A Mad Zombie Party

  Daddy turned on him, hitting him in the stomach until he vomited blood. Even still, River was able to push me into the closet and lock the door. But it wasn't long before Daddy killed River, just like Caro, and busted down the door.

  He's yelling at me again. It's my turn to die, and I'm glad, but I don't want to go without taking him with me. I crawl to the stove, where pots have fallen.

  I swipe up a cast-iron skillet and slam it into his leg with what little strength I have left. I only make him madder. For once, he isn't concerned about hitting me in places no one will notice. It's open season.

  Daddy kicks me in the stomach. I curl into myself, gasping for breath I can't catch. He kicks me again, and stars burst over what little of my vision remains. My lungs burn as if they've been bathed in acid, that acid rising...rising...spewing out of my mouth.

  Blood. So much blood. I'm not going to be able to take Daddy with me, am I?

  I'm so sorry, Caro. I'm so sorry, Riv.

  I'll be with them soon. The pain will end, and we'll be together again. That will have to be enough.

  Black spiderwebs weave through my mind, but I fight to stay awake. Gotta prepare for the next blow. But...it never comes.

  I'm not sure how much time passes before the spiderwebs thin and I'm able to blink open my swollen eyes. My father lies on the floor in front of me, his face turned in my direction, his eyes wide and glassed over, his mouth hanging open. River stands beside him, a bloody kitchen knife clutched in his hand. He stares at the weapon as if he isn't sure how it ended up in his possession.

  "River," I gasp, but no sound emerges. My ribs are broken, muscle torn--

  --a knock echoes, and the scene vanishes. I blink, and I'm back inside the bedroom at Reeve's, standing in front of Frosty.

  He's pale, waxen, and he's staring at me with horror.

  "Wh-what just happened?" I ask.

  "I think we had a vision," he rasps. "Two of them."

  Another ability passed on to me? Yes, of course. Only, I didn't see the future, like Ali. I saw the past.

  And Frosty saw it, too.

  Oh...no, no, no. He knows my deepest, darkest secret now. He'll treat me differently. He'll feel sorry for me. But I don't want his pity. Yes, I've suffered. But we've all suffered.

  "I didn't... I don't... Milla, I'm so sorry."

  That. I don't want that. He owes me nothing. I owe him everything.

  I turn away, not wanting him to see the emotion in my eyes--or the fresh flood of tears.

  I suppose I should be glad that I saw into his past, the way he saw into mine. The very moments that define the people we are today. And maybe I would be glad, if I'd seen something else. But Kat's death? Feeling his desperation and pain? His unending agony? Agony I helped cause. No. Guilt eats me up, the bites bigger than ever before.

  The knock comes again, and River steps inside the room. I'm emotionally raw right now, and seeing him pushes me over the edge. The tears trickle down my cheeks, burning my skin.

  "You guys have been quiet for a while." He looks between us and frowns. "What's going on?"

  Frosty shakes his head and backs out of the room. He kicks the door shut behind him, the loud thud jolting me. I stumble back as if pushed, my knees catching on the mattress. I land, bouncing up and down until finally stilling.

  "Milla." River strides across the room to crouch in front of me. "What happened? Talk to me."

  I begin to shake. "I didn't...I didn't know Anima would do what they did. I thought they would do as promised and sneak in, grab Ali and leave. But that's no excuse. I'm at fault. I knew Anima lied and tricked. I should have been prepared. I should have double-crossed them. But I didn't, and I ended up hurting Frosty so deeply he'll never recover. I took the most precious part of his life, the treasure he cherished above all others, and I'm a horrible person."

  Torment ravages my brother's eyes. "Milla, don't do this to yourself. You can't--"

  A sob splits my lips, and I fall against his chest. After that, the sobs just keep coming, until I'm practically dry heaving. I am a horrible person, and these new abilities are my final punishment. Exactly what I deserve.

  "I've been following you off and on for weeks," River admits when I at last go quiet.

  A few times I'd felt someone was watching me, but... "If that's true, why didn't you help me the night hordes of zombies attacked me? I would have died if Frosty hadn't stepped in."

  He closes his eyes for a moment. "That was one of my nights off, and I'm sorry for it. I had no idea--" He goes quiet, as if he can't bear to finish.

