A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena (читать лучшие читаемые книги TXT) 📗

“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.

“Milla,” I say. “We have to help her.”

“On it.” He pulls me to my feet and takes off.

I stumble after him, dizzy but fighting it. I will help Milla.

I withdraw my semiautomatics, reload and fire at every zombie I come across. When I’m out of ammo, I use the axes anchored to the handles, soon clearing the immediate path and buying myself a few seconds to replace the clips. As I aim and shoot, aim and shoot, rotted brain matter splatters. Bone shards rain. Teeth fall to the ground like discarded pieces of candy.

Where’s Milla?

I scan...scan...there. She shoves a zombie to the ground and follows him down. After jamming her knees into his shoulders, she uses her swords like a pair of scissors and lops off his head.

Good girl. But another zombie plows into her from behind, throwing her down. Upon impact, red flames erupt from her hands, chest and feet.

Her nightmare has come to life.

Panicked, I run to her. Is she dying? Burning to death? I summon dynamis—fight fire with fire—but in an instant, I’m consumed by fear. It burns my mind, brands my heart, makes my limbs tremble. This isn’t... I can’t... Helpless, so helpless.

The thought overtakes my mind. I don’t understand what’s happening, and it takes everything I’ve got to shake the fear. Even still, the flames never come.

I reach Milla as she stabs the zombie in the mouth and stands. She’s panting, the red flames growing stronger, wafting smoke in the air. Every other zombie focuses on her, moving closer to her, ignoring the other slayers.

I join River, Cole, Love and Jaclyn to slice and dice our way through the masses while Ali, Gavin and Justin do the same on the opposite side. But we’re all too late. Milla releases an ear-piercing scream. I stop fighting and run, just run. If I get bit, I get bit.

I reach the front unharmed. But...Milla isn’t being eaten as I feared. Her eyes are as red as the flames, and they are bloody pools of hunger.

She rips out a zombie’s throat while her attention is locked on me. She licks her lips, even bares her teeth and steps toward me.

I’m on today’s menu?

River whizzes past me to jam a needle into her neck. But he is the one who bellows in pain, those crimson flames brushing over his skin.

At last the red fades from Milla’s eyes. I whip off my shirt to pat her down. The flames die—on her, on her brother—and the siblings collapse.

I gather Milla close and scan the area. Cole and the others have finished off the rest of the zombies. Easy to do, really, considering the meat bags stopped fighting us.

Milla moans. “Frosty...”

“You’re okay. You’re okay now.”

“The flames—”

“I know. They’re gone.”

“The flames.” She clutches my shirt. “The flames...”

“Shh, shh. They’re gone. I’ve got you, and I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

Her eyes close and she goes limp. I hold her closer.

A few feet away, Cole barks, “We need a new van and a tow.” He’s holding an unconscious Ali in his arms, a phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. “And hurry.”

“What the hell just happened?” River demands. “When I tried to light up, I got hit with a blast of fear instead.”

A chorus of “Me, too” rings out.

“And Milla,” he adds, “her flames were red. I’m not the only one who noticed it, right?”

“Whatever Tiffany did to us,” Cole says, his voice tight, “I think this is the result.”

Bronx scrubs a dirt-smudged hand down his face. “Fear is the opposite of faith, and faith is our source of power. Without it, we lose. Every time.”

“Why wasn’t Milla affected the same way?” I ask.

River shrugs. “Maybe those red flames protected her from whatever was done to us.”

Right thought, wrong direction. “I don’t think thanatos protected her so much as itself.” In her nightmares, the flames kill her. Predator versus prey.

“Head to the car, everyone, and join your body.” Cole motions to the left. “Justin’s on his way.”

“Call him back and tell him to be on the lookout. Zombies aren’t the only evil on the prowl tonight.” I shift Milla in my arms and stand. “Someone set a trip wire at the west side of the cemetery and tried to put a bullet in my brain while I was down. He missed and I shot to kill.”

“You see any others?” Cole asks as he dials.

“Yes. Three. They received the same treatment.”

“I’ll hide the evidence and meet you back at the house.” River doesn’t wait for permission, just takes off.

“Someone help me with Gavin.” Tears spill down Jaclyn’s cheeks as she tries to pull him up one-handed, her other hand tucked against her middle to protect a swollen wrist. “He’s too heavy for me to carry.”

Like Ali and Milla, Gavin is unconscious. Bronx and Chance heft him up, each using a shoulder as a crutch to keep him vertical. Together, we make our way to the vehicles. We’re a ragtag group, but we’re alive. I tell myself that’s enough. For now.

When I open my eyes, the first thing I see is Frosty. His face hovers just above mine. Sublime heat envelops me, saturating me with his scent. His heartbeat drums against my temple.

We’re outside, the night dark. He’s walking...carrying me. I smile...until memories swamp me. We just had our asses handed to us. On a silver platter. With a side of pork rinds. The servers of this ass-handing? Zombies we killed once before.

How?

I have a thing for faces and clothes. Even undead faces and clothes. The people I meet become photographs inside my mind—maybe that’s a slayer trait, maybe not. Tonight I was able to pull the photographs from the last battle and play match. Vintage suit with stains on the tie—match. T-shirt with I’m Kind of a Big Deal stitched across the breast—match. Purple jogging pants—match.

We ashed those zombies a month ago and now they’re back? Impossible.

That’s not even the worst part.

When I was bitten, the red flames mixing with a fresh dose of zombie toxin, I became aware of every slayer within my vicinity? and even a few beyond the graveyard. I lost track of everything else, blindsided by a hunger I couldn’t fight.

I wanted to eat. To gorge.

“I’m awake,” I whisper, doing my best to hide my horror.

“How do you feel?” Frosty sets me on my feet.

We’re at the entrance to the cemetery, where the van is wrecked and Frosty’s truck awaits. “Sore, but grateful I’m alive.”