Zombie Ocean (Book 2): The Lost Read Free

had gone half the life had gone out of him too.
    Maybe a dog could fix that.
    "I just want a horse to ride around on. Daddy, can't I? It's only fair, you know. He'll be the best fun and the best friend to us both."
    He sighed. She could feel the thoughts turning in his head.
    "Maybe," he'd said.
    They ended up with the Hatter. They would both love him, and he would change and save their lives.
     
     
    Anna screamed. The Hatter screamed. His little bones cracked and his skin tore as her Daddy's big jaws crunched closed, then he yanked back and pulled the Hatter apart. Blood spattered everywhere, lit by the eerie white light from his eyes. Blood hit the carpet like gentle rain, and the Hatter's little body crumpled in her father's hands, becoming a lump and not a dog.
    Anna screamed. 
    Her Daddy chewed and the sound was horrible. Bits of skin and bone crunched and sheared in his grinding mouth. Stringy lines stretched from his lips to the torn lump in his hands.
    The Hatter went silent and became just a ball of glinting black in her father's hands. The horrible bite-shaped hole in his back now defined him. His little spine poked up through the edges like stalks sprung off a snapped sapling twig.
    Anna screamed. Her Daddy kept on chewing: grind crunch pop, turning the little puppy to bits. Tears filled her eyes and her jaw ached but he didn't even look at her. He swallowed then went in for another bite.
    Anna ran at him and hit him in the belly and the leg.
    "Stop it!" she cried. He didn't stop. She hit him and shouted until her fists hurt and her voice went hoarse.
    "Stop it stop it stop it!"
    He chewed on, biting at the bits left in his hands. The Hatter's hot blood splashed through his hands and onto her face. It poured down his pajamas in a dark trail, making the carpet sludgy. Soon the Hatter was all gone.
    She staggered back. Her father's scraggly beard was smeared with blood and fur, like chunky chocolate ice cream.
    "Daddy what have you done?"
    In the hallway she noticed the crashing below was still going on. Sobs jerked up her throat like hiccups, like her Daddy was squeezing them out. In the doorway to her room she realized he was following.
    She shouted and slammed the door shut. He thumped against it a second later but the handle didn't turn and the door didn't budge. His thumping joined with the thumping from below.
    Anna pulled the side-table in front of the door. She climbed back into bed. She tucked her arms and legs into the tight covers and snuggled down low under them, like she was tiny Alice in a giant's pocket again. She pulled the pillows after her and wrapped them round her head.
    The thudding diminished. She caught her sobbing and stopped. Soon enough sleep found her.
     

    She dreamed she sailed upon an ocean.
    The ocean was vast and made of people. They flowed upon each other smoothly, each a gray speck of water just like all the others. Anna sailed atop them with her bed as a boat, using the sheets and blankets as sails, wearing a blue and white petticoat like Alice.
    "Ahoy there!" she called to the bodies below.
    They carried her forward. She used the footboard as a tiller. Occasionally flapping birdwomen flew overhead, and she waved. She fished in the ocean of gray wriggling bodies, and came up with bright red chunks of tongue. They flapped at her like fish but said nothing.
    The tides carried her for thousands of miles. The water-people lapped against her bed with low thuds. She stood at the prow looking to the horizon where her Daddy was waiting for her, a giant man sitting on a giant stool in the middle of the ocean.
    "Darling Alice," he would say when she finally reached him, "why have you come so far?"
    "I'm searching," was the answer she always gave, "am I home yet?" 
    He'd smile. "What is home, little Alice, but threads and cobbles, bits of old lint plucked from your pocket? Build it up, child, build it up."
    Then she'd lie down at his feet and pluck old lint from her pockets, and he'd sing