the right thing, trying to fix what’s been broken. Find the answer....”
“Yeah, so he told me,” Donovan said.
They made a right on an on-ramp and headed south.
“He seems to think, despite all the damage he’s done, that he’ll still get his Nobel. If he can only find the cure.”
“Well—” Donovan said.
“He’s not looking for any antidote, though,” Alena said, slapping her knee suddenly. “He only wants Cathren’s body for one reason—to find the key to immortality! Because she has survived it. She has lived.”
An awkward silence engulfed the car while Alena navigated through the dark night. Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her shirt and snapped it open. “Yes?” she said into the receiver. “Yes, he’s with me now.” It made Donovan wonder what else was down there. A gun? Knockout gas? Cyanide pills? Nunchucks?
“We’re about five minutes away,” Alena was saying. “No, he’s fine.” She brushed her long hair back behind her shoulders. “Mmmm-bye.”
Alena sighed. “First of all, Donovan, you should know that the authorities don’t have this problem under control. Not really. They are containing it, yes. But that’s only temporary. The zombie numbers are climbing. They are being joined by every fighter bitten or killed.” She sighed and flipped on the signal light. “No, the only way we can control this—short of blowing up half of California—is with Cathren. She’s the answer. She’s able to fight these things somehow.” Alena straightened the wheel and decelerated off the freeway. “For some reason,” she continued, “the zombie effect, for her, has had quite a different outcome. She seems to have acquired almost superhuman powers. Because of the bite, her DNA, or for some other reason, she’s special. Very possibly one of a kind.”
They drove along the residential streets right outside the city. Streetlights illuminated the way, although a surprising number of them were dark. Finally, after about fifteen more minutes, they pulled into the driveway of a pleasant bungalow. Painted white, with pink shutters, it rested on a small plot of well-tended lawns and gardens. A big, twisted oak tree squatted in the middle of the front yard like a guardian.
As they extracted themselves from the car, a couple of dogs barked from somewhere in the neighborhood. It sounded so normal, so safe. They walked to the front door and Alena knocked gently, then went in without waiting for a response. Donovan followed. When they got to the living room, she gestured to the couch, then left the room. The barking outside stopped. Donovan waited, wondering if it would start again, but it stayed quiet. Very quiet. Like the jungle before the lion attacks.
Donovan did not sit on the couch. He chose a forest-green recliner that had threadbare arms and worn cushions. He chose this seat because, unlike the couch, it gave him a full view of the entranceway. Also because it looked cozy and would let him put his feet up, something he hadn’t been able to do for days.
But before he could get comfortable, Cathren stepped into the room.
She was all cleaned up, wearing a black dress that no doubt belonged to Alena. Cathren looked sexy, sweet, and like herself again. Most importantly, she looked alive. Not dead/alive, but alive/alive. She glided into the room and kissed Donovan, then sat down next to him on the arm of the chair.
“You had me worried,” he said, taking her hand. “I thought you were.... Actually, I didn’t know what to think. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad you’re safe, too,” she said, stroking the side of his face. “So glad.” She sighed. She kissed him again and smiled. He twisted in the chair to hug her. They kissed.
“We have a battle in front of us,” she said, pulling back but keeping her face close to his. “But for now, all I want is for you to hold me in your arms.”
“Me, too,” Donovan said. They kissed again.
“We’ll
“Yeah, so he told me,” Donovan said.
They made a right on an on-ramp and headed south.
“He seems to think, despite all the damage he’s done, that he’ll still get his Nobel. If he can only find the cure.”
“Well—” Donovan said.
“He’s not looking for any antidote, though,” Alena said, slapping her knee suddenly. “He only wants Cathren’s body for one reason—to find the key to immortality! Because she has survived it. She has lived.”
An awkward silence engulfed the car while Alena navigated through the dark night. Her cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her shirt and snapped it open. “Yes?” she said into the receiver. “Yes, he’s with me now.” It made Donovan wonder what else was down there. A gun? Knockout gas? Cyanide pills? Nunchucks?
“We’re about five minutes away,” Alena was saying. “No, he’s fine.” She brushed her long hair back behind her shoulders. “Mmmm-bye.”
Alena sighed. “First of all, Donovan, you should know that the authorities don’t have this problem under control. Not really. They are containing it, yes. But that’s only temporary. The zombie numbers are climbing. They are being joined by every fighter bitten or killed.” She sighed and flipped on the signal light. “No, the only way we can control this—short of blowing up half of California—is with Cathren. She’s the answer. She’s able to fight these things somehow.” Alena straightened the wheel and decelerated off the freeway. “For some reason,” she continued, “the zombie effect, for her, has had quite a different outcome. She seems to have acquired almost superhuman powers. Because of the bite, her DNA, or for some other reason, she’s special. Very possibly one of a kind.”
They drove along the residential streets right outside the city. Streetlights illuminated the way, although a surprising number of them were dark. Finally, after about fifteen more minutes, they pulled into the driveway of a pleasant bungalow. Painted white, with pink shutters, it rested on a small plot of well-tended lawns and gardens. A big, twisted oak tree squatted in the middle of the front yard like a guardian.
As they extracted themselves from the car, a couple of dogs barked from somewhere in the neighborhood. It sounded so normal, so safe. They walked to the front door and Alena knocked gently, then went in without waiting for a response. Donovan followed. When they got to the living room, she gestured to the couch, then left the room. The barking outside stopped. Donovan waited, wondering if it would start again, but it stayed quiet. Very quiet. Like the jungle before the lion attacks.
Donovan did not sit on the couch. He chose a forest-green recliner that had threadbare arms and worn cushions. He chose this seat because, unlike the couch, it gave him a full view of the entranceway. Also because it looked cozy and would let him put his feet up, something he hadn’t been able to do for days.
But before he could get comfortable, Cathren stepped into the room.
She was all cleaned up, wearing a black dress that no doubt belonged to Alena. Cathren looked sexy, sweet, and like herself again. Most importantly, she looked alive. Not dead/alive, but alive/alive. She glided into the room and kissed Donovan, then sat down next to him on the arm of the chair.
“You had me worried,” he said, taking her hand. “I thought you were.... Actually, I didn’t know what to think. I’m glad you’re safe.”
“I’m glad you’re safe, too,” she said, stroking the side of his face. “So glad.” She sighed. She kissed him again and smiled. He twisted in the chair to hug her. They kissed.
“We have a battle in front of us,” she said, pulling back but keeping her face close to his. “But for now, all I want is for you to hold me in your arms.”
“Me, too,” Donovan said. They kissed again.
“We’ll
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