The sound of glass breaking made us both yelp in fear. Stunned, we stared at each other, and at the brick lying several inches from my feet.
“Carm, hurry! We’ve gotta get out of here. Grab the box, run!”
Frantic, the box in her arms, my arms bulging with bags and other stuff, we ran to the kitchen and flew out the back door as my aunt’s car pulled up in the alley. The yelling and pounding on the front door had us scrambling over each other in our haste to escape.
Carm yanked the car door open and tossed everything in back. She grabbed some of the bags from me. The rest toppled onto the floor and seat in my haste.
The sounds from out front grew louder. “Hurry, Tia, hurry. They’re going to get inside! They’re crazy!”
Carm’s sharp poke at my arm and the subsequent dizzy feeling—my eye again, I cursed—only pushed my panic button. I was wound-up, ready to fight. My aunt’s calm, take charge tone helped me settle down.
Tia flicked the door locks and eased the car slowly toward the street. “Girls, don’t worry, everything’s under control. Becca, deep breath. Good, again. I called the policia. They should be here any minute.”
The shriek of sirens coming our way made us all feel safer. She pulled over near the corner, leaned her head back for a moment, and sighed with relief. “Bueno. You girls stay in the car while I go talk to the police. Becca, you better scrunch down so no one can see you. Just in case. Cover up with the blanket. Lock the door. I’ll be right back.”
The sight of someone running at the end of the street made me gasp and scooch down more until I was barely visible under the blanket. Peeking out, I saw Tia talking with one of the police officers in front of the house, the mob having since scattered.
“Carm?”
“Yeah?”
“Will things get any better?”
She gave my hand a squeeze. “I sure hope so, cuz, I really, really do.”
So did I, but deep down inside, I wasn’t so sure they would.
Chapter Seven
The excitement over and arrangements made to board up the window, we drove home in silence, none of us ready yet to talk about what had happened.
Having Carm stay at my house for more than one or two nights straight was the one good thing to happen in all this mess. It made me happier than I’d felt in a long time. Being an only child had some advantages, mostly selfish, of course, but there were times I missed having a sister or brother to share stuff with. Now especially, having Carm around made things a bunch easier. At least I’d thought so until she started moving her stuff into my already cramped little room.
She shoved over some of my clothes to make room for hers. “Going to be kind of crowded in here. You sure I shouldn’t move to the couch or something?”
I gave her the look usually reserved for stupid situations. I guess this qualified. “What? Did you forget what we need to do?”
“Wow, you don’t need to bite my head off,” she snapped. “It’s been a hard day. I think you and me are going to be spending a lot of time together in the next few months. More than usual. We better get our attitudes adjusted now.”
Her glare got to me. “Yeah, I know, sorry.” I shoved over some of the clothes on the bed and plopped myself down in an open spot. “I guess this—” I pointed at the growing piles of stuff—“is getting to me.”
Carm glanced at me like she smelled something rotten. “Huh?”
I swat away an unbidden thought: Por favor, Dios, por favor, not me, not yet. This was the one thing I hated to think about. The thought made me sick to my stomach. I wondered when the bad smell would kick in. I mean, zombies smelled rotten, dead, right? Ignoring the thought again, I snorted in disgust and shook my head.
“I know that was mean, sorry. I’m so jumpy. It’s a lot to take in all at once, you know? I’m wondering how Saturday’ll be. School’s coming up, and now you’ve tuned in to the Psychic Network. I feel like I want to jump out a window.”
The emotional volcano came as a surprise. My breath came out in loud heaves until I started to sound like a damn steam engine. Carm dropped the stuff she was holding, wrapped her arms around me, and held tight. I started to cry harder, then stopped and gasped as I felt a trickle of wetness on my cheeks.
“Carm, Carm, did you see that?” I pulled myself away from her and started to dance around in a circle. Actually it was more of a dance-stagger-thump around. “Wow, I’m crying. I’m really crying!”
We both started laughing and whooping until my aunt’s voice drifted upstairs. “Girls? Everything all right up there?”
I stuck my head out the door and yelled back, “Fine, Tia, everything’s okay.”
