by Susan Hatler
My entire body heated and the hairs on my neck prickled. I’d been kissed before, but my body had never felt like this before—especially weird since I didn’t like him in that way.
Thinking of Brynne and how totally wrong all this was, I tried to shift to push him off, but then I noticed my body was reacting in ways it never had. My arms were tingling and my body felt on fire. I wasn’t attracted to him, was I? Hot sparks slapped around me until I realized . . . the feeling wasn’t from enjoying being kissed by Owen.
“Oh, no.” I managed to find some little bit of self-will and ripped away from him so fast my shoulder shoved against his, pushing him to the floor with a loud thump. I heaved myself off the bed—not easy to do with my hands tied behind my back—and crouched down next to him as hot air surrounded me.
“I’m okay.” He rubbed his hip. “I won’t kiss you again if you don’t want—”
“Forget that right now.” My voice squeaked, and I motioned my chin around the room. “It’s here, Owen!”
“The demon?”
“Yes.” Hot air circled around me. Maybe it was an evil demon, after all. How was I supposed to know? At least I had some control over my body again. For how long, though, I had no clue. I gulped, tears burning my eyes. “It’s trying to take my body again.”
“Evil spirit, be gone.” Owen stood, bravely I might add, with his legs spread and his arms wide. “We are peace loving people. We won’t hurt you unless we have to.”
“Don’t threaten it, Owen. You might make it angrier.” I stood too, and pulled at my wrists, trying to break his shoelaces off to free my hands. “I can’t believe you tied your disgusting shoelaces around my wrists. I’m totally defenseless.”
How I’d mistaken a zombie attacking my body for being attracted to Owen, I’d never get. At least I didn’t have to feel guilty about my friend’s crush kissing me. It wasn’t my fault my body was being taken over by a zombie.
“Uh, Amy?”
My wrists throbbed from all the pulling, but I yanked even harder. I didn’t want to lose my body again. What if I didn’t get it back this time?
“I said, Amy!” Owen shouted.
Couldn’t he see that I had my own problems here? A zombie attacking me? Being tied up by his shoelaces? “What?”
He groaned. “You know that sixth sense we were talking about earlier?”
I flung my head up, staring at him, wondering why he felt the need to bring this up now. “Yeah?”
He sat back on the bed, his eyes bulging. “I’m having that feeling, too.”
“You can sense it?” I paused, wondering how Owen could sense it when, according to the zombie, I’m the only who had ever noticed its existence. “You have that sixth sense right now?”
“Most definitely.” His eyes bulged and he hugged himself, squeezing tightly. “Now, I can, um, feel some kind of heated suction. It’s spinning around me really fast and . . . ”
He was describing the same feeling I’d experienced in the hallway at school right before I’d been zombied. “Oh, no. Owen!”
His head fell back onto my hot pink bedspread, his neck stretching so far that I could see the thick ropes of his taut muscles.
I wanted to reach for him, but the laces held my arms tight behind me back. “Talk to me. Are you okay?”
His eyes drifted closed, his facial muscles went slack and his body looked different.
Stiff.
Empty.
“It’s still you, right?” I whispered, even though I had the strong feeling he no longer occupied his own body. Which could only mean. . . .
Owen’s eyes popped open. He stared at the ceiling and then blinked. His neck tilted left, then twisted right, then his chin pulled forward and he stared right at me.
I returned his gaze and swallowed, knowing it wasn’t Owen anymore.
He’d been zombied.
Chapter Five
As I stared into Owen’s brown eyes, I had to keep reminding myself this wasn’t really him even though it obviously looked like him. No wonder Brynne hadn’t noticed the zombied Amy hadn’t been me earlier. There really wasn’t a way to tell just by looking at someone.
Super freaky.
My heart pounded in my chest. “Give Owen his body back.”
It blinked. “You can see me?”
“I see Owen, not you.” The brave talk was an act. Even tied behind my back, my hands shook. I was scared out of my mind, but I didn’t want to show weakness. “You don’t belong in there.”
