The White Rabbit Chronicles Page 30

  I selected one of the shorter swords, with a lighter handle.

  “If you’d bench-press what I tell you to bench-press—” Trina strolled out of the bathroom, dressed in her customary black tank and pants, a white towel draped around her neck “—you wouldn’t have to pick the wussy sword.”

  Since that night in the forest, she had welcomed me to the group wholeheartedly. She would come up to me and chat about anything and everything when I was with Kat, something that drove Kat insane. To Kat’s credit, she’d never asked me to drop Trina. Although...could that be what was bothering her? That I hadn’t done so on my own?

  Metal whistled through air as I waved my choice around with mock ferocity. “The wussy sword kills just as dead as the she-man sword.”

  She ran a hand through her shorn hair and grinned. “Maybe. But you won’t look as cool doing that killing.”

  “Back in the ring, Ali,” Cole called.

  “Sir, yes, sir,” I said, causing several kids to laugh.

  I assumed my position. Before I could take my first swing, I caught sight of Mackenzie exiting the bathroom. She was dressed in camo and armed for battle. Tonight she was on nest-hunting rotation. She nodded a stiff greeting in my direction—no hatred in her eyes.

  Well, well. That was new.

  “I talked to her,” Cole said, surprising me.

  I know. I hit the dummy with more force than I’d intended. “So what’d you say to her this time?” The last two words had bite, I admit it.

  “That whatever happens with you, nothing will ever again happen with her. I also reminded her of the fact that you saved her life.”

  Whatever happens with you... The sword slipped from my hands the moment I hit the dummy, falling. I twisted, intending to face Cole, and I did, but I also scratched him on the neck as my arms flailed for balance.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  He wiped away a smear of blood. “Good, you should be. You can be a real pain in the...neck.”

  “Hey!”

  “What? I cleaned up my language.” He picked up the sword and moved behind me, properly refitting my hands on the hilt before slapping a dagger in my other hand. At first contact, a shiver slid down my spine.

  “Trina carries an ax,” I said to cover my reaction. What had he meant by whatever happens with you? He was hot one minute, cold the next, and it was confusing. “Shouldn’t I learn to work with one of those?”

  “Trina’s stronger than you are. She uses enough force to split bone, no matter her weapon.” Warm breath caressed my nape. “Right now, you’ll have better luck with a dagger.”

  Goose bumps began to break out all over me. “If you say so.”

  Motions slow and easy, Cole guided my dagger hand toward the dummy’s torso. “Zombies might not feel pain, but they feel force. Stab one here—” we sank the dagger in the side “—and the body will bow in that direction, leaving the other side wide-open.”

  He guided my sword hand up and pretended to decapitate the dummy. This caused my arms to crisscross.

  “As you know, in a real battle you often have zombies on your left and your right,” he continued. “Use your momentum to your advantage and spin.” He spun us both, uncrossed my arms in a graceful arc, stretching them wide, wider, until my body formed a cross.

  Had zombies actually been rampaging toward us, I would have stabbed one and decapitated another. Just like that. Cole stepped away from me and had me repeat the sequence again and again, until I could do it with my eyes closed.

  “What are the rules of battle?” he asked me while I worked.

  For the most part, his rules meshed with my dad’s. When there was a discrepancy, I always sided with Cole. He had more experience. “Never stand still.”

  “And?”

  “If my dagger lodges inside a zombie’s body, let it go. Don’t try to jerk it out. That will leave me exposed and cost me precious seconds that I can’t afford to spare.”

  “And?”

  “If I lose all my weapons before disabling the majority of the zombies, I shouldn’t try to do any frying because I won’t be able to get my hands on them for long enough to do any good. I should run and hide.”

  “Not should. Will.”

  Finally the dummy was removed and I was allowed to swing my sword freely. The metal whistled menacingly. I was learning how to twirl my wrist, and thereby the sword, in a swift motion that would prevent anyone from tracking—and blocking—its descent.

