A Mad Zombie Party, стр. 11

I can’t ever make up such a loss to him, but I can damn sure try. And I will.

I blink open tired, gritty eyes as bright light streams through the crack in my bedroom curtains. My temples pound, a memory knocking on the door of my mind.

I reach for Kat, intending to cuddle her close, but her side of the bed is cold.

Makes sense. She’s dead.

The thought hits me, a reminder of all I’ve lost, and agony nearly splits open my chest. But as bad as it is, it’s not as bad as usual. Another memory surfaces, and I grin. Yesterday, she came to visit me; she asked me to fight zombies for another slayer, not realizing she was sending me to Camilla Marks. She promised to visit me again.

I jolt upright and scan my bedroom, hoping she’s already here. Beige walls. A small bed with blue sheets and brown covers, a large dresser, the drawers hanging open. My clean clothes are piled in one corner and my dirty clothes piled in another. I’ve been meaning to do laundry for, oh, about four months.

There’s no sign of Kat.

Still, I jump up and race into the bathroom, a small space with only a sink, toilet and shower stall. I brush my teeth and hair, but I don’t bother to change my clothes. I’m shirtless, but wearing a pair of running shorts. I’ve worn worse.

“Kat,” I call, not even trying to hide the desperation in my tone. “Kat.”

She appears in a blink, as if she’s been waiting for my summons, and my knees almost buckle. I step toward her out of habit, only to stop myself as yesterday’s warning plays through my mind. Touch her, lose her.

No touching. Ever.

“Congrats! Today’s your lucky day.” She’s dressed in the same T-shirt and boxers as before, but it doesn’t matter. She’s beautiful in a way no other girl can ever hope to be. “You call, I answer.”

“I missed you,” I say.

“You’d be crazy if you didn’t.”

I try for a scolding expression but only manage to smile at her. “When you aren’t with me, where are you?” I want to know every detail about her new life.

She points to the ceiling...and then she waves her arm and whips her body into the most hideous dance of all time.

I laugh—really laugh—and say, “Stop. Before I have to bleach my eyes.”

“Because your moves and grooves don’t compare to mine, and watching me only reminds you of your failure?”

“Yeah, something like that.”

Smiling, she wraps a lock of hair around her finger. “I had no idea how much pain my failing kidneys were causing until I was dead. Now I can walk and run and dance without a single twinge. It’s... Frosty, there are no words.”

“Not even cake?”

“Not even.”

It’s clear she’s happy with her situation, and I love that she’s happy. I do. I crave her happiness above my own. But I also...don’t love it. She’s happy without me. I’m miserable without her.

More tales from a grade A douche-purse.

“Are you treated well up there?” I ask.

“Dude! The best! You seriously have no idea.” She saunters to the bed, which is covered in Blood Lines, and plops onto the edge. As usual, she’s pure energy and excitement. A force of nature. “It’s like a perfected version of here. Earth 2.0. And guess what? Contrary to popular opinion, it’s not the end.”

“Not the end?” My brow furrows as confusion overtakes me. “You can die again?”

“No, no, nothing like that. We’re in a holding zone where we’re allowed to watch over our loved ones.” She taps her chin with two well-manicured fingers. “We even get to help, but only by taking opposing parties to court and winning.”

“Actual court?”

“Yep. Only on a much larger scale, because it’s the final authority. We have to petition for answers and ceasefires and all kinds of other things. That’s where I’ve been all this time. In court. That’s where Helen is now. In fact, she rarely leaves the courtroom.”

Helen, Ali’s biological mom. “Why go through so much trouble for us?” What do they actually accomplish?

Kat kicks her feet, causing the mattress to bounce. “I know you won’t understand this, but sometimes to have victory down here, you first need to have victory up there. Helen, Emma and I do our best to ensure you guys have everything you need.”

Realization strikes me. “You petitioned to appear to me.”

“Uh, you mean I petitioned the crap out of the court to appear to you. Which is why I got a yes. But—boo, hiss—there are rules. More than you know.”

“Such as?”

“Such as what I’m allowed to tell you...and what I’m not.” She blows me a kiss. “Finally I know things you don’t, and for the same reasons you couldn’t tell me about the zombies once upon a time—I couldn’t handle the truth—I can’t tell you everything.”

I don’t like this. I don’t like this at all. “What happens if you break the rules?”

“I can be forced to leave the holding zone. Some witnesses opt not to stay when they first arrive, like Miranda, Ali’s adopted mom. Others, the troublemakers, can be booted out before their time.” Resignation glints in eyes I want filled only with happiness. “I don’t want to be booted.”

Do I detect an unsaid yet?

“I’m helping you guys for the first time ever,” she adds, “and I’m not ready to stop.”

“Why would anyone opt to leave?” I cross my arms and lean against the bathroom door. “And where are the booted ones sent?”

“To the highest heaven...the True Rest. Trust me, everyone in the holding zone wants to enter into the True Rest. Peace beyond your understanding. Joy. And there’s no such thing as heartache or pain. Only love and light exist there.” She smiles wide...then frowns deeply. “But in the Rest, I will no longer have any influence over your situation, no longer be allowed to petition, so, I’ll do whatever it takes to remain in the holding zone.”

My mind whirls with possibilities. “Do people in the holding zone date?”

“And marry. And have babies.”

Excitement blooms. If I’m in the holding zone, I can be with her again. We’ll be a couple. With a future.

But she knows me well, knows the direction of my thoughts, and shakes her head. “Don’t you dare. It’s not yet your time, Frosty.”

“It wasn’t yours, either.”

“I know. I went too early and you are now living with the consequences. And it sucks, doesn’t it? So don’t make your friends live with the consequences of your early death. They need you too badly.”

“I want to be with you.” Whatever the cost.

Her eyes narrow, her temper clearly pricked. “Well, I want a pony, but we don’t always get what we want, do we?”

“Kat—”

“Frosty.” She sighs. “I want you to date other people.”

I blink. Surely I misheard her. “There’s no way you just said—”

“Zip your pie hole, okay? Kitty is still talking. You knew I would die before you—”

“I didn’t! I expected to die in battle long before your kidneys shut down.”

“Please,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “Like anyone could defeat you in a fight. But no matter how you slice it, you knew you wouldn’t get a happily-ever-after with me.”

“I’m not dating other girls, kitten.” I’m pissed that she even suggested it.

“What about the legions you’ve banged since my death, huh?”

I flinch as though I’ve been punched by a five-hundred-pound, steroid-addicted hulk. “They were mistakes I will forever regret.”

“Screw your regrets.” Remaining on the mattress, she rises to her knees, her gaze heartbreakingly earnest. “You have to open your heart to love again.”

“No, I—”

“You’re a somewhat attractive guy,” she interjects. “A good, solid five. And now that you’ve got money, you can probably bag a six...maybe a seven.”