the darkness? No way to tell. For now, the streets are empty; nothing to slow us down.
“Wow, this is easy,” Deke says, without excitement.
“Way too easy,” Marcella agrees in a cautious tone.
As the school slides into view, my heart plummets. Marcella slams on the brakes. At least three hundred goons wait in our parking lot—a wall of walking dead, at least fifty feet long, blocks us from the school.
The zombies spot the bookmobile at the exact instant we spot them.
“Raaawr!” A collective roar goes up from the corpse-crowd. Bo screams and covers his ears.
In the front seat of the bookmobile, the three of us sit silent. Frozen. Staring at the impenetrable barrier of monsters.
Saul knew we’d try to rescue our friends. He’s been waiting for us. Waiting for me. In the crowd, his metallic grin glows under the streetlights.
Skip school. Skip school. Skip school.
Deke swears. Marcella swears. I am too scared to speak, let alone swear. For a second, my typical Donna instinct kicks in. All I wanna do is hightail it out of here—cut our losses and head for the safety of the port. But then I notice Quentin and Fabio, their faces pressed against the glass of the large picture window on the third floor. Fabio’s eyes are wide—when he spots us, he and Quentin wave frantically. They hug each other, jumping up and down excitedly.
They’re expecting us to rescue them.
There’s no way in hell we can rescue them.
Skip school. Skip school. Skip school.
I shouldn’t fight the voices. The voices are always right.
The situation fills me with hopelessness. But it’s mixed with something else. Rage. And disgust. I catch sight of Saul’s ugly, sneering face, and my hands clench into fists. Suddenly, I’m sick of these stupid zombies. They’re not getting Quentin and Fabio. Or Veronica or Tara.
Beside me, Deke and Marcella continue strategizing in frantic voices.
“Should we drive the van through the horde?”
“There’s too many of them. They could probably stop the van.”
“Jump out here and attack them with the pepper spray?”
“We’re completely outnumbered. We wouldn’t last two minutes.”
With each passing second, it’s more obvious they don’t know what to do.
An idea pops into my head. I squelch it instantly. It’s a bad idea. A dumb idea. Completely idiotic. My voices agree. They’re off the charts. Warning me. Telling me I’m being stupid.
But for some reason, the memory of Deke’s voice is louder: “Sometimes brave looks like stupid.”
And I realize that if I really want to help other people, there might be times when I have to ignore the voices. They’re only interested in protecting me. And that’s not always the right course of action.
Marcella’s tone is grim, her eyes fixed on the staggering corpses. “Let’s head to the port. If we try to save the others, we’ll be slaughtered. I’m sorry, kids. I just don’t know what else to do.”
“I do,” I tell her. My gaze shifts to Deke. My voice sounds flat in my ears. “You said when the zombies show up, all I can do is scream and run. Well, here I go.”
I fling open the bookmobile door.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The instant my feet slam the pavement, I raise my arms and yell my head off.
“Hello, zombies! Over here!” I scream, running in the opposite direction of the school.
Deke wails after me, yelling my name over and over, but it’s too late. I’m halfway across Broward Boulevard before he untangles himself from the seat belt. I ignore him and keep running.
“Come get the immune chick!” I call, glancing backward, and dancing with my arms overhead. “It’s me you want, isn’t it, Saul? Number one target!”
My voices are making an unholy racket. RUN-RUN. RUN-RUN. The sound is rhythmic and constant, blending with my pulse as it pounds in my ears.
“It’s her!” Saul yells from the midst of the monster crowd. “Don’t you see her, you brainless lumps of meat? Catch her!”
The monsters obey, slowly honing in on my direction, shuffling toward the road. They cut Deke off; he flattens his body against the back of the bookmobile and hoists himself onto the veh
icle’s roof. The zombies ignore him. They have their orders. Orders to catch me.
I can’t fricking believe this.
My plan is working.
Saul is sending some of the monsters away from the school. I might buy my friends enough time to make a dash for the bookmobile.
If I can survive that long.
RUN-RUN-RUN. RUN-RUN-RUN.
I cut through the parking lot of the auto parts store and a mass of monsters crosses the road. Hollow-eyed zombies trail behind me like I’m the pied piper of the undead.
Yikes. What have I done?
At least a hundred zombies remain close to the school’s doors. The rest follow me. That’s as good as the odds are going to get. Marcella guns the engine. The bookmobile speeds closer to the school, Deke clinging to the roof, his bat tucked under his arm. The vehicle mows down a swath of goons, crunching them under the tires. There’s not enough meatheads left to hold the line.
Screeeech. The bookmobile swerves toward the Arts Complex, kicking up sod, and coming to rest fifty feet from the main doors.
Then all hell breaks loose.
From the third story comes the sound of shattering glass. Veronica has busted out the window—the big one—where I sat for guard duty. Seconds later, the other kids drop objects out of the opening. Heavy stuff. Computer monitors. Desk chairs. The metal vacuum slams a janitor’s head. He droops helplessly across the flowerbeds, his blood and brains throwing a dark pattern on the white sidewalk. Some of the projectiles go wasted, crashing harmlessly against the path in front of the Arts Building. But others find targets: the refrigerator drops, squashing Lara’s manicurist underneath.
Only a few goons make it past the falling obstacles and reach the school steps. They don’t get any farther. Somewhere, safe inside the school, Fabio presses a button and the microwave gun emits its massive wave of electrons. I don’t hear anything, don’t see any sci-fi laser rays, but several zombies collapse to the pavement—their brains (or what’s left of them) completely fried.
A longer line of goons advances on the doors. Between the falling objects and the microwave gun, they don’t make much progress. It doesn’t matter that the server battery crashed and the door isn’t electrified—the zombies still can’t get in.
Donna of the Dead Page 23