  So...who had watched me that night? Tiffany?

  "I love you," he says, "and I couldn't stay away. Even as furious as I was, I couldn't not check on you. I know you only did what you did because you love me, too, and you hoped to protect me the way we failed to protect Caro." He strokes a hand down my back, the way he used to do when we were children, gentle, so gentle, always careful of my bruises. "You're carrying a lot of blame around. What you did for me. Kat. Even Caro. But it's time for you to let everything go."

  I'm so tired I shake my head in negation rather than voice a response. Letting go of the guilt won't do me a bit of good. It has claws, and they're buried deep in my heart.

  "Seeing you covered in blood... I remembered how quickly life can be snuffed out. I don't want to waste another moment apart from you. I forgive you for working with Anima. All right?" His arms tighten around me, and he kisses my temple. "I've missed you. I've cursed myself for sending you away. I've hated myself, and yelled at everyone else. And you know how I feel about losing my temper."

  Yes. Like me, he would rather lose a limb than act like our father.

  "I want you to come back with me," he says. "There will be problems at first, but we'll get through them together."

  I shake my head, adamant. No way I'll put his crew at risk. And his reign in jeopardy.

  "Milla," he says, "I talked to Ali, and I know you're scared about the new ability, but if you do nothing, you'll always be scared and you'll always be a danger to those around you. You have to learn how to use it to your advantage."

  I give another shake of my head, but this time, I'm not as confident.

  "You know I'm right," River continues. "If you don't control your emotions, your ability--your whatever, just go ahead and fill in the blank--they'll control you."

  "Damn you," I whisper, finally finding my voice. He's right. I have to do this. I have to learn control, or I will be controlled. There's no middle ground. "You never give up, do you?"

  "A trait we share." He smiles fondly. "Don't worry. I'll come up with a way for you to practice without putting anyone in danger. I swear it."

  "I can't imagine a scenario where that's possible."

  "Just give me time to think. Despite rumors, I'm only a man, not a god."

  "Rumors suggest you're a devil, but fine. Okay. Take a few days."

  "And then we'll go home--"

  "No. I'm staying here." I won't be an anchor around his neck, dragging him down. No matter how much I miss him. "I promised Kat I'd guard Frosty, and I will keep my word."

  I might have thought about abandoning ship, but once I calmed down, I would have come back. I see that now.

  River rubs his knuckles into the crown of my head until I bat his arm away. "How about a bit of good news?"

  "Yes, please."

  "We caught the girl. Tiffany. She's locked up in the basement."

  A thousand emotions hit me at once. Rage--the one who tried to murder me is here. Satisfaction--I can hurt her, like for like. Sadness. I don't know why. Relief. Hope.

  "I want to be the first one to talk to her." I clutch the sleeves of his shirt. "Okay? All right?" The wrong interrogation technique could cause her to clam up. "Will you make sure? I just... I'm not ready to deal. Not right now." I'm still too raw.

  "I'll make sure," he says with a nod.

  Cole bursts into the room, his features dark with concern. "Your panic attack has
to wait. Bronx was out on patrol, found a zombie and let himself be bitten. But the toxin wasn't cleansed and Bronx didn't recover on his own. Love was with him and tried to heal him, but she couldn't summon dynamis. Now there are more zombies. We need everyone out there, and we need massive amounts of the antidote. Now."

  "Go." I give River a little push. "I'll be here when you get back."

  Cole's freaky violet eyes lock on me. "You're on your feet. You're coming, too."

  At my apartment, I drink and I pace. No matter how much alcohol I pour down the hatch, no matter how many times I stomp my feet into the carpet, I can't block the memory of Milla's beating. She was covered in blood and bruises, different parts of her face swollen, her wrist bent back at an odd angle. A bone in her leg peeking through skin. I'd felt her pain, her all-consuming despair. I'd heard her thoughts. Beatings were a way of life for her and her siblings.

  Whatever ill feelings I still harbored toward her died a swift death today, bludgeoned with a baseball bat, just like Milla herself. Resentment no longer clouds my thoughts, and I see the truth. She's been hurt enough. I want to comfort her, not hurt her--never hurt her--and I want her to comfort me. I'm unmanned. And I get it now. Of course she helped Anima when her brother was threatened. He was all she had left. Her only family. Her hero.