It shot me an annoyed look. “Would you rather I have used your body again?”
Not really.
I shook my head. “You can’t steal Owen’s body. He’s a nice guy and doesn’t deserve this.”
“Nobody deserves what’s going on.” The zombie pushed itself up onto its feet—Owen’s feet. He lurched a little, but the lurching wasn’t as bad as when my body had been zombied. Apparently the zombie spirit or whatever it was seemed to be gaining a better sense of balance.
It might have deserved kudos if it hadn’t, you know, commandeered my friend’s body.
“And I’m only borrowing his body,” he—it—added. “I don’t have any other options.”
My jaw set. “You can go back to wherever you came from.”
“That’s exactly what I plan to do.” It rubbed the back of its neck—Owen’s neck—and sighed. “It’s hard using my muscles to move, instead of my mind.”
“Those aren’t your muscles.” I glanced up at my ceiling, wondering where my geeky friend was and if he could hear me. “Stay calm, Owen. I’ll think of something to save you.”
“You don’t have to worry about your boyfriend.” The zombie gestured toward the rumpled comforter on my bed. “He’ll be back soon enough, then you two can get kinky again.”
Kinky? If I could’ve put my hands on my hips indignantly, I would have. “Excuse me?”
Its gaze darted from the bed to my tied-up wrists, then met my eyes. “I don’t have time for this.”
My cheeks heated and I awkwardly stepped forward. Not easy to walk when you don’t have your arms for balance. Ugh. “For your information, he bound my hands together for his own safety.”
It strode toward the door, but glanced back. “Spare me the details.”
“You totally have the wrong idea, and you shouldn’t have been spying on me anyway.” My fear had turned to annoyance when he’d accused me of being kinky. As if. “Where do you think you’re going?”
The zombie rubbed its belly. “I’m hungry.”
“After all you chowed down earlier?” Although I supposed he’d filled my tummy before. At least the calories were going to Owen’s thighs this time.
“I’m hungry, I eat. It’s not complicated,” the zombie said, then disappeared out the door.
I was annoyed at the zombie’s attitude, especially calling me kinky. So lame. What happened to being concerned about my feelings? What had changed since then? Biting my lip, I hurried down the stairs after it, although I couldn’t go all too fast, given that I had to lean against the wall for balance.
It strode into the kitchen, pulled open the refrigerator door, then picked up a milk carton and began guzzling.
Such a pig.
I glared at it. “I don’t know what planet you’re from, but on Earth we use a glass.”
“On Earth?” It laughed, then grabbed a stack of cheese slices. “Where do you think I’m from? Jupiter?”
Like I needed to be mocked by this thing.
I narrowed my eyes. “For your information, the government is sending UFOs into other galaxies. Maybe you hitched a ride back. Or something.”
I couldn’t believe I’d just said that.
“Are you for real?” It peeled the plastic off a cheese slice, folded it several times, and seemed to swallow it without chewing.
“Nice manners,” I scoffed.
“Thanks.” It smiled, shook its head, then burst out laughing. “Other galaxies . . .”
I sighe
d. Were we back on that again?
Since it hadn’t indicated any desire to kill me, I figured I should try to coax some information out of it—anything I could use to help Owen. “Where are you from?”
“San Francisco.” It folded another slice of cheese. “Lots of extra terrestrials there.”
“San Francisco?” I asked, ignoring its smart remark. The City was less than an hour away. I’d been there a zillion times, but there had never been anything in the Chronicle about zombie attacks. “Are you saying you were created there?”
It chuckled, then tossed the plastic wrappers on the counter.
“We do have a garbage can, you know.” I tightened my fists behind my back. “You zombied my body, my friend’s body, and keep scarfing down my food. Considering all of that, it’s particularly ungrateful to laugh at me when I’m just trying to figure out why you’re here. Maybe I should go get a minister, after all. He could exorcise you back to San Francisco or wherever you’re really from.”
“You’re cute.” He smirked, folded another piece of cheese, then shoved it into his mouth.
