Notes from a Necrophobe
Page 15
I grab the mop and hold it in front of me like some noble knight’s javelin. Now it’s KC’s turn to laugh at me, I look like a deranged Don Quixote. But like me, she’s keeping her laughter to herself. Undead Stacy has stopped floundering on the floor and is confidently walking towards us, no slipping this time. It learns much faster than its host ever did. It’s kind of sad in a way—Stacy’s smarter dead than alive.
I run at the Stacy zombie with a battle cry—“YeeeeeeeeeeAhhhhh!” raging from my throat. What’s gotten into me? I could slip if I run! And since when do I have a battle cry? I’m not exactly Braveheart here. Not with a mop anyway.
But I don’t slip and my cry gives me the strength to ram the mop into Stacy and push her all the way back into the bathroom and against the wall. Stacy’s pushing right back, reaching her hands out like a proper B-movie zombie. This is harder than I realized, especially while on a slick tile floor. “KC, help me!” I cry out “I can’t hold her here much longer!”
But KC doesn’t help. She doesn’t say a word. Where is she? Did she find another way out? Did someone unlock the door? How could she leave me? I try to twist my head to look around, but it takes all my effort and attention to keep Stacy’s body pinned up against the wall.
I may not be able to see behind me, but I can hear something. It’s the sound of breaking glass. What did KC break the glass with, the bucket? How strong is this girl? I don’t get a chance to wonder for much longer because KC dashes past me and runs right up to Stacy. What is she doing? Has she lost it?! Wait, I think she’s going to…
I only get a brief glimpse of the long shard of glass she’s carrying before she drives it deep into Stacy’s eye and brain.
KC
If my heart doesn’t calm down it’s going to explode, which would be ironic after all we’ve done to survive the Stacy.
I should feel disgusted with myself but I don’t. Instead I feel jazzed. I’m ready to take on a platoon of zombies with my bare hands! There’s so much adrenaline buzzing around in me, I think I can take down that door…
I throw myself at it over and over, but it doesn’t budge. Ghost pulls me away. His voice is soothing, mesmerizing. “KC, you’re just going to bruise yourself. You may even succeed in dislocating your shoulder if you keep it up.” But I can’t stop! I have to do something!
Ghost is holding me in a tight embrace. It’s not a loving embrace, it’s more like he’s the straightjacket trying to keep me from hurting myself. I can feel his hot breath in my ear and his heart pounding into my back, but it isn’t sweet nothings he whispers into my ear, it’s more bad news. “KC,” he says urgently, gently spinning me around. “Look, the water’s spreading.”
Whoa, we really are up the creek. What I wouldn’t give for a paddle. Ghost scoops me up and sits me on one of the sinks, then thinks better of it and says, “Can you climb up to the top of the stalls?”
I give him a “Are you serious? I could climb Everest now if given the chance”—look. He looks sheepishly back. “Right, of course you can.”
We jump onto the toilet and hoist ourselves up, placing our feet on one wall of the stall while we sit and hold on to the other wall. We watch the water slowly rise—one inch, two inches…
“KC?” Ghost is suddenly calm, contemplative even.
“Yeah?”
“You scare me. I mean, what you did was superhumanly cool but still, you scare me.”
“This coming from a ghost? Well guess what, you scare me too sometimes.”
We fall quiet again and watch the water rise.
RENEE
Something’s not right. Jesse would say my “Mommy Sense” was tingling, but it’s much more than that. This is a dark, foreboding feeling. I check on Jesse first, which takes some time due to my insistence that she find safe places to hide. I learned the hard way after a panicked search to tell her to let me know where those places were so I could come and get her or send someone for her, and now she’s good at telling me where she goes. She’s also very good at hiding, so it takes a while to go through all the little nooks and crannies she’s claimed as her space.
I find Jesse and she’s fine. She’s been hanging out in a cupboard in the supply closet, calling out, “I see you!” every time a couple comes in to make out, making them look about in shock and surprise and sending them scurrying. Houston is even easier to find, he’s in survival class with Claire, Lisl, and Braden and seems to be beating them at rope climbing.
KC’s supposed to be on cleaning duty with Ghost and one of the chattering mindless girls, Tracy or something. I check the board to see where she should be and notice that the three of them have been erased already. Does that mean they’re finished? Since they’re erased I can’t find out where they were in the first place. Who’s in charge of assignments anyway?
I was informed weeks ago that no one knows who’s in charge of assignments; it’s one of those things we don’t question. “Those who ask too many questions disappear,” is what I remember the little old lady saying. A guy next to her immediately followed up with “And those who talk too much do too.”
My instinctual alarm kicks into high gear—Have KC and Ghost disappeared like their names on the board? If I have to run up and down these halls screaming out her name like an idiot I will, but just as I’m about to launch into full-on crazed mama-bear mode, I hear Naked’s frantic barking.
