A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena - Страница 41
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“I couldn’t control the ability, or whatever the hell it was. The disability.” I’d been hoping for something great to happen to me. The break I so desperately wanted. Instead, I got this. Something worse. My shoulders sag. “Red flames consumed me, just like they do in my nightmares, and I tossed three powerful slayers into the air without lifting a finger. Energy poured from me, wrapped around them and squeezed. They bled from their eyes, nose and ears. I wanted so badly to stop, but I couldn’t.”
“You’ll practice,” he says again.
He still doesn’t get it. “No. I’ll put others in danger. I’d rather die.” Lack of control is an excuse I can’t abide.
I’m sorry I hit you, honey. Daddy lost control of his temper.
“Milla,” Frosty says, realization suddenly as sweet as it is shocking.
Ever since I woke up from the attack, he’s been calling me Milla. Not Camilla. Not “hey, you.” Not “bitch.” But Milla. As if I’m his friend rather than his enemy. My eyes go wide, and I pivot on my heel to face him—
—in a blink, the entire world stops spinning. The walls of the house fall away, and I’m running as fast as I can, Kat clutched close to my chest. Her collarbone is broken, the edge peeking out of her skin. She’s cut everywhere and bleeding. Judging by the way Kat is wheezing, I know one of her lungs has collapsed. She’ll die if she doesn’t get help.
But she needs antidote more. She’s been bitten by a zombie, and the clock is ticking. Damn it! She can’t die, can’t die, can’t fucking die. She’s my life. My everything. But shit, shit, there are zombies hot on our trail, and each one has a bomb strapped to his neck.
I veer to the right—a mistake. More zombies glide from between the trees.
Boom!
The ground shakes. I lose control of my left arm, which was broken when the house collapsed, but somehow I maintain my grip on my girl. Can’t drop her, can’t drop her.
Shadows twist at my left, so I make another right turn and catch sight of a dozen Anima agents plowing my way. Damn it! Where can I go? The agent at the helm raises a pistol, aims at me—at Kat. I have no other choice. I go left.
Pop! Pop!
I curl inward as best I can, trying to wrap myself around my girl, and I end up taking the bullets in my upper arm. My broken arm. The increase in pain is incredible, but it’s nothing compared to my determination. Except I’ve turned us into another hail of bullets.
Pop, pop, pop!
Kat is hit, hit, her body jerking. No. Hell, no. Rage, frustration, desperation—each chokes me.
“Go!” Cole shouts. “I’ll hold them off.” He’s got two semiautomatics in hand and as he sprays the agents with metal I beat feet in the opposite direction, going back the way I came. He’ll be okay. He has to be okay. “I’m sorry, kitten. I’m so sorry. I’ll get you out of here, I promise. I’ll get you somewhere safe, and I’ll take care of you. You’ll heal. You have to heal.”
Pop, pop, pop!
More gunfire sounds in the distance, and panic infuses every cell in my body. Agents race from the left and right, their weapons already trained on me. I have nowhere to go.
Damn it! I have a split second to decide what to do. Keep running and pray they miss, or set Kat down and fight, wasting precious time.
Ali rushes around the bend, and she’s headed straight for me. Her eyes are wide, and I know. It’s already far too late for option two. I’m going to have to take the gunfire—risk Kat taking the gunfire.
I pick up the pace and once again contort my body around Kat’s in an attempt to shield her.
Pop, pop, pop!
A bullet slams into my thigh, followed by another, and my leg just...stops...working. As I stumble forward, the rest of my limbs go lax. I can’t right myself, can only fall, fall. I twist midway to absorb the brunt of impact, but when we hit, Kat rolls from my arms.
Tears sting the backs of my eyes. I somehow crawl to my feet, the pain, the pain. But it’s nothing. She’s everything. As I reach for her, another stream of bullets sprays, and I’m nailed in the chest. I fly backward, away from her.
“No! Kat!”
Her gaze finds me. She offers me a sad smile. As I stretch out my hand, her lips part. I think...I think she just took her final breath. Her chest stops rising and falling. Her eyes dull.
“No! No, no, no.”
Darkness descends over my mind, but only for a moment. Light returns, and with it, a new scene takes shape.
I’m lying on a tiled floor, surrounded by a pool of blood—mine, River’s and Caro’s. I hurt. I hurt so bad. I’m certain death has sunk his claws deep, deep inside me, determined to rip my spirit out of my body. I’m having trouble breathing. Every time I try to call for help, blood trickles from the corners of my mouth, choking me.
Though my vision is hazy, I know my father looms above me. He’s hit me so many times I’ve already lost count—but he isn’t done.
Right now, I have a reprieve as he screams at me. My ears are ringing, but I can make out most of the words. You’re useless. You’re worthless. I wish you were never born. You can’t possibly be my kid. Your mother must have slept with someone else, the whore. I busted my knuckles, and now I’m going to use a baseball bat.
All this, because I refuse to accept blame for Caro’s death. Caro, my other half. My better half.
I never should have kept her out so long. I should have returned her hours before. But I didn’t, and Daddy’s dinner wasn’t ready on time. I took full responsibility, but he blamed her. You’re crying. Only guilty girls cry.
I tried to shield her, to take her blows for her, but he just kept shoving me aside. By the time River got home, it was too late. Caro’s body...motionless...
Me, broken and bloody.
At least River was able to rip the baseball bat from Daddy’s hands.
Daddy turned on him, hitting him in the stomach until he vomited blood. Even still, River was able to push me into the closet and lock the door. But it wasn’t long before Daddy killed River, just like Caro, and busted down the door.
He’s yelling at me again. It’s my turn to die, and I’m glad, but I don’t want to go without taking him with me. I crawl to the stove, where pots have fallen.
I swipe up a cast-iron skillet and slam it into his leg with what little strength I have left. I only make him madder. For once, he isn’t concerned about hitting me in places no one will notice. It’s open season.
Daddy kicks me in the stomach. I curl into myself, gasping for breath I can’t catch. He kicks me again, and stars burst over what little of my vision remains. My lungs burn as if they’ve been bathed in acid, that acid rising...rising...spewing out of my mouth.
Blood. So much blood. I’m not going to be able to take Daddy with me, am I?
I’m so sorry, Caro. I’m so sorry, Riv.
I’ll be with them soon. The pain will end, and we’ll be together again. That will have to be enough.
Black spiderwebs weave through my mind, but I fight to stay awake. Gotta prepare for the next blow. But...it never comes.
I’m not sure how much time passes before the spiderwebs thin and I’m able to blink open my swollen eyes. My father lies on the floor in front of me, his face turned in my direction, his eyes wide and glassed over, his mouth hanging open. River stands beside him, a bloody kitchen knife clutched in his hand. He stares at the weapon as if he isn’t sure how it ended up in his possession.
“River,” I gasp, but no sound emerges. My ribs are broken, muscle torn—
—a knock echoes, and the scene vanishes. I blink, and I’m back inside the bedroom at Reeve’s, standing in front of Frosty.
He’s pale, waxen, and he’s staring at me with horror.
“Wh-what just happened?” I ask.
“I think we had a vision,” he rasps. “Two of them.”
Another ability passed on to me? Yes, of course. Only, I didn’t see the future, like Ali. I saw the past.
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