Through the Zombie Glass - Showalter Gena - Страница 16
- Предыдущая
- 16/87
- Следующая
I...was dying? I had to be dying.
I crawled to the desk, reached blindly for my phone and knocked down the lamp. Glass shattered on the floor.
Had to text Co—no, Nana. Yes, Nana. She would come. She would take care of me—she loved me. But I couldn’t see the keypad. The room was still spinning.
Hinges squeaked. “Ali? Are you okay? What happened to your room?”
Male voice. I recognized it. Mr. Ankh?
Help, I tried to say, but again, no sound emerged.
Footsteps. Strong arms slid underneath me, lifted me. I floated for a few seconds before the mattress pressed into my back.
“Is it the toxin?” he asked, even as he stuck me in the neck with a needle. Yes, it had to be Mr. Ankh. Like the rest of us, he carried the antidote in his pocket, just in case.
A cool stream raced through my veins, and the hunger simmered.
“Breathe,” he said gently. “In. Out. Yes, just like that. Again. Again.” Hands smoothed over my brow, offering comfort I so desperately needed. “Again.”
At last, my heart...hearts...began to slow. My lungs began to fill. The sweat stopped pouring, and the chill kissed me goodbye.
I blinked open my eyes, and saw Mr. Ankh sitting at the side of my bed. Concern bathed his still-handsome features.
“That wasn’t just about the toxin, was it?” he asked, the concern giving way to sympathy.
I remained silent.
“Has that ever happened before?”
“Wh-what?” Almost dying?
“A panic attack?”
Panic attack? No. “That’s not what just happened.” I’d weathered the death of my family. A breakup wouldn’t ruin my mental stability. I wouldn’t let it.
“Ali, sweetheart, I’m a doctor. More than that, for several years I was married to a woman with an anxiety disorder. I know a panic attack when I see one.”
Anxiety disorder. No. Not that, either. “I’m fine,” I said, my voice ragged. “Just tired.”
His smile was sad. “Did something happen to trigger it?”
Something like losing the other part of me? “I told you I’m fine,” I replied stiffly, then regretted my tone. He was being nice, trying to help me. He didn’t deserve my rancor.
He sighed, pushed to his feet. “The more you know about the triggers, the better you’ll handle the episodes. If you ever want to talk about it...”
“I don’t. I won’t. I’m fine, really.”
“All right. Well, don’t worry about the room. I’ll send someone up to clean.”
“No! No,” I said more gently. “I’ll take care of it.”
A pause, then, “If that’s what you prefer.” Like Cole, he left the room.
Left me alone.
My new heart sped up all over again.
* * *
I righted the furniture and cleaned the room, even patched the hole in my wall. The one Cole had caused. It had reminded me of him, and I wasn’t fond of reminders right now. I threw our picture in the trash.
The next week passed in a daze. Every day I had to bury my emotions as deep as they would go and pretend everything was peachy, just to make it through school. Kat and Reeve treated me the same; they had no idea Cole and I had broken up. I hadn’t told anyone, and for some reason, neither had he. I think the girls were onto me, though, and I expected questions very, very soon.
I stayed away from Cole’s gym and worked out with Kat in Mr. Ankh’s. I still hadn’t been put on rotation, but I hadn’t pushed because the zombies hadn’t made another appearance.
I wasn’t eating, wasn’t sleeping.
I couldn’t go on like this.
“Emma,” I said as I burrowed under my covers. “Emma.” I needed my baby sister.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed before she materialized in the center of my room.
“Oh, Ali.” She stretched beside me on the bed, ghosting her hand through my hair. Somehow she calmed me, the weird heartbeat evening out, the hunger pains that always seemed to hover at the edge of my conscious ebbing. “I hate seeing you like this.”
“I’m better now that you’re here.”
“I’m glad. And I’m glad you called me.” Her dark eyes were luminous as she said, “Would it help to know I’ve been watching Cole? He’s miserable, too.”
“Maybe,” I said with a sniffle. “Why have you been watching him?”
“I think he’s spying on the other slayers.”
Why would he do that? He trusted the people around him, everyone but me, that is, and—
Wait. “I don’t care anymore.” I changed the subject. “The night I was bitten, you didn’t put a rabbit cloud in the sky. Why?”
“I had been watching the zombie nests, and none of them had stirred. The ones that attacked you came out of nowhere.”
No, they’d had to come from somewhere. But where? And what did this mean...for the...future? Can’t concentrate. So tired.
“I’m losing you,” she said with a chuckle. “Rest now.”
I must have fallen asleep at long last; the next time I opened my eyes, she was gone.
Thursday, Nana tried to talk to me about my sudden withdrawal. She was worried I was sick. I assured her I was the picture of health.
Friday, Mackenzie and Trina insisted on driving me home from school, and I buckled in back of a beat-up Jeep. They knew my situation without being told.
“I recognize the glaze in your eyes,” Mackenzie said, twisting in the passenger seat. For once, there was no heat in her tone. No condescension or anger on her face. “I know we’ve never liked each other, but I do mean it when I say I’m sorry for what you’re going through. And maybe I should have warned you. This is what he does. This is what he’s always done.”
I peered out the window. The sun was bright today, making my eyes water. “What do you mean? What does he always do?”
“He cuts and runs when things get serious, and I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it. He just looks for an excuse, and then boom, it’s over.”
I remembered the panic I thought I’d seen in his eyes. I’d convinced myself I’d imagined each instance, but what if they had been the start of the demise of our relationship? Not the visions.
“Yesterday I asked Veronica straight-up,” Trina said. “When he broke up with her, he told her he couldn’t do the long-distance thing anymore.”
I wondered what he would say about me, when he finally started talking.
“He’s a great guy,” Mackenzie said, “but he’s never been in a relationship for the long haul.”
“I think his friendships are the same way. Don’t get me wrong, I know he loves us slayers.” Trina maneuvered the car onto Reeve’s street. “I’m never in doubt of that. But I’m always aware of the fact that he keeps me at a bit of an emotional distance. He does it with everyone but Frosty and Bronx—they’re like brothers with other mothers or something. Frankly, I was shocked he let you get as close as you did, as fast as you did.”
I thought I understood. Cole had lost his mom to the zombies. He knew he would lose his dad the next time his dad was bitten, since the man had developed an immunity to the antidote. If he let someone else all the way in, like, say, a girlfriend, and then he lost her, too, he probably didn’t think he would survive.
The fury returned—the roots had never withered. How dare he? How dare he lead me on, making me want more, when he’d never planned to see this thing through? And then to throw me away because of what might happen at some later date... Because of fear...
“There’s the spirit we’re used to seeing,” Mackenzie said with a nod of approval.
No, this was something else. Something sharper. But I didn’t correct her. “Has he ever gone back for seconds?”
“Never. Not even when we get desperate and try to steal his attention by messing around with someone else,” she added bitterly.
There was a story there, but I wouldn’t pry.
“So...what excuse did he give you?” Mackenzie asked.
“Have you heard about my vision with Gavin?”
She nodded. “Gavin has been soliciting advice.”
“That’s why.”
- Предыдущая
- 16/87
- Следующая
