“Oh, I’m sorry.” Worried about Emily, Alexander looked around and spotted her. Janice sat up against the wall with Emily’s head rested in her lap. “Yes, if you said anything, I didn’t register it.”
The sheriff started in with his drawl. “I told the others we should leave right now. We’re going to go anyway, so why wait around for another attack? We’re running low on shotgun shells, too.”
“Weren’t we going to wait because Emily wasn’t ready to travel?” Alexander asked.
“It’s a risk,” the sheriff said. “But Janice said it was okay with her if the need to leave was urgent.”
Alexander shook his head. “Well, I disagree. If we’re attacked out in the open at night, we won’t see them coming. If we’re in here, at least we have the advantage.”
The sheriff grunted. “But what if the rest of them know we’re here?”
Vin said, “We’ll compromise. We need to gather supplies, get rid of the zombie bodies, and pack everything up anyway. Instead of doing that in the morning, we’ll do it now, and leave for the rental car lot at first light. Sound like a plan?”
They all agreed.
Jocelyn kept searching but didn’t find the medication she took—not surprising as her pharmacy in California didn’t keep it in stock either. She’d have to settle for haloperidol, but at least she could add lithium, and while both were the gold standard, like the actual gold standard, they were out of date.
Alexander took Jocelyn aside while in the pharmacy and told her his theory that the draugar think she’s a member of their hive. It could be a huge advantage in combat, and Alexander guessed that the draugar would still attack normals on sight, or smell, or hearing, or whatever senses they use, and that the only reason the ones in the break room attacked Jocelyn was because Jocelyn attacked first.
And maybe they weren’t expecting normals. If the draugar had spotted any of the rest of the group beforehand, Alexander guessed the draugar would have attacked in full force.
After telling her all of this, Alexander looked at her funny.
“What’s wrong?” asked Jocelyn.
“Your face . . . Your face . . . It’s blank!”
“What do you mean, blank?”
“Jocelyn, I’m good at reading faces, and I can’t read yours at all.”
“Oh, shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s a side effect of the haloperidol. I had this side effect back when I used it, and my psychiatrist called it ‘lack of facial expression.’ Luckily, it only lasted for a day or two, and only when I didn’t think about it.” She managed a smile. “I’m not sure how the others will react, though.”
Alexander shrugged. “Don’t make a big deal of it. Don’t let on you’re aware of it.”
They split up. Alexander left to search for various useful pharmaceuticals while she looked for the lithium, and after she retrieved it, she turned a corner and bumped into him. His bottles of pills spilled down onto the floor.
“I’m sorry, Alexander.” She stooped over to pick up the bottles. He must have done the same, because their heads collided.
“Ow!” they both said simultaneously.
She burst into laughter, and then Alexander joined in. He was so cute when he laughed, and he really was handsome. She found intelligent men sexy.
She put her arms around his neck, put on her best seductive face, and kissed him.
He appeared surprised.
He pulled away from her. “I’m married.”
She stared at him, a little ashamed, even though his family were probably zombies, or, if not, dead, but she wouldn’t remind him of that. As far as her boyfriend was concerned, they were heading for a break-up anyway.
But then he kissed her back. Maybe he realized he had to move on, or maybe given their circumstances he needed some intimate human contact, like she did right now. She didn’t ask his motivation, and he didn’t volunteer it. Instead, they continued their kiss passionately. She didn’t want it to end.
And then, instinctively, without even knowing she was doing it, she grabbed his penis through his pants. This horrified her, and he broke off the kiss.
He stared at her. “I’ll . . . “ He glanced down at the spilled bottles. “I’ll pick these up later,” he said, still looking down. He never looked at her, and he scampered away.
Shit.
Chapter Thirty
Day Nine
In the twilight of dawn, Janice shivered, despite the ski jacket. A thin, white layer of frost blanketed the ground. As she and all the others walked in silence—per Vin’s instructions—she alternated between looking at her watch and scanning around for zombies or any hostiles. She carried her handgun—everyone carried theirs—still stained with blood on the grip, behind her back tucked into the elastic band of her pink sweat pants. She mused on how everyone had changed into the sweats, only to have them covered in blood. The retail tag still hung on her ski jacket.
They all wore their backpacks, just in case something were to go wrong and they needed them.
Alexander carried Emily, who slept, or at least pretended to. Alexander’s wrist had mostly healed, and other than a few bruises, Emily seemed fine. No, Emily’s sufferings were all in her mind—the trauma of witnessing her family killed and turned into zombies would have caused PTSD in any adult, let alone a child. Fortunately, none of the adults showed signs of it.
And she did worry about Jocelyn. No healthy person sleeps through the commotion caused by that zombie attack. And now this weird expression on her face—no, not an expression, a lack of expression—that gave Janice the willies. Was that because she was a zombie, or part-zombie? Instead of saying anything, she let it go and hoped no one else noticed.
Jize suffered from melancholy, bordering on depression—or perhaps he was depressed and masked his symptoms well. He certainly slept well. Or did he? It was possible he laid there in the darkness, suffering in silence. She guessed that a lack of a piano didn’t help, but at least she
