by Multiple
“This is insane,” I said. “I’m not fast enough.”
“You don’t have to be fast,” he said. “Just watch.”
We reached the stairs to the second floor of the library. My legs felt thick and slippery like grape jelly. It was difficult to climb stairs on the best of days for me, and after climbing over the walls to get in here and running this far, now was not one of those better days.
“I can’t climb stairs well,” I said.
Evan grinned. “That’s the entire point.”
I had no idea what he meant. Apparently he didn’t need me to know, either. Kneeling fast, slipping one hand behind my knees and holding my back with the other, he lifted me up and cradled me in his arms.
“Evan!” I shrieked. “This isn’t going to work!”
Evan laughed, climbing the stairs one at a time, steady yet fast. “Oh, it’s not?”
I looked down, staring at the others following us. At the base of the stairs, barely an arm’s length away from us, they hesitated. One of them leaped forwards and grabbed at Evan’s foot.
I sucked in air and held my breath. Evan casually walked up the stairs, lifting his foot away from the outstretched hand right before it would have grabbed the cuff of his pants. Our assailant’s head smacked against the step with a thud and he slid back down the steps, befuddled. I knew that wouldn’t keep him distracted for more than a moment, but for now it worked.
What scars would it leave, though? Evan carried me up the stairs and I looked back sadly, worrying. I knew they wanted to catch him, to kill him, but it hurt to watch them. We might not feel pain as fully as anyone else, but it left its mark nonetheless. If the failed attacker gained a scar, some bruise, he probably wouldn’t care, but it’d leave a mark.
I thought of them as marks of inhumanity, of difference. If most people cut themselves, they used bandages or ointment to help it heal, but in our confused, awkward states we really couldn’t. Besides the fact that it took a lot of effort, sometimes I never even thought about it. When a regular person is injured, they can feel the pain and know to take care of it, but if that happened to me I might not realize the extent of my injury.
I had a few marks, myself. Evan carried me up the stairs as surely as he started, but I felt more awkward now. Shifting in his arms, hiding my legs with the skirt of my dress and my hands, I hoped he didn’t realize what I was doing. Thankfully he didn’t seem to notice with the adrenaline from our escape coursing through him.
He bounded up the last few steps effortlessly and then placed me back on the floor. I shook, unsteady, but he kept a hand on my waist to help me.
“I don’t see how this is going to help,” I said.
Already, climbing after us, came the others. One of them held the railing, slowly plodding his way up the stairs, while another followed behind him, half crawling and half pulling himself up. The remaining two stood at the bottom still, but I had no doubts they’d begin their ascent soon.
“The windows,” Evan said, as if his comment needed no explanation.
I stared at him, raising one brow. “Huh?”
“The first floor doesn’t actually have windows,” he said. “They’re more like glass walls. Right? Up here you can open the windows, though.”
“You can’t mean…”
He interrupted me by taking my hand in his. I didn’t know for sure, but I thought he did it on purpose, catching me off guard while I enjoyed the heated trill of his skin sending warm shivers through my body.
“Come on,” he said.
I went, I followed, but I wanted him to know I didn’t enjoy his demanding nature. “You can’t just tell me what to do,” I said. “And you can’t just… do… you’re tricking me.”
He couldn’t just touch me and distract me and expect me to do everything he wanted was what I meant to say, except if I said that it not only sounded wrong, but it maybe told him more about this than I wanted him to know. Did he know? Maybe he didn’t realize it yet. And, honestly, was that the reason I was following him in the first place? I wasn’t entirely sure.
“I’m not tricking you,” he said. “I want you to come with me.”
He wanted me to go with him? I didn’t understand why, though. For what reason? It hurt to think it, but I assumed he wanted to study me. He wanted to ask me questions and learn about what made us like this. He wanted to know about the others and to understand it, so he could figure out a solution. Some curative desire of his, a medicative need.
He didn’t want me to go with him for any real reason. For all I knew, he didn’t even really like me. I doubted he hated me, but he had ulterior motives, of that I was positive. Still, was that alright? I liked him, his heat. He seemed nice and friendly. I did want to stay near him, but I didn’t really know why or for what exact reason.
