Alice in Zombieland

I deserved this, I reminded myself. This was part of my “worse.” My words, my insistence, had killed my family, had put them in those boxes. Had I done anything differently, a single detail, they would still be alive. But I hadn’t, and so here I was. There they were.

“… her talent, her spirit, were rare and glorious and I …”

The abyss threw me one way, then the other, cutting me up bit by bit, destroying me. The woman had to shut up. She just had to. Shut. Up. My heart felt pinned against my ribs, warping the beat, and if she didn’t shut up I would die. I knew I would die.

“… used to tell me she wanted to be just like you when she grew up. She admired you so much….”

Shut up, shut up, shut up! But she kept talking and kept telling me all about my … sister….

… about Emma.

… Emma … gone … my lily … gone …

I’d promised to keep her safe. I’d failed.

A scream ripped from my throat, followed right on the heels of another and another. I lost track of everything around me, clutched my ears to stop from hearing the utter horror in my voice, and fell to my knees.

No, not just to my knees. I fell down, down, down, the abyss, a never-ending pit of despair, still screaming, screaming, consumed by grief, flooded by sorrow.

Hands patted at me, but I didn’t calm. I screamed so loud and so long my voice eventually broke. I gagged and choked, tears pouring down my cheeks, pooling around me, a lake of misery. I cried so hard my entire body shook, and my eyes swelled shut. I couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe anymore. Dying would have been a relief.

I don’t know what happened after that. For the second time in my life, I lost consciousness. Maybe I would never wake….

But of course, I awoke. In the days that followed, I tried to take comfort in the fact that the worst thing that could ever happen to me had already happened. Big surprise, that didn’t help. But at some point, I finally accepted that this wasn’t any kind of nightmare. This was my new reality, and I had better learn to deal or the tears would never stop flowing.

Each night I sat on the ledge seat in front of my room’s only window, looking down at my new backyard. There was half an acre of trees, hills and flowers, and a stockade fence that marked the property boundaries. Beyond the fence was a hill spotlighted by a golden sliver of moonlight, but because of the steepness of the incline, I couldn’t see anything more than thick, towering trunks.

I was tired, but I wouldn’t be sleeping. Any time I drifted off, I dreamed of the accident. I preferred to spend my time searching for my dad’s monsters, not sure whether I wanted to prove they existed or that they didn’t, remembering all the times I’d caught my dad doing the same thing.

Dad had carried a gun, though I’d never heard him shoot it. Now I had to wonder if a gun would actually help. The monsters had slipped past human skin … like ghosts … or the demons I’d been so unsure about.

This is ridiculous. The monsters weren’t real.

And yet, a few times since the accident, I was certain that I’d spied one.

As if on cue, the bushes swayed. I leaned forward until my nose pressed into the glass. Probably the wind, I thought, even as I watched tree limbs stretch toward each other. Limbs, not arms, surely. And those were leaves, not hands. Surely.

A flash of white caught my attention, and I gulped. That wasn’t a woman with stooped shoulders darting between the trees but a deer. Had to be a deer, but …

Deer didn’t wear wedding gowns, did they.

I pumped a fist into the pane, rattling the entire window, and the woman—deer—darted away, swiftly hidden by the trees. I waited several long minutes, but she—it—never came back into view.

By the time the sun rose, my eyelids felt like sandpaper against my eyes. I had to stop doing this, had to stop torturing myself. Otherwise, I’d have to throw in the towel and admit I’d inherited my dad’s crazy.

And wouldn’t that just be irony at its finest?

With that thought, I didn’t laugh with bitterness, cry, or even crawl into bed. I began planning the next night’s watch.

3

EERILY CURIOUSER AND EERILY CURIOUSER …

Summer break passed far too quickly, and the first day of my junior year finally arrived. Asher High was on the outskirts of Birmingham, only a ten-minute drive from my grandparents’ house. Go Tigers. The bus turned the ten-minute drive into forty. But you know, I was glad for every one of those extra minutes. Like I’d told Kat that day at the hospital, my mom and dad had graduated from Asher, and all I could think about was whether their pictures were hanging in any of the display cases.

I wasn’t ever going to look. If I saw them, I’d probably have a breakdown right there in the halls, something that hadn’t happened since the funeral. Yeah, I liked to think I was stronger now, more in control, but I wasn’t taking chances.

I sat in front, just behind the driver, and kept my head down during the ride. I spoke to no one, and I was the first to exit, my steps quick as my backpack thumped against me.

I paused in front of the building, my eyes wide and my stomach churning. So. Many. Kids. Some were tall, some were short. Black, white. Boy, girl. Rich, poor. Preppy, stoned. Skinny, not so skinny. Clothed, practically naked. Each one huddled in a group, beyond excited to be together again. Everyone seemed to be talking over someone else and laughing.

The building itself was sprawling and kind of creepy, because wow—Tigers took their school colors seriously. Never had I seen so much black and gold. Black brick was interspaced with gold brick. There was a wealth of trees, the trunks painted black and the leaves painted gold. There was a cement walkway, and black-and-gold tiger paws led to the front doors, where metal detectors stood guard. Someone had anchored tiger ears on the sides and whiskers in the middle to give the detectors faces.

Note to self: Never talk badly about jungle cats. I’d probably get my head dunked in the toilet.

I stopped by the front office and asked for a map, only to be sighed at and pointed to a fat stack of them on the counter. I grabbed one and muttered, “Thanks.” I had my schedule already, so it was just a matter of finding my way. I’d never been good with directions.

As I was walking away, a woman strode out of the back office, spotted me and changed her course, heading straight for me.

She held out a well-manicured hand. “You’re Alice Bell.”

“Ali,” I said as we shook. Her grip was strong. Too strong.

“I’m the principal here. Dr. Wright. And do not think you’ll get away with calling me Ms. Wright, Wright or Hey Lady. I earned my title and you will use it. Understood?”

“Yes.” I looked her over as discreetly as possible. Dark brown hair framed a pretty face. She had olive-toned skin, brown eyes that practically flashed the words I mean business, and a cupid’s bow mouth.

“If you need anything,” she said, already moving off, “don’t hesitate to let one of my assistants know.”

“Thanks. I will—”

She didn’t hear me, because she was already gone.

I made my way into a hall that was plastered with Tigers Rule posters and majorly congested, kids rushing in every direction, a (black-and-gold) beach ball being tossed around, laughter echoing. I must have been walking too slowly, because several people tried to mow me down.

In an act of self-preservation, I pressed into a wall of lockers. Soon the crowd would thin and I could navigate my way without incident. As I waited, I tried not to think about my old school and the fact that, after my last class, I wouldn’t be walking to the nearest elementary school to pick up …

Nope, not going there.

“Ali?”

My gaze shot from the floor to a beautiful brunette, who stood front and center in a group of girls. “Kat! I mean, Mad Dog.” I was so happy to discover a familiar face, I did something I hadn’t done all summer. I smiled.

She smiled back, looking genuinely happy to see me, and waved me over.

I closed the distance, and she threw her arms around me as if we were long-lost friends. “Well, well, look what the Kat dragged in. Get it? Of course you do. I only make awesome jokes. But enough of my brilliant banter. I’m so glad you’re here!” Her gaze slid over me, and she gave me another grin, this one sly. “Look at you, total chili pepper hot. I love it!”

A lie, surely. I had on ratty sneakers, ripped jeans and the oldest tee I owned. The fabric was so frayed, I looked like I—gag—wore fringe. I just hadn’t felt like getting dressed up, as if I had something to celebrate.