Dead and Beloved Page 3

  Because of deception and malice, I've become the lead story on the broadcast. The bus stops and picks up another passenger. I'm focused on the screen.

  “News for you, tonight at ten. These witnesses tell us the infected student, Ryan Moon, left school today and chased them. Their survival stories are telling and tragic. The hospital claims he's safe, but are you safe? Are your children safe? Who's telling the truth?”

  “Not them,” I mutter, as a stun gun commercial takes over the screen. I turn away, out of sight from the people on the bus, and realize I've been clenching my fists. My knuckles are white and my veins are dark blue. I release my hands. The television has gotten to me. People have gotten to me.

  When I had started my push to return to high school, I told a news crew that I'd never be bothered by what people said or did. I told them that I wanted to be normal, and live a calm life like the one everyone deserves. Have I changed since then? I lower the brim of my hat and peer at the people on the bus. They aren't paying attention to me. The newcomer, an old man, is reading a crinkled magazine.

  The bus jerks us sideways and I look outside the tinted glass. North Salt Lake. We've barely traveled anywhere. I close my eyes and try to sleep. It will be a long night, and I still have one day left in school this week.

  ~ O ~

  “Do you know where you're going?”

  I'm awakened by the bus driver, who stands at the center of the bus. “Yes,” I answer, rubbing my eyes. “Cottonwood Heights.”

  “We passed it.”

  My leg jerks in protest as I twist to fully wake. “Passed it?” I look around. The bus is empty except for the driver and me. “Where are we?”

  “Are you okay?” asks the driver. “You don't look well.”

  I cough, forcing him back two steps, and nod. “Flu,” I say. This makes him move back farther. “Can I get off here?”

  The driver retreats to his perch at the front of the bus and opens the mechanical doors. I adjust my coverings and wave to him as I step outside. The air is colder. It's late. Probably after eleven. The road isn't empty, though. There's some traffic, but it's dark on the sidewalk. The nearest street lamp is broken. I duck under the covered bench of the bus stop and study the map on my phone. I’m in Draper. I went too far.

  I tuck my phone back into my pocket and start jogging north.

  Jessica's neighborhood is up the hills, at the base of the mountains. It's the kind of place I wasn't expecting. The yards are like small estates, fenced in by tall brick walls and traces of snow left by the last storm. The leafless trees along the winding roads allow me plenty of cover as I follow the GPS map on my phone. It’s eerie; I haven’t been out this late for a couple years. Nothing moves, nothing sounds. A few dogs start to bark at me, but they silence quickly, leaving me to the quiet of the February night.

  The home with the address I found online is tall and foreboding. There's a large bay window on the second floor which I assume is her parents’ bedroom. As a precaution, I make a mental note of all the trees and dark places offered out of view of that window before sneaking around back. More windows, double paned and smaller. She never told me how many brothers or sisters she had, so I don't know where to find her. For the first time, I doubt my plan. This might not even be the right place.

  I find a tall metal swing set in the backyard and my mind eases. The first time we chatted, Jessica told me how much she loved to sit on her swing and listen to the trees. She had said the stars wove their tales above, carrying the mysteries in silence until the wind whispered them away. It's one of the reasons I like Jessica so much. She has a way of describing things that makes the world seem beautiful and peaceful. While I live trapped between hospital walls and school classes, her descriptions offer me hope of a normal life. It's a dream, really—a fantasy. The cold air seeping under my turtleneck gives me little shots of pain to remind me how far away I am from normal.

  I walk to the swing and run a finger down one of the chains. Chilled and coarse, it offers nothing like the vision she had given me. There's no magic here, no mystery. Only frozen metal welded to a pole. The grass is worn away below it, leaving dirt and some gravel. I pull the swing seat far back and release it and a piercing scream haunts the night as the chain drops the seat forward. I'm so frightened by the sound that I scramble behind the nearest bush and wait for someone to find me.

