Girl Z: My Life As A Teenage Zombie (26 page)

The noises and shuffling continued. Boy, it sure took her long to come down. “
Tia?”

Ughhh!

We all looked at each other, no one daring to say a word as more thumps and groans came from the staircase. Had my aunt hurt herself?

Grrrr!

The low moan made me stop. Carm looked worried. My mom took a step and I held her back. “Mom, no, wait…”

Two more thumps and my aunt stood at the top of the stairs. I let out my breath in a big whoosh and stepped back, stunned.

Tia
stared at me, her face slack, her eyes dull and blank. She emitted a low growl. A line of drool spilled over her lip, snaked over her shirt, and dripped to the floor.

A feeling of horror rose up inside and lessened as I began praying under my breath. “Oh,
Tia
, no
. Que Dios le ayude.
”

My mother bit back a sob before squaring her shoulders. “
Hermana,
come, sit down.” She took charge and led
Tia
to the couch. She pat her sister's hand, her calm reassurances giving me and everyone else some comfort.

The guys helped my aunt sit and forcefully held her down, their muscled arms stopping her attempts to escape. A large woman,
Tia
was built like a tank and just as strong from years of physical labor taking care of the house and working as a housekeeper.

I'd always admired my aunt's strength and determination, but I could also see she'd weakened. I hoped she hadn't been like this for long. As my mother called the paramedics, I watched my aunt flail around and try to get up from the couch with no success. Her slow, clumsy movements gave her all the gracefulness of a giant turtle.

Any other time, we would've laughed and joked about it. Not now.

Sirens screamed in the distance.
Loud. They were so loud.

I cringed and held my hands over my ears. The new treatments had to work for my aunt. They had to.
Stay positive,
I told myself.

Taking a deep breath, I gazed at Carm, then grabbed Gabe's and my mother's hands. My voice wavering, I asked, “Mama, we'll be okay, won't we?”

“S
í,
honey.
Mi hermana
will go first. Then
mañana
we all get treated. We will all be fine. All of us,” she assured me. “
Sí
?”

“Sí,
” I whispered.

The sirens stopped. My hopes grew with the paramedics' arrival. They helped my weakened aunt onto a stretcher. Her eyes closed, she fell into a doze as the sedative took effect. I leaned over and kissed her still warm cheek, a good sign, I knew. It wasn't too late for her—for us.

The hopeful expression on Gabe's face made me feel better. He took my hands. “To new beginnings.”

I gave his hand a squeeze. Wow. I couldn't wait for tomorrow, and the tomorrow after that, and…

A new sensation kicked in.

When I tried to talk, no words came out. I grabbed at Gabe's arm. All I did was smack my lips, like a fish out of water. When my cousin came closer, I backed away in confusion.

“No,” I mouthed, “no.”

The words coming from Carm's mouth sounded all weird and garbled. I strained to make out what she said. Confused, I stumbled and took two steps back. Her face! Her features whirled in front of me in a circle of color and shadow. I yelled, or at least thought I did.

What was wrong with her? With me?

I reached for Gabe, who was all soft and fuzzy, like one of those black felt pictures. He wrapped his strong arms around my body and attempted to keep me under control. His lips brushed my cheek, but I felt only a slight flutter, like feathers.

Two more paramedics rushed in, streams of dark blue and green flowing behind them. Inside, part of me
oohed
and
ahhed
at the pretty colors. The other part deep down feared what this meant. It wasn't good. Not at all.

The pretty colors meant death—true, final death.

My mama whispered in my ear, “don't worry, honey, I'm here with you. We're all here for you.
Te amo.
”

I fell into a deep, dark hole of forgetfulness with Carm's admonitions on my lip, everyone's love in my heart, and a prayer everything was different when—and if—I woke…

My eyes flicked open, my nose twitched. Green walls, a slight medicinal smell in the air. I licked my lips and tried to moisten my cotton-dry mouth.

“
Mmmm
.” My attempt to speak sounded like a low hum.

Warm brown eyes met mine. Nurse Teapot. She gave a reassuring smile and gave my arm a soft pat. “Now honey, I wish I can say it's been good to see you again. It is, but I'd rather we were meeting under other circumstances. You're downtown, in Windale Hospital. They sent me here since I'm familiar with your case. Do you understand?”

Her words made more sense the longer she talked. She checked machines and wrote in a chart, keeping up a steady stream of conversation and a sense of connection. The relationship we'd developed was almost scary.

“Your mama and your cousin are waiting in the other room,” she informed me. “They've been here every day since you came in. Your nice young man is waiting out there, too. He sent those pretty green flowers for you.”

My thoughts cleared and I grunted to get her attention.

“I'm sure you have lots of questions,” the nurse responded. “I know you won't be as frightened as you were the first time I cared for you, right?”

