The Z Word Page 15

  A scream pierced the air. What now? Why did it seem every drama had to play out while she was in a bathroom? Maybe there's a metaphor in there somewhere. Is it that my life is going down the drain?

  Another scream. Seffy eased open the door and peeked out into the main room. Her eyes bugged. The body of Malone's friend was moving. Her knees weakened her as she watched it scrape along the floor, using its arm commando-like to get to Malone. Oh, God. She grabbed the door jamb for support.

  Cynthia and Eva were shrieking in fear while Malone stared at the creature in a daze.

  “Give me the gun, Malone. You don't have to do this.”

  Gareth's words seemed to nudge him out of his trance. Malone loaded the gun, aimed and fired just as the creature grabbed his leg. Seffy slammed the door to avoid seeing more splatter. She sat on the edge of the toilet and wrapped her arms around herself, rocking back and forth. After three days in this misadventure, she no longer thought she was in a dream. And since waking up wouldn't solve her problems, she needed a miracle.

  Something along the line of a pair of ruby-colored Manolo Blahniks.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Are you okay in there, Sef?”

  Seffy came back to the present at the sound of Gareth's voice. “Yes,” she croaked.

  The door opened and he popped his head in. “We're moving down into the basement for the night.”

  She blinked, trying to appear coherent. “We're staying in this shelter?”

  “Well, we can't leave yet with all the zombies outside and we really can't stay upstairs. There's no way to...clean up. But apparently this place has a basement with extra supplies. Everyone's exhausted and—” He made a face. “I guess no one's actually hungry at this point, but we'll need to rest up for the night.”

  “And then tomorrow we reach the glorious compound? The safe house of all safe houses?”

  Gareth's brown eyes were apologetic. “I just can't see any other way out of this.”

  “And what if the compound is crawling with...1970s people?”

  Gareth came inside the bathroom and leaned against the closed door. “We don't know where we are in Montana. We could be a few miles from a highway or in the remotest part. But safe houses and compounds tend to mean we're far from civilization.” He shook his head. “Which means we can't just walk our way back home through a desert with no supplies or direction. We have no phone, the walkie-talkie is dead, and if the so-called compound has been overrun, well, maybe we should just give in and become one of those things. At least we'd raise the fashion level several notches.”

  Seffy couldn't help but smile a little. Then she furrowed her brow. “But I don't want to like disco music.”

  “Maybe since you're circa 2006, you'll only respond to hip hop or whatever is your favorite.”

  She grimaced. “Would you believe I don't have a favorite? It all sounds the same after a while.”

  His smile became sad. “You're weird.”

  “I guess.”

  Seffy stood and steadied herself by holding onto the edge of the sink. “You know what I wonder? Why was there a padlock on the outside of this place? Why was that guy locked inside with a bunch of...” She shook her head. “Who put him there? Or did he trap himself somehow? It had to be recently, right?”

  “I've been wondering the same thing. And Malone's got to be wondering, too. Something's not making sense here.”

  “None of it does.”

  “You know, there are other people who'd like to toss their cookies right now, if you don't mind.”

  “Sorry, Addison, we're coming out,” Gareth said to the door. He turned back to Seffy. “Ready?”

  “Do I have a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  Seffy followed Gareth out past a pale Addison, keeping her eyes off the floor and higher than the blood stains on the walls. She gulped. “Someone said something about a basement?”

  ***

  Seffy followed Gareth downstairs where she found everyone seated on the two more ratty couches and odd assortment of chairs. Malone was pulling faded sleeping bags out of a closet and tossing them to the middle of the room. So, what are the odds I will ever get to sleep in my own bed again?

  She looked toward the kitchen, noticing the same style of dented appliances. This kitchen even had a wall clock. Seffy froze as the kitschy woodland-themed details of the clock became clear. She stared at the owl eyes on it, her breathing labored, for several moments. Shadows flickered through her mind, making her dizzy. She tore her gaze away, and with stiff movements, walked over to where Lani handed out the sleeping bags.