  But no one comes. It's only me and the night cold and the echo of the scream. I'm stepping from the shadows when an upstairs window creaks and scares me back. The window swings open, a white nightgown breaks the darkness, and a face appears. My heart stops. Is that Jessica?

  I'm terrified, excited, nervous, and bold all at the same time. “Jessica?” I whisper.

  She turns toward me. “Who's there?”

  My hands tremble and my throat dries. I don't know what to answer, or if I should say anything, but I'm caught in the moment. “Ryan,” I tell her. “It's Ryan.”

  A raven flees into the night from the trees above me. I duck down, startled by its movement. When I look up at the window, Jessica is gone. Waving curtains have taken the place of the dark room that framed her before. I've ruined the moment. She doesn't want to see me. All the excitement of seeing Jessica for the first time has vanished, leaving a sharp hole in the bottom of my stomach. It hurts, and suddenly I feel a craving.

  Someone unlatches the back door and turns its handle slowly. The door opens and the night welcomes the same long nightgown that appeared at the upstairs window.

  “Ryan?” Jessica whispers and the tumbling in my stomach continues.

  “I'm here,” I say. I stand, though I'm still in shadow.

  “I can't see you.”

  I dare myself to step forward. I take off my hat so she can see my face.

  Jessica grips the door handle.

  “You're beautiful,” I say. “I imagined such, but you truly are.”

  She smiles and looks down, shyly. “You're really—” She pauses. “You're really here.”

  I stand in place and shrug.“And I'm really a zombie.”

  This makes her smile. She drops her hand from the door, peers back inside her home, and then tiptoes toward me. “I heard the swing,” she says.

  “I remembered you love it.”

  She smiles again. She’s an angel.

  I shift my stance. “I had to see you.”

  “You were on the news.” Jessica's voice is low and carries a warning. “My parents know who you are.”

  I swallow. “I'm not a monster. People will say anything to get on TV.”

  Jessica takes a deep breath, then exhales. Tiny wisps of steam curl in front of her then disappear. She takes a step closer. I can almost touch her hair. She grips the chain of the swing and stands there. She's barefoot, but doesn't seem to mind the frozen grass against her toes.

  “Do you think I'm dangerous?” I ask.

  She nods. “Yes.”

  The honesty in her answer makes me smile. I've chatted with Jessica plenty online, and appreciate how smart and witty she is. Some people can be different through words, but she is the same as I expected. Smart. Honest. Pure.

  “I won't hurt you,” I say.

  She tilts her head, as if examining me before speaking. “I think you could,” she says. “Hurt me.”

  “But I won't.”

  “How do you know?” Jessica takes a step forward.

  I step to meet her. “I've never tried to hurt anyone,” I say. My breathing is quick and loud.

  “Neither have I.” Jessica leans closer. Her eyes are blue. “But I could hurt you.”

  The terror inside my stomach returns. “Then we're perfect for each other.”

  Jessica reaches out and touches my fingers. Hers are chilled and shaking. “You're hot,” she says, gripping my hand. “I thought zombies were cold and dead.”

  “I'm alive,” I say. She feels so good. It's been a long time since I've touched anyone. I hold her hand tight. “Do you feel that? I'm trying to live as l
ong as I can.”

  She takes my other hand and leans close to whisper. “Thank you for finding me.” Her breath sends a shiver down my neck—it's a tingling frost. “You make me feel alive.”

  Chapter Four: The Promise

  I wake early the next morning, though the long night has left me feeling sleepy. I'm grinning during my preparations, and even sing along to the songs blasting from my computer. Last night's adventure was worth the trouble it took to sneak out and then back in. Jessica was perfect. I wolf down my breakfast of pills and protein at the hospital cafeteria and run to catch my shuttle.

  In English, I'm quick to reach the assigned book in my tablet. My eyes are focused on the screen, but in my mind I see Jessica. I see her breath curling in the night. The nightgown. Her hair. Her eyes. I can even feel her cool touch again. Everything about her is angelic, and now I have a voice to match the words she's written me.

  When the bell rings, I skirt out of class and rush to Biology, determined to get through today without detention.