  When Cole was satisfied with that, and I was aching from overworking previously overworked muscles, we moved to the firing range. He selected a .22 pistol and several clips. I’d already learned how to take the thing apart, put it back together and load the magazine. In the dark.

  Apparently, this kind of gun wouldn’t do much damage to a zombie, and definitely wouldn’t stop one, but it was perfect for beginners because of the low recoil.

  With plugs in my ears, I aimed at the paper target and squeezed at the trigger until I ran out of ammo. I set the safety on, and placed the gun on the counter in front of me, then removed the plugs.

  “Better,” Cole said. “You would have nicked his arm and hip this time, rather than the air around him.”

  I scowled at him. “I’m doing the best I can.”

  Before he could reply, my phone vibrated in my pocket. “Hang on,” I said, going for it. I checked the screen. Nana. She’d learned how to text, though she refused to abbreviate anything.

  I want you home for dinner.

  I replied with a quick: OK.

  NOW.

  A sigh left me. “I’ve gotta go home.” I bet another teacher had called her and complained about my behavior.

  “All right. In a minute.” Cole pulled me against him and settled his chin on the top of my head. I really liked how tall he was. He made me feel small in comparison. “Do you know me well enough yet? Do you trust me?”

  “I—I—” Was completely caught off guard, despite the hint he might or might not have dropped a while ago. Whatever happens with you... “I’m just a wee bit confused,” I admitted. “Why are you asking?”

  “We told each other we’d get to know each other before we got serious.”

  My jaw dropped. “So that’s what we’ve been doing lately?”

  He leaned back, his eyes slitted, and focused on a single target. Me. “You mean you haven’t?”

  “Uh, well, uh, hmm.” He still wanted to date me? Had always wanted to date me? “What about what you said to Mackenzie? Not today, but before.”

  “I didn’t think we were any of her business. And I can see restraint won’t work with you,” he said drily. He stroked his fingers up and down the ridges of my spine. “So let me help you out. My favorite color is—hell, I don’t know. I’ve never cared enough to think about it. My favorite movie is—what else—Zombieland. But not because the good guys win in the end, though that’s a plus, but because Emma Stone is hot.”

  I snorted. He was such a guy.

  “My favorite band is—”

  “Let me guess,” I interjected. “White Zombie? Slayer?”

  “Red. And no, not just because I want zombies to bleed. But what about you? Who do you like? Because honestly, I’m surprised you know White Z and Slayer.”

  “I like Red, too, but I’m partial to Skillet. Used to listen to them with my sister. But why wouldn’t I know the other bands?”

  “You look so angelic.”

  “And do you think angels are hot?” I asked primly, trying to play it cool so that I wouldn’t reveal what a mess I was on the inside. All this time, he’d wanted to get to know me and date me. What craziness!

  “The hottest.”

  Now I laughed, another real one that shook my entire body. Amusement was coming more easily these days. Which was kind of odd. I should have been more somber than ever. There was so much going on, so much to lose...so much to fear.

  “In that case,” I said, “yes, I am beginning to trust your judgment. But...has anything ha
ppened with Mackenzie since your breakup?” I had to know.

  “No. We’re better as friends, and I think she’s coming to realize that.”

  “We’re friends,” I reminded him.

  His hold tightened. “I don’t want to be your friend, Ali. I want to be more.” His fingers snuck under my T-shirt, so that we were skin-to-skin. “Leave your window unlocked tonight. I’m coming over to prove it.”

  For a moment, I couldn’t catch my breath. “Prove it by continuing my lessons?” I managed to wheeze out. I knew what he wanted to do, I admit it, but I was beyond nervous and utterly unsure about how to respond.

  He kissed my temple. “Exactly. Just not what I was teaching you in the ring.”

  * * *

  How a day so ripe with promise could end so craptastically, I’ll never know.

