about the zombies. Just shut up.”
“Did you just tell me to shut up? There’s a fucktonne of zombies surrounding the cabin, Rach, and you’re telling me to shut up?”
“For the love of…Jeremy, zombies aren’t real.”
He pointed out the window. “They look damn real to me!”
I used my meat tenderizer as a pointer. “For the billionth time, there are no such thing as zombies. Look at them. Real zombies moan for brains and then eat you. They are ghosts. Spirits. Other. Whatever you want to call them, that’s what they are. They are not zombies.”
“They’re totally zombies,” Jeremy muttered under his breath.
“They totally aren’t,” I sneered.
“Totally are.”
“Oh my god, it’s like talking to a twelve-year-old!”
“At least I’m right.”
It is a statement to my maturity that I let him win because, if we continued, we were going to bicker the spirits back into their graves.
The faint view of bright yellow against the white swells faded away and I wondered if we’d just been imagining it. We were close to the little wharf, but with the waves, rain, and wind, my overactive imagination might have also been conjuring more trouble than there was.
The manifestations of…okay, fine, the damn zombies stopped pounding on the windows and stared blankly at me. Specifically, at me. Eeep!
“Why are they staring at you?”
“I have no idea.” I frowned.
“Are they waiting for you to go out and greet them?”
I shook my head. These spirits weren’t behaving any way I’d seen before. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
“I thought you were the expert.”
“I thought I used to like you,” I said bitterly.
Jeremy snorted. “Rach, I love you, but damn, a lot of weird shit happens around you.”
I made a disgusted sound. I opened the window an inch and asked, “Why are you here?”
“You called us,” the zombies whispered.
See, this is how I knew they weren’t real zombies. Zombies don’t whisper. Everyone knows that.
“See? The zombies are talking. That’s what zombies do,” Jeremy said in hushed tones behind me.
Bloody hell. With as much authority as I could, I said, “Spirits, go back to your rest. Be gone.”
Nada.
“Leave.”
Nope.
“Why are you still here?”
“You called to us,” the zombies said again. I gritted my teeth at my internal voice taking Jeremy’s side.
“Well, I uncall you. Go away!” I shouted. “Do as I command.”
“You called us.”
“Just go away already.”
I let out a frustrated sound. Normally, spirits listened to me when I banished them. Even the ones possessing and influencing Manny the night Jeremy was shot listened eventually. And how exactly was I calling them? I made the little ward around Mrs. Saunders’ plants, but if I’d screwed those up, I would have attached them all to Amy’s house, not to me.
And where the hell was Dema?
I saw more figures bobbing into sight along the path from the wharf. One was wearing a bright yellow raincoat, typical for the fishermen around these parts. Well, at least those spirits were polite enough to stay on the path. I leaned forward. Was that…Manny?
Jeremy noticed my squinting over the heads of my annoying stalker squad and asked, “Is that Javier?”
“Rachel! Jeremy!” a faint masculine voice called out as the figures rushed to the cottage. “Stay inside! Don’t open the door!”
“Is that Connie? Ugh, this stupid zombie won’t move. I can’t see over him,” Jeremy complained. “Tall son of a bitch, isn’t he?”
If hell really does exist, this would be it. Surrounded by dead things that were too tall to see over. While in my underwear. I put my various weapons down and picked up my blanket in an attempt to clothe myself.
That’s when the memories hit me. Words flooded into my mind of travels I’d never taken. Soft calm filtered through my soul and a smile formed on my face. My worries about Mrs. Saunders’s health vanished, replaced with the quiet reassurance
“Did you just tell me to shut up? There’s a fucktonne of zombies surrounding the cabin, Rach, and you’re telling me to shut up?”
“For the love of…Jeremy, zombies aren’t real.”
He pointed out the window. “They look damn real to me!”
I used my meat tenderizer as a pointer. “For the billionth time, there are no such thing as zombies. Look at them. Real zombies moan for brains and then eat you. They are ghosts. Spirits. Other. Whatever you want to call them, that’s what they are. They are not zombies.”
“They’re totally zombies,” Jeremy muttered under his breath.
“They totally aren’t,” I sneered.
“Totally are.”
“Oh my god, it’s like talking to a twelve-year-old!”
“At least I’m right.”
It is a statement to my maturity that I let him win because, if we continued, we were going to bicker the spirits back into their graves.
The faint view of bright yellow against the white swells faded away and I wondered if we’d just been imagining it. We were close to the little wharf, but with the waves, rain, and wind, my overactive imagination might have also been conjuring more trouble than there was.
The manifestations of…okay, fine, the damn zombies stopped pounding on the windows and stared blankly at me. Specifically, at me. Eeep!
“Why are they staring at you?”
“I have no idea.” I frowned.
“Are they waiting for you to go out and greet them?”
I shook my head. These spirits weren’t behaving any way I’d seen before. “I don’t…I don’t know.”
“I thought you were the expert.”
“I thought I used to like you,” I said bitterly.
Jeremy snorted. “Rach, I love you, but damn, a lot of weird shit happens around you.”
I made a disgusted sound. I opened the window an inch and asked, “Why are you here?”
“You called us,” the zombies whispered.
See, this is how I knew they weren’t real zombies. Zombies don’t whisper. Everyone knows that.
“See? The zombies are talking. That’s what zombies do,” Jeremy said in hushed tones behind me.
Bloody hell. With as much authority as I could, I said, “Spirits, go back to your rest. Be gone.”
Nada.
“Leave.”
Nope.
“Why are you still here?”
“You called to us,” the zombies said again. I gritted my teeth at my internal voice taking Jeremy’s side.
“Well, I uncall you. Go away!” I shouted. “Do as I command.”
“You called us.”
“Just go away already.”
I let out a frustrated sound. Normally, spirits listened to me when I banished them. Even the ones possessing and influencing Manny the night Jeremy was shot listened eventually. And how exactly was I calling them? I made the little ward around Mrs. Saunders’ plants, but if I’d screwed those up, I would have attached them all to Amy’s house, not to me.
And where the hell was Dema?
I saw more figures bobbing into sight along the path from the wharf. One was wearing a bright yellow raincoat, typical for the fishermen around these parts. Well, at least those spirits were polite enough to stay on the path. I leaned forward. Was that…Manny?
Jeremy noticed my squinting over the heads of my annoying stalker squad and asked, “Is that Javier?”
“Rachel! Jeremy!” a faint masculine voice called out as the figures rushed to the cottage. “Stay inside! Don’t open the door!”
“Is that Connie? Ugh, this stupid zombie won’t move. I can’t see over him,” Jeremy complained. “Tall son of a bitch, isn’t he?”
If hell really does exist, this would be it. Surrounded by dead things that were too tall to see over. While in my underwear. I put my various weapons down and picked up my blanket in an attempt to clothe myself.
That’s when the memories hit me. Words flooded into my mind of travels I’d never taken. Soft calm filtered through my soul and a smile formed on my face. My worries about Mrs. Saunders’s health vanished, replaced with the quiet reassurance
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