  That afternoon, someone named Paige sends me an email telling me that Jessica has gone out of town for the weekend. I still open a chat session that night, hoping for the best, but the screen stays blank. I get a good workout and start filling out the required forms for Stanford.

  Weekends aren't terrible at the hospital. Well, they're not great either. I run a lot on the overhead track in our gym and the basketball pickup games on Saturdays calm me more than my assigned punching routines. I'm not allowed on the school team, another compromise for school admission, so Saturdays are my only chance to play the sport I've always loved.

  I think a lot about my friend Andre while I'm playing basketball. We were hot shots, once upon a time. Our sophomore team at Viewmont took first in the region. Andre and I got to dress Varsity for the playoffs that year. But that was before all the trouble, before the Virus. Andre is gone now and so are our carefree days of balling. Now when I play, I wear his old number four jersey to remember what living used to be like.

  On Monday, I'm eager to hear from Jessica. I'm early to every class and don't even mind when Mr. Heaps focuses his lesson on Breytazine. Everyone sounds excited for a possible cure and talk of the doctor who discovered it fills the blather in the hall that day.

  I'm barely into our chat session that night when Jessica's first message appears on the screen. “Hi Ryan.”

  I smile as a memory of her voice accompanies the words. “I missed you,” I answer.

  “Better days?” she asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Passed Bountiful on Friday. Thought of you.”

  I feel my face warming. “When can I see you again?” I ask. “Tonight?”

  “Not tonight. I have a better idea.”

  There's a smiley face at the end that makes my heart jump. What could be better than seeing each other in a few hours? “???”

  “Alta plays at Viewmont this Friday. Can you go?”

  I almost fall out of my chair. “Basketball?”

  “You said you love basketball.”

  “I do.” My words type faster than I can think them. “A date?”

  “Yes,” she answers. “I'll meet you there.”

  I stop breathing long enough to gasp for air. Jessica wasn't kidding—this is better than sneaking out to see her at home. I feel my forehead sweat and I'm having trouble thinking of what to say. “I'll be there,” I answer, trying to contain the excitement in my shaking fingers. “You know what I look like.”

  She answers with another smiley face.

  “Do we get to chat between now and then?” I ask.

  “I'll try.” There's a pause, then more. “Don't be mad if I can't. K?”

  I could never be angry with Jessica. Not ever. She's so perfect. “No worries.” I add a smiley face, though it's not my style. The little icon looks strange and foreign coming from me. What is she doing to me?

  “See you Friday. <3”

  My stomach twists and turns all over again. A heart. A heart. I'm weightless inside as I stare at the screen.

  “Ryan?”

  “I'm here,” I respond. I'm here. “See you Friday.”

  “Sweet dreams.”

  It's like I'm standing in her backyard all over again. She's wonderful tonight, still perfect. I stare at the words from our chat and read them over and over, examining them for some unknown meaning. Words and memories are all I have of her, and they are wonderful. All of them. I leave the screen on and stare at it until tonight's prescription puts me to sleep.

  ~ O ~

  The week doesn't go by fast enough. I open a chat session every night, but Jessica never comes. I'm not worried, though. I repeat her words from Monday over and over in my mind and it helps me get through each day. The time gives me the chance to finish one of my essays for Stanford. I tuck it into the envelope but decide to wait before mailing it, wondering if I should get Jessica's advice on it first.

  On Friday, cardinal and gold banners line every hallway. The excitement in the air this morning builds up the anticipation for the game. First period is cancelled for a rally in the gym.

  Alta beat Viewmont two years ago for the state championship. Since then, we've been dying for payback. Though the varsity members of that team are gone now, the rest of us never forgot. I was a sophomore then and was at the game, dressed and ready to play. I never made it on the court, though. Alta picked us apart and we lost by twelve points. More than ever, I wish I could play.

  “Tonight is a night we'll never forget,” announces Mr. Todd, the principal, to start the rally.

  If he only knew.

  Everyone cheers, including me.