  Cole’s dad called him away, so Trina offered to drive me home. There wasn’t a rabbit cloud in the sky, which was a small mercy, but my grandparents were waiting on the porch, rocking on the swing, which was not. I entered the coolness of the day and shooed Trina off before they could approach and ask her questions about herself.

  The moment they spotted me, they stood and stalked into the house. I followed, leaving the setting sun—and the chaos that came with it—behind.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, gazing longingly at the stairs that led to my bedroom.

  “Let’s just sit down and enjoy our dinner, all right?” Nana said. “We’ll talk afterward.”

  I chewed on my lower lip. I knew better than to protest. “All right.”

  Dinner was meat loaf and mashed potatoes, with as much sweet tea as I could hold. All my working out had caused me to develop a major appetite, and despite the tension in the air, I sucked in the food as if I was a Hoover set on High.

  As soon as I finished and said, “That was delicious, thank you,” the explosion happened.

  “Are you doing drugs?” Nana demanded, her half-eaten meal forgotten.

  Shock had me slinking down in my chair. “No! Of course not.”

  Pops donned his sternest expression. “We want to believe you, we do, but I checked and you’re exhibiting all the classic signs.”

  “What signs?” I asked, but I could guess.

  “Another teacher called.” Nana rested her elbows on the tabletop. Normally so proper, I knew her lack of manners now meant she was beyond disconcerted. “You have a D in her class. You slept through her lecture. She also told us that you are hanging around the wrong crowd.”

  Aha! This was about Cole. “Have you talked to the principal, Dr. Wright?” On one of my visits to her office, she’d told me she would do what she could to buffer me from trouble.

  “Yes,” Nana admitted stiffly.

  “And what did she say?”

  “That we shouldn’t be worried, that you’re a good kid and so are the kids you’re hanging out with.”

  “Well, there you go.”

  “But we don’t believe her!” Nana said, beating her fist against the table. “All evidence claims otherwise.”

  “Have me tested. I’ll prove I’m not doing drugs of any kind.” Mental note: ask Cole if the zombie antidote registered as a drug.

  That mollified them somewhat, and they blustered about my grades for a minute or two more.

  “Is someone bullying you at school?” Nana asked gently. “Is that the problem?”

  “No. I’m easily distracted, that’s all. I’m still learning to cope.”

  “Try again.” Pops motioned to my discolored jaw with a tilt of his chin. “We’ve noticed the bodily injuries, Ali.”

  Crap. I had done my best to hide them with clothes, makeup and accessories. “Okay, you want the truth, I’ll give you the truth. I’m learning how to box,” I admitted. Better to give them some of the truth rather than a pack full of lies. “I knew you’d worry when there was no reason to worry, so I decided not to tell you.”

  “Boxing?” Nana blinked rapidly in a clear attempt to jump-start her ability to understand. “Whatever for?”

  “Self-defense. I want to be able to protect myself from potential attackers.”

  They shared a look, and then Pops said, “Who’s teaching you and why is this the first we’ve heard about it?”

  “Trina, the girl who dropped me off.” I had boxed with her a few times. “Sometimes Cole,” I added quietly.

  Nana’s eyes widened, and her hand fluttered to her throat. “Oh, my. I hate to admit this, but I thought the person who dropped you off was a boy. I was going to demand you stop seeing him. Her. I still am,” she added with a nod. “Obviously this boxing thing is a detriment to your schoolwork, and as much as I respected Cole, he’s out, too.”

  “Don’t say that. It isn’t a detriment, I promise you, and neither is he.”

  “No. From now on, we want you home after school.”

  Panic beat through me. “No.” I shook my head for emphasis. I loved them, but I couldn’t allow them to take this away from me. Training was just as important to my survival as it was to my ultimate goal. A total zombie wipeout.

  “Yes.” Pops stared me down with eyes so full of determination I knew he’d met with this kind of resistance before, probably from my mom, and he had learned how to fight dirty. “We’ve tried giving you space to help you adjust. Now we’ll try another way. This way.”

