Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie (10 page)

“I guess.”

I stared at her and fidgeted, a bit impatient waiting to hear what else she had to say. I knew she hadn't called me down here to just talk about this stuff.

My aunt chuckled as she reached over and tapped my knee. “All right, I can see you're getting restless. There's something I wanted to talk to you about. You know Amelia works in the ER part-time?”

I waited for her to explain. “I remember.”

“Okay, watch this.”

The TV flickered and the picture changed. A TV reporter sat with a woman dressed in white, her face shielded by a big black shadow. “Is that her?” I asked.

“
Sí,” Tia
said. “Now watch.”

“I'm with a nurse who works at one of the local hospitals,” the reporter explained. “We've disguised her face and voice to protect her identity. She said the hospital has been admitting more people suffering from a mystery illness. Can you tell us what you are seeing?”

The woman's voice sounded hard and mechanical as she talked. “We've begun seeing a lot of people complaining of headaches and other body aches. It sounded like the flu, but then they began breaking out in small spots, almost like the measles. Some patients began developing sores so we had to quarantine them.”

“What are the doctors saying about this? Is it contagious?” the reporter asked.

“We can't say for sure what it is,” the nurse answered. “None of the staff working with the patients have caught it, but we're finding they all have something in common—they all were in contact with those creatures later or touched something those things had been near.”

“You mean the zombies?” the reporter asked.

“Yes,” the woman said. “Our waiting room was packed. We started getting so many sick people we had to open one of the closed wings. And then they started dying so fast we ran out of room in the morgue. The scary part is most of these people were fine before this. They got sick out of nowhere and no one is saying anything about it.”

“
Tia,
did you hear anything about this?”

She shook her head and jabbed the remote to turn down the TV's volume. “No, not until Amelia told me this was coming on. She suspects it's being kept quiet for a reason, but they're probably already working on a new vaccine. But I don't think it will help. Not this time.
Niña,
this may get worse. I'm sure officials will try to downplay it, but when more people start dying, it will turn into chaos. Things are going to get very scary.”

I tried to take it all in and comprehend what she was saying, but it was hard. Everything was happening way too fast. Then it hit me…

I gazed into my aunt's warm brown eyes, ignoring what she said and focusing on what she didn't say. Neither of us wanted to voice the obvious—she could be one of those who got sick.

The thought made my heart ache. I couldn't—wouldn't—think of her dying—NO!

Living in such close quarters with an infected person like me gave her a much greater chance than anyone else of developing the illness. I began to make those odd hiccup-crying sounds.

My aunt pulled me closer. “No, honey, I don't want you to worry about it, or to feel guilty. I'm as strong as a horse. I'll be fine. Amelia told me as far as she knows, none of the people who got sick were around someone like you for an extended period of time. She thinks people like me have built up a resistance to the virus. I'll be fine. I worry more about you
.
”

The rest went ignored. Those few words,
as far as she knows,
echoed in my head. No one knew much about this whole thing, or they weren't telling, I realized. I tried not to let my aunt know how much this scared me.

Her worrying wasn't so out of line. The expressions I saw on those people's faces outside Carm's house were only the beginning, I knew. Once people heard about it spreading…

Wow, talk about strange. First, Carm has her weird premonition; now my aunt was giving me hints. I took a deep breath. Guess I couldn't ignore what was becoming obvious any longer.

“
Tia,
Carm and I were talking. She's scared since we haven't heard from mama or from her mother. It bothers me, too. If they don't call or come home soon…”

Her response was a sigh and a big, bone-crushing squeeze. “I know, I know. Someone may have to go get them. Too bad, your uncle hurt his leg and can't drive far. At least your mother got my message about Spence.” She held her hand up.” No, I didn't hear anything else. We can only hope they're finally on their way home.”