Gritting my teeth, I stormed from the room, then paced the entryway. Cute? This zombie was completely infuriating. Threatening it made me very brave or really stupid. Either way, I hadn’t gotten any new information or any closer to rescuing poor Owen, who had to be scared silly right now.
I glanced up at the ceiling. “Sorry, Owen. I feel bad that it took your body. But I won’t abandon you.” I sighed, hoping he could hear me. “Although, if you hadn’t tied my wrists together I’d probably be more useful right now.”
My fingers were turning numb, so I had a right to point that out.
“Amy?” The zombie called from the kitchen.
Did it think we were on a first name basis? How annoying.
Wrists throbbing, I stormed back into the kitchen and shot daggers with my eyes. “Look, you . . . whatever you are, don’t even think about hurting me or you will pay dearly. Just grab the orange-handled scissors from the drawer behind you and cut these shoelaces off.”
The corner of its mouth tipped up. “Did you just insult me, threaten me, then ask for a favor?”
My lips twisted to the right. “Just do it.”
It tilted its head. “Not until you say please.”
“Owen tied my arms behind my back because he thought I might be possessed, which is your fault.” I stepped forward, pleading with my eyes since I could barely feel my hands anymore. “These laces are tight and they hurt, so the least you can do is cut them off without making me beg.”
“Fine.” It pulled open the drawer, fished out the scissors, then made a circular motion with its finger. “Turn around.”
For a moment, I wondered if turning my back on an armed zombie was a good idea. . . .
Trying to swallow my fear, I lifted my lashes. “You’re not going to hurt me. Are you?”
“No, Amy.” Its voice held an edge of sadness. Then it stepped behind me, wrapped its fingers gently around one of my wrists and bent down. “He’s got these knotted pretty good, so hold perfectly still.”
“Okay,” I said, then shivered as its fingers brushed across my skin. I sucked in a breath, tingles skittering up my arms at the feather-like feel of its fingers against mine. I closed my eyes, confused by my racing heart.
“Got it.” The zombie’s tone was soft. “You’re free.”
A moment later, my wrists separated. Tiny pricks attacked my hands as if being poked by thousands of needles. I held them up in front of me as the blood flowed back in with a vengeance. “I guess I should thank you.”
“My fault to begin with. Remember?” It set the scissors on the counter, reached for my hands, then gazed at the red marks around my wrists. Its eyes clouded. “Does it still hurt?”
“A little,” I said, getting chills where its thumbs trailed across my wrists, which made no sense. It was acting so sweet now. Almost human. I had to remind myself this body snatcher wasn’t exactly my friend.
Pulling my hands away, I swallowed. “You took over my body.”
It nodded. “I know.”
My throat tightened. “That was wrong on so many levels. I got flung against the ceiling—no, make that through the ceiling—at school, freaked out because I thought you might hurt my friend, and didn’t know if I’d ever be myself again.”
Wait . . . I rarely opened up to people. Why was I being so honest with this zombie? Maybe because he actually seemed to be listening to me. Like my parents had done when I was little. I’d forgotten how good that felt.
“I’m sorry.” It blew out a breath, then leaned back against the counter. “But you’re the only one who seemed to notice I existed and I had no other way to communicate. I tried to write you a note, but controlling a pen with my mind proved kind of difficult.”
A vision of the ballpoint standing on its own and sliding toward me flashed through my mind. I glanced down at my feet, then looked up again. “I thought you were trying to stab me.”
“No.” A hurt expression crossed its face. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Why?” I studied its face—Owen’s face, I had to remind myself, because this “thing” acted so different than the geeky hottie whose body it currently inhabited.
The vein on its temple throbbed and its eyes flicked to mine. “To ask you to help me.”
My chest went hollow. “With what . . .?”
Its gaze traveled down to the dirty shoelaces in its hands and it shrugged. “Doesn’t matter now.”
“You’ve invaded my friend’s body,” I said, pointing out the obvious. “I’m thinking your problem matters a lot to Owen until you give his body back.”