“Naked? Naked!” Naked charges up from the basement, the hair on her back on end. I haven’t seen her that way since…since we were surrounded by the undead. Naked runs back down the steps and I follow, screaming KC’s name all the way down. Naked leads me straight to the locker room and to my great relief I can hear in the distance “Naked! Get help, Naked!”
“KC!” I yell.
“Mom? Mom! Don’t open the door! There’s infected water backed up behind it! Get your galoshes on first!”
“And the rest of your rain gear!” shouts Ghost.
“Should I get the soldiers?” I cry out.
“Who do you think locked us in here!?” They shout back together.
Oh.
I run back to my room, get into my rain gear as fast as possible, and head back for the locker room. This time I bring as many people as I can with me; I want witnesses to what they’re trying to do to my daughter. Unfortunately our group catches the attention of some of the guards who also start to follow. They’re keeping their distance though, hanging at the back of the crowd and observing with no intention of helping.
I reach the stairs that lead down to the locker room and shout “Everyone stand back! The water may be contaminated!” The spectators back up and huddle in groups on the staircase. I look to the guards and throw down the gauntlet: “Are you coming with me?”
They stand their ground. They know the water’s contaminated.
I click the lock to the left and open the door, allowing two feet of water to wash over me. My flesh crawls as the infected liquid pushes against my rainsuit, but my gear is tight and keeps me safe. The crowd backs even further up the steps while at the same time looking around me to have a peek at what’s in the room. What we see makes us gasp and scream at the scene before us: KC and Ghost precariously perched on top of a toilet stall, blood flowing freely from one of KC’s hands into the water…and a corpse floating on the water with a long shard of glass sticking out of its eye.
HOUSTON
“Why would someone want to kill you?” asks Kaboom. We’re back in our clubhouse in the stage’s loft having an emergency Dumb Luck Club meeting.
“Yeah, why would they want to bump you guys off instead of Kaboom here? There’s more reasons to kill him than anyone!” Nemesis is genuinely curious about this. So am I.
Kaboom glares at Nemesis. “Whatever the reason, you two are marked. It’s probably best if we don’t hang around you too much.”
“What?”
“I think what Braden…I mean Kaboom is saying is that Ghost may be seen as the perfect leader to head up a mutiny. That makes
him a target,” explains Linus. “He’s the best at almost everything in survival class and people listen to him. Katatonic here was just collateral damage. No offence KC.”
“None taken.” KC mutters. She’s been quieter than usual since she took out her first zombie.
“Hey! I thought I was the best in survival class!” protests Doom. “I was learning survival techniques long before you were even aware there was a problem!”
“Yeah, but you’re depressing to listen to.” I can tell that Nemesis is getting impatient with the chatter. “Besides, I want to know what we’re going to do about this.”
“That’s the problem; there is nothing we can do about it. Not now, at least.” I hate to sound defeatist, but there it is.
“Then why have we been called here? What’s the point of risking our lives by sneaking up here if we’re not going to come up with solutions? This ain’t no social club!” Everyone jumps at this because it’s Wilber aka ‘Puddles’ who’s talking, and he hasn’t uttered a word since he got here. Kaboom isn’t prepared to deal with an irritated Puddles, so he stammers a bit when he replies. “Well, uh, we have a couple of other points to go over…I just felt like an attempt on Ghost and KC’s life couldn’t be ignored. We can’t act like it never happened.”
“Hou’s right you know.” Mouse’s voice is almost quiet enough to be a whisper. “What can we do? Accuse Buck and his boys of setting a trap for you? Ask the General for an investigation? Look around for who’s responsible?” She points to the pile of split kits left over from the disappeared refugees, her voice gaining in strength as she speaks. “What happened to them could happen to us. All we can do is convince them we’re not a threat, stay out of their way, and hope they let us live in peace.”
“So, you think we should be like the drifters?” Doom asks, his voice dripping with acid.
Puddles responds with full-on fury. “We’re worse off than the drifters! At least they get to live in blissful ignorance. They can carry on feeling like everything’s fine and there’s nothing to worry about, this stuff is just bad luck. We all have to follow orders and we all live under the General’s thumb, but we’re the only ones who are scared of what the soldiers could do to us! We know they can turn on us at any moment because we’re disposable.” Puddles’s voice rises with anger while he speaks. “That could have been any one of us down in that locker room! Who knows who’s going to be next? Are they planning on picking us off one by one while others stand by, grateful it’s us and not them? I don’t know how I’m supposed to live knowing my life doesn’t matter to anyone anymore!”
I’m glad Spazz isn’t at this meeting, ‘cause we’re all freefalling down the chute of despair.
“Listen…” KC finally speaks up. She sounds distant. She’s absentmindedly scratching at her bandaged hand and looks tired. She hasn’t slept very well since that day in the locker room. She’s probably been playing out all the ways things could have gone wrong as she lies on her cot at night; at least that’s what I’d be doing. I’m hoping that she doesn’t stay in this funk forever. I’m probably hoping for too much. I remember Dad telling me about his days in the army. He didn’t go into a lot of detail, but he said that the death of each person you kill is always with you, it gets under your skin and stays there. I wish I had a chance to ask him how I can help KC.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my latest near-death experience, it’s that there are always alternatives. Ghost and I seemed to have nothing to fight with when we were trapped and no way to escape the dirty water, yet we found a way to fight back and we survived. So let’s come up with some alternatives. Any ideas?”
