Through the Zombie Glass - Gena Showalter, Gena Showalter (the unexpected everything TXT) š
- Author: Gena Showalter, Gena Showalter
Book online Ā«Through the Zombie Glass - Gena Showalter, Gena Showalter (the unexpected everything TXT) šĀ». Author Gena Showalter, Gena Showalter
Where should I begin? With travesty? Heartache?No. I donāt want to begin with where I am now.I donāt want to end that way, either.Weāll start with this. A truth. Everything around us is subjectto change. Today is cold. Tomorrow, heat will come. Flowersbloom, then wither. Those we love, we can grow to hate. Andlifeā¦life can be perfect one minute and in shambles the next.I learned that lesson the hard way when my parents and be-loved little sister died in a car crash, shattering every corridorof my heart.Iāve done my best to weld the pieces back together, butātick,tock.Another change.A change that cost me everything.The respect of my friends. My new home. My purpose. My pride.
My boyfriend.And itās my fault. I can blame no one else.One mistake gave birth to a thousand others.I knew there were monsters out there. Zombies. I knew theywerenāt the mindless beings movies and books portrayed themto be. They exist in spirit form, unseen to the ungifted eye.Theyāre fast, determined and, at times, smart. They hunger forthe source of life.Our spirits.I know, I know. Thatās laughable, right? Invisible creatures de-termined to feast on humans from the inside out? Please. Butitās true. I know, because I became an all-you-can-eat buffetāand offered my friends as dessert.Now Iām not just fighting the zombies. Iām fighting to savethe life I love.I will succeed.Tick, tock.Itās time.
Chapter 1BEGIN AT THE BEGINING
few months earlier More and more Iād been dreaming about the crash thatkilled my parents and younger sister. I relived themoments as our car flipped end over end. The sounds ometal crunching into pavement. The stillness wheeverything was over, and I was the only oneawake...maybe the only one alive.Iād struggled to free myself from the seat belt, desperateto help little Emma. Her head had been twisted at such aodd angle. My motherās cheek had been slashed open likea Christmas ham, and my fatherās body had been throwout of the car. Panic had made me stupid, and Iād hit myhead on a sharp piece of metal. Darkness had swallowedme whole.But in my dreams, I watched my mother blink open her eyes. She was disoriented at first, moaning in pain andtrying to make sense of the chaos around her.Unlike me, she had no problem with her seat belt,freeing herself and turning, her gaze landing on Emma.Tears began to rain down her cheeks.She looked at me and gasped, reaching out to place atrembling hand on my leg. A river of warmth seemed to rush through me, strengthening me.āAlice,ā she shouted, shaking me. āWake upāāI jolted upright.Panting, my body dotted with perspiration, I scanned mysurroundings. I saw walls of ivory and gold, painted iswirling patterns. An antique dresser. A furry white rug onthe floor. A mahogany nightstand, with a Tiffany lamp perched next to a photo of my boyfriend, Cole.I was in my new bedroom, safe.Alone.My heart slammed against my ribs as though trying to burst free. I forced the dream to the back of my mind andmoved to the edge of the bed to peer out the large baywindow and find a sense of calm. Despite thegorgeousness of the viewāa garden teeming with bright,lush flowers that somehow thrived in the cool October weatherāmy stomach twisted. Night was in full bloom,and so were the creepies.Fog that had brewed on the horizon for hours had finallyspilled over, gliding closer and closer to my window. Themoon was round and full, set ablaze with orange and red,as if the surface had been wounded and was bleeding.Anything was possible.Zombies were out tonight.My friends were out there, too, fighting the creatureswithout me. I hated myself for falling asleep at such acritical time. What if a slayer needed my help? Called me? Who was I kidding? No one would call, no matter how badly I was needed.I stood and paced the room, cursing the injuries thatkept me tucked inside. So Iād been sliced from hip to hip afew weeks ago. So what? My stitches had been removedand the flesh was already scarring.Maybe I should just arm up and head out. Iād rather savesomeone I love and risk another life-threatening injurythan do nothing and stay out of harmās way. But...I didnātknow where the group had gone, and more than that, if Idid manage to track them down, Cole would freak. Hewould be distracted.Distraction killed.Dang it. I would do as Iād been told and wait.Minutes stretched into hours as I continued to pace, asense of unease growing sharper with every second that passed. Would everyone come back alive? Weād lost twoslayers in the past month alone. None of us were preparedto lose another.The hinges on my door squeaked.Cole slipped inside the room and threw the lock,ensuring that no one would bust in on us. Relief pluckedthe claws right out of the unease, and I thrilled.He was here. He was okay.He was mine.His gaze landed on me, and I shivered, waiting for avision...hoping for one. Since the day weād met, weād experienced a smallglimpse of the future the first time our eyes locked on anygiven day. Weād seen ourselves making out, fightingzombies and even relaxing in a swing. Today, like almostevery day since my stabbing, I experienced nothing butcrushing disappointment.Why had the visions stopped?Deep down, I suspected one of us had built up somesort of emotional wallāand I knew it hadnāt been me.I was too entranced by him.Always he threw off enough testosterone to draw thenotice of every girl within a ten-mile radius. Though hewas only seventeen years old, he seemed far older. He hadmajor experience on the battlefield, had fought in thehuman/zombie war since he could walk. He hadexperience with girls, too. Maybetoomuch experience.He knew just what to say...how to touch...and we melted.Iād never met anyone like him. I doubted I ever wouldagain.He wore all black, like a phantom of the night. Inky hair stuck out in spikes, with leaves and twigs intertwined ithe strands. He hadnāt bothered to clean his face, so hischeeks were streaked with black paint, dirt and blood.So. Danged. Hot.Violet eyes almost otherworldly in their purityshuttered, becoming unreadable, even as his lipscompressed into a hard, anguished line. I knew him, and knew this was his letās-just-burn-the-world-to-the-ground-and-call-it-good face.