  The cheerleaders line up and, one by one, the basketball team enters the gym. The students, faculty, everyone explodes with yells and cheers. It's so loud that the echoes ring in my head. I cheer along. I know these guys. I've played with most of them since elementary school. None of them were on the court that night we lost to Alta. My revenge will be in their hands tonight.

  After the rally, little else is talked about in class. An officer from the student council, a cheerleader, or someone from the basketball team comes in every period to promote the game.

  Jason Davies, one of the starting guards, gives me a nod when he visits Geometry. We don’t have any classes together and I’ve seen him only a few times since my return to school. “I wish none of this had happened to you,” he says to me. “We could use your outside shot.”

  I smile back. Not at his surprising kindness, but at the stunned looks from everyone. I’m the only senior in the class, having missed out on a full year of math; the other kids are sophomores or juniors. They didn't know me when I was normal, when I dribbled a ball to every class and the teachers didn't care. They weren't at the rally two years ago when Andre and I were pulled from the sophomore team and given varsity uniforms for the game that night.

  “Good luck,” I tell him. “I'll be there tonight watching you win.”

  More shocked looks from the other students and even a gasp.

  ~ O ~

  After special arrangements and a call to my lawyer, the hospital allows me to go the game. The admissions attendant even sends me with luck for the team as I step into the shuttle. I've taken care to make myself look as good as possible tonight, though the cologne I borrowed from the zombie across the hall smells more like soap to me than anything a girl would like to inhale. Still, I tried.

  The high school is a madhouse when we arrive and the shuttle driver circles twice trying to find a place to park. He settles on a spot across the street and follows me inside the school.

  “Might as well enjoy myself,” he says to me as we're let into the gym. “Where can I find a good seat?”

  “They're all good,” I answer. “I'm gonna sit in the student section. I'll meet you at the shuttle after the game.” I scamper up the bleachers before he has a chance to follow me. The last thing I want tonight is a chaperone.

  The game starts and I still haven't seen Je
ssica. I stand up and search the other side of the gym, but there’s no sign of her. Students are stomping and cheering. Despite the excitement, I have a hard time concentrating on the action. The gym starts to blur. My stomach sinks. As the game goes on, my forehead warms.

  With ten minutes left in the second quarter, Jason steals the ball and makes a couple great moves before laying it in to tie. Our side of the building explodes with cheers and everyone is on their feet yelling. Everyone but me. Jessica is still not here. More and more, I think she's gotten lost, her parents have kept her from coming, or she's changed her mind about me. The sinking feeling in my stomach continues until it feels like I've descending well below the floor. The sounds of the crowd start to muffle, every squeal and bounce of the players shoes on the court echoes, and the waves and movements of the people in front of me change to slow motion. What is happening to me? I stare at my feet to fight the sensation.

  “Ryan?” The most beautiful voice in the world breaks me from my trance.

  I lift my head to face her. She's standing in front of me, wearing a red sweater. Her hair is curled below her shoulders. Her eyes are wide with welcome.

  “Hi!”

  People around me turn to watch. The whispers start.

  “Let's go up there,” I say, pointing to the walkway behind me. “We can talk.” I see the stares of the crowd as I stand, but I don't care. She's here and I'm with her. When Jessica grabs my hand to pull me, I know I'm grinning.

  “Were you worried?”

  I nod because my throat seems to have shrunk. Plus she's still holding my hand and sparks are shooting up my arm. I can't stop looking at her. I don't want to miss any moment of the night we have together.

  “Follow me,” I say. “I'll show you around the school.” I lead her out of the gym and into the quiet of the empty hall. “I'm glad you came.”

  She looks up at me and smiles. “It's good to hear your voice.”

  I think that's strange because with my condition my voice has become hoarse and scratchy. I smile back at her and pull her close into a hug. She accepts it and expands her chest into me with a single long breath. It's a fantastic moment and I want it to last forever, but a mother comes out from the gym carrying a crying baby. She looks at us, not paying attention at first, then sees my face and gasps.