Alice in Zombieland - Showalter Gena - Страница 59
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“This way,” he said—and he refused to release me.
We were holding hands as if we were a couple.
The closer we got to the door, the louder I heard the grunts and groans coming from inside. I blinked, thinking it sounded like people were being tortured in there.
Turns out, yes, they were being tortured. Only, they were doing it to themselves. Throughout the barn I saw workout equipment, a training mat and even a boxing ring, as well as all the boys who’d been hanging around Cole that first day of school, plus a few that hadn’t.
Cole made the introductions. There was Lucas, who was gorgeous and black, and practically bench-pressing a bus. He had a house arrest anklet on, and yet, I was pretty sure I’d seen him at Reeve’s party.
Derek, also black, stood at the end of a stall, shooting a dummy dressed to look like a zombie. Bronx hammered away at a punching bag. Brent, a blond, held it steady. Collins, a boy with a shaved head and house arrest anklet of his own, and Haun (Spike), an Asian boy with dark hair and eyes, were sword fighting, and, judging by the sound of metal clanging against metal, with real swords.
A smorgasbord of hot, sweaty guys and warrior weapons. I’d stepped into every girl’s fantasy.
Frosty and Mackenzie were running the treadmills. Trina and Cruz (Turd), a Hispanic boy with brown hair and a scar running down the side of his cheek, were in the ring, boxing without gloves. Aka punching the crap out of each other.
As I stood there, taking everything in, I could make out a thousand different scents. Something floral from Mackenzie, something musky from Haun. Something fruity from Collins.
“You guys do this every day after school?” I asked, trying to hide my nervousness.
“Pretty much. Strength and stamina will save your life. Plus, we can take our weapons into the spirit realm, and they help us hobble the zombies for easier elimination.”
“So I’ll be learning how to use them.”
“Yes, but because of your injuries, you’re only doing spirit projection, the treadmill and target practice today. Once you heal, we’ll get you started with everything else.”
“Okay.”
“You ready?”
“Yes.”
“Good.” The way he eyed me up and down made me feel like a bug under a microscope. He took in everything, missed nothing. “Step out of your body.”
It took me a moment to register what he’d said. “Just like that?” I snapped my fingers, and gazed around self-consciously. “Here, now?”
He gave me an unsympathetic nod. “Just like that. Here and now.”
For a long while, I tried, I swear I tried, but with no results. No matter how hard I attempted to push my spirit out of my body, the two remained connected.
“You’ve done it before,” Cole reminded me.
“Yeah, but I was under zombie duress.”
“How about this? Step out of your body or I’ll put you over my knee and spank you in front of everyone.”
I huffed and puffed and gasped out, “I’d like to see you try!”
He reached for me. With a squeal I slapped his hand and darted out of the way.
“Five,” he said, a steely glint in his eyes.
I tried for bravado. “What, you’re counting like you’re my mother?”
“Four.”
He was counting. Great. I took a moment to breathe in and out, slow and measured, my determination rising.
“Three.”
I closed my eyes, visualized the zombies from the cemetery, the ones who’d hovered over my dad. My determination became a burning fire in my chest. Faith. I just needed faith. I could do this.
“Two.”
I would do this. I would. Nothing could stop me.
As easy as breathing, I stepped out of my body.
One moment I was sweltering, the next I was bone-chillingly cold. My teeth chattered as I scanned the barn. I could see the glow of the Blood Lines, the smears over each of the windows. I could see each of the kids moving at a slower pace than I’d realized, sweat sliding down their temples, a bright light—energy?—softly radiating from their pores.
Cole possessed the brightest light.
The scents inside the building intensified, so strong now my nostrils actually stung.
“Go back,” Cole said, his voice cranked to its highest setting.
Cringing, I turned and saw that my body was frozen in place, perched right beside him. My expression was pinched with concentration. “How do—”
“Don’t speak,” he shouted, and again I cringed.
“You don’t speak!” I shouted back.
Cole reached out to slap his hand over my mouth, but his hand moved through me. For a moment, I felt as though I’d bathed in warm honey.
“What?” I asked.
Paling, he pointed to his mouth. His jaw was working, the muscles twitching, but his lips remained stuck together.
In an instant, I remembered. Whatever I spoke in this spiritual realm, and believed that I received, I would get. “You can speak, you can speak,” I rushed out.
Instantly his lips parted. “Not another word,” he growled.
Eyes narrowed, he reached out to touch his fingers to my body’s fingers, then motioned for me to do the same. Mirroring him, I placed my spirit fingers against my natural fingers. At the moment of contact, the rest of me slid into place as though pulled on a tether.
“Sorry,” I hurried to say. “I’m sorry, but I thought I couldn’t violate free will, no matter what I said.”
“I told you there were rules and with rules come exceptions. Sometimes, when the right command is voiced, and it’s for defense, to protect yourself, free will is the weaker of the two and overshadowed.”
“How? I told the zombies to let me go, but they still came back for a second helping. Believe me, the command was to protect myself.”
“You spoke to them all at once, I’m guessing, and weakened the power of your command, each one of the zombies experiencing only a measure of the compulsion to obey rather than the full force.”
“Oh.” Clearly, I had more to learn than I’d realized.
“Now leave your body again.”
During the ensuing forty-five minutes, I was only able to exit my body four times.
“Enough,” he finally said. “Practice separating at home, in a locked room you are not to leave. Silently. You need to be able to do it in an instant.”
“I will. But how do I make my hand glow the way you did, when you reduced the zombies to ash?” I’d done it once, but wasn’t sure how or if I could do it again.
“While I’m fighting, when I know I’m going for a death blow, it does it on its own.”
“You don’t even have to think about it?” Wow.
“Not anymore. Now listen.” His voice deepened with a disobey-and-suffer sternness. That tone was probably the reason he was leader of the group. “Do not practice that at home. You’ll accidentally burn down your grandparents’ house. For the time being, one of us will take care of killing any zombies you disable. But if your hand lights up on its own while we’re out fighting, don’t try to stop it. Just go with it. We’ll stay out of your way.”
Subtext: I could accidentally hurt each one of his friends. Awesome.
“Also,” he continued. “While practicing, never leave your body in a place people can find you. While fighting, allowances sometimes have to be made. Try not to, but if you must, do it. But never speak while you’re out. You can cause all kinds of damage, and it’s better not to risk it.”
“Got it.” Although, with practice, we could train ourselves to say only the right things. No need to mention that little gem now, while his lips were probably throbbing from my accidental command for silence.
“Frosty,” he called.
Frosty knew what Cole wanted without having to be told. He stopped the machine he was on, hopped off and grabbed a bottle of water, draining the contents in seconds.
“Your turn,” Cole said to me.
Well, what do you know? I’d get to run next to my least favorite person in the world.
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