“Good. Take it easy now. I don’t want to re-plaster the ceiling yet.”
“Okay,” I yelled.
My fit over, I took another deep breath, grabbed the piles of clothes, and began straightening up. “Wow, that felt good.”
“Maybe you needed a good cry, let all the stress out.”
“Yeah, maybe. It worked. I feel tons better.”
I hung up some pants and piled the rest of the clothes on top of the trunk in my small closet. All done, I pulled a bench out from under the vanity. I set an old worn suitcase open on the floor and close enough to the bed so I could hide it underneath if needed.
“I’ll sit on the bed and work here. The bean bag’s yours. My mom’s old makeup case should hold enough, don’t you think?”
She checked out the case and pulled one of the bags over. “It’ll be fine. Bec, you sure? You don’t need to do this. Accidents happen, you know.”
“Don’t worry, I figured it out. Watch.”
She followed my every move as I pulled down my sleeves, draped the front of my shirt with a plastic poncho, and set a large tray on top of the bench. I laid out the supplies on the tray: three syringes my mom had saved from the cat’s shots, the ingredients, a bottle of glue, and the paintballs.
She pointed to the metal coffee can. “What’s that for?”
“Everything’s ready. All you have to do is measure out the stuff and mix it together in there with a little water. We fill the syringes, stab a paintball, shoot in a little bit, and fill the hole with a dab of glue. Easy. Honest. It’ll work.”
“You forgot one thing.” She got up, rummaged in the bag, and tossed a pair of rubber gloves at me. “I know the stuff won’t eat through anything else, but you should protect every inch of yourself. I have a bunch of gloves since my mom saves the extra one when she dyes her hair. You got any goggles?”
“No. C’mon, Carm. If this stuff splashes, what’ll those do? I’ll need a full helmet, which I don’t have and am not wearing. Just chill.” Her “oh, all right” didn’t sound very convincing, but I wasn’t about to back down, not even after she poked me in the arm to get my eye straight. “I guess we’re ready then. I’ll work on these while you’re at school. It’ll give me something to do.”
At Carm’s sharp intake of breath, I did scoot a few inches away from the can. She grabbed it, mixed the ingredients, and stirred. It fizzed and popped for a few seconds, releasing a strong, pungent odor like a dead skunk or something else nasty. I’d forgotten how bad this stuff smelled. I’d imagine it wasn’t good for either of us to breathe in, especially me.
My head began to spin. Almost too late, I realized that maybe I’d get a reaction from the smell. Like before? I shoved away from it in a hurry, covered my nose with my arm, and motioned to Carm.
“Hurry, get that stuff to the window. Maybe I shouldn’t smell it!”
Her eyes wide, Carm grabbed the container and ran to the window seat. Struggling, she finally pulled the window open and pushed the screen aside. She held the container outside until it stopped fizzing.
“Bec, you okay?” I nodded.
“Phew, glad we opened the window before our aunt wonders what died up here.” Carm paused and gasped, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth. “Oh, sorry.”
I stared at her all serious until I couldn’t
stand it anymore and laughed. “Good one, Carm! If you hadn’t said it, I probably would’ve. Stop tiptoeing around me. I’m a big girl. I can take it. That stuff quit fizzing? Better bring it in.”
She brought the container in and set it on the seat while she slid the screen closed. I inched nearer without any reaction. I tried to act like it was no big deal but let my breath out in relief. Whew.
“I guess it’s safe. From now on, we’ll leave the window open and have you mix the stuff before I go near it, ’kay?”
“Bec, you sure? I still don’t think it’s safe.”
I shrugged. “I’m fine, see? What else can we do? We have to make some so we can see if it works or not.”
That issue settled, she got back to work as I knelt on the bed. My eyes never left the can. She slid it closer, the mixture no longer sizzling like an egg in a frying pan. She inserted the syringe and carefully pulled back the plunger. Awed, and I admit a touch nervous, I watched the yellowish mixture fill the syringe.
Smelling it maybe wasn’t a problem after it was mixed, but the knowledge finally kicked in and made me pause a second—all it would take is a tiny drop, a particle smaller than I could see, to kill me.