She held my hands in hers. “Honey, everything is starting to change. I want you and your cousin to pack your bags, only the bare essentials, and bring them downstairs. We'll leave them in the hall. If things get too bad, we all may have to go to my brother's house. I still don't think you should go anywhere else. Not just yet. For now, we should play it safe.”

Her calm recital got to me. My eyes on the floor, I played with my chipped fingernail polish, not wanting to look her in the face. My childish wish for things to get better disappeared.

Now I knew nothing would improve—absolutely freaking nothing, and certainly not me.

The longer this went on, the more people got sick, the crazier it would get. Carm's prediction had been right. It would get to where it wouldn't be safe for me to be here.

My choice would be made. This bothered me—I hated to think my being here could bring harm to
mi familia
.

I gulped and tried to make sense of everything. Before all this, I'd been like any other teenage girl. My life had revolved around school, my friends, what we wore, and talking with Carm about our favorite songs and movies.

That girl was gone.

I didn't even want to think what would happen if we didn't find
mi madre
—or when we did.

My next revelation hit me so hard I thumped back on the couch. The air whooshed out of me like someone had hit me in the gut.

Home, my home.

If I left, would I ever see it again? Would I ever see my aunt again?

A sobering thought for a girl who hadn't ever gone any further than thirty or so miles from her house alone.

As if she sensed my thoughts, my aunt told me not to worry. “Honey, if it comes to that, if you have to leave, and I hope it doesn't, I will be here waiting for all of you. We will all be fine, and together. Soon.”

Saying goodnight, I hugged her again before running upstairs, a plan in mind. I had to find out what was going on out there. Cam and I needed to know what we faced other than the crazies.

In my room, the door closed, I hurriedly dabbed more makeup over some of my darker spots and threw on a black hoodie. Black jeans and a pair of old black sneakers completed the outfit.

I slid open my window, crawled out, and climbed down the trellis like I'd done a couple times in the past. All I needed was an hour or so, enough time to see what was going on and get back before my hunger pangs kicked in.

Running down the street, I turned at the corner, and headed for downtown. A good place to give me an idea of what was going on, I decided. I jogged the few blocks, grateful for the lack of moonlight, which not only hid my features but kept anyone from paying too much attention to my weird running gait. Laughter and the sound of breaking glass drifted from across the way. I ran faster, then hurriedly crossed the street to avoid a group of kids up ahead.

“Hey,
chica,
where you goin'?” one of the guys yelled.

I kept my face hidden and ran faster. Finally, I stopped at the end of our tiny, two-block downtown with its art gallery, movie theater and shops, and watched. People stood on the corner talking; others went into the restaurant or went to their cars. It seemed like any other night except for the group of armed Guardsmen stopping people in the next block. Oh, the curfew! They must be telling people to go home.

I took a few steps nearer and stood, pretending to study the pet shop window while I eavesdropped. The conversations I heard sent a chill up my spine.

“
Her cousin was fine, and then she broke out with these weird spots.”

“Guy started coughing and then he keeled over. Scary.”

“His neighbor turned into one of those freaks. He almost seemed normal sometimes.”

“Those things will end up killing us one way or another.”

Their conversation drew my attention. I gazed in their direction, and too late saw the woman's eyes widen as our gazes met. She leaned over and whispered in her friend's ear. “What?” he yelled.

He turned and glared at me. Voices rose as everyone else turned and stared. Uh-oh, I'd better get out of here.

“Hey, it's one of them!” another woman yelled.

This time I didn't move fast enough. In two steps, the man rushed over and grabbed me, curling a big beefy hand around my arm like he was holding a chicken leg. I struggled and tried to pull free, but couldn't loose myself from his stranglehold. His fingers tightened.

“No, let me go, please,” I begged. “Please, I'm not one of them!
Oww
, let me go! You're hurting me!”

Lucky for me, his girlfriend whispered something and he loosened his grip, which allowed me to shake free. I took off, glad to escape more interest from others coming out of the restaurant and from the Guardsmen heading this way. I ran as fast as I could, my feet getting tangled up in each other every now and then. I tripped, but kept going. My insides quivered, the fear growing that any minute someone would jump out from behind a building or lunge from a gangway and grab me as I loped past.

