Chapter 17

“Hiding out?” I snap, inching toward him to make this a more private affair. “Hiding out? Ethan, I’m in here trying to save your butt, and Dana’s butt and, yes, my butt, too! But I can’t do it alone, these ‘humans’ are helping us, Ethan. They know the risks; they’re ready to help. I’m not hiding from anything, Ethan; neither are they. We’re doing something, something BIG here, in this room, that’s going to help save us all, even Fiona!”

He ignores me, ignores my pleas, ignores my rationale and continues as if I haven’t said anything at all, “Forget Fiona, forget these… these… clowns. I need you out here, with us. Piper and Bianca and the rest of the vampires aren’t going to wait until after school to make a move on us. You know that, Lucy.”

His chest moves forward and back with the exertion of his tough talk, and he looks again at the three humans scattered around the room.

“And as far as trusting your new ‘friends,’ Lucy, don’t; you can’t. One of them’s already turned on you, and don’t think Piper and Bianca weren’t waiting for him with open arms, either.”

“Who?” I ask, not even thinking, not even guessing, not even realizing who it could be, who it must be, who it almost certainly has to be.

“Alex,” whispers Tara from her corner of the room, and she says it so quietly, so reverently, it’s like she can’t believe it, either.

She looks at Ethan, despite her obvious fear, and dread, and confusion, and sadness she looks at Ethan and says, “Alex sold us out, didn’t he?”

Ethan cocks his head, like looking at a lab specimen under glass and says, “Yeah, he did. So whatever little plans you have, whatever little scheme you’re running, forget about it. Lucy, we need you out here, with US, now; right now.”

I look at the seriousness in his eyes and know he’s right; know his plan is right… for US.

Yes, we could fight off the vampires at Barracuda Bay right now; yes if we banded together – Ethan, Dana and I – we could fight our way out of this and escape to live another day; another decade; another century.

But it’s not just about us anymore; there’s a room full of kids in here whose days are numbered if I leave them alone for one tiny second.

Ethan knows this; he’s not stupid.

And he’s not usually selfish, either; but for whatever reason, he’s more interested in saving his own butt right now than these shivering, quivering kids.

And it’s not like I’m any big hero, either; trust me.

I’d love nothing more than to cut bait and run right now, just like Ethan.

But now that I know these kids, now that I’ve sat with them, talked to them, I just can’t do that anymore.

Even if it means turning my back on Ethan, and Dana; even if it means the wrath of the Sentinels and, yes, even the Council of Elders.

“No, Ethan, I can’t… I can’t do that. Not now; not… anymore.”

“It’s not a request, Lucy.”

He holds up his cell phone, his old school flip phone and says, “The Sentinels have been in touch. They’re on their way. They say,” he looks now to the humans, the Normals, with one last trace of humanity of his own and adds, more quietly, as if they might not hear in this little tiny room with his deep, commanding voice, “the Sentinels say if you hand over the humans, all of them, everyone who knows, they’ll let us go. They’ll relocate us, forgive us, no matter how many laws we’ve broken. No matter how many laws you’ve broken, Lucy. That’s a good deal; that’s a fair deal.”

“No, Ethan, it’s not fair. Not to me, not to you, not to us, and certainly not for them.”

He shakes his head, inching closer to me.

I stand my ground, hands busy in my pocket, where I’ve been scratching the black protective coating off of one of Roger’s spare video cables ever since Ethan walked in.

(Luckily, he’s too busy being Mr. Self-Righteous to notice.)

“Look around you,” he says. “You’re not like them; you’re like us. When are you going to get that through your head, Lucy? You’re dead; you’re not living. You can’t date human boys, you can’t have human girlfriends. It’s me, it’s Dana and it’s you. There’s no room for Alex in your life, Lucy.”

I start, my eyes big, but he doesn’t even pause long enough to let me defend myself.

“Yeah,” he sneers, “don’t look so shocked, okay? I knew, Dana knew; we all knew. Piper, Bianca, every immortal in this school knew you were getting ready to break about a dozen undead laws and start macking on Alex as a full-time hobby. We get that. But that’s over now, Lucy; in more ways than one. But we’re not. Don’t you see? You and me and Dana, we can still stay together, the Sentinels promised. The Three Musketeers, just like the last three years. Think about what you’re doing, Lucy. Think about what you’re throwing away by aligning yourself with these, these—”

“They’ll never let you live,” says Roger authoritatively from his desk chair.

His voice has surprisingly grown firm, almost… masculine; almost… commanding.

Ethan makes a dismissive “tssking” sound with his tongue and the roof of his mouth, like you would when someone’s just taken your parking space at the mall.

