Alice in Zombieland

“Pops,” I said gently.

He jolted as if I’d slapped him, his bloodshot gaze whipping up. “Yes?” There was a raspy quality to his voice, one he’d never before possessed.

“Are you okay? Can I get you anything?”

“I’m fine,” he murmured.

Nana carried in a big pan of eggs, steam rising from the top; ham and cheese scented the air. I took my place on Pops’s left. After Nana had scooped us each a portion and claimed her own seat, we ate in silence. At least she and I did. Pops pushed his food around his plate with his fork, not taking a single bite but grumbling under his breath.

“You need to eat something,” Nana told him.

He stopped grumbling and stared at her. Really stared, as if he were transfixed by her.

“What?” she asked, shifting in her chair. “Do I have something on my face?”

He said not a word.

Her gaze flipped to me, silently asking me the same question. I shook my head no, then returned my attention to my grandfather. His fingers were digging into the tabletop, his knuckles bowed up, as if he were trying to hold himself back.

From…attacking?

His lips pulled back, baring his teeth. A low growl rumbled from him. Every muscle in his body tensed.

Just as he sprang to his feet, I sprang to mine. He dove for Nana; I dove for him. I caught him just in time, and we jetted to the floor, slamming hard. Nana screamed.

“Taste,” Pops snarled, bucking and straining in an attempt to dislodge me to get to his wife.

Taste? Only zombies wanted to— Oh, no. No, no, no. He was alive. He couldn’t be…wasn’t…

I tried to pin his arms but failed. He was stronger than he appeared. Then my calm, sweet grandfather punched me in the cheek once, twice, and I stopped trying. Pain exploded through me, and only my lessons with Cole kept me lucid.

“What are you doing, Carl? Stop! You’re hurting her!”

I hated to do it, but I punched him back. Nana rushed over, probably thinking to help me, but all she did was agitate him, making him fight me even harder in an effort to get to her.

“Get my phone,” I shouted. “It’s in my room. Call Cole. Please, Nana. Please. Only Cole. He’ll help us. Please!”

She hesitated, backing up only a few feet, her expression dark with horror and uncertainty. Pops punched me again and again, a battering of his fists. I grappled with him, knowing releasing him would make everything worse. I couldn’t fight him and shield Nana.

“Now!” I shrieked. “And don’t come back in here. Pops isn’t himself. He’ll harm you.”

“Ali, I—”

“Go!”

At last she took off, disappearing around the corner. Without her presence, the full force of Pops’s rage switched to me. No longer was he content to punch me. Instead, he clawed and bit at me. Forget grappling. There was no longer any need to hold him, and I sprang away from him.

“Calm down, Pops. Okay? You don’t want to do this.”

He jumped up—only to go lax, his body collapsing to the floor. His eyes rolled to the back of his head. He stilled.

I watched in horror as his spirit rose from his body.

Horror—because I knew. A zombie had bitten him. Had infected him. Had killed him.

He was dead.

But he would live on.

He looked just as sickly as he had while inside his body, yet there was now a deeper cast of gray to his skin. His gaze swept through the room, never quite landing on me. He sniffed, licked his lips and moved toward the only door.

“Pops,” I said, and stepped out of my own body.

Instantly his attention locked on me and he forgot about tracking Nana. He stalked me throughout the room. When he lunged for me, I hopped out of the way. There were no Blood Lines in the house, so we both ghosted through the table, the food.

A pattern formed. We would circle each other. He would propel toward me. I would dive out of the way. The process would begin all over again. I had a dagger in my boot, but I couldn’t bring myself to stab him. I just couldn’t bring myself to disable him. Then I’d have to try to ash him, and I didn’t have the heart.

A scowling Cole finally strode into the room, Mackenzie, Bronx and Mr. Holland behind him. Mr. Holland demanded to know where my grandmother was, and after I told him, he took off. Bronx kicked the doors shut. I purposely avoided Cole’s eyes. This was the first time I’d seen him today, and I couldn’t afford a vision right now.

“Don’t kill him,” I said. “Please. There has to be another way.”

“Quiet,” Cole said. “Watch your confessions.”

Pops sniffed the air and licked his lips. “Taste.”

My friends stepped out of their bodies and surrounded him, quickly subduing him by pinning him to his stomach, his hands locked behind his back, his ankles tied with a glowing length of rope.

“Maybe we can…” I began, only to press my lips together and look down when Cole’s violet eyes swung to me. Our gazes locked—

—Cole was standing in front of me, his hands on my shoulders. “I’m sorry. It had to be that way. The man you loved would not have hit you like that. I don’t know when he was bitten, only that he was. What you saw today was a shell. Only a shell.”

“Then how was he able to come inside the house,” I asked as tears streamed down my cheeks, “with the Blood Line around the property?”

“Permission overrides the Blood Line. His house. His rules.”

My heart broke inside my chest. I should have checked for bite marks. I’d smelled the scent of rot the night of the break-in. “If I’d had more time, I could have figured out a way…”

“There was no other way,” Cole insisted, his tone ragged. “He had to die. To my knowledge, no one’s ever come back from this.”

He would know, wouldn’t he. He’d watched his own mother die this way—

“—Taaasssste.”

My grandfather’s voice broke through the vision. The world returned to normal. Cole was across the room, holding Pops down.

“Give me permission, Ali,” he gritted out.

I realized the power of my words had stopped him from acting before now—just as the power of his words nearly unhinged my jaw to get the right words out. I resisted.

“What’s wrong with him?” Nana cried from outside the closed doors. “Why did he do that to Ali? That’s not like him. He’s a good man.”

“I told you things are dangerous down here, Mrs. Bradley,” I heard Mr. Holland say.

Mackenzie stepped back into her body. “We just need a few minutes more,” she called.

“Ali,” Cole prompted.

I couldn’t dump this burden on him. “I’ll…I—I will do it.”

He studied me before nodding stiffly. “Can you?”

I looked down. Obstacle one: my hands were perfectly normal. Beyond a doubt, I could light up. The question was, could I do it on command?

“I don’t want to hurt him,” I said, my chin trembling. Obstacle two: my love for the man.

No, not a man. Not any longer.

“He won’t feel a thing, I promise you.”

Pops struggled for freedom, and I began to cry. He wanted to destroy Nana, and I couldn’t let him. So, really,