DeadBorn (14 page)

“
So you fucking said,” Dawson snaps and Holly glares at him. I'm kind of glad, in a way. When he called her Holly Olly and they hugged, I just about had a heart attack. I'd much rather see them at each other's throats. “Think you might want to tell us anymore about that?” Holly shakes her head and Valerie's eyebrows raise in surprise.

“
I don't know anymore about it,
Dawson
,” she growls as she traces the barrel of her revolver with a shaky finger. “I only know that she wants me.” Dawson takes another shot at the water hags and misses. I don't like that he's wasting ammunition, but I also don't want to say anything when his eyes are so narrow and dark. He looks deadly.

“
So what would've happened if we'd given you to her on the highway? Would that have made it all go away? You better fucking tell me the truth, Holly, because I've just about had it. If you're the cause then you're also the solution, aren't you?” I think about what Holly said about being adopted. I don't know how she knows that, but I can guess that maybe it's something she saw in her dream. If that's the case then is the necromancer related to her? Is she her mother? I want to ask, but I don't want to say anything in front of Dawson. If he hurts Holly then I'll hurt him and we'll all end up walking the earth as DeadBorn. I make a promise to myself that I'll bring it up later.

“
No,” Holly says firmly, and I can tell she isn't just lying to protect herself. She means that. Holly's a good person. If all she had to do to end this was give herself up to Patricia then she would've already done that. “It's too late. The magic's out of her control. She can't stop it now.”

“
What the hell are you all talking about?” Valerie asks as she looks between Dawson and Holly. “Could somebody please fill me in?” They ignore her and she looks to me for answers. I just shrug.

“
So what, are we all just screwed?” Dawson turns the gun on his head and puts the barrel between his eyes. He doesn't look scared, not at all, but Holly does.

“
Don't,” she pleads, but Dawson ignores her.

“
Should I just put a bullet in my fucking head and end it now? Tell me there's a way out of this, Holly,
please.
”

“
I don't know,” she says and she's crying again. I put my hand on her knee and I'm relieved when she doesn't push it away. “I have an idea, but I don't know. I really don't.”

Suddenly the lights above the parking lot flicker on and bathe the cement in blinding white. It should be comforting to know that we'll have a light source when the zombies arrive yet combined with the fading dusk, it actually makes the ambiance of our nightmarish evening that much worse. The lights are harsh and unforgiving and kind of sterile, like the lights in a hospital or a doctor's office or a
morgue.

“
I'm waiting,” Dawson says and he sounds crazy. Looks it, too, with the gun pressed to his forehead like that. I can hear moaning now. It's mixing with the clacking of the bone bags and reminds me vaguely of the Halloween party Holly's parents threw last year.

“
I don't want to say it aloud,” she whispers and something about the way she says that, like she's afraid someone will hear, convinces Dawson to put the gun down. Either it's that or, like me and Valerie, he's noticed that the horde of rotten DeadBorn have just stumbled into the water hags' territory. It only takes the ethereal departed a few seconds to turn towards them and drop their knuckles to the ground. Broken flutes begin to play a requiem for the lopers as the hags skitter up the incline and smash into the groaning zombies. It's hard for us to see exactly what's going on because the melee is taking place just outside the reach of the street lamps. We all squint anyway and use the last dying breaths of the evening to try and catch a glimpse of the ensuing carnage.

The lopers and the bone bags outnumber the water hags at least three to one, but it doesn't matter. The women in the spider web dresses with the pale lips and the hair like seaweed are risen straight from Hell and the other DeadBorn don't stand a chance.

Limbs are torn from torsos and tossed into the lake while blood spatters the road and pools in dark puddles beneath scrambling feet. The stench has become almost unbearable now and I'm not the only one that's coughing and pulling their shirt over the bottom of their face. Valerie is the only one that seems unaffected, staring straight into the distance with her spine stiff and her eyes wide. I don't know what it is that she's thinking, but there's a bit of grudging respect there for the hags. I have to admit that I feel some myself and although I know it isn't true in the least, it sort of feels as if the water hags are protecting us. Not that I'd get close to one. I'd rather take my chances with a rotten angel.