We all fall quiet. You can tell everyone is thinking, but no one’s coming up with anything. After an awkward couple of minutes Kaboom breaks the silence. “Look, guys, I understand. It’s hard to come up with something on the spot. We can always meet up later as soon as someone has an idea of what to do. Let’s move on. Mouse, I believe you have something you want to share with us.”
Yuk, now it sounds like Kaboom is facilitating one of those addiction therapy groups. I feel bad for Mouse; she’s never liked being the center of attention. She scoots further into our tight circle clutching a large black binder. She takes a deep breath and with the loudest voice she can muster she announces: “I’ve been collecting the departed. I mean, the people who those split kits once belonged to.” Everyone leans in to hear her, clearly interested in what Mouse has to say. She seems to be encouraged by our curiosity and carries on, speaking quickly while she shows us her little project. “We are the left-behind. There’s no one left to remember us, to ask after us.”
I start to protest with a “Hey! Speak for yourself. I have a father out there who…” but the thought dies in my throat. I don’t have the faith that Spazz has that our father is still out there looking for us. I notice that KC stays silent as well.
“That’s why the soldiers can get away with so much. They have no one to answer to but the General. For all we know, he’s told the government that they’ve lost the refugees and they’re the only residents here. I mean seriously, has anyone seen any drop-offs of supplies or food lately? There hasn’t been anything for at least a month! Wouldn’t the government keep supplying us if they thought this was a functioning refugee center? How much longer do we have on the food we’ve got? No one’s allowed in the storeroom to find out.”
Okay, we’re going down the chute of despair again. I use distraction to avoid depression by pointing to what Mouse is holding and ask, “What’s in the book?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I went off on a tangent there.” Mouse seems to be back on track. “I don’t want to go from the left-behind to the departed to the forgotten. No one deserves to be forgotten! That’s why I’ve started this book.” She opens up the book and leafs through the first few pages. “I’ve started with the names and the pictures from the owners of each split kit and then wrote down what I remember about them. I’ve also been talking to those who’ve been here from the beginning about what they remember and write that down too.” She must see the worry on our faces because she quickly adds, “Don’t worry; I’m careful! I only ask questions when the soldiers aren’t around.”
“Don’t you think it’s obvious you’re up to something when you carry around a big binder like that?” says Doom.
“I don’t know what to do about that. All I know is that so far none of the soldiers or Buck’s boys have a problem with it. The General’s not stupid. I’m sure he’s knows what it’s about, but they don’t seem to see it as a threat.” Mouse shrugs as she says this, but she doesn’t sound so sure of herself now.
“They probably think it’s a good hobby to keep you and others busy and that if it ever does become a threat, they can easily destroy it.” Linus tries to sound reassuring, but it falls flat.
“So what do you want of us?” asks Nemesis, impatient as usual.
“I don’t want to just list the departed. I want to get as many inmates, I mean, uh, residents in here as possible because…” Mouse looks at Ghost and KC. “You never know what’s going to happen. I can’t interview everyone here on my own and I can’t ask for all the paper I’m going to need for this, so if you guys can help me interview and contribute your paper rations, I can get this done.” She looks at KC again. “And, KC, I could really use your drawing skills. It would mean a lot to have a likeness to go with each bio. One of the things that keep me from going crazy here is this project and the daydream that goes with it: we get rescued, and we show the outside who was here and what happened to them.”
“You’re not going to have any luck with the soldiers; they’re not allowed to talk to us. They don’t even have names!” Doom moans.
Mouse’s face morphs into a mask of simmering rage. Several of us flinch at her open hostility. Through gritted teeth she hisses, “I’m not talking about the soldiers. They have no place in my book.”
We’re all taken aback by the heat of Mouse’s wrath. “Okay!” Kaboom
announces cheerily. “Let’s all try to help Mouse out on this project. Let’s make sure no one is forgotten!” He’s probably desperate to change the subject; it’s kind of uncomfortable to see Mouse like this.
“Just one suggestion.” Ghost talks and everyone shuts up to listen. “Why don’t we ask the residents to write out their own one-page bio? That way we won’t burn through our paper supply and…” he looks around. “People can decide how they want to be remembered.”
“That’s a bit morbid,” says Doom. “It’s like you’re asking them to write their own epitaph.”
“Okay, great, whatever.” Kaboom hurries on, eager to finish this up and get to what seems to be his part of the meeting. “Any objections to Ghost’s proposal? No? Okay, I have an item of business…”
“Stop being so formal and get on with it!” snaps Nemesis.
“Yeah, cut to the cheese!” I quip.