āWhat are you doing out of bed, Ali?āI ignored the question as well as the harshness of histone, understanding that both sprang from a place of deepconcern for me. āWhatās wrong?ā I asked. āWhathappened out there?āSilent, he disarmed, dropping daggers, guns, magazinesof ammo and his personal favorite, a crossbow. Heādcome to me first, I realized, not even bothering to stop athis house.āWere you bitten?ā I asked. Suffering? Zombie bites lefta burning toxin behind. Yes, we had an antidote, but thehuman body could take only so much before it brokedown.āI saw Haun,ā he finally responded.Oh, no.āCole, Iām so sorry.ā A while back, Haun had been killed by zombies. The fact that Cole had seen hiagain meant only one thing. Haun had risen from his graveas the enemy.āI suspected it would happen, but I wasnāt ready for thereality of it.ā Coleās shirt was the next to go.The blade-sharp cut of his body always stole my breath,and now was no exception, regardless of the horror of our conversation. I drank him ināthe delightfully wickednipple ring, the sinewy chest and washboard abs coveredwith a plethora of tattoos. Every design, every word, meant something to him, from the names of the friends heādlost in the war to the depiction of the grim reaperās scythe.Because that was what he was. A zombie killer.He was total bad boyāthe dangerous guy monstersfeared finding intheir closets.And he was closing the distance between us. I buzzedwith anticipation, expecting him to draw me into his arms.Instead, he bypassed me to fall onto the bed and cover hisface with scabbed hands.āI ashed him tonight. Ended him forever.āāIām so sorry.ā I eased beside him and brushed myfingers over his thigh, offering what comfort I could. Iknew he understood that he hadnāt actually ashed Haun, or even the ghost of Haun. The creature heād fought hadnāthad Haunās memories or his personality. It had had hisface and nothing more. His body had simply been a shellfor unending hunger and malevolence.āYou had to do it,ā I added. āIf youād let him go, hewould have come back for you and our friends, and hewould have done his best to destroy us.āāI know, but that doesnāt make it any easier.ā Hereleased a shuddering sigh.I looked him over more intently. He had angry cuts onhis arms, chest and stomach. Zombies were spirits, thesource of lifeāor afterlife in their caseāand had to befought by other spirits. That was why, to engage, we had toforce ours out of our bodies, like a hand being pulled out of glove. And yet, even though we left our bodies behind,frozen in place, the two were still connected. Whatever injury one received, the other received, as well.I padded to the bathroom, wet several washrags andgrabbed a tube of antibiotic cream.āTomorrow I start training again,ā I said as I tendedhim, distracting us both.He glared up at me through lashes so thick and black helooked as if he wore eyeliner. āTomorrowās Halloween.ll of us have the day and night off. And by the way, Iāmtaking you to a costume party at the club. Iām thinkingweāll stick with the whole battered and bruised theme andgo as a naughty nurse and even naughtier patient.āMy first outing in weeks would be a date with Cole.Yes, please.āI think youāll make a very sexy naughtynurse.āāI know,ā he said without missing a beat. āJust wait tillyou see my dress. Slutty doesnāt even begin to describe.nd you will, of course, require a sponge bath.ā Donāt laugh.āPromises, promises.ā I tsked, then triedto continue more seriously. āBut I never mentionedhunting.ā Too many people would be out, and some would be dressed as zombies. At first glance, we might not beable to tell the real deal from the fake. āI only mentionedtraining. Youareworking out tomorrow morning, arenātyou?ā He always did.He ignored my question, saying, āYouāre not ready.ā āNo, youārenot ready for me to be ready, but itāshappening whether you like it or not.āHe scowled at me, dark and dangerous. āIs that so?āāYes.ā Not many people stood up to Cole Holland.Everyone at our school considered him a full-blow predator, more animal than human. Feral. Dangerous.They werenāt wrong.Cole wouldnāt hesitate to tear into someoneāanyoneā for the slightest offense. Except me. I could do what Iwanted, say what I wanted, and he was charmed. Evewhen he was scowling. And it was strange, definitelysomething I wasnāt used toāhaving power over someoneelseābut Iād be lying if I claimed not to like it.āTwo problems with your plan,ā he said. āOne, youdonāt have a key to the gym. And two, thereās a goodchance your instructor will suddenly becomeunreachable.āSincehewas my instructor, I took his words as thegentle threat they were and sighed.When Iād first joined his group, heād thrown me into thethick of battle without hesitation. I think heād trusted hisability to protect me from any kind of threat more thaheād trusted my skills.Then Iād proved myself and heād backed off.Thenheād accidentally stabbed me.Yep. Him. Heād aimed for the zombie snarling and biting at him; Iād stepped in to help, and, with a single touch, ashed the only
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