“
Wow,” Dawson says and he's the only one that says anything for a long time.

Eventually the water hags finish their macabre work and retreat back to their positions beside the lake. I notice a few gaps in the group and search for their bodies, certain that their flowing dresses and pale skin will stand out from the crowd of carnage. Yet the longer I look, the less I see. It's as if my brain's shutting down, blocking sights from me that it knows I won't recover from. Anyway, the bodies are so mangled and smashed that all I can really see from here is a big, dark splotch speckled with bones. I know that when morning comes around, it'll be a whole lot worse. For now, there's a promise of peace. At least temporarily.

“
Hey guys,” Martin says from behind us and Dawson and I both jump in surprise. Holly and Valerie are unfazed. “Could somebody come downstairs with me? I need to use the bathroom.” Dawson rolls his eyes and stands up, but before he goes, he gazes down at Holly with a solemn stare that I can feel straight to my bones.

“
I'll give you tonight to figure out your thoughts, Holly, but tomorrow I want answers.” He pauses for a moment. “Martin's going to be useless tonight, so why don't you and Galen take first shift. You can sit out here and watch for zombies. Switch out with Valerie and me when you get tired, just don't wake us up for a false alarm.” Dawson looks up at the sky and searches until he finds the round paleness of the moon. Apparently he thinks that because Holly's keeping a few secrets, he can take over as the group leader. I'd like to see him try it under pressure. I'm betting he'd buckle. “Let the fucking water hags deal with that shit.” Then he stalks off and disappears into the dark building. Moments later, the interior lights up with a golden glow that filters out across the roof and makes Holly's dirty hair glimmer like it's been freshly washed. It's a pretty illusion.

“
Are you okay with that?” Valerie asks as she peers into our tired faces. “Because if not, I'd be happy to take a shift alone.” Holly nods and I can see that the day's finally gotten to her. That and I bet she also wants to fuck with Dawson's plan.

“
That'd be nice, thanks,” she breathes and I can tell that no matter how stressful this all is, that we're not going to have any trouble falling asleep.

***

Seventeen Hours After …

Holly and I drag the blankets and pillows that we brought up the stairs and set up makeshift beds on the carpeted section of the floor. We don't have a whole lot of bedding so each person is limited to one pillow and one blanket to cover up with; there's nothing to use as padding. Holly tells me that we'll search for more supplies tomorrow, but that she's too tired to do it right now. I don't blame her and I don't argue.

When Martin and Dawson return from the bathroom, Martin collapses into his bed without changing his dirty clothes and is asleep in minutes.

“
I'm kind of worried about him,” I tell Holly and Dawson and I can see from their faces that they are, too. “He doesn't look so good.”

“
Do you think he got bitten or scratched or something?” Dawson asks. We still don't know if that really turns someone into a zombie, but it's a good hypothesis. Holly walks up to him and gestures for us to follow.

“
Help me check him,” she whispers and the three of us start peeling Martin's clothes away and examining his skin. Holly makes me undo his pants and check his sensitive spots, but I don't see a thing. Nobody else does either. The only injury that he has is the cat scratch on his hand. It's still bleeding, but it looks better than before. As if she feels guilty about it, the tabby comes over and starts head butting Martin's foot with a purring apology. Dawson smiles sweetly at her and scowls when he sees me looking.

“
He's just out of shape,” he says as he stands up and starts to undo his pants. “He'll be better when he wakes up in the morning.” I doubt that, but I don't know what else to do. For the moment I decide that I just want to get Holly out of there before Dawson flashes her.

We go downstairs together and spend a few minutes washing off in the sink. It's a laborious process and not all that effective, but it's better than nothing. Holly changes into a pair of my flannel pajama pants and a white T-shirt that says,
Better Safe than Sorry.
I won it in a contest during sex ed and keep it only because Holly likes to wear it to bed. I follow suit and dress in the same pair of pants, only mine are red instead of blue. Before I can put a shirt on however, Holly grabs me behind the head and presses her lips to mine.