  Oh God, oh God, oh God.

  Schooling her face into an expressionless mask, she chose a sleeping bag with trembling hands and rolled it out on the floor nearest the stairway door.

  “That was something else, huh?”

  Seffy snapped her head around at Lani's words, her vision tunneling onto her friend. “What?”

  “The whole zombie dancing thing.”

  Struggling to focus, she nodded. “Yeah, totally bizarro.”

  “It must've had something to do with the blast. Something nuclear. Or disco-ish.”

  “I don't know.” Seffy squeezed her eyes shut to clear her mind and steady her rattled nerves. “I just hope...all our hair doesn't start falling out.”

  “That'd be awful.” Lani looked at the floor for a moment. “I hope nothing bad comes of this.”

  Seffy stared at her unseeing, still aware of those stupid owl eyes looking at her. Focus. “Aside from those creatures outside?”

  “Yeah, I didn't see that coming. I didn't see any of it.”

  Her words made no sense. Seffy tried to concentrate but it was impossible while she was being watched.

  Lani sighed. “Well, I think Addison's gonna make something for dinner.”

  Seffy curled up on the sleeping bag. “I...don't think I'm hungry.”

  Lani reached over and touched her forehead. “Are you feeling yukky? You seem pale.”

  She closed her eyes. “Just tired.”

  Lani patted her shoulder. “Get some rest.”

  Seffy held her breath until Lani moved away. She flung an arm over her eyes and listened to the conversations going on around her. She heard Malone and Gareth discussing gun stuff, Lani helping Addison, and the worried, whispered words of the others. After a mercifully short dinner period, everyone settled down for the night.

  Seffy forced her mind to pleasant things. She thought about the mini-Tudor house she shared with her friends, the stone steps draped in ivy, the tiled fireplace and wood floors. How she'd decorated her own room with Maxfield Parrish prints, ferns, and stained glass lamps...the only clock in the kitchen was digital...she thought about the shops and cafés she frequented, the boutique where she bought her Juicy tracksuit—a suit with a Scottie dog, and not an owl.

  Dammit.

  After a lifetime it seemed everyone finally fell asleep. When all was silent, Seffy got to her feet without making a sound. She rolled up the sleeping bag and headed for the stairs, hoping the guy with the last shells and an itchy trigger finger didn't shoot first and ask questions later.

  With her heart pounding in her ears, she made it upstairs. Seffy avoided looking at what was left of the dead man and rolled her sleeping bag against a perpendicular wall. Sitting down and leaning up against the wall, she blew out a shaky breath and struggled not to think about anything.

  Outside, she could hear the faint moans of the disco people. Maybe all they'd ever wanted was a song instead of brains. What kind of choice was that? Seffy stared at the body and fought her weak stomach.

  The sound of a creak made her jerk in fear. Had the man come back to life? Gareth appeared on the top step, holding his sleeping bag.

  “Sef, what are you doing up here?”

  She sagged against the wall, breathing hard. “I didn't like it down there.”

  He rolled out his bag and sat down next to her. “Was it...was it the clock?”
/>
  She nodded dumbly, wondering how he knew.

  He leaned against her shoulder, his eyes sympathetic. “You gonna be okay?”

  Forcing the darkness at bay, she shrugged. “Peachy.”

  Seffy knew he was searching for something to say and wanted to stop him. “You don't have to stay up here with me.”

  “There's no way I can let you sit by yourself with a dead zombie.”

  She sent an uneasy look at the body. “I don't think he minds all that much.”

  “I meant you, Sef.”

  “You think I'm a zombie, too?” she asked, her eyes wide.

  “I meant you shouldn't be near the body.”

  “Oh.” She sighed, unable to tear her attention away from Malone's friend who was no more.

  That could've been me. Hell, that still could be me.

  Gareth frowned. “Who said you were a zombie anyway?”

  Seffy shook her head. “It was nothing.” I am a zombie, I could be a zombie, I should become one to believe—how can I keep all the vitriol straight?

