"There has to be something you can do, Karen," Phoebe begged. "You can, can't you? Can't you help him?"
Karen blinked, snuffing out the stars for a moment, and shook her head.
"I'm sorry, Phoebe," she said. "I'm so, so sorry."
Phoebe's mind cycled through a range of responses. Rage was the first; she wanted to hit Karen, to slap her face, to call her a liar, then she wanted to throw her arms around her and cling to her until the police came and Adam's body was taken away.
"I...have him," Tommy said, and Phoebe let Tommy bear his weight gently back to the earth.
"No," she said. There had to be some hope. The police were coming, they could bring him back.
Not knowing what else to do, she hugged Adam's body to her, trying to keep him warm.
Adam opened his eyes.
He thought he felt rain on his cheeks, but when his vision cleared and became acute, even in the gloom, he saw that Phoebe was leaning over him and crying.
He watched her as she caught her breath.
"Adam?"
He laughed, and he made some lame joke about what a hero
389
he was. Two trips into the woods to rescue her, and he had been knocked flat on his ass for both. Phoebe smiled, but she only seemed to cry harder. He realized that he must be a little dizzy from having the wind knocked out of him, because what he tried to say and what came out were two totally different things.
She shushed him and put her finger against his lips. Funny how much warmer her finger was than Karen's cheek. He tried to make another joke, but he still hadn't gotten his wind back, so all he could produce were short gasping sounds. No big deal. He'd had the wind knocked out of him plenty of times on the field. Just sit back and relax.
He didn't like seeing Pheeble cry, though. He raised his right hand with the idea of brushing away her tears, but-- funny thing--it was the left that moved. He watched his hand as it sort of twitched and then lay still on his chest.
His wet chest.
His real ly wet chest. He tried to lift his hand out of the wetness, but his hand wouldn't obey. Phoebe lifted her hands from him in a gesture that she no doubt meant to be reassuring, but as her hands were covered with blood--his blood--she didn't quite get the effect she wanted.
Pete, he thought. The freaking idiot.
Phoebe was still sobbing, and Adam was aware of other people around him. Tommy and Karen were at his side. Daffy was on her cell phone, apparently unable to stop talking even for a few minutes.
He saw that Daffy was crying too. Karen, maybe. Karen Starry-Eyes, that would be his new nickname for her. Her eyes
390
winked like penlights even in the darkness of the Oxoboxo woods. Of course she couldn't really cry, even though Phoebe insisted she'd seen a tear roll down her face at Evan's funeral.
Poor Evan, Adam thought. He'd really liked that kid.
Adam knew then why they were all crying. He opened his mouth to tell them they didn't have to.
"I'm okay," he said. Or tried to, because that wasn't what anyone heard.
"Shhh," Phoebe said, and she actually leaned forward and hugged him to her. He thought he'd be thrilled if he weren't numb all over.
"Don't try to talk," she whispered, her lips close to his ear.
He tried anyhow, before she could say what he knew she would say next, but the noise he made just sounded like a long choking wheeze.
"You're dead, Adam," she whispered.
He tried to turn, but the flesh was both unwilling and weak.
He heard the catch in her throat as she tried to get the words out. "Pete killed you."
The realization hit him with a force almost equal to that of the bullet. His first thought was to protest, to tell her that she was wrong, but he knew in his heart, the heart that was no longer beating, that she was right.
"I love you, Phoebe," he said as she cried, but the only sounds that came out of his body were strange, strangled noises, nothing like human speech at all.
***
391
Phoebe stayed with him until the police came. Her pretty white dress was neither white nor pretty any longer; the hem was tattered and dirty, and it was covered with Adam's blood. He'd taken the bullet high in the chest because Pete had been aiming at her head. The thought should have terrified her, but all she could think about was Adam and how different everything was going to be between them.
Seeing him lying there, his eyes unblinking as he tried in vain to form words she could understand, she could only think about how bad she'd felt in the few days they hadn't been speaking. She was crying and she couldn't stop crying, and although it was absurd, she knew that some of her tears were for those few lost days. She wished that she could rewind to the last time they'd been together at the Haunted House, and she wished that she could take back the things she'd said. She wished he had let her finish her apology.
Most of the zombies dispersed into the woods, melting into the forest like phantoms the moment the flashing lights of the cruiser began to cut through the darkness. Phoebe watched them disappear, thinking back to the night when some of them had seemed to form out of the very darkness and woods to rescue them.
Tommy and Karen stayed until the police came, as did all of the traditionally biotic kids. Colette stood with Margi, and they held on to each other after Margi finished making the calls on her cell phone. Haley said she knew some first aid and CPR, but everyone there knew it was useless; Adam was gone and then he wasn't.
392
Phoebe wasn't sure, but she didn't think many differently biotic people came back as fast as he had. He'd only been gone a few minutes. The longest minutes of her life, but maybe that was something to be hopeful about. Maybe his rapid return from the shores of death meant that he would gain control of his voice and body faster than some of the others. Maybe.
Tommy tried to console her, but she didn't want to be consoled. Margi and Karen both tried to talk to her, but she didn't want to talk, either.
Adam had run into the woods to save her. Not once but twice. Seeing him lying there, looking up at her trying to speak, she knew that it was her turn to enter the woods for him. She took a deep breath and dried her eyes on the bloodied sleeve of her dress, the dress he'd said looked like moonlight.
Even when the ambulance arrived sometime later and the paramedics gently pried her arms from Adam, who twitched and coughed unintelligible sounds as they lifted him onto the stretcher, Phoebe could only think of this one thing:
Bringing him back. Bringing him back as far as she possibly could.
393
Acknowledgements
I'd like to thank the following people for their help in bringing Generation Dead into print:
For their invaluable advice, assistance, and guidance: Al Zuckerman, for everything ; Alessandra Balzer, with whom I shared a wonderful "telepathetic" link throughout the editorial process; F. Paul Wilson, Rick Koster, Elizabeth and Tom Monteleone, and all of the instructors and students at Borderlands Boot Camp; my first reader, Rosina Williams; Robin Rue, Matthew Dow Smith, Tom Tessier, Scott Bradfield, and Doug Clegg.
For their love and support throughout: my parents, Elaine and Jeff Waters; my brother Mark Waters and family; the entire Pepin lineage; Linda Waters, Sandra and Ted McHugh, John Fedeli, Mark Vanase, Dan Whelan, the staff at P.G.'s for the office space; all my friends at SM; Thor, and Bonny.
And just for being: Kim, Kayleigh, and Cormac.
Table of Contents
Start
Daniel Waters, Generation Dead
Thank you for reading books on BookFrom.Net Share this book with friends