A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena - Страница 54
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“But two halves will be accepted,” Gavin says.
Chuckles sweep the room.
River spends a good chunk of time explaining his plan. Namely, he and Milla will bag and tag the captives. I don’t like it, I don’t like it at all, but protesting would embarrass Milla so I remain quiet. For now.
“All right.” Cole nods. “Let’s do this.”
I climb into the back of the van and help Milla do the same. Justin takes the wheel and River the front passenger seat. Cole, Ali, Gavin, Jaclyn, Love and Chance leave their bodies behind, as ordered, and take off on foot.
As we speed down the road, I peer out the window. The moon is a hook. How fun would it be to hang a tire swing from it? The stars are absent, and there are only two clouds in the sky. The one shaped like a fluffy bunny, and the one shaped like a tombstone.
“When I’m a witness—” I begin.
“Finger crossed that doesn’t happen anytime soon,” Milla interjects.
“Like these zombies will get the best of me. Woman, you’ve met me, right?”
She flips me off.
“Anyway.” I tweak her nose, a new, favorite habit. “I’m going to shape a cloud into a penis.”
“Of course you are. Because you’re the most mature person I know.”
“Okay, what would you shape, Miss Prim and Proper?”
“An angel. Giving people the finger.”
I chuckle.
We arrive at Shady Elms and discover the others are still searching the parking lot, surrounding streets and forest for any sign of Rebecca’s agents. When they finish, declaring we’re in the clear, we approach the cemetery’s perimeter. Zombies are indeed out tonight. There are too many to count, a sea of rotted spirits that seems to stretch for miles.
None of the zombies are able to step past the Blood Lines we poured soon after our last battle, but that doesn’t stop them from trying to push past the invisible wall.
“Don’t you see,” Milla says, pointing. “The same zombies. Look there, there and there. And there! Four versions of the same zombie.”
Ali’s eyes go wide. “But...that’s impossible. Right?”
“Rebecca.” Gavin says the name the same way anyone else would say cancer. “Every human has one spirit. Just one. Are these...I don’t know...clones?”
“We’ll find out.” Cole looks to River. “You’re up.”
Frosty takes my hand and gives a comforting squeeze. I’m irritated with him for even thinking about sedating me and leaving me behind, but I’m also amazed by the concern he keeps showing for me. Plus, I’m worried about him and River—about everyone. Old fears of losing the people I love dog me. And the dog has rabies.
“You’ll want to help us,” River tells the others, “but don’t. Stay out here and wrangle the collared zombies we toss at you. If you’re in there and you’re bitten, the horde could be cleansed...as things stand right now, it’s not likely, I know, but we can’t risk the ruination of the samples Reeve needs.”
I remove the metal collars from my backpack and hook them to my belt loops. Collars we stole from Anima because they place zombies under our control.
“Ready?” he asks me.
I nod. “Ready.”
River hands Frosty a vial of Blood Line neutralizer. “Use this only if we get hurt and you have to swoop to the rescue.”
“Won’t we have to use it to get the collared zombies out?” Ali asks.
“No. Once they’re collared, they’re tangible and they can move past the Blood Lines just as we do while we’re in bodily form.”
Frosty kisses my forehead. “Be careful. Or I’ll be pissed.”
More concern from him. It’s... I don’t... Wow. “Ditto.” It’s all I can manage.
River nudges me, and I force myself to focus. Zombies. Battle. Collars. Nothing else matters right now.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he whispers, and it’s clear he’s not talking about our mission.
I pretend he is, though. “I do. Try to keep up.”
“Milla—”
I surge forward. He isn’t far behind. Because we’re still in our bodies, we pass the Blood Lines, no problem. But the moment we do, zombies stop trying to claw their way free and turn toward us.
I slow. River steps out of his body—which the creatures will now ignore—and rushes ahead of me. Pop. Pop. Pop. One zombie after another drops, felled by a single bullet. A path opens up and I make my move, separating from my body while ripping a collar free. Spinning, I end up behind a zombie coming in hot and slap the metal around his neck. He goes still instantly, the electrical pulses in the metal disrupting his ability to function.
He’s now tangible to those in the physical realm—not to mention visible. If civilians show up tonight...well, I won’t worry about it. Frosty and the others will take care of it.
After tagging four more zombies, I slip back into my body and drag the first to Frosty...who steps past the Blood Lines to help me. Does he never freaking listen?
“Take him to the van,” I command before returning to my brother rather than the other collars. The horde around River has thickened and needs to be thinned.
We press our backs together, just like in the old days, and fight the fiends while guarding each other. I step out of my body to swing my sword, then spin back into it, only to step out again and spin in the other direction to chop, chop, chop at the creatures. Limbs fall around us. Heads roll. Black goo sprays. The scent of rot saturates the air, strong enough to gag me, but I’ve learned to ignore it.
Red eyes glow in a darkness illuminated only by Justin’s supercharged headlights, and teeth snap at us. No matter how many creatures we fell, the mob never actually thins...until Frosty disobeys orders yet again and comes in guns blazing. He shoots until I hear telltale clicks to indicate he’s out of bullets. But it doesn’t matter. He twirls the weapons in his hands and ax blades suddenly glint in the moonlight. He uses them to slice through putrefied brains.
“I’ve got this,” River says. “Tag the fallen.”
I rip the rest of the collars from my belt loop and pick off the zombies Frosty has immobilized.
“Take this one past the line.” I push one of my conquests Frosty’s way and return to my post behind my brother. The process repeats three more times, the three of us like well-oiled cogs in a machine...until I lose my brother in the sea of undead bodies.
Where is he?
I search, and yeah, okay, maybe I’m a little too frantic about it, losing focus. Fingers tangle in my hair, jerking me backward. I don’t fight the fall but arch my back so that I roll when I land, kicking my feet up, somersaulting backward and nailing the one who grabbed me in the chest. I jump to my feet and punch him in the eye—the eye pops out. Sometimes I fight dirty. Who am I kidding? I always fight dirty. I grab a dagger and stab him between the legs. A groin amputation. My favorite. I nail him with a collar, ending his fight.
“Remind me never to make you angry.” Frosty confiscates my last collar and snaps it around the neck of the female he just gutted.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “Your precious is safe from me.”
“Well. Maybe I can change your mind about that,” he replies, and...and...
What! “Let’s get our bounty out of here and find River.”
We return to our bodies and pull the remaining collared zombies toward the Blood Lines. Frosty is strong enough to drag two at a time, but I can only manage one; we have to return for the others. On our second trip, we’re beset by another starved horde. So many it’s as if we’ve felled none. Arms reach for us, mouths chomp at us, and we have to be careful. These creatures can ghost through our bodies and reach our spirits; they can still bite and infect us.
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