We walked to the nearest window and Evan began spinning the handle to levy the window open. I watched him, curious. He was handsome, I decided. I hadn’t really bothered to notice before, but I liked the way he looked. Somewhat rugged and rough, but not too over the top. He had a bit of stubble on his cheeks, which looked nice, but I hoped he never grew a full beard. His clothes were loose, so I couldn’t tell for sure, but he must be strong since he’d carried me up the stairs without too much effort.
I loved his hair, too. Wavy and loose, dark black. I wanted to run my fingers through it and touch it. I could, I decided, be very happy doing that and then grabbing the back of his head and pulling him in for a kiss. If he wanted, if we were dating, which we weren’t, and I was a zombie… he, of course, wasn’t, and I didn’t know why I thought these things because obviously neither of us should care about them. I knew Evan wouldn’t, and I shouldn’t, but…
He opened the window as far as it would go, which wasn’t nearly far enough for either of us to slip out of. The window opened at the top, held in place by retracting metal bars. Standing, surveying what he had to work with, he grunted.
“I wish I had a screwdriver,” he said.
“Why?” I asked.
“Then I wouldn’t have to kick out the window.”
Evan kicked at the sides of the window casing. With a creak, the metal bars strained against his onslaught. A few more kicks on one side of the window and the thin bar came loose, flapping away from the casing. Moments later the other side came loose. The window hesitated for a second, falling outwards slowly. With a loud crash, it smacked against the outside of the library, glass shattering and cascading to the ground in a million little pieces.
“All set,” he said.
Behind us, finishing the struggle up the stairs, our first chaser appeared. He must have hesitated at the top, unsure where we went, but at the obvious sound of the breaking glass, his head swiveled towards us. He stared at me as I looked at him, and then he bolted towards us.
Evan leaped out of the window to the grassy ground below. Springing to a stop a few feet away, he glanced up at me and smiled.
I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t go. I wanted to, I really did, but I couldn’t. What if I slipped and fell? If I hit my head, no matter what I was like now, I’d definitely fall unconscious. Or even if I didn’t hit my head, what if I didn’t jump far enough and scraped my knees? If I landed in the glass and cut myself, I’d end up with more marks; more signs of my inhumanity.
Evan wouldn’t leave. I briefly considered not jumping and forcing him to leave. I knew it wouldn’t work, though. The leader of the pack coming after us was currently in a mad bullrush for the window and he was going to jump out of it no matter what I did. I imagined Evan standing there, smug, not even caring.
“Oh, I’m in horrible danger?” I pictured him thinking. “It doesn’t matter. Let me just act a fool in order to get this zombie girl I just met to come with me.”
Except he wouldn’t call me a zombie. He hadn’t said it at all, not once. He hadn’t treated me like anything but a person, and I appreciated that so much. I didn’t feel like a zombie, nor did I want to be a zombie. I did feel odd somet
imes, out of place, confused and disoriented and unsure, but that was it.
I jumped.
I fell into Evan’s arms. He stepped forward to catch me and we toppled to the ground, but no more. I didn’t hit my head, didn’t scrape my knees. The glass wasn’t anywhere near us and so I didn’t need to worry about that, either. We lay in the grass, huddled together, breathing quickly.
Our first follower stumbled out of the broken window and collapsed onto the ground next to us. I screamed, startled, staring at him.
He’d landed on his feet, but hadn’t had the sense to buckle his knees to soften his fall. Instead, he landed hard and fell forward, face first into the ground. I never knew what happened after that because Evan lifted me off the ground and to my feet, turning me away from the fallen man.
“This way,” I said, pointing to the easily climbable tree and the student’s secret sneak-out route. “There’s a hidden way out.”
Evan nodded and we ran for it. He ran slowly now, though, oddly. I looked over at him and realized his crossbow must have jarred his shoulder when he caught me.
“You’re hurt,” I said.
