When she turns to the car, both boys have gotten out and are now looking at her with something Mille at first interprets as concern.
“I’m okay,” she assures them. “I feel better now.”
She goes to get back in, but William steps carefully in front of her. “Hold on,” he says. “Are you, uhm … are you sure you feel better?”
“Sure,” Mille says. “I mean, it’s the worst day of my life, but other than that, I’m fine. I won’t throw up in your car, I promise.”
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” he says, finding a packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Mille notices he’s dressed in what looks like a hospital staff uniform. “Do you have any wounds?”
Mille looks down and shakes her head. “No.”
“No tiny scratches or anything?”
“No, I tell you!” She’s starting to feel annoyed, mostly because she’s afraid. Afraid because part of her already knows what he’s driving at. “I think I’d notice if I was bitten.”
“You don’t need to get bitten,” Dan says in a grave voice, stepping slightly forward. He can’t be more than fourteen, although his face looks twenty-five. He’s obviously tired, ragged and scared, all at once. “You don’t even need to have been in direct contact with one of them. If you cut yourself on anything with their blood on … I’ve seen it happen.”
Mille breathes deeply, making an effort to get her emotions under control, although everything is firing inside of her. She looks down again. Her clothes are a little messed up—probably from when she collapsed in the middle of the road—but she can’t see any blood. She shrugs. “Look, I don’t know what you want from me. You want me to strip down so you can check me?”
“I thought you’d prefer doing it yourself,” William says, without the faintest smile. “We’ll look away.”
Mille gapes at him. “You can’t be serious. Do you know what I’ve been through today? I have … I have been almost … almost …” Her body is shaking so violently that her throat closes up. Rage and sorrow are choking her and she blinks furiously to keep back the tears as she glowers at William. “Who the hell … do you think … you are?”
He doesn’t answer.
She steps towards the car, expecting for them to grab her and hold her back, but they simply step aside and let her pass. Mille goes to open the car door, but the lock snaps shut.
She turns and stares at William who has the key in his hand. He lights his cigarette in an infuriatingly nonchalant way, as though he’s Bruce Willis in some stupid action movie.
“Drive me home!” she demands. “Drive me back into town!”
“I think you’ll regret that if I do,” he says calmly blowing out smoke. “But if you really want it, I’ll drive you back. I just can’t let you inside my car before you’ve checked yourself. It’s nothing personal, really, but I saw you inside the car with a zombie, and I have no way of knowing what happened to you.”
Mille takes in air to scream at William, when Dan suddenly steps forward and takes hold of her arm.
“I’ve seen it happen twice before,” he says, fixing her eyes with his. “My friend died because he stepped on a piece of broken glass, and an elderly lady got scratched by a cat that had stepped in infected blood. I’m sorry, but I can’t risk it happening again.”
Mille is struck by the amount of pain she sees in his large, blue eyes, and suddenly it feels like she’s imploding. The rage seeps out in a long, shivering breath. She shrugs. “Look, I really don’t think I have any scratches. Honestly. I don’t feel pain anywhere.”
“We just need to be completely sure,” William says, spitting.
Mille checks herself for any scratch wounds. She doesn’t strip down, but she rolls up her sleeves and pulls out her shirt and shorts. The boys watch her silently.
“There,” she says. “All done.”
William looks down. “What about under your feet?”
Mille takes off her sandals and checks the soles of her feet. “Nothing.”
“Can I check the back of your neck, please?” Dan asks carefully, and Mille pulls her hair aside, letting him check her skin. “It looks fine,” he says.
“Congratulations!” William says, smiling at her in a way Mille finds both really annoying and annoyingly charming, as he drops the cigarette on the asphalt and steps on it. “You’ve made it through round one.”
NINETEEN
“This is it,” William announces as he sees Holger’s place coming up ahead.
The house is lying atop a small hill a couple hundred yards off the road, making it visible from far away, a single windmill right next to it, whirling lazily in the hot summer air. William slows down the car and turns onto the gravel road winding its way up to the house.
“Does your uncle know we’re coming?” Dan asks.
“Sure, I spoke with him on the phone earlier,” William says, darting a glance in the rearview mirror. “Speaking of, don’t you have anybody to call? Like your parents, perhaps?”
To his surprise Mille just shakes her head, not even looking at him.
“Really? Is there no one who needs to know where you are? Or maybe someone you’d like to warn about what’s going to happen?”
“No,” Mille says, still glancing out of the window. “All of my friends died on that bus.”
William can still picture the scene, even though Mille only described it briefly and with very little detail. She’s obviously traumatized, and it’s no wonder.
“Then
