Alice in Zombieland - Showalter Gena - Страница 22

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The battle has begun. The handwriting was neat, but not something I recognized. Maybe not my mother’s, after all. Evil is here, it is real, and if we aren’t careful, we’ll be consumed by it. But it doesn’t have to be that way. We can win. We should win. But too many people are ignorant of the truth and without the truth, we will perish.

What is the truth? We are spirit beings, those spirits our source of power, and we have a soul…or our logic and emotions, and we live in a body. Evil lurks in that spiritual realm. Some people can see it while they’re still in their body. Most cannot.

Ugh. I didn’t want to think about the world at work around me, not when I was dealing with so much nastiness in my own. And why did my all-love-all-the-time mother have this, anyway? I closed the book with a snap.

As I reached into the box to pull out something else, my phone beeped. I propped the journal and the picture of Emma against the wall, gave her one more smile, then strode to my desk. A text from Kat had come in. And, okay, I admit it. I’d dubbed her Meow.

I read, WTF happened 2 U 2day? A load of dill wrap, that’s what!

Dill wrap?

A second text came in. Stupid autocorrect. Bull crap!

Any other time, that would have amused me. Gulping, I plopped into the chair and typed, Sorry. Went mental.

Duh! But why??

How should I respond to that? There was no way to explain the rabbit cloud or my paranoia without sounding, well, paranoid. Just didn’t feel like being in a car.

Several seconds passed before her response came in. Ah, cars…UR fam. I get it now. U OK?

After my chat with Nana and Pops? I’m better. And how wonderful to have a friend like Kat. She saw past the surface and liked me anyway. She knew a little about what had happened, but didn’t try to press for more. Didn’t pretend it hadn’t happened, and didn’t heap on the platitudes.

Good. So check this. I ran in2 Cole after U ditched me.

What! AND??

He went after U 2. I take it he didn’t find U either?

He’d gone after me? Why? Dazed, I stood, walked to my window and settled onto the cushion I’d rigged on the ledge. The storm had passed and the sky had cleared. The sun was in the process of setting, the sky a haze of pinks, yellows and purples—my new favorite color. Because Bridezilla had shown up last night, she would not reappear tonight. She never came two nights in a row, or even three, four or five days after a sighting.

He didn’t, I told Kat.

2 bad. I think he would have offered U a ride w/him. Bet U would have been all over THAT. :)

Maybe. Yes. No. Definitely not. I would have turned him down. He might be as tough as nails, but I still wouldn’t have wanted to put him in danger. Stupid rabbit cloud that probably meant nothing.

So…how would someone with Cole’s forceful personality have handled a rejection? He was used to getting his way. One glance at him, and anyone with half a brain could figure that out. (I barely qualified, I’m sure.) Would he have tried to talk me into accepting? Or just tossed me over his shoulder fireman-style and carted me to his car?

Better question: Why did that second option make me want to smile?

Another beep sounded. Or should I say, U would have been all over HIM? Kat had typed.

No way, I replied. Even if I’d wanted to throw myself at him, I would have resisted.

Good girl. Make him work 4 it. Oh! Game on Fri & party on Sat. I have idea Cole will show up 2 both just 2 C U. See ya!

I hit her back with a quick, Really?

Nothing. No response.

Kat?? WILL HE BE THERE??

Again nothing.

If U don’t answer, Mad Dog, I’ll tell every1 UR nickname is PRINCESS FLUFFY.

Still nothing.

We will have serious beef 2morrow! I told her.

Annnd still nothing.

Smart girl that she was, she’d probably realized a “beef” with me was more likely to be mashed potatoes. I was mush where she was concerned.

Distraction time. Sighing, I logged on to my computer, searching for any and all references to Cole Holland.

During the ensuing hour, I learned that Cole did not have a Facebook or Twitter page. Or, if he did, he hadn’t used his real name. None of the girls had sent me that link to YouTube, so I could only surmise the body slam was another “true story.” The only articles that mentioned him were those about the deaths of his friends, the ones who’d died from the disease Kat had mentioned. Antiputrefactive Syndrome, it was called. There were no mentions of him on the school webpage. He wasn’t part of any clubs, teams or committees.

Nothing on his ex, either. And I’d tried every avenue available to find something, anything.

I didn’t know Frosty’s or Bronx’s real names, so searching for them was out.

On a whim, I searched my own name, just to see what others could learn about me if they did a little recon for themselves. First thing to pop up? Articles about the accident and the tragic teenage girl who’d lost everything.

With far more force than necessary, I shut the computer down. I hated that anyone in the world could read those things and pity me.

Now, needing a distraction from my distraction, I showered, dressed in a tank and cotton shorts and dried my hair. The girl staring at me from the mirror surprised me.

There were bruises under her too-bright blue eyes. Her cheeks were hollowed, though flushed. Her lips were puffed from being chewed so often. She looked fragile. Breakable. Suddenly Cole’s words about the fairy tale made sense. He hadn’t been complimenting me. He thought I was a Cinderella in need of a fairy godmother and couldn’t hold my own against Mackenzie. And he might be right. A strong wind might break me in half.

I had to start exercising. I had to start sleeping. Something. My mom would have been horrified to see me like this. My dad wouldn’t have noticed unless someone told him—he would have been too drunk—but he would have sat me down at the dinner table and lectured me. If you don’t keep your strength up, how can you protect yourself from the monsters? would have been the first words out of his mouth. Emma would have worried—had worried, in my vision of her—and more than anything in the world, I had hated worrying her.

I stalked to my window to close my curtains. No watching the forest tonight, I decided. No jumping at every eerie whistle of wind, every writhing shadow. I’d say my prayers and try to sleep. If bad dreams tried to consume me, I’d read.

Before I could fit the dark material together, my skin began to tingle and burn, the fine hairs on the back of my neck rising—as if someone was watching me. My heart drummed erratically as I peered out, frantically searching.

There was no sign of Bridezilla and the Groom of Doom. No sign of life whatsoever, in fact. Shaking now, I sealed the crack, blocking out the night completely. But I didn’t walk away. I stood there for one minute, two, trying to get my body under control.

Gritting my teeth, I jerked the curtains apart. Saw movement to the left. I zeroed in on it and thought I saw a tall, muscled body dressed in black. Thought that body stopped, turned—and glowing violet eyes met mine.

Will anything ordinary ever happen to me? I wondered the next morning as I trudged onto the bus. After maybe or maybe not seeing Cole, I’d gone to sleep, as planned, but bad dreams had awoken me. I’d tried to read but had ended up pacing and obsessing about those violet eyes.

Had I seen them, or had I imagined them?

Imagined, surely. Cole would never have stood outside my house, simply watching me. Plus, he didn’t know my address. I hadn’t even given it to Kat.

As lost in thought as I was, I didn’t remember to keep my head down and my gaze averted. At the back of the bus, I spotted Justin Silverstone, with his dark hair and puppy dog brown eyes.

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