“You give them the virus.” Michelle was horrified.
“The gift. Not all of them are worthy, sad to say. But those who are…” Alicia beamed at the little girl in the bandages. “This is the Mummy. Would you like to see what she can do?”
A bubble began to form in Michelle’s hand. Take this insane bitch out. The world will be a better place.
“May I have your answer about Tom, please?”
“If you want him dead, kill him yourself,” Michelle answered.
Alicia pouted. “You disappoint me, Michelle. We could have been such friends. Baby, do her for me.”
The Mummy ran to Michelle and seized her arm. Her hands were tiny, her fingers wrapped in rags as dry as parchment. What is this? Michelle thought.
Then the pain hit.
Her body began to wither. Her throat felt as if it were closing up. And the Mummy’s bandages began to fill out, the fabric darkening with moisture, stretching.
Jesus, Michelle thought, suddenly frightened. She tried to yank her arm away, but the little girl held on like a terrier. Michelle kicked backward, sending her chair toppling over. There was a squishy thud as the Mummy hit the ground beside her, but she didn’t let go. Michelle grew thinner, weaker. My precious bodily fluids, she thought, giggling hysterically. The Mummy was growing as she shrank. She’ll outweigh me soon, she realized.
Michelle kept shrinking, her precious water draining away into the blobby monster on her arm.
A terrified shriek pierced through her fear.
Michelle sat up, and the world tilted. A corpse came lurching out of the building where Joey was being kept; a child, no older than the Mummy. Two more zombies followed. She recognized the guards who’d been posted at Joey’s bedside. Joey appeared in the doorway behind them. She looked wobbly, but her zombies were moving just fine.
Michelle heard Alicia Nshombo scream. She was staring down the road with horror on her face.
Michelle pressed her palm against the Mummy’s head. “Let go, kid,” she said in French, and then again in English. “I have no intention of dying today. Either we both get up, or I’ll be the only one getting up. Got it?”
The Mummy squeezed tighter. Michelle slid a wizened hand down her bandaged cheek and under her chin, then raised her face to look into the child’s eyes. They were black, shiny, devoid of any sign of humanity.
“I’m sorry,” Michelle said.
Then she loosed a stream of bubbles.
Water, blood, and brains burst over Michelle. She yanked the Mummy’s hand from her arm and pushed the tiny corpse away. Where she fell a puddle formed around her.
Alicia Nshombo was still screaming. Michelle struggled to her feet. Joey was staring into space with a beatific smile on her face. Hoodoo Mama was in the house.
Michelle’s arms were withered and wrinkled as an old woman’s. She was dizzy and shaking from the water loss. All she could do was watch. Shambling into the center of the camp were zombies. All of them were children. Dozens of them, scores of them, hundreds of them, green and grey and rotting. More were coming up around them, little fingers clawing up from the ground like rain lilies after a storm. The earth sprouted small heads and shoulders.
Leopards leapt upon the zombies, snarling, clawing, growling. They ripped the dead children apart, but for every one that fell there were a dozen more. The soldiers were emptying their guns, but bullets can’t kill the dead.
Waves of dizziness poured over Michelle. She was so thirsty. Dazed, she had trouble trying to remember what she needed to do now.
Adesina. She staggered to her feet.
Some of the soldiers dropped their guns and fled into the jungle. Michelle held her palms up. She thought about Adesina in the pit. All the dead children. About how horrible it must have been for them to be torn away from their families, dragged to this place, and injected with the virus that would kill most of them, maim some, and leave only a few… like her.
And something in Michelle shifted. Something in her broke and her energy surged.
With methodical calm, she created small, extremely dense bubbles and sent them hurling through the air at the nearest soldiers. They screamed and clutched their chests. Blood poured from their wounds. The zombies moved in on the rest, ripping and tearing as they went.
Michelle saw Alicia Nshombo surrounded by zombies. Alicia’s face elongated as she dropped to her hands and knees. Her body grew larger, and fur erupted from her skin. Her teeth grew into fangs. She gave a roar that felt to Michelle as if it were echoing in her own chest.
Okay, Michelle thought. Wasn’t expecting that. World’s fattest leopard.
Joey’s zombies flowed around her. None looked older than fourteen or fifteen. Most hadn’t reached puberty. They surrounded the leopard, piled on top of her, and began tearing and ripping at her with small dead hands. Alicia gave a howl, slashed this way and that. She almost broke free, but one of the zombies grabbed her tail and yanked her back. She screamed again, and this time the sound was almost human. Then she fell silent.
That was when the other leopards vanished. In their places sprawled confused, naked men.
Michelle sat down hard on the ground. It was wet. Mummy. Or what was left of her.
“Jesus, Bubbles, what did you do?” Joey ran to Michelle and dropped to her knees. “Wasn’t there a kid here? Had hold of your arm?”
The world was spinning crazily again. Michelle closed her eyes. “I tried not to die.”
Joey gave a primitive wail. “You fucker! You didn’t have to kill her! I was helping you!”
Michelle swallowed. God, she was thirsty. It was worse than waking up from the coma. “I didn’t have any choice. It was me or her.”
“You didn’t have a choice? You’re the Amazing Bubbles! Nothing can hurt you!”
“She could. She was.”
“She was just a kid!” Joey was screaming.
“Not anymore. I looked in her eyes. And you know what, Joey? Shit happens to little kids. Even if they’re loved and protected, shit happens. All. The. Time. Welcome to reality.” Michelle pushed herself up from the ground. “I told her to stop. Sometimes kids get so broken they aren’t really kids anymore. But if you want to hate me, knock yourself out.”
Joey slapped Michelle’s arm. Then she slapped Michelle’s face. It didn’t take more than a few slaps for her to wear herself out. “You fucker. You fucker. You fucker,” she cried over and over.
“Yep, that’s me,” Michelle said. Unsteadily, she made her way through the carnage of zombies, leopards, soldiers, and pieces of Alicia Nshombo to one of the compound’s buildings.
Inside she found a sink. She opened the tap, leaned over, and put her mouth up to the faucet. Warm water poured into her mouth. She gulped it down until some of the dizziness had passed.
Then she went back outside. She had to find Adesina.
Southwest of Bunia, Congo
People’s Paradise of Africa
The flatbed truck lurched forward with the grinding of gears and a gout of oily, black smoke. Wally shifted his weight, eliciting a creak and groan from the suspension beneath the cargo bed. The truck stank of goat innards. And its best days were long in the past, which reminded Wally quite a bit of Mr. Finch’s airplane.
That, in turn, reminded him of Jerusha. He wondered if she got the kids to Tanzania, if she were safe, if he’d ever see her again. He cast a long glance up and down his rust-pitted body, and decided he already knew the answer to that last question.
The truck’s oversized tires chewed up the muddy road, leaving ruts the size of small lakes. The mud was a deep, rich brown, and when it splashed on Wally it looked like a rain of caramel or butterscotch. Even in spite of the mud and the constant bouncing, this was the most comfortable he’d been since heading out overland.
One leg burned where the bullet wound had become infected; the dents in his other leg still ached where the crocodile had bit him. His feet were solid orange with rust. Nicks, scratches, and even claw marks covered his arms, legs, and torso. The rust was deep enough in places that when he stuck a fingertip in, he felt something warm and squishy inside.
He pulled out his last S.O. S pad and set to work, doing triage on his crumbling skin. He cast his gaze into the forest while he scrubbed. Sure enough, twenty or thirty feet past the edge of the road, Ghost kept pace with the
