Alice in Zombieland. Gena Showalter
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upside down, then flipping over again. The sound of crunching metal, shattering glass and pained screams filled my ears. I was thrown back and forth in my seat, my brain becoming a cherry slushie in my head as different impacts jarred me and stole my breath.
When we finally landed, I was so dazed, so fogged, I felt like I was still in motion. The screams had stopped, at least. All I heard was a slight ringing in my ears.
“Mom? Dad?” A pause. No response. “Em?” Again, nothing.
I frowned, looked around. My eyesight was hazy, something warm and wet in my lashes, but I could see well enough.
And what I saw utterly destroyed me.
I screamed. My mom was slashed to ribbons, her body covered in blood. Emma was slumped over in her seat, her head at an odd angle, her cheek split open. No. No, no, no.
“Dad, help me. We have to get them out!”
Silence.
“Dad?” I searched—and realized he was no longer in the car. The front windshield was gone, and he was lying motionless on the pieces a few yards away. There were three men standing over his body, the car’s headlights illuminating them.
No, they weren’t men, I realized. They couldn’t be. They had sagging pockmarked skin and dirty, ripped clothing. Their hair hung in clumps on their spotted scalps, and their teeth … so sharp as they … as they … fell upon my dad and disappeared inside him, only to reappear a second later and … and … eat him.
Monsters.
I fought for my freedom, desperate to drag Em to safety— Em, who hadn’t moved and wasn’t crying—desperate to get to my dad, to help him. In the process, I banged my head against something hard and sharp. A horrible pain ravaged me, but still I fought, even as my strength waned … my eyesight dimmed …
Then it was night-night for Alice, and I knew nothing more.
At least, for a little while …
THE POOL OF BLOOD AND TEARS
They were dead. My family was dead. Gone. I knew it when I woke up in a hospital bed, and the nurse standing over me wouldn’t meet my gaze or tell me where they were.
When the doctor came to spill the news, I just shifted to my side and closed my eyes. This was a dream. This was a horrible dream, and I would wake up. Everything would be okay when I woke up.
I never woke up.
Turns out, the car wreck that killed my mom, my dad and my … my … I couldn’t think about her. I just couldn’t. So. Rephrase. The car wreck that killed my family had caused minimal damage to me. A concussion, a few cracked ribs, but that was it. And that just seemed so wrong, you know? I should have been slashed to ribbons, like my mother. I should have needed a total body cast. Something.
Instead, despite some minor aches and pains, I really was fine.
Fine. Yeah.
My grandparents from my mother’s side visited several times, crying for the family they’d lost. I’d seen them two weeks before, when my mom had taken me and my—My chin trembled, but I ground my teeth together to stop it. When she’d taken us to visit. We’d stayed only a few hours, though, just long enough to have lunch and a light, fun conversation.
Though Nana and Pops liked me and had always treated me well, I’d never been the favorite; I think I reminded them too much of my father, who had never been good enough for their only baby.
Still, they weren’t going to abandon me in my time of need, they said. I would move in with them, and they would see to everything.
So, I would now be living in a two-story just as unremarkable as my own had been, but one that was mostly unfamiliar to me. One my dad had not built—one that was not reinforced for my protection. But that was no big deal. I’d never even stayed the night with a friend, never slept in any bed but my own. But yeah, no big deal.
I should care, wanted to care, but I was tapped out … empty … nothing but a shell.
The doctors and nurses threw out a thousand I’m sorrys and you’ll be okays. Words like fine. Such meaningless words. They were sorry? So what. That did nothing to bring my family back. I would be okay? Please. I’d never be okay again.
What did they know about losing the only people they loved, anyway? What did they know about being alone? When their shifts ended, they would go home. They would hug their kids, share a meal and talk about their days. Me? I would never again enjoy something as simple as that.
I had no mother.
I had no father.
I had no sis … family.
Heck, I think I was even without my sanity. Those monsters …
Cops came by, and so did a social worker and a therapist. They all wanted to know what had happened. The cops, especially, were interested in knowing if a pack of wild dogs had attacked my parents.
Wild dogs. I’d seen no wild dogs, but that made a whole lot more sense than what I had seen.
I said nothing, though. We’d flipped and we’d crashed. The authorities knew that much, and that was all they needed to know. I would never mention the monsters; there was no reason to. The concussion was responsible for that little gem of a hallucination, surely.
I would never mention the fact that my mom had been in the car with me when I first opened my eyes after passing out. But the next time I’d opened them? Her body had been outside the car, the headlights spotlighting her just as they’d spotlighted my dad, her body jerking and writhing as the things dove inside her, disappearing for endless seconds before coming back up for air. Her skin had bubbled up, as if burned and turned black, before finally splitting open and welling with blood.
Though I’d tried with all my strength, I hadn’t been able to free myself and save her. My belt had been fused to my seat, locking me in place. And when the monsters had next focused on me, evil eyes piercing me, taking one step, two, toward the car, I’d panicked, desperate to protect my … other family member.
Before either of us could be taken—by the wild dogs, I told myself now—another car had come by, spotted us and sent the beasts running. Though running wasn’t the best word. Some had seemed to trip, some had seemed to glide. I don’t remember much after that. Just flashes. Bright lights shining in my eyes. Sounds, like metal grinding against metal, and men shouting at each other. Then a pair of strong hands lifting me, something sharp poking at my arm, something being fitted over my nose. After that, nothing.
“Hey. You’re Alice, right?”
I blinked out of the hated memory fog and turned my head toward the room’s only door. A pretty girl, probably my age, stepped inside. She had straight dark hair, large hazel eyes framed by spiky black lashes, and skin the perfect shade of sun-kissed. She rocked a long-sleeved pink T-shirt that read I’m With Genius with an arrow pointing up, and a micromini that barely wrapped around her waist. Actually, bathing-suit bottom might have been a better description.
Needless to say, my ugly paper-thin gown with uneven ties did not compare.
“I’m Ali,” I said. They were the first words I’d uttered in what seemed forever. My throat was raw, my voice hoarse. I just couldn’t let her call me Alice again. The last person who had was … never mind. I just couldn’t let her. “I’m Ali,” I repeated.
“Cool. I’m Kathryn, but everyone calls me Kat. And do not make any cat jokes or I’ll have to hurt you. With my claws.” She waved the long, blunt tips of her fingers at me. “Truth is, I stopped speaking meow a long time ago.”