I kiss her back, savoring the feeling of comfort and warmth that I get from her mouth. When she drops her hand down my stomach and dips it into my pants, I don't fight back. It seems like it would be strange that she'd want to touch me this way with an army of the raging dead hunting her, but it isn't. Being together like this is the closest thing to perfect that we have right now and if we're dead tomorrow, at least we'll have memories of skin and pleasure instead of just pain and death.

Soon we're rolling around on the floor trying to find a position that works. Eventually Holly just pulls me into her and we spend a few, quiet moments with our eyes closed and our arms wrapped around one another. When I open mine and look down into her face, I see that she's crying.

“
Don't stop,” she tells me though I wasn't going to. Even though she's sad, she looks like an angel. Her pale skin is flushed with a gentle pink and her lips are parted, emphasizing the moistness of her tongue and the way she flutters when I move inside her. I ignore the message on her T-shirt and try not to think that far ahead. Holly being pregnant doesn't seem like such a big deal anymore. Either we'll be dead long before then or all of this madness will be over and I'll be happy just to be alive. In fact, I'd like to have a baby. A baby is new life, a fresh start, a seed of opportunity. All I've seen today are endings and death and misery.

I finish inside her and immediately decide to try something new. Holly's never let me go down on her before, and I think now's as good time as any. If I don't do it today, right this moment, then one of us might be dead before we ever do. That's a powerful motivator.

Holly seems to like what I'm doing, but after a few minutes she stops me and we just hold each other, wishing the world would fade away and leave nothing but this.

***

Twenty-Two Hours and Fourteen Minutes After …

Valerie wakes me up by shaking my shoulder gently. I notice that she's being very careful not to wake Holly.

“
Do you need to switch out?” I whisper through a small yawn. Valerie shakes her head.

“
It's your friend, Martin,” she tells me. “He woke up about an hour ago and asked if I'd help him to the bathroom. He told me he'd be awhile and locked himself in so I could come back upstairs. When I went down to get him a few minutes ago, he wouldn't answer. I unlocked the door to check on him and found him in the stall, buck naked. He's okay, but not very coherent. I was wondering if you could come down and help me get him dressed and back in bed.”

I nod and pick out a T-shirt and some pants for Martin before following Valerie downstairs, baseball bat in hand. Neither Dawson nor Holly wakes up, and I'm glad because I know Holly needs to sleep, but that she wouldn't let me go alone. I just hope she won't find out tomorrow because I know she'll be pissed.

When we reach the bathroom, Martin is still sitting on the toilet where Valerie left him. His eyes are open, but he doesn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. When I walk in, he glances up at me and groans.

“
I don't feel so good,” he tells me and tries to vomit. Nothing comes up but saliva and bile. I move over to him, set the clothes on the back of the toilet, and lean the bat against the wall.

“
Let me know if you need me in there,” Valerie says as she closes the stall door to give us some privacy. I put my hand to Martin's forehead, but he doesn't feel hot. He is sweating though and I wonder if maybe he had a fever and it's broken.

“
What's wrong?” I ask, looking for specifics. I'm not a doctor, but maybe I could figure something out. I try to hand Martin the shirt, but when he tries to reach out for it, his hand misses and flops uselessly against his naked thigh. I wonder briefly how the hell he got undressed, but don't say anything about it. I reach down and put his arm through the first hole.

“
My stomach and my brain,” he says and I guess that he means he has a headache. I put his other arm through and then slip the shirt down over his head. “Am I turning?” he asks me and I raise my brows questioningly.

“
Were you bitten?” I ask, wondering if we might've missed the injury. Martin tries to shake his head and nearly collapses onto the floor. I manage to get him back into an upright position and bend down in front of him. I grab his foot and thrust it into the leg of the gray sweatpants.