The Voice inside My Head by S.J. Laidlaw Page B

number of poisonous creatures out here, wherever the heck here is. A long way from help, that’s for sure.
    “I think I’m dying,” he wheezes, his breath coming in short gasps.
    Holy shit. Holy shit.
    “Help!” I shout, sounding every bit like I’m in some cheesy horror flick. “HELP!” I bellow, even though we’re in the middle of nowhere and I’m more likely to attract crocs than rescue.
    I pull Zach onto our branch nest and put my arm around him, wondering what the hell I’m going to do. If I leave himand go for help, I’ll only get myself more lost. And if by some miracle I find my way out of the forest, I doubt I could ever find my way back to Zach. Maybe we should try to walk out together, dark as it is. But what if we just go deeper into the swamp or stumble into another crocodile? Cold beads of sweat pop out on my forehead as I peer into the murky moonlight, where every gnarled tree looks like a monster.
    Did something move?
    A shape emerges from the darkness.
    It steps toward us.
    “Zombie,” whispers Zach.
    I shiver.

CHAPTER 9
    “W hat you boys be doin’ out here?” the spectral figure shouts in a very unzombie-like voice.
    I stand up, shaky with relief.
    “Don’t answer,” hisses Zach.
    “I think she’s already spotted us. If it’s a zombie, we’re dead meat anyway.”
    “Don’t say
dead meat
in front of a Z-O-M-B-Y,” Zach whimpers.
    “I-E, it’s spelled … never mind. I’m pretty sure it’s not a zombie, Zach. Just wait here.”
    I attempt to walk over to the figure, but Zach digs his fingers into my arm with a grip that would put any zombie to shame.
    “Ow,” I say, slogging through the muck, with Zach firmly attached.
    It’s slow going, but the figure waits patiently.
    As we get close, I can see it’s a large woman wearing a flouncy skirt, gum boots, a loose T-shirt and a headscarf. Her black skin gleams in the moonlight. If she is a zombie, she’s very well turned out.
    “Excuse me,” I say. “We appear to be lost.”
    “You don’t say.”
    Just my luck; we get rescued by someone with enough attitude to make me wonder if I should have kept my mouth shut and taken my chances with the crocs.
    “We were looking for the home of Martha, the bush doctor.”
    “It’s Miss Martha. Didn’t your mama teach you how to speak to a lady?”
    “No, mostly she taught me how to hold my liquor.”
    “That figures. Who told you I was a bush doctor? I don’t appreciate bein’ called no bush doctor.”
    “Lemon,” I say, giving him up without a moment’s hesitation. He’s definitely getting spit in his next remedy. “The thing is,” I rush on, “my friend’s hurt. Something bit him.”
    Zach’s breathing fast and leaning on me like he’s having trouble standing up on his own. I put my arm around him. I really hope he doesn’t pass out. I’m not sure how far I could carry him.
    Martha steps forward and holds out her hand to him. “Where you hurt, child?” she says in a gentle voice.
    He whimpers and puts his hand in hers. She reaches her other hand into her voluminous skirt and pulls out a flashlight. When she switches it on, I get a good look at Zach for the first time this evening. His hand is swollen and red, but it’s his face, streaked with tears, that makes me turn away. I wish Martha would shut off the goddamn light.
    “It’s not too serious,” she says reassuringly. “Just a scorpion sting. You got a bad reaction is all. It affects some worse than others. Come on home and I’ll fix you.”
    Martha leads the way, and Zach and I trudge behind her. He’s still leaning heavily on me, my arm hooked under his shoulder. He slips in the mud a few times, and we both nearly go down. I just manage to keep us upright. Finally, we’re on drier ground, though the going doesn’t get much easier in the inky shadows cast by the looming trees.
    Martha sings as we walk along. Zach’s breathing slows to the rhythm of her music so I’m grateful. The sweat is rolling