Our eyes met, and I slowly nodded in response. I wasn't afraid, not one bit. I'd faced death, again, and survived. What was there to fear now?

“Don't you worry, your voice will come along just fine,” she explained. “We'll be starting you on some new treatments that just came out. They work faster and better for the most stubborn cases.”

My eyelids flickered.
Did she mean I still had, or would have, a problem?

“Honey, don't worry. The other medicine's been working, clearing up the nasty sore on your leg and a couple other small ones we found.” She ignored my gasp and went on. “You should be able to go home in a day or two, we'll see. Now, you get some rest and I'll let your family in for—”

I moaned, hoping to get her attention as she turned away. After several attempts, I finally croaked out my question. “My aunt, is she—?”

Nurse Teapot's grin stretched from ear to ear. “She's fine. She's not out of the woods, but is improving. Now, I want you to rest for at least twenty minutes and we'll see about letting your family come in. But only for a short visit. We don't want to tire you. Now lie back and take a little nap.”

My head on the pillow, I took a deep breath and let my worries float off.

Everything had worked out. My aunt was getting better, my mom had come home, and I had Gabe waiting for me. I couldn't wait to go home and have a big plate of
Tia's
homemade tamales.

I sighed and settled in, paying no attention to the sudden rush of hospital staff into my room, the flash of lights, and the frantic
beep-beep-beep
of the machines next to my bed…

I peered into thick, inky darkness. I heard and felt…nothing.

Wait, something…a murmur, a voice, someone calling my name.

“Becca! No, Becca, come back!”

Gabe!

Light exploded.

I jerked and rushed away from the black hole I'd been floating in. A shrill beep broke the silence as the machine came awake.
Beep-beep-beeeeeep.

Relief flooded in as I opened my eyes and saw Gabe, and then the others. I tried to smile, tried to put everyone at ease.

My mother gazed at me, tears in her eyes. Nurse Teapot studied me, a pleased expression on her face, before she resumed scribbling in her chart. Carm and I shared a glance.

The TV's blare in the background went ignored, though the scrolling script across the bottom of the screen caught my eye for a brief moment. The words were still somewhat jumbled in my mind, but I knew, I just knew, something was wrong.

Gabe squeezed my hand and leaned closer. “Don't worry,” he whispered, his breath tickling my ear. “Get strong. You'll make it. We both will.”

I wanted to believe him. I really did. Our survival depended on us trusting each other, except…

A shiver went through me.

This time we had more to fear than the Zs. My eyes flicked from him to the others. The feeling inside grew. It pushed and fought to get out.

My lips pursed, I bit back the growl in my throat. Each time someone squeezed my fingers, the urge to bolt from the bed and make them stop grew stronger.

Weird images flickered in my mind's eye. I watched a girl attack a group of faceless people. Her hands grabbed and held. Her teeth bit and chomped.

The faces became clearer.

My family. Me. The girl was me.

Leaning down, Gabe squeezed me tight and whispered in my ear. “Fight it, Becca. Fight it. You're stronger than it is.”

I stared at him, my eyes like slits, not sure if he knew what I was going through, not sure if he knew what was really going on inside me.

The images broke as Gabe's hands held mine. “Becca, stay with us,” he whispered in my ear. “Stay with me. I love you.”

I finally blinked and looked at him—
really looked at him
, seeing him as if for the first time.

“Gabe,” I whispered. “
Te amo.
”

I wondered at the icy sensation as the liquid from the IV bag made its way down the plastic tube and into my veins. This was the stuff that supposedly would destroy the infection and help me get stronger, help me recover.

Maybe it would, but it was too late. Inside, I already felt different. Edgier.

Anxious.

Hungry. So hungry.

Gabe squeezed my hand again. I licked my lips and smiled.

THE END

C.A. Verstraete
Biography

Christine (C.A.) Verstraete wanted to be a writer as far back as she could remember.

As the family “bookworm,” she knew her writing desire was a natural progression. She always read and still does, enjoying books by Barbara Taylor Bradford, Debbie Macomber, Stephen King, Dean Koontz, and many others.

Christine's writing career began in newspapers and magazines, but fiction writing called to her. Discovering online writing groups inspired her to get more involved in short fiction.

Initially, the transition from nonfiction to fiction was hard, but she said it was always a heck of a lot of fun.

Christine grew up in Chicago, the third-generation to live in the two-story house bought by her Belgian-born grandfather in the early 1900s, and now lives a short drive away in Wisconsin.

She has a bachelor's degree in journalism, and has received various awards from state and national press associations, and the Dog Writers Association, for her magazine and newspaper work.

One of her pastimes is building dollhouses and miniature rooms, which has served as inspiration for a nonfiction book and a children's novel,
Searching For a Starry Night, A Miniature Art Mystery.

Learn more at
http://www.cverstraete.com