  For a moment, all I could hear was the ringing in my ears, then the harsh rasp of my breath joined in, creating a symphony of discordance. Cole had warned me. One day I would have to move out, he’d said. We’d both thought the reason would be my grandparents’ safety, not their own stubbornness.

  I was only sixteen years old. Legally I couldn’t move out. Could I? If so, how would I support myself? A few nights ago, I’d heard Nana and Pops talking about money. They’d said Dad had taken out really big life insurance policies on both him and my mom, and they’d been debating how much to give me now, how much to put in a college fund for me and how much to keep for themselves to help pay for my food and clothing. If there was a way I could access my portion now, I’d be okay.

  “You can still go shopping with Kat tomorrow,” Nana said. “We don’t want to stop you from living, we just want to create boundaries for you.”

  Oh, yeah. Kat and I had planned a big day, just the two of us. I was still excited about it, but now that excitement was tinged with desperation. I needed to talk to Cole, to figure out what to do about this newest development.

  Nana reached over and patted my hand. “We don’t want you to feel trapped here, but you have to make some changes, honey. If your mom were here, she would flip her top over your grades.”

  “Flip her lid,” I muttered, trying not to rage and hurt their feelings. They meant well, I knew that, but this was too important. I pushed back my chair and stood. “Listen. I’m going to continue my boxing lessons, and you’re going to get on board.” There was power to my words, even in this natural realm. I couldn’t violate their free will, but I could try to change their will. “It’s good for me. I’m alive for the first time in my life.”

  “Ali—”

  “No. Don’t say anything else.” I didn’t want their confession to undo mine. “I’m going to my room. Just...think about this, okay? I need it more than you know.”

  I didn’t wait for their replies. I stomped up the stairs and shut myself in my bedroom. Needing a distraction, I opened the journal to find out if any new passages had morphed into English. To my surprise, one had.

  If you’re reading this, you are very much like me. Set apart, different. And if you’re willing to sacrifice, you can make a difference in the war of good and evil. Just ask yourself one question. How would your time be better spent? If your answer is learning how to defeat an enemy capable of destroying all that you hold dear, you’re on the right track. If your answer is enjoying yourself and waiting for the end—that end will come quicker than you realize.

  Whoever the author was, he always told me what I needed to hear, when I needed to
hear it.

  Now ask yourself a second question. Are you willing to give up your own life to save others? If you answered yes, you’re ready for the third. Have you realized that dying is the only way to truly live?

  Annnd back to code.

  I thought about those parting words for hours. I’d told my grandparents I was alive for the first time. Was that because a part of me had died in that wreck with my family, only to be revived in this new world? Or was the journal’s meaning more literal? The author had once mentioned his diseased spirit—well, diseased for the zombies—and the fact that he’d had to die so that others could live. Had he allowed the monsters to feed from him?

  I thought about how the zombies always fell away from me after biting me. During that last fight, I’d assumed they were afraid of what I’d do to them, how I’d retaliate. Now I wondered if they’d tasted the same disease in my spirit. Wondered, too, if they reacted the same to the other slayers.

  By the time midnight hit, I was no closer to answers—and I had a new question take center stage. Where was Cole? He’d said he was coming over.

  As if on cue, my phone beeped.

  I read, Can’t make it, sorry. B & F found nest. Injured. Traps out, guard stationed, so stay inside. U’ll B fine. C U 2morrow.

  My heart thundered, a jackhammer against my ribs. I wanted details so badly I could taste them, but I knew better than to text him back. A distraction could get him killed. Bronx and Frosty would have to be patched up, and I’m sure the rest of the gang would be returning to the nest to destroy anything the boys had left behind. But I hated that I wasn’t with them.

  I tossed and turned that night, my mind buzzing with too much energy. Me and beauty z’s were not meant to be, I guess. At eight, I showered and dressed in a T-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, hiding my bruised wrists with colorful cloth “bracelets.” Though I was starved, I opted not to go down for breakfast. I had no idea what to say to my grandparents or how to handle this situation.