worth it, though, once I took a swallow of cold ginger ale. The taste reminded me of childhood and being home sick, with my mom bringing saltines and glass after glass of soda to settle my stomach.
My mom...
Was this zombie thing happening all over the place, or just around Redwood Grove? My parents were up in Lake County. Would they be safe on their ranch?
I needed to call them, but my iPhone was gone, probably lying somewhere in the woods or the field, covered with blood and intestines. I fought the urge to leap out of bed, mainly because I’d likely collapse if I tried to do anything that quickly. So I pushed the blankets off me and very slowly and carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, pausing to see what the rest of me thought of this movement.
My head felt a little woozy, and I doubted my bite wounds would like anything at this point, but... not too bad.
Better living through drugs.
Encouraged, I set my feet on the ground and stood up.
Whoah . Suddenly I knew how Dorothy felt. I held onto the rickety metal bed frame and waited for things to stop spinning, or at least slow down a bit. Closing my eyes helped.
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?”
The voice came out of nowhere: male, angry and horrifyingly familiar. My eyelids flew open and I let out a startled yelp, letting go of the bed frame.
Bad move.
Things started to go gray and my knees went wobbly. My face and the floor were on a collision course, but strong arms stopped the fall just before impact, scoopingme up like I weighed five pounds instead of, well, whatever. My visitor carefully set me on the bed while cursing under his breath.
I lay there for a minute until I was sure I wasn’t going to pass out, and then took another look. I prayed this was just another nightmare, or the after-effects of the drugs.
Gabriel glared at me, arms folded. He wore green fatigues and a black T-shirt, and looked about ten pounds lighter than the last time I’d seen him. The weight loss didn’t harm his good looks; his cheekbones were more defined than ever.
“What are you doing here?” I said, shooting for authoritative. But my voice sounded feeble and kind of petulant, even to my own ears.
“Stopping you from falling flat on your face, it would seem,” he replied with that familiar holier-than-thou attitude. I would have rolled my eyes if I didn’t think it would hurt. Instead I settled for a glare of my own.
“I only fell because you startled me.”
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Gabriel said as he plunked himself down in the room’s only chair. “Professor Fraser sent me to check on you.”
“But why are you dressed like Rambo?” The dizziness passed, and I started to sit up, only to have him put a restraining hand on my shoulder. He ignored my admittedly snarky question.
“You need to rest,” he said.
“I’ve been resting for...” Then I stopped, realizing I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. “Gabriel, I need to call my parents. I need to find out what happened to Matt. I need to find out what happened to me .”
An unreadable expression flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced by a stoic mask.
“No phones,” he said flatly.
“What do you mean, no phones?” I knocked his hand off my shoulder and struggled up to a sitting position. “There are always phones!”
“Not here, not now there aren’t.”
“That’s a shitty answer!”
“It’s all you’re going to get.” He crossed his arms again and stared straight ahead.
Bedside manner? Epic fail.
Maybe he’s pissy because Professor Fraser doesn’t let him call her Simone. Whatever the reason, I matched him, glare for son-of-a-bitch glare until he stood up.
“I’m going to get the professor,” he said. “Now that you’re awake, she’ll want to talk to you.”
Way to pass the buck.
“Wait!” I said.
Gabriel paused, hand on the doorknob.
I opened my mouth to ask about Matt, but that wasn’t what came out.
“I need to
My mom...
Was this zombie thing happening all over the place, or just around Redwood Grove? My parents were up in Lake County. Would they be safe on their ranch?
I needed to call them, but my iPhone was gone, probably lying somewhere in the woods or the field, covered with blood and intestines. I fought the urge to leap out of bed, mainly because I’d likely collapse if I tried to do anything that quickly. So I pushed the blankets off me and very slowly and carefully swung my legs over the side of the bed, pausing to see what the rest of me thought of this movement.
My head felt a little woozy, and I doubted my bite wounds would like anything at this point, but... not too bad.
Better living through drugs.
Encouraged, I set my feet on the ground and stood up.
Whoah . Suddenly I knew how Dorothy felt. I held onto the rickety metal bed frame and waited for things to stop spinning, or at least slow down a bit. Closing my eyes helped.
“What the hell are you doing out of bed?”
The voice came out of nowhere: male, angry and horrifyingly familiar. My eyelids flew open and I let out a startled yelp, letting go of the bed frame.
Bad move.
Things started to go gray and my knees went wobbly. My face and the floor were on a collision course, but strong arms stopped the fall just before impact, scoopingme up like I weighed five pounds instead of, well, whatever. My visitor carefully set me on the bed while cursing under his breath.
I lay there for a minute until I was sure I wasn’t going to pass out, and then took another look. I prayed this was just another nightmare, or the after-effects of the drugs.
Gabriel glared at me, arms folded. He wore green fatigues and a black T-shirt, and looked about ten pounds lighter than the last time I’d seen him. The weight loss didn’t harm his good looks; his cheekbones were more defined than ever.
“What are you doing here?” I said, shooting for authoritative. But my voice sounded feeble and kind of petulant, even to my own ears.
“Stopping you from falling flat on your face, it would seem,” he replied with that familiar holier-than-thou attitude. I would have rolled my eyes if I didn’t think it would hurt. Instead I settled for a glare of my own.
“I only fell because you startled me.”
“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” Gabriel said as he plunked himself down in the room’s only chair. “Professor Fraser sent me to check on you.”
“But why are you dressed like Rambo?” The dizziness passed, and I started to sit up, only to have him put a restraining hand on my shoulder. He ignored my admittedly snarky question.
“You need to rest,” he said.
“I’ve been resting for...” Then I stopped, realizing I had no idea how long I’d been asleep. “Gabriel, I need to call my parents. I need to find out what happened to Matt. I need to find out what happened to me .”
An unreadable expression flashed across his face, but was quickly replaced by a stoic mask.
“No phones,” he said flatly.
“What do you mean, no phones?” I knocked his hand off my shoulder and struggled up to a sitting position. “There are always phones!”
“Not here, not now there aren’t.”
“That’s a shitty answer!”
“It’s all you’re going to get.” He crossed his arms again and stared straight ahead.
Bedside manner? Epic fail.
Maybe he’s pissy because Professor Fraser doesn’t let him call her Simone. Whatever the reason, I matched him, glare for son-of-a-bitch glare until he stood up.
“I’m going to get the professor,” he said. “Now that you’re awake, she’ll want to talk to you.”
Way to pass the buck.
“Wait!” I said.
Gabriel paused, hand on the doorknob.
I opened my mouth to ask about Matt, but that wasn’t what came out.
“I need to
Similar Books