  She realized Gareth didn't understand how much she had in common with the dead man. The continued close brushes with death and bad behavior with Clay made her realize she hadn't done anything to deserve his affection. The brief sweetness they'd shared wouldn't be repeated—even if it was stolen. But in a way, it made sense—her hopeless surroundings just confirmed it.

  Worse was Gareth's tortured expression as he stared down at her. Maybe he didn't comprehend he'd been given an out, especially considering their complicated friendship. Seffy looked down at her hands. Maybe she needed to remind him. “I really wish I could be strong, like Addy. Or believe, like Lani. But I can't seem to do either.” She looked up. “I'm stuck in that place...Mobil.”

  A slight spark of amusement lit his eyes “You mean you're in limbo?”

  “Kind of. Even though I try not to go backwards, I can't seem to go forward, either. So if that's limbo, I'm there.”

  “Sef, you're being too hard on yourself. We all have our struggles.”

  She shook her head. “You remember when Addison said I was amoral?”

  His brows went up. “Uh, she was seriously under the influence.”

  “Well, I think she was right.”

  “Seffy,” he said putting his arm around her. “How long have we been friends?”

  “Since sixth grade?” His embrace was sweet agony.

  “Then, I think I'd know if you'd gone all amoral...” His voice faltered as he remembered the obvious.

  She gazed at his clean jawline through a film of hot tears. Gareth was her ideal...and therefore unattainable. As if she needed reminding. “Then what if I'm just plain bad?”

  “What?”

  Seffy took a deep breath. “Do you remember when I answered those last two classified audition ads?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, I didn't get the gigs.”

  He sent her a gentle smile. “I know that.”

  “Yeah, what really bites is that I should've got them.”

  He gave her a squeeze. “Listen, your turn will come someday.”

  Seffy hardened her resolve. “What I'm saying is I...me and the directors....well, Addy was right about the casting couch. Except I never made it to the actual couch.”

  Gareth's eyes changed, confusion congealing to grim despair. Despite the desperate wish she could take the words back, she knew he needed to hear this. To know who she really was.

  A muscle in his jaw twitched as he looked away. “Why are you telling me this?” He snorted. “Why are you telling me this now?”

  She looked down at her trembling hands. “It happened. I didn't plan it. They took advantage of me, but I just hoped in the end it might help me get the job.” She blew out a ragged breath, knowing she'd completely destroyed the image Gareth had of her.

  He stared at her for several seconds. “God, Seffy. What am I supposed to say?”

  She moistened her dry lips. “I don't know. I guess maybe I thought it would help you not...not feel so bad about me blowing it with Clay. The damage was pretty much already done.”

  He released a breath through his nose and shook his head. “You can't talk like that, okay? That's nuts.” He took her chin and made her look into his eyes. “Okay?”

  His expression was bleak as he regarded her. Despite her shame, she wanted him to peer into her soul and know this was all there was. That all the years he'd tried to protect her from others, what she really needed protection from was herself. “I tried for a long time, but I think it's just too late for me. The die has been cast—”

  Gareth pressed his face into her hair. “Stop,” he said, his voice hoarse. “I know why you're doing this but you need to stop.”

  Seffy stopped, realizing the damage was done. She wished she could make him understand she never wanted to be treated the way she'd been by others. They'd taken what she'd never offered. Clay was the anomaly, not the rule. But it would just sound like an excuse. And maybe...maybe he'd forgive her some day, maybe give her another chance, undeserved though it was.

  For now, she sat very still listening to Gareth's irregular breathing, her thoughts swirling with long-suppressed memories as she stared at the dead man.

  ***

  “Well, son of a bitch.”

  Seffy blinked at the unfamiliar voice booming overhead. She lifted her head from her arms from where she had been sleeping—in Gareth's lap. He sat slumped against the wall, but began to stir as she sat up. Looking up, she saw Trent standing over her with a smirk on his face.

  She rubbed her face. “What do you want?” she asked in a groggy voice.