  How did we have visions of the past? Why?

  I throw the bottle of whiskey against the wall, glass shattering in every direction. I stop, just stop, and sink to the floor, my back pressed against the couch.

  "Dude. Miserable is so not a good look for you."

  My gaze locks on Kat, who is standing a few feet in front of me. As usual, she's wearing the T-shirt and shorts she died in. At this point, I think I'd rather see her in a burlap sack or a Mr. Potato Head costume. "Can't help it," I croak.

  "Well, you're gonna have to try. You need to arm up and head to Shady Elms. Five minutes after you left the mansion, Cole started texting you. Bronx is in trouble, and all slayers have been summoned for a battle royale."

  "They'll be fine without me."

  "Cole insisted Milla go, even though she's--"

  "Damn him!" I jump to my feet. Milla is weakened, emotional and probably easily distracted right now.

  Kat watches me with sad eyes as I gather an arsenal. "I'll be rooting for you. And of course, I'll critique your performance later."

  "Bonus points for every kill?"

  "Please. That'd be too easy. You'll get bonus points for every un-kill. Reach a hundred, and you'll earn a prize."

  "Right. The new 'save 'em' ability."

  "Yes," she says. "Although that particular ability didn't work for Bronx tonight."

  Well, well. I might get to kill, after all. "The prize?" I cram four extra clips into my pockets. If I have to save zombies, fine, I'll save them, but there's no way in hell I'll let them bite me. I'll disable, capture and find another way.

  "The prize," Kat says, "is that I'll finally forgive you for riding across a rainbow with another girl on the back of your unicorn."

  "My dream-crime record finally expunged. Nice."

  "Pain is pain."

  I flash her a grin, but she's already gone.

  I rush out my front door--I'm in a T-shirt and jeans, with combat boots on my feet--and slide into my truck. Night has fallen, and shadows are thick. Stars dot the sky, but they're smeared with dark gray rain clouds that are threatening to overflow.

  I break every speed law and soon close in on Shady Elms. Lights blink up ahead--headlights? Yep. Smoke curls from the crumpled hood of a van. My friends crashed? I park and jump out. I run...only to tumble to the ground, tripped by... I don't know what. I land, dirt and twigs filling my mouth. A bright light suddenly shines over me. Motion-activated? Or controlled by a human hand?

  Human hand. Definitely. A gun is cocked. I roll out of the way just as--

  Pop, pop, pop! Bullets spray the spot I just vacated.

  I come up firing a gun of my own. A grunt echoes, the scent of blood saturates the air. Whoever shot at me is wounded. I stomp forward, remaining low just in case. The light is still shining and reveals the glint of another trip wire. I cut it and turn the source of the light--a lamp that's been anchored into the ground--to illuminate the opposite direction. A man in bodily form is slumped over a rock, a deep gash in his neck.

  I don't know him. He isn't a slayer.

  Keeping my gun trained on him, I feel for a pulse. He's dead.

  Who is he? And why did he attack me?

  Are there others nearby, waiting to pick off slayers when they return to their bodies? But...why not strike now?

  The answer becomes clear a moment later. My friends killed the others...and a new crop of enemy soldiers has just arrived.

  I hear car doors slamming in the distance. I sneak through the bushes--three black-clad men stand beside a van, checking their weapons, while a fourth gives the pre-war speech. "Kill or be killed." There's a wrecked sedan next to the van, four motionless bodies inside it. The people my friends killed. Go team.

  The newcomers got something right. It's kill or be killed. I nail them all with a bullet between the eyes.

  I wait for a minute...two...but no other vehicle arrives. I return to the van my friends used. A more in-depth search reveals tires shredded on both sides and part of the hood embedded in a tree. The bodies--empty shells--of slayers surround the vehicle, each one bloody and bruised.

  The gash on Milla's forehead has leaked crimson all the way to her chin.

  Furious and frantic, I push my spirit out of my body and follow the sounds of battle, the smell of rot. As a handful of zombies lurch into my path, I crisscross my arms, my semiautomatics, and shoot each creature directly in the mouth, shattering jawbones and teeth.

  Bite me now, assholes.

  I sprint forward, every second now an endless eternity as those blinking headlights illuminate sheer violence...just before darkness descends.