“What do you know, Hungry, Hungry Hippo?” he growls.

“It’s simple arithmetic,” Roger explains patiently, as if he’s talking to one of his fellow Star Wars geeks and not a walking dead person who could pop his head open with two fingers. “We know too much, sure, I get that; we’re goners. But so are you. You’ve screwed up, broken a bunch of laws, they’ll never let you live. They’re just telling you that to get you to do what they want.”

Ethan looks him up and down with a mocking glance and says, “You a big expert on the Sentinels now, lard butt?”

“Hey!” I shout, tempted to unleash my pocket protector a tad too early.

Roger just chuckles. “I’ve been called worse, Lucy, trust me. And, Ethan, no, I don’t know the first thing about Sentinels and I’m just learning about zombies but I do know that this is Scary Movie 101. You’re toast, too. The Sentinels will get here, waste us, or kidnap us, or eat us, whatever it is they do, and they’ll turn to you and say, ‘Good job, Ethan; we’re so grateful. Now we just need to debrief you back at headquarters before we give you your new reassignment. Please get in the back of this big, scary car and don’t mind those big, lethal zombie ninjas hiding on the floorboards.’ Only, there is no reassignment, Ethan; there is no trip back to headquarters for you. Or Dana, and certainly not for Lucy here. They’ll find the nearest graveyard and bury you six feet deep – again – and no one or nothing will ever hear from you again—”

I’m so impressed with Roger’s soliloquy, with his logic, that I’m not prepared when Ethan has had enough and launches himself at Roger with lightning speed.

At least, lightning speed for a zombie.

Roger still manages to get up from his chair – at least, halfway – but Ethan slams him back down in it, hard, to the point where one of the chair legs snaps and the chair itself lists to the right.

Roger gasps as Ethan chokes off his air supply with those big, pale hands, but the big guy isn’t going out without a fight.

Ethan is stronger, stronger by far than any human, big or small, but Roger has momentum on his side, tipping the chair to the right and slamming Ethan into the ground with all 350-plus pounds of his soft, warm, flabby human weight landing on him belly first.

Ethan growls a pure zombie growl and I know what’s coming next.

As Ethan opens his mouth, bares his teeth and lashes out at Roger’s throat I strip the last of the protective coating off the copper wire in my pocket, raise it up in my hand and am about to jam it into Ethan’s neck when Fiona says, “Ethan, look out!”

He whips around, arms flailing, but it’s too late; I jam the copper into his shoulder blade and out he goes, as if I’d just given him three vials full of horse tranquilizer all at the same time.

I release my grip on the inch or two of protective rubber coating that’s stopped me from getting shocked myself and the wire drops to the ground.

Roger grunts, rolls Ethan off of him and stands up abruptly.

“Fiona!” I snap. “Why’d you do that? We’re supposed to be on the same team!”

She shrugs.

“I guess I still just don’t like you very much. No, I shouldn’t say that. I do like you, Lucy; I always have. I just don’t… trust… you.”

“Trust her?” Roger squeaks, rubbing his bruised Adam’s apple. “You trust the guy who’s choking me out on the floor versus the girl who’s trying to save your life?”

“For the four zillionth time, Roger, she’s not a girl!” Fiona says, completely missing the point; again.

I sigh, exasperated, and rustle up the humans as we head for the door.

“How long will he stay out like that?” asks Tara, reaching for the wire on the floor without comment.

She grips it from the rubber end and slips it into her pocket.

I smile, thinking maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for us yet.

“Not long enough,” I spit, grabbing Roger’s laptop and Ethan’s cell phone. “Roger, Tara, grab whatever you need for our little after school project. Wherever Ethan is, Dana’s not far behind, and I can’t spend time fighting off my own kind and an Afterlife Armageddon. We’ve got to go; now!”

“But Ethan said,” protests Fiona as I reach for another spare cord and yank her arms behind her back, tying them as tightly as I can with it. “Ouch!”

“Ethan said,” I snort, mimicking her like an immature fifth grader on the playground; and loving every minute of it. “Ethan said. Roger’s right, Fiona; we’re all dead unless we stick to the plan and turn this around somehow. Once the cameras are on, once there are a hundred civilians involved, all dressed like zombies, the Sentinels won’t have a choice. They’ll have to turn around and head home. They’re not going to waste hundreds of kids, live, on national TV, trust me.”

I’m impatient with them now, watching Roger flail lazily for his camera equipment, shoving it listlessly into a padded black backpack.

“Got it all?” I shout, and still – with all the commotion – the faceless teacher doesn’t move.

Roger nods, zips up and turns around, his face ghostly pale, a speck of blood on his collar.