  “Two guys in two days. And one of them is apparently really forgiving. I'm just wondering if I'm next on your list.”

  It took Seffy a moment to comprehend his words. Gareth was a little quicker on the uptake. Fully awake now, he jumped to his feet, dislodging Seffy completely. His fist cracked Trent's jaw. Trent went sprawling and landed in a corner of the room next to the body. He came up swinging and cursing at Gareth. Before the brawl could go all out, the sound of a rifle cock caught their attention.

  Seffy saw Malone come up from the basement, the rifle pointed at Trent.

  “What's going on up here?”

  Still half-asleep, she opened her mouth to answer but stopped when she saw the others crowding behind Malone. Addison's eyes swept over the sleeping bags and her face hardened.

  “Metro here is just being greedy with his zombie nosh. Doesn't want to share.”

  Gareth hit him again, this time drawing blood from Trent's nose. Trent staggered backwards, laughing and gasping. “Hey, you can't blame a guy for trying. Maybe next time, eh, Sef?”

  Seffy stared at him, knowing her face had blanched. Avoiding the gazes of the others, she got to her feet and headed to the bathroom. After washing up and brushing her teeth with trembling hands, she leaned on the counter and stared at herself in the mirror. Could she blame Trent for his assumptions? Her pale reflection was silent, but her expressionless eyes said enough.

  She turned and opened the door. Addison was there, making her jumpy. “Geez, you scared me!”

  “What were you doing upstairs?”

  Seffy knew she didn't owe Addy any explanation, but she didn't have the energy for a convoluted discussion of her tawdry issues. And she noticed Gareth must've gone downstairs with the others. “I couldn't sleep downstairs—”

  “But you could upstairs, next to a dead body.”

  “—because it was...suffocating in the basement.” Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the owl. “And I wasn't next to the body.”

  Addison lifted her chin. “Why was Gareth with you?”

  “He came up on his own, I didn't ask him, if that's what you're thinking.”

  Cool green eyes surveyed her with a mixture of fury and disbelief.

  “I guess he was concerned about me being alone, okay? Nothing happened.”

  “I don't get it.” She let
out a humorless laugh. “After the way you treated him, I don't get how he can stand the sight of you.”

  Seffy said nothing.

  “I couldn't forgive you so easily. In fact, I don't forgive you for what you did.” She turned and stalked away, heading for the basement.

  Seffy watched her for a moment, then looked at Trent, who still sat in the corner, blotting his bloody nose with his sleeve.

  He grinned at her, his gray eyes mocking. “Don't worry, babe. I'll always be here for ya.”

  Seffy wanted nothing more than to breeze past him, but she couldn't bring herself to go down into that basement. Not yet. She returned to the sleeping bag and sat down, turning away from Trent.

  “One by one, sweetheart. One by one you'll alienate them all.”

  Seffy pulled her legs to her chest and rested her chin on her knees.

  “But I'll be here. When no one else will have you.”

  “You don't even like me, Trent,” she said, not bothering to hide the disgust in her voice.

  “What's 'like' got to do with it?”

  Exactly.

  Closing her eyes, she concentrated on thinking about her life in California instead of wondering why someone as repellent as Trent had joined their group.

  “You know you've noticed. I got the mojo goin'.”

  “Sounds like you were hitting Malone's sauce pretty hard last night,” Seffy said tonelessly.

  Trent gave a harsh laugh. “Maybe that's what it would take to stomach what you're putting out.”

  She glanced over at him. “So which is it? You either want it or you don't.”

  His face twisted with incomprehensible anger. Why, Seffy had no clue.

  “Trent? You should come down and get something to eat.”

  Seffy saw Eva come upstairs to coax him downstairs. After shooting her an implacable look, he followed Eva downstairs.

  Good riddance.

  Seffy leaned her head back against the wall and chewed on the inside of her cheek. Don't think. Block it out. Find your happy place. She snorted at the thought. A happy place. Where is that? What is that, exactly?