My cousin was right for being paranoid. I held my breath as she carefully filled the syringe, stabbed the paintball, and repeated the process. She set the ball aside in the makeup case-turned-arsenal with a frown before leaning in closer.
“Hmm, I guess it holds.” Carm inspected the case, her face serious. “I don’t see any leaks, but I still feel uneasy about you working with this stuff.”
Given the circumstances, all I could do was try to put her at ease. “I know how dangerous it is. We have no choice. Don’t worry, I’ll be extra careful. Watch.”
Her eyes got huge when I grabbed the syringe in one hand, a paintball in the other, and repeated her steps. The glue applied, I set the ball down in my case. “There, see? Not a drop anywhere else. There’s enough in the can for me to fill plenty of these while you’re at school. It’ll be fine.”
“All right, guess you’ll have to do it or we’ll never be ready,” she agreed. “Let’s put this stuff away for now. We can chill for a while.”
“Good idea.”
The cover on the can, I capped the syringe, put all the materials in my case, and shoved it under the bed. The can was moved into a corner out of the way, but still where I could see it so it wouldn’t spill or anything.
Carm moved the bean bag over, set her legs on a pillow, and stretched out. I sprawled on the window seat and listened to Beyonce warble, intent on forgetting everything. It felt good to just lie here and relax without worrying about anything.
Soft snores soon drifted over from where Carm lay, her head back, her long hair trailing like a dark waterfall across the carpet. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, happy to be home, thankful to be back in my own room. Fully relaxed, I drifted off into a kind of semi-doze, though I was still aware of everything going on around me. I envied my cousin’s soft snores, but didn’t feel bad about not doing the same. I wasn’t that tired. It was probably good she fell asleep so fast. I think she needed it.
We—well at least Carm—slept for more than an hour. I never did really fall asleep, but it didn’t bother me. Lying here daydreaming felt good even though my mind raced with questions I kept trying to ignore—how long would I live-unlive? Was it really like the movies? Would I live forever until…?
I bit back a sob. No, don’t go there. No. I couldn’t face it. I couldn’t. I turned off my thoughts as Carm stirred.
“Bec? You all right?”
“Yeah.”
The weird questions shoved way back in my thoughts, I put on a good front while my cousin yawned and sat up. We filled a few more paintballs—the case now held at least fifty of them—then put everything away when my aunt called from downstairs for us to set the table for dinner. We were so intent on our project I hadn’t paid attention to the sun now hanging like a big orange ball over the horizon.
We exchanged a quick glance, both of us probably wondering how awkward dinner would get. That thought in mind, we banged down the stairs to the kitchen where my aunt was busy stirring something on the stove. I sniffed, happy to find some of my sense of smell still working. I breathed in the pungent tomato-herb smell of the Sloppy Joe sauce like it was perfume. Uh-ohhhh. This could be bad, really bad.
“Carm, please get the good plates out of the china cabinet and set the dining room table,” Tia instructed. “Becca, can you put the candles out? We’ll celebrate. This is a special night.”
I whispered to Carm as we set the gold-rimmed plates in front of each place, folded the green cloth napkins, and set my aunt’s good silverware on top. “Carm, I can smell things again. The Sloppy Joes smell fantastic!”
She glanced at me in surprise. “Oh, that’s great…or isn’t it?”
My happiness growing, I put a knife and fork by my plate, for what, I wasn’t sure.
“Yeah, it’s awesome. Everything smells so darn good!”
“That’s one more improvement.” Carm slapped my arm for emphasis. “Now we just have to hope your eye will get better.”
“Ouch!” I shook my head and squinted, waiting for the dizzying effect of my eye spinning around to stop. I lost my balance and staggered back a few inches. “You and me both. I’m getting tired of feeling like a pinball game. And you don’t have to hit so hard.
My aunt came in with a tray, stopping our argument from going any further. “Girls, c’mon, let’s eat. Carm, set the bowl on the hot pad. Becca, take the buns while I go get your dish.”
I stared at the hamburger rolls, almost memorizing every poppy seed. My mouth even began to feel the tiniest bit moist. Wow, this was getting harder than I expected. Was this what I could expect on Saturday, but magnified ten, twenty or fifty times?
