Alice in Zombieland - Showalter Gena - Страница 75

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My father, whom I had served up on a silver platter.

He was beyond salvation.

How was I supposed to deal with this? With a shaky hand I picked up the journal, flipped through the pages. Answers were in here. I knew they were. If only another passage would morph…into…English.

Even before the thought finished, several paragraphs cleared, hieroglyphics changing into letters.

Throughout your fight against the zombies, you’ll face many hardships. People will call you crazy. Some of your family and friends will be bitten. Some of your family and friends will die.

Never forget that evil is evil. You cannot change it. You cannot lead it to the light. But, if you let it, evil can lead you to the darkness.

You’re probably wondering who I am, how I know what I know—and how you’re reading this. No, it’s not magic. I wrote this for those who are in spirit.

In spirit. I wondered if that meant I would be able to read every word if I left my body. Wondered if the others would be able to read it if they left theirs. Maybe, but at the moment I was too wrung out emotionally to care either way.

If you’re reading this while you’re in the natural realm, then you’re like me, more conscious of spiritual things. If you’re having trouble reading it, don’t worry. When your mind is ready for the rest of the information, you’ll be able to read the passages.

Do you want to know more about the evil? No. No, I think you’re more interested in love. You want to know what you can do to save the people you love. I know, because I hungered for that information, too. Tell them the truth. Teach them. The unseen, unknown enemy is still the enemy. If they know, they can fight. If they refuse to believe you, you’ve still done your best.

My eyesight hazed from a new flood of tears. I wished I had told Pops the truth. I wished I’d taught him to fight. Now, it was too late.

I must have cried myself to sleep, because the next thing I knew, a knock was shaking my window.

I wrenched awake, hair tumbling around my shoulders and the journal falling to the floor. I rubbed at my eyes, my heart hammering in my chest. Cole raised the pane and slipped inside my room—but that only made my heart beat harder. He was armed for war. He wore black from head to toe, had the black smudges under his eyes to absorb light, had knives anchored on his arms and hilts sticking out of his boots.

“I’m sorry to do this now, and this way, but you ignored my calls and texts,” he said, “and we need you. We found a nest inside a house about a mile away. We’re going to flush them out, and we need your help. We’ve never seen anyone light up like you did or ash a zombie so quickly, and we hope you can take them all down.”

Fight the enemy. I could do that, no matter how bad I felt. “I need to change.”

“Hurry.”

As I geared up in the bathroom, Cole said hesitantly, “I saw your sister today.”

I stilled, the shirt I’d been pulling on catching on my ears.

“I heard her, too,” he added.

Then he knew. He knew my father could be part of this new nest.

“I’m sorry, Ali.”

Shaking now, I finished dressing and stepped into the room. Cole was leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“Can you do this?” he asked.

Could I? I’d ended my grandfather. My dad would attack me if given the chance, just as Pops had. In another life, Dad would have hated himself for that. And in that other life, I think he would have wanted me to end him permanently. But could I really live with myself if I ended him a second time?

“I need to tell my grandmother I’m leaving,” I said, ignoring his question. “And someone will need to come over and protect her.”

He accepted the change of subject without comment. “Already thought of that. My dad is on his way here.”

Okay, then. Together we pounded downstairs. Nana was walking around the corner, looking older than her years. One glance at us and she realized what was happening. To my surprise, she didn’t try to stop me. She planted a kiss on my cheek and said, “Be careful.”

“We will,” I assured her.

“We’ve reinforced the Blood Line around the house,” Cole said, “and my father should be here any minute. He’s going to stay with you for the rest of the night.”

“Th-thank you.” She left us then, without demanding any details. Probably because she’d started crying.

I wanted to run after her but forced myself to stay where I was. “I hate this. All of it.”

“I know, but the only way to make things better is to keep doing what we’re doing.” He cupped my cheeks and looked into my eyes—and the world vanished—

—I was lying on my back, coughing, blood gurgling from my mouth. Cole hovered over me, tears tracking down his cheeks—

—I was standing in front of him again, the vision gone as quickly as it had started.

“That was…” He shook his head. “You’re staying here.”

“Because I might be injured?” After he’d just told me the only way to make things better was to keep doing what we were doing? I shook my head violently. “We don’t know when the visions come true. The first took forever to happen, and besides that, I can’t stay here the rest of my life, hoping to avoid this one.”

“You were dying!”

“I would have healed.”

“I’ve held death in my hands,” he shouted, shaking me. “You were dying, and you would not have healed. Therefore, you’re staying here. Let me and the others deal with this.”

“No. You said you needed me.”

“Ali, please. I can’t lose you to—”

“Stop.” Though my mouth had dried up and fear swam through me, I put on a brave face. “You’re wasting time.” I brushed past him, reaching for the door. “You can stay if you want, but I’m going.”

I stepped outside. The sun was setting, the sky a haze of azure and violet.

Masked men swarmed me.

Screaming, I scrambled backward, thinking this was an illusion, an extension of the vision, but someone managed to wrap me in his iron-hard arms and cart me toward a waiting van while the others converged inside and tackled Cole. I could hear the whistle of his blades, the hiss of his breath.

I fought my captor but failed to loosen his hold.

Behind me, a loud boom erupted. I and the man holding me were lifted off the ground by a hard blast of heat and propelled into the side of the vehicle. My skull cracked against the metal, and my eyesight dimmed. Shards of wood rained as I watched the man scramble up.

“Alice, my sweet Alice,” I heard someone say from inside the van—and I recognized his voice.

My father had come for me.

I woke up tied to a chair, confused, my eyesight still dim but gradually clearing. Severe pain tore through my head. My entire body ached. I felt as if I had time traveled to the day after the car accident, when my world had collapsed around me.

Well, my world had just collapsed again.

Memories flooded me. Cole, coming over to my house. The vision of my death. Leaving the house—or trying to leave it. Masked men attacking. Me, grabbed and carried away. The explosion. The van. My father.

Cole. Nana.

Bile burned a path to my throat. They had survived. I wouldn’t believe anything else.

I struggled against my bonds. I had to find them, had to get them help. As I tugged at the rope, I realized that I was in some kind of lab. The lights were turned low, but I could see people in lab coats buzzing around in every direction. I could smell a copper tang in the air, as well as the putrid odor of decay, and I gagged.

“Good. You’re awake.” A female wearing a hazmat suit stepped into my line of vision. She lifted her mask, and spread her arms wide. “Welcome to Anima Industries.”

“Dr. Wright,” I wheezed. “Did they get you, too?”

“How sweet. You trust me so much, you’re willing to overlook the evidence and convince yourself I must be a prisoner, like you.”

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