Breathing hard, I half-jogged, half-skipped down the empty street, glad the groups I'd passed earlier seemed to have moved somewhere else. The rumble of a truck made me duck into the darkness next to a house. I watched the vehicle with two Guardsmen drive by and waited until it was quiet again before I peeked out. The coast clear, I jogged-loped down the street. I rounded the corner never happier to see my house up ahead, dark except for the small lamp shining from my upper bedroom window.

My feet on the trellis, I spurred myself on, climbing up and into the window, thrilled to be home, safe and sound.

I was safe from everyone now, except myself. I sat and waited for my stomach to start gurgling and growling.

My brain (the unmushy part, anyway) felt drained from the night's drama. Carm would probably, no, definitely, call me crazy for going out, but it had to be done. At least I now had a better idea of just what we'd be facing if, or when, we left. If my little experiment indicated anything, we could expect things to get even crazier as the days went on and the virus continued to spread.

I threw off the hoodie, slipped off my shoes, and jumped under the covers, arranging the blankets around me like I was in a cocoon and relaxed, waiting for some warmth to creep in. It would take a while since these days my body tended to run more on the cooler side.

Giving myself a tap on the side of my head got my one eye looking again in the right direction. What a pain.

I fixated on the eerie glow of the fake stars glued on my ceiling and let my thoughts go, willing myself to go down, down, down, to sleep. My mind went blank as I drifted off.

Then, in what felt like only minutes later, (sleep was becoming less and less real or necessary), my eyes blinked open as if they'd been hooked to a wire someone gave a good yank. Glancing sideways, the glowing clock face mocked me. Midnight. Less than two hours had passed.

With a sigh, I shifted and moved the cover, closed my eyes, and willed myself to relax, and hopefully sleep. The clock ticked off the minutes: ten, fifteen, thirty, thirty-five, forty-five, and I was still awake. Nothing worked. Not burrowing deeper under the covers, not turning to my side or on my back. I'd close my eyes, relax and feel like I was dozing off when once again, my eyes would spring open.

To give myself something to do, I gazed at the ceiling and began to count the plastic glow-in-the-dark stars I'd stuck there a couple months ago, anything to keep from going crazy. Every day brought some new quirk. Now I realized I'd have to restructure my time and learn to cope since it appeared I didn't need much more than a couple hours sleep each night—if that.

The house lay quiet around me except for an occasional creak or a scrape outside the window. The quilt wrapped around me, I rolled out of bed, went and plopped down on the window seat, and set up my vigil.

I stared outside. Nothing stirred, except for me.

My hands around my knees, I rocked back and forth, wondering how in the world I'd fill my time if I ended up sitting awake half the night. Read? Maybe a little, but I didn't much feel like it. Make more paintballs? I could, but I'd already filled half the box.

I sat there for more than an hour, staring out the window, thinking about nothing. It felt good to simply “be”—to not think about anything or anyone—but a shift in my body told me it was nearly time.

Feeding time at the zoo.

A gurgle began in the pit of my stomach. Grimacing, I wondered how long it would take until I turned into a full-fledged monster.

I began to fret as the gurgle in my stomach turned into a loud growl. A glance at the clock didn't make me feel any better. Two-thirty. Would I make it to six?

I doubted it.

Maybe we shouldn't have been so casual about this whole thing. There had to be a reason why I'd been alone in the hospital room and my meals left for me.

It was different being here at home. Scarier. Would I hurt anyone?

Would I still think normal, or be able to think at all?

Ohh
, I whined. I should've thought this through better!

The next pang had me doubled over, my hands curled as they clutched my stomach.
Hungry! Food!

My teeth and mouth began to chomp. The pains began to appear more frequently, the intensity growing. I didn't know how much longer I could stand it.