  Light. Bronx and Love are on the ground, both twitching and jerking as if seizing. Milla crawls toward them, her hands engulfed by red flames.

  Darkness.

  Light. Milla touches Bronx, the crimson flames crackling over his chest. His back bows, his cry of agony echoing through the night.

  Darkness.

  Light. A zombie has snuck up behind Milla, who is distracted as she patches a wound on Bronx's chest--a wound that now appears bigger. Sharp, yellowed teeth sink into her shoulder and she screams.

  "No!" I pick up speed.

  Darkness. Crimson flames burst from her and lick at the creature.

  A creature who latches on harder and shakes his head, like a dog with a bone.

  Almost there...so close...but not close enough.

  Light. Ali yanks the zombie away from Milla and holds out her arm, clearly expecting dynamis to appear--it doesn't.

  Darkness. Come on. Faster.

  Light. Cole kicks the zombie in the face. Something bad must have happened to Ali, because she's on the ground, writhing in pain.

  Darkness.

  Light. Milla crawls to Ali's side, and with a jab, jab, jab she injects her, then Bronx, then Love with...antidote? Yeah, has to be. All three go still.

  Finally! I reach the edge of the battlefield.

  I aim and fire, putting a bullet between the eyes of all three zombies sneaking up on Milla. She glances up. Our gazes meet. A profound wave of relief sweeps through me when she lumbers to her feet. She's okay. Then the headlights go out. By the time they come back on, she's back in the fray, her short swords swinging with expert precision.

  I sheathe my guns and withdraw my own short swords. With purposeful flicks of my wrists, I remove any zombie hands, arms or heads that move into my path. Body parts pile up around me. Black goo sprays, burning me.

  As the horde begins to thin at last, I see the other slayers fighting around me. Not just Cole and Milla, but River and Love, who is back on her feet, as well as Chance, Gavin and Jaclyn. Some are more injured than others, but all are bleed
ing profusely.

  "Jaclyn! Your six!" As Gavin reaches for her, a single white flame springs to life at the end of his hand...only to die a second later. The lack costs him. A horde converges, ripping hunks of skin and muscle from his arm. He fights his way free and hisses in pain. "I'm not healing, and they're not being cleansed."

  A mad fury overtakes Jaclyn, who has successfully disabled the zombies sneaking up behind her thanks to Gavin's warning. She drops her daggers and withdraws two .22s.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Zombies drop, creating a pathway, allowing Milla to work her way to Gavin and inject him with antidote.

  "Stop trying to light up," Cole shouts. "Disable as many Zs as you can."

  Milla fails to notice the fiend lying on the ground, reaching for her--

  "Milla!" I shout.

  She looks up at me, but it's too late. The creature latches on to her ankle to yank her calf toward his chomping teeth. I act on instinct, diving down and shoving my hand between her leg and his mouth. The burn is instantaneous and utterly incapacitates me. I collapse, unable to move...unable to breathe.

  I've been bitten before, and it hurt like hell, but it didn't hurt like this. Didn't affect me like this. Before I retained control of my body and lost control of my mind, the urge to eat, to kill, overwhelming me. Now, the opposite is true.

  "Frosty," Milla shouts.

  I can't respond.

  There are severed heads all around me, those with teeth snapping at me. One of the slayers steps forward to slash at a still-standing zombie and inadvertently kicks one of those heads toward me. Still, I can't move.

  "Frosty!"

  A second later, the foundation vanishes from under me. No, no. That's not true. I've been tossed into the air, where I hover like a balloon on a string.

  Pressure crushes me at every angle. Even as warm blood leaks from my eyes, I'm able to see that the other slayers are right beside me. All but Milla. She stands on the ground, her hands raised.

  "Throw...us," Ali calls. "Throw...with...your...arms."

  Milla has seen Ali in action and understanding quickly dawns. She jerks her arms to the side. Suddenly I'm flying, flying...slamming into a tree a good distance from the zombie horde. I flop to the ground and someone lands on top of me, grunting and rolling off, but it doesn't matter. I can't breathe with or without the added weight.

  River rushes over and slams a needle deep into my neck. "You're welcome." The antidote flows through my veins, cool and soothing, and my muscles begin to unlock from my bones.