Final Girl - Michelle Schusterman (e ink epub reader .TXT) 📗

video was embedded, I hit play. And there it was, clear as day. Two Kats, captured on video. I almost laughed out loud. No one could say this was faked. Well, they could try. But this wasn’t a blurry image in a photo or a two-second shot of a girl surrounded by fog who looked like me if you squinted. Faking something like this would be expensive. The muted horror movie still playing out on the TV didn’t even have special effects as good as what I had captured just now.

I let the arrow hover over Publish, then frowned. One of the adults, usually Dad or Lidia, had to approve my posts before I could publish them. As much as I wanted to put this blog post up now, I had to wait.

I hit Save Draft, then shot a quick text to Oscar.

KS: Come to Grandma’s suite NOW!

I waited nearly a minute, then remembered how eager he’d been to use Lidia’s laptop. Quickly, I opened video chat and spotted the green Online dot next to Oscar’s name. He was probably talking to Thiago.

Sighing, I started to close the window, but another green dot caught my eye. I glanced at the time and did a little quick math in my head. It was a bit after three in the morning in New York; he couldn’t actually be online . . . right?

Only one way to find out. I clicked Call next to Jamie’s avatar and waited, holding my breath. After nearly ten seconds of ringing, the window suddenly expanded—and there was Jamie, rubbing his eyes, hair sticking out all over the place.

“Kat?”

“Sorry, were you sleeping?” I asked stupidly. “I mean, I know it’s late there—or, um, early—but I noticed you were online and, uh . . . something kind of weird happened? And I need to talk to someone about it.”

Now Jamie looked wide awake. “The Thing again?”

“Yeah.” I launched into the story, the words spilling out of me. The more I talked, the more tired I felt. Not just tired. Exhausted. Like every single one of my bones was increasing in density. My vision kept blurring, and when I blinked, my eyelashes seemed to be weights, pulling my eyelids down.

“And you recorded all of it?” Jamie asked eagerly. “You checked the video?”

“Yeah, it’s even better than . . .” I trailed off, yawning hugely. “Sorry. Better than what Jess got on the bridge.”

Jamie frowned. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I’m fine, just really sleepy.”

“Isn’t it, like, the middle of the day there?”

“Mmhmm.” I could see Jamie’s bed behind him. Curling up under a pile of blankets seemed like the most inviting thing in the world. “Sorry again for waking you up.”

“Don’t be,” Jamie said. “This is exactly why I left video chat open.”

“For . . .” I paused for another gigantic yawn. “For me to creep you out in the middle of the night?”

“Well, yeah.” After a second’s hesitation, he added: “What are boyfriends for?”

The word boyfriend took a moment to register. A blush crept up my neck, and I realized he was smiling kind of nervously, waiting for me to respond.

“For emergency doppelganger sightings, I guess,” I said, smiling back at him. “Straight out of a sappy romance movie.”

Jamie laughed, then stopped when I yawned yet again. “Seriously, why are you so tired?”

“I don’t . . .” I covered my mouth with my arm as another yawn hit. “. . . know. I was taking a nap when the Thing showed up. I just need to . . . to lie down for a sec . . .”

I couldn’t fight my eyelids anymore. Jamie was saying something as I rested my head on my arms and closed my eyes. “Just for a sec,” I murmured again, and sank into a deep sleep.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN THE ZOMBIE AWAKENS

From: trishhhhbequiet@mymail.net

To: acciopancakes@mymail.net, timelord2002@mymail.net

Subject: That blog post

um. are you ok? mark and I are kinda worried . . .

From: acciopancakes@mymail.net

To: trishhhhbequiet@mymail.net, timelord2002@mymail.net

Subject: Re: That blog post

I’ll be fine once I’m back home where I belong. With my mother.

WAKING up was like trying to climb out of quicksand. I struggled to reach consciousness, fighting against vague dreams of dark creatures pulling and clawing at my legs. When I finally pried my eyes open, it took a few seconds for them to adjust.

This wasn’t my hotel room. Or my bed.

And someone was in the room with me.

The memory of what had happened before I’d fallen asleep hit me, and I sat up with a gasp, like I’d been slapped in the face. Over in the desk chair, Grandma glanced up, very clearly startled.

“Well, good morning, sunshine!” she exclaimed. “I was going to give you five more minutes before trying cold water.”

Disoriented, I took in the sunshine streaming in between the curtains, the fact that Grandma was wearing different clothes than she had been when I last saw her, the tiny coffeepot brewing on the desk next to the open laptop.

“It’s . . . morning?” I asked groggily. “Did I spend the whole night here?”

Grandma chuckled. “You did indeed. Fell asleep talking to a young man online . . . your father had some words to say about that, I can tell you.”

“Jamie,” I said, suddenly feeling a little panicked. “I . . . fell asleep while I was talking to him?”

“Mmhmm,” Grandma said. “He was worried, so he got in touch with Oscar, who came up here and found you conked out at the desk.”

“And he . . . told Dad?” I asked, trying to put the pieces together.

“Oscar woke you up,” Grandma said. “And apparently, you were quite irritated. A cranky zombie, I believe, were his exact words. You got into my bed and no one could wake you for the world. Lucky for me, that couch turned out to be quite comfortable.”

I rubbed my eyes, then squinted at her. Despite her light tone and easy smile, I could tell Grandma was trying to hide the fact that she was worried. Then I saw my blog on the laptop screen. Two words jumped out, and my blood went cold.

SAVE YOURSELF

“Is that . . . d-did it . . .” I stuttered, crawling forward on the bed. “That blog post,