My personal Q & A ended as my aunt came back and set a small covered casserole dish in front of me. “I know it’s not the same, honey, but I thought we could see how it goes.”
My curiosity growing, I lifted the lid and laughed out loud in delight. My thoughtful aunt had placed several of the small star-shaped juice bars in a circle surrounded by barely there slivers of bread and two small cups of the ruby red Sloppy Joe sauce.
“Wow, gracias, Tia, gracias. This is fantastic. Yum!”
“I wasn’t sure if you could eat that much, honey, so take your time. Just go slow.”
“You bet!” I cried. “The nurse did say I could have more than a few bites, right? Guess I have to try sometime.”
The juice bars could wait, I’ll be eating plenty of those, I thought, and grabbed a sliver of bread. I dunked it lightly in the sauce and raised it to my nose to take in the sweet aroma of tomatoes and spices. I don’t think I’d ever smelled anything so good. “Here goes.”
Everyone watched as I took a bite, letting the bread melt in my mouth. “Oh, wow. It-it tastes like tomatoes, like Sloppy Joe sauce!”
I swallowed, waiting to see whether I’d do something horrible like throw up all over, or have to run to the bathroom. Parts of me still didn’t work like before. The nurse had told me to expect changes and I admit, once she started talking about my organs and bodily functions, I tuned her out. I hated biology class and didn’t want a real-life lesson. Ever since my earlier tears, I’d felt that dry grittiness in my eyes again. As for the rest, I tried not to think much about it. Nothing much worked anymore. Most of the time my sense of taste was on vacation. My skin was cold. Sometimes I went into the bathroom for no reason and flushed the toilet as I didn’t want to answer any embarrassing personal questions.
I savored the flavor, took another bite, and waited for the eruption or something to happen. My aunt and cousin stared at me, their faces frozen, like I’d turned into Cyclops or would any minute. My stomach’s loud gurgle made me pause, but when nothing happened I went back to eating. I sloshed the sauce around my mouth, relishing each bite, glad I could actually taste something again (at least for n
ow) instead of everything resembling cardboard. Even if it only lasted this minute and then went away again, I was in heaven. Several minutes passed. I tapped my fingers on the table and wallowed in the good feelings, satisfied the worst was over.
“Okay, show’s over. I guess I’m not going to blow up or anything. Tia, wow. This is the best, most awesome, yummiest meal I’ve ever had! It is dee-lish!”
My aunt’s face flushed, though I knew she was pleased at my praise. Sloppy Joes were super-easy to make, but she was an awesome cook on other, way more complicated stuff, too. The thought of those tamales I’d soon have made life a bit more bearable than it was.
“Gracias honey, but it was nothing, nada. Now we know a pequeno doesn’t bother you. I’m glad.” She picked up her glass of wine and raised it to our glasses of juice (mine the part-protein kind, of course) for a toast. “To my beautiful niece, Rebecca, may her life only get better and better.”
I glanced down, a little embarrassed, before I clinked Auntie and Carm’s glasses and took a sip from mine. It felt so good, so normal, sitting here having dinner, enjoying time with mi familia. A glance at the empty chair at the other end of the table made me wish my mother was here with us. An image of her proudly setting her homemade apple pie on the table came to mind. I quickly tuned the memory out before I got too depressed.
I wished it would last, but too soon our celebration was over. My few bites were gone and with everyone else finished, we got up to take the dishes to the kitchen when my stomach gave a loud rumble. I dropped my dishes on the table with a clatter as a jab of pain hit me. I grunted, gazed about in panic, and ran to the bathroom, not sure what was going on. The little I’d eaten hurled from me. Tiny specks, not even enough to call them tears, dribbled from my eyes as I flushed everything away, wiped my mouth, and gargled some minty mouthwash. Normal? So much for even thinking about being normal. Who was I kidding? Only myself.
I opened the door and stepped into my aunt’s warm embrace. She pulled me close as I sobbed, my disappointment pouring out in big gulps and wails I couldn’t hold back. My aunt patted and comforted me like she had when I was seven and had scraped my knee. The memory made me cry even harder.
Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie Page 6