He brushed it off. “I’m fine. Where is it?”
I showed him to the nearby spot with the tree. There was no bench on this side to get started, but the wall wasn’t too high and the tree branches grew lower than the ones on the other side. Evan nodded once we arrived and went straight to business.
Removing the quiver and crossbow from his back, he jumped up and slipped them onto the top of the stone wall. Getting to his knees next to the wall, he looped his fingers together and looked at me pointedly.
“I’ll help you up. It’ll be faster this way. Just step onto my hands and use the wall to brace yourself. I’ll lift you up as high as I can. Can you jump to the other side fine if I get you to the top? If not, I can climb up after you and help you down.”
“I can do it,” I said. Breathing in deep, I stared at him kneeling on the ground. “I don’t know if this is a good idea, though.”
“It’s not a good idea,” he said with a grin. “It’s a great idea! I promise I won’t drop you.”
I rolled my eyes at him and sighed. Stepping into his hand with one foot, I reached out and braced myself against the wall with my arms. Carefully, he lifted me up. He slipped when he went to stand and cursed under his breath.
His shoulder. I’d completely forgotten. I could climb the tree—I’d done it before. We didn’t need to do it this way and I should’ve realized we shouldn’t, too.
“I can climb on my own,” I said. “You’re hurt, Evan.”
He ignored me, grimacing, and then with a grunt he pushed through the pain in his arm and stood up. I wobbled at first, but kept myself balanced against the wall. Worried, frowning, I watched him but he refused to accept my anxiety.
He lifted me higher. I reached out and grabbed the other side of the wall, then pulled one leg over the top while holding on. Lifting my other leg off his hands, I spun up and onto the top of the wall.
But I didn’t jump to the other side.
The last of our group of chasers, the one who had never come inside to begin with, content with slamming his open palms against the glass instead, staggered around the corner of the building. The three inside approached the broken glass around that time, too. All four of them surveyed the yard, spying their fallen companion. Slowly, seeking, they scanned for Evan.
And then they saw him. Evan grabbed onto the tree and lifted himself up. Or, he tried to. He used the wrong arm and winced in pain, then jumped back to the ground.
The group of others saw him and regained their desire for the chase. The one already on the ground bolted forward, intent on getting to Evan before the rest. One of the ones on the second floor of the library furrowed his brow for a moment, but then leapt to the ground. Better prepared than his predecessor, he landed lightly in the grass, ready to hunt.
This time with his other arm, Evan grabbed the lowest branch again. He tried to climb one-handed, but wasn’t making much progress.
I stared at him, then glanced towards his soon-to-be attackers. Back and forth, my eyes darted from one to the other. He couldn’t get up, wouldn’t be able to make it in time.
Laying flat against the top of the wall, I reached one arm down and stretched it out as far as I could.
“Evan!” I screamed.
He saw me, saw my hand. With one last ditch effort, he snatched a branch with his good arm and reached up for my hand with his bad one. I touched him, felt the heat flare into my palm. It shocked and startled me, even now, but I clenched my hand into a fist and squeezed his hand in mine.
Clamping my eyes shut, too scared to look, I pulled. Hard. Harder than I ever thought I’d pulled anything before.
Evan’s shoulder popped; I felt it. My eyes opened, shocked, and I gasped aloud. I’d meant to help him but I’d hurt him even more. I couldn’t bear to look, didn’t want to see the others descend upon him in bloodthirsty panic. And yet I didn’t want to never see him again, either. I wanted to hold his hand and feel his warmth. I wanted him to touch my cheek and smile at me and talk to me as if I was just a regular person again.
I wanted it so badly it hurt. Unlike physical pain, this pain wasn’t dulled.
Dumbfounded, scared and panicked, eyes wide and fearful, I watched as Evan scrambled up the tree easily and leaped onto the top of the wall. He sat down next to me, legs dangling over the sides, while the others below us tried to grab his feet.
“Whew!” he said. “That was close.”
“What happened?” I asked, staring at him. I didn’t understand any of this.