“I-I do have my own body.” It glanced away, sucked in a breath, then turned back to face me again. Its eyes pierced mine. “The problem is that it’s buried six feet under right now.”
Huh? Did that mean the zombie used to be human?
An eerie feeling settled over me. “Do you mean buried, like the dead?”
“I’m not exactly dead, I guess.” It shifted from one foot to the other. “I’m here, aren’t I?”
“How can you be not exactly dead?” My brows rose then something nagged at the back of my mind. The Internet article the zombie had pulled up on my laptop. Maisy’s Meow creator Jacob Miller’s son had been nailed by a big rig on his way to school. It made perfect sense now. The zombie hadn’t caused the car wreck. He’d been in the accident. I gasped. “You’re the guy from that newspaper article.”
It avoided my gaze.
I rubbed my forehead, unable to believe I hadn’t pieced this together sooner. “You’re Jonathan Jacob Miller.”
His gaze lifted until his eyes met mine. “In the flesh.”
Only not his flesh, Owen’s flesh. Because. . . .
“Oh, my . . .” My eyes burned and my hands flew to my mouth as I remembered a line from the Internet article, which stated that Jonathan’s burial had been scheduled for this morning. “Y-You died last Friday.”
We stared at each other in silence as the realization sunk in. The photo from the article appeared in my mind. I could see him with his emerald green eyes, his dark hair, flashing that dimpled smile. The zombie wasn’t evil. He was just a teenage boy from a car accident.
Jonathan Jacob Miller.
And he was dead.
****
I bit my lip, staring at Owen’s face. Well, Owen’s face that was now being used by Jonathan. I wasn’t sure if that was gross or cool. How had this bizarre situation happened, anyway? I needed answers. “If you died, then how are you able to be here?”
He speared a hand through his hair. “I’m not exactly sure.”
My tummy kind of did a flip-flop. Now that was weird—when Owen shoved his hand in his hair I usually just found it a bit annoying at how all the spikes went in different directions. When Jonathan did it . . . well, Owen’s hair had never looked better.
“But you were killed in a car accident. And then suddenly y
ou’re in my body. And now Owen’s. How did that happen?
Then I remembered Nicole’s Ouiji board game. Chills ran through me.
I whirled around, throwing my arms out. “We summoned your spirit through the Ouija board. Didn’t we?”
His brows drew together. “No, of course not.”
“It’s making sense now.” I snapped my fingers as it all came together—the planchette moving around the Ouija board and that feeling I’d had of being watched. “You’re a total ghost. No, a zombie. Or, a zombie-ghost. A zhost?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He grunted then pushed off the counter, moving toward the hallway. “Are you always this insensitive? I feel sorry for your new boyfriend.”
My brows shot upward. “Boyfriend?”
He gestured toward his torso. “The guy whose body I’ve borrowed.”
“Owen? Not even.” I laughed. I mean, Brynne sure thought he was hot, but I found him way too serious. Besides, I needed someone who didn’t worry about the monetary percentage he was saving on a cheeseburger. And someone who made me tingle, and not because a zombie was trying to inhabit my body. “He’s not my boyfriend—just a friend. Sort of. It’s none of your business, anyway.”
“Whatever. Your busy love life doesn’t concern me.” He paused at the edge of the kitchen, slipped his hands into his pockets, and pulled out a set of keys. “These to Owen’s car?”
If I said yes, he might drive off with Owen’s body, and that wouldn’t be good. Plus, I was still wondering what he meant by my busy love life. “No. They’re, uh, someone else’s keys.”
Lying’s not my strong suit.
His eyes narrowed. “This has been real, but I have things to do.”
I stared blankly as he slipped out of the room, then I revved up a gear and charged down the hallway after him. “Hey, you said we were in this together.”
“Change of plans.”
“Why? Where are you going?” I grabbed his arm at the entryway, then blocked the front door with my arms. “You can’t just leave.”
He gave me a side-glance. “Says who?”
“Me.” I thrust my hands to my hips. “I know you’re having problems and all, but you’re being kind of rude.”