A Mad Zombie Party - Showalter Gena - Страница 68

I let her do her thing. She’s at one minute, two seconds when Ms. Smith strides into the room, her knuckles freshly cracked and bruised, as if she’s been hitting a brick wall—or someone’s face.

“What an extraordinary turn of events.” The deranged schoolgirl is back. “Ali Bell once tried to ruin me. Now she’s strapped to a bed and at my mercy.”

My stomach drops into my feet. “Have you tainted her?”

“Soon, soon, so very soon.” There’s a creepy, sing-song quality to her voice. “I had to return her abilities first. That’s what is happening right now. They’re coming back and when they do, I’m going to steal them. My life will finally be perfect.”

Fifty-three seconds.

“I’m sorry to say I’ve decided to kill you and your new girlfriend, Mr. Martin.” She raises a .44—points it at Milla’s head. “You’ve both proven to be more trouble than you’re worth.”

“Wait!” I leap off the bed, uncaring that my own advantage is gone. I put myself between Milla and the gun, my knees almost too weak to hold my weight. “Spare her, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You’ll have no more trouble from me.”

Thirty-eight seconds.

Rebecca frowns. “She betrayed you and everyone you love, and yet still you want to protect her? Why?”

If I can just keep her talking... “Whatever she did, she did to save me.”

“The end justifies the means? Is that what you’re telling me?” She laughs again, but I hear bitterness rather than glee. “Hypocrite! The end justifies the means when it suits you, but not when it suits me.”

“What did you have her do? What were her means?”

“She drugged your friends, let my men in your home. Those men shot each and every slayer in the head.”

I flinch. No. No! “You asked how we tracked Mackenzie Love. I’m ready to tell you.”

Milla quietly announces, “Ten,” and a clank rings out, the cuffs hitting the floor. “Nine.”

I leap at Smith, intending to break her wrist and take the gun, but she pulls the trigger before I reach her. Boom! Boom! Boom!

I expect another dose of pain, but it never comes. Milla, I realize, leaped a split second before me, putting herself in front of me. The bullets slam into her, throwing her backward.

“No!”

She hits the floor, and deep down I know this is it. The vision unfolding. My nightmare.

If she’s shot, she’ll die.

Rebecca has backtracked to the door; her gaze is on me as she blindly reaches for the ID scanner. Hoping to escape my wrath?

With a roar, I grab her by the shoulders and throw her against the mirrored wall. Glass shatters. She plunges to the floor, leaving a smear of blood in her wake. But she’s back on her feet as I pick up the gun.

“Let me go, Mr. Martin.” She holds up shaky hands, palms out. “I’m the only one who can help you—”

I empty the bullets into her chest.

She flies back, slams into the wall a second time and this time, when she slumps to the floor, she stays there. Immortal? Not even close.

“Frosty.”

A soft voice. Milla’s voice.

I race to her side. She’s lying on her back, her skin pale, her lips blue. Lips that lift in a sad smile as blood gurgles from the corners. “Had to...be this...way. Made decision...only decision...saved...”

“Shut up. Just shut the hell up.” I press my hands against two of the wounds, desperate to stop the bleeding. My efforts only create more problems, the third wound gushing.

“Two,” she says. Still counting? While horror absolutely ravages me.

“How could you do this? How could you do this to me?”

“One,” she whispers—and stops breathing.

No. Hell, no. I won’t let her... She can’t be...

I perform CPR, check for a pulse. Nothing. No, no. This isn’t the end. I won’t let it be the end. I continue CPR until I feel her sternum crack underneath my palms. Tears burn my eyes, blur my vision.

“Damn you,” I croak. “Come back to me. Please. Please.”

But she doesn’t. Of course she doesn’t. Because, no matter how much I want to deny it, the truth is the truth. She’s dead. Like Kat, she’s dead.

This time, I won’t recover.

I roar up at the ceiling, just as an alarm blasts to life.

Kat is waiting for me under the arch of a massive gate that looks to be made from a single, flawless pearl.

I would gawk at the beauty, the absolute majesty, but I’m once again connected to that stream of consciousness where faith saturates every thought.

“The journal!” Emma is running toward us. There’s no sun here, not one that I can see, and yet light is everywhere. The most glorious light I’ve ever beheld, sparkling with diamond dust around the girl. “Remember the journal!”

“I won my case, Milla Marks. You’re going back.” Kat shoves me.

I fall down...down...and scream. Or try to scream. I only gasp. The pain! My body is too weak to fight it, blood pouring out of me at an alarming rate. My mind is hazy as another gasp escapes.

“Milla!”

Frosty’s voice rises above the screech of an alarm, thick with relief. He’s here...where is here? I crack open my eyes. The cell. Right. I’ve been shot, but the answer is in the journal...the journal...the journal.

Covered, covered, covered.

If something’s been covered, you uncover it.

I know that. Have tried, have failed.

Try again. The only sure way to fail forever is to give up.

Darkness can always be chased by light.

Hands press against my wounds. “Hang on, sweet pea. Just hang on.”

My eyes close. Light erupts from behind my lids.

Light...

“Ali!” Frosty proclaims. “Help her! You have to help her.”

Ali must have entered the cell. I don’t have the strength to open my eyes a second time. A moment later, a white-hot fist punches through my chest and into my spirit. The pain intensifies exponentially, and I scream. This time, sound escapes. My back bows. Thanatos spills out of me of its own accord, trying to protect itself and drive Ali away. Ali...whose scream of pain rivals my own.

I do my best to extinguish the red flames...have to protect...

“Let them out,” she commands. She’s panting. “Don’t fight the flames.”

But...but...

“Uncover, Milla. Uncover.”

Uncover...how? I’m too dazed to figure it out, but the first order I understand. Don’t fight the flames.

So I don’t. I...just...stop, allowing the floodgates to open and thanatos to pour out of me right alongside my lifeblood. Soon I’m engulfed, and because I’m in the physical realm, my clothes are burned away. But...but...my wounds only grow worse. That can’t be good for me.

I suspect Ali is experiencing the same reaction. When I scream, she screams. We scream together, again and again and again. The agony! It’s too much, too much—it’s my nightmare.

I’m burning to death. Soon I’ll be nothing but ash.

Trickster. Darkness tricks. Darkness lies.

The nightmares...a trick to ensure I hold on to thanatos?

I want to hold on. I want to so bad. The pain will end, and I so desperately want it to end. I need it to end. But still I lie passive, accepting, the flames burning hotter and hotter, tremors wracking me. Of their own volition, my arms and legs curl inward, and even that is a new kind of agony.

Then, the strangest thing happens. The haze clears from my mind, and pain ebbs. Both Ali and I stop screaming. And for the first time in weeks, I can feel the comforting power of dynamis healing me. Bone, muscle and skin begin to weave back together. Strength fills my spirit...my body.