“Oh. Thanks for that. I must have kind of popped my shoulder out of place a little when I caught you before. Nothing too bad, just really painful if you don’t let it fix itself. I could have done it if I had some time, but, you know?” He offered a curt nod to the ground and the others snatching for his boots. “Your way was much quicker.”
“Oh,” I said. “You’re welcome.”
Evan grabbed his crossbow and quiver and strapped them to his back again, then twisted around and jumped off the wall into the alleyway below. Standing patiently and waiting for me, he held out his arms as if to catch me.
“I’m not letting you catch me,” I said.
He laughed. “That might be for the best.”
I jumped fine and landed beside him.
“Do you have a place to stay?” he asked.
I blinked at him, eyes hazy. “What do you mean?”
“I don’t actually know how that works. I assume you go somewhere for the night, though? Or just whenever? I’m not sure. Do you have a home or, uh… do you wander around the city?”
“Oh,” I said. “Yes. There’s a house outside the city in the forest. It’s off a side road. I usually go there. It’s not too far away and it’s quiet and nice. I…” I paused because I didn’t want to say this to him, but I knew I had to. “I should go now, then. It was nice meeting—”
He stopped me. “I’ll walk you home.” Taking my hand in his, offering me his warmth once more, he smiled. “It’s the least I can do, right?”
*
After sneaking through the city and leaving by way of one of the back roads, Evan and I walked easily the rest of the way to my home. My home, I thought. I was going to show it to him, but I hadn’t expected to ever show it to anyone.
It wasn’t truly mine, either. I’d claimed it, as it was, though who knew if the previous owners cared too much. I hadn’t seen them—or anyone—in the few months that I’d stayed there.
The driveway was long and winding; hardpacked dirt surrounded on either side by trees. At the end, in a clearing, was the house and the yard. Whoever lived here before probably liked their privacy, and I liked mine, too. I never really went into the yard, but it was nice, with a fenced in section in the back and a more open space in the front and sides. A big place, but not in the grand scheme of things. Just a small cutaway section in the middle of n
owhere, nothing that would ever really catch someone’s eye.
Or so I thought.
“Wow,” Evan said. We walked side by side, holding hands, arms swaying back and forth. “How did you find this place? Was it yours before?”
“No,” I said. “They abandoned it. I don’t remember how I found it.”
“You don’t remember?”
Halfway down the driveway, only a little more to go. I thought maybe I should’ve ignored his question and changed the subject, but the words came out of my mouth, unbidden.
“I think it’s this way for everyone,” I said. “Everyone like me; the zombies. We get lost. I don’t know how to explain it besides that. Almost all the time I feel lost and alone and confused, like I should be going somewhere, but I don’t know where to go. I wander a lot because of that. Just kind of in a daze, you know? I walked out of the city one day into the woods and then I ended up here.”
We reached the end of the driveway, walking the last few steps in silence. I started to head for the stairs up a tiny hill that led to the front porch and door, but Evan stopped me. Pulling me back to him, squeezing my hand, he said. “You’re not a zombie, Sadie.”
“I know you’re trying to act kind,” I said, taking my hand away; feeling sad when he let me go. “I am, though. I don’t have a heartbeat anymore. I’ve tried to feel it before, but I can’t find it. I’m dead, Evan. I don’t know how to tell you that and I don’t want to be that, but that’s what I am.”
“Let me try,” he said.
“What?”
“I don’t think you’re dead. Let me see if I can find your pulse.”
I furrowed my brow at him, harrumphing, but decided to give in. Shoving my arm out towards him, palm upraised, I said, “Go ahead, but you won’t find anything.”
His blazing fingers wrapped around my wrist. Resting his thumb on the outer part of my upturned hand, he went about proving me right. I stood there, watching him, knowing I shouldn’t get my hopes up but wondering if maybe I was wrong. I knew I wasn’t, though.
I breathed in and out, and still nothing. Evan waited patiently for a few seconds, shifting his thumb a little this way and that, but I recognized that look on his face. He hadn’t found anything either and would soon need to accept what I’d told him.