Zom-B Underground Read Free

in leathers, clothes and gloves aren’t foolproof against a zombie attack.
    I tried to control myself after that, and didn’t pull back as much as I had been doing, even though every part of me wanted to.
    The medic left once he’d finished. I ran my tongue around my mouth and winced as one of my teeth nicked it.
    “I should have warned you about that,” Reilly said. “Doesn’t matter how much you file them down, they’ll always be sharper than they were. Best thing is to keep your tongue clear of your teeth.”
    “Thash eashy fuhr you tuh shay,” I mumbled.
    “Hey, not bad for your first attempt,” Reilly said, looking impressed. “Most of the revitalizeds take a few days to get their act together. I think you’re going to be a fast learner.”
    “Shkroo you, arsh hohl,” I spat, and his expression darkened.
    “Maybe you were better off mute,” he growled.
    It took me a while to get the hang of my new teeth. I still slur the occasional word, but a week into my new life–or unlife, or whatever the hell it’s called–I can speak as clearly as I could before I was killed.
    “B Smith went to mow, went to mow a meadow,” I sing tunelessly to my reflection. “But a zombie ripped her heart out, so now she’s a walking dead-o.”
    Hey, I might be dead, but you’ve gotta laugh, haven’t you? Especially when you’re no longer able to cry your bloody eyes out.

THREE
    Lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Mum and Dad.
    Reilly hasn’t told me anything about the outside world. We’ve spent a lot of time together. He chats with me about all sorts of things, soccer, TV shows we used to watch, our lives before the zombie uprising. But he won’t discuss the attack on my school or any of the other assaults that took place that day. I’ve no idea if order has been restored or if the soldiers and medics here are the only people left alive in the whole wide world. I’ve pushed him hard for answers, but although Reilly’s been good to me, he can play deaf and dumb to perfection when he wants.
    I’ve said a few prayers for Mum and Dad, even though I’m not the prayingtype. For Mum especially. It’s strange. I thought I loved Dad more. He was the one I respected, the one I wanted to impress. Mum was weak in my opinion, a coward and a fool for letting her husband knock her about the place. I stood up for her and always tried to help when he’d lay into her, because that’s what you do for your mum, but if you’d ask me to name a favorite, I’d have chosen Dad, despite all his flaws.
    But she’s the one I miss most. Maybe it’s because of what Dad did the day I died. He came to rescue me. Risked his own life to try to save me. But then he made me throw Tyler to the zombies, turned me into a killer, and since then…
    No. That’s a lie, and I don’t want to lie to myself anymore. I’ve done too much of that in the past. Be truthful, B. Dad didn’t force me. I threw Tyler to the zombies because I was scared and it was the easy thing to do.
    Dad hated foreigners and people who had different beliefs. I never wanted to be like him in that respect, but to keep him quiet I acted as if I was, and in the end it rubbed off on me. I became a monster. I don’t ever want to allow that to happen again, but if I’m to keep the beast inside me under control, I have to accept that the guilt was mine for doing what Dad told me to do. You can’t blame other people for sins of your own making.
    I sit up, swing my legs off the bed and scowl. No use worrying about Mum and Dad until I have more information. I’m sure answers will be revealed in time. They can’t be keeping me alive justto hold me in this cell forever. I have to be patient. Explanations will come. If I have to mourn, I’ll do it once their deaths are confirmed. Until then I need to hope for the best.
    To distract myself, I focus on the throbbing noise. It’s constant, the rumbling of machines in the distance, AC, oxygen being pumped in