Chapter 29

“Sentinels,” I explain, as Roger and I turn to face a dozen uniformed zombies.

“What?” He barks. “Now? But this is supposed to be the happy ending, right?”

Ethan whips him around to face the Sentinels and snaps a plastic tie around his wrists.

“Sorry, pal,” he says, shoving him toward the nearest Sentinel. “This is just the beginning.”

I don’t wait for Ethan to manhandle me; I simply hold out my hands – in front of me – and let him do the honors himself.

Then I turn to face the Sentinels, who don’t wear black but blue; blue cargo pants with plenty of pockets on the side, blue shirts with even more pockets and those straps on the shoulders, blue berets.

They don’t shave their heads, either, but that doesn’t make them any prettier to behold.

“Lucy?” asks Roger as the Sentinels march us out of the suddenly crowded pool area. “What’s happening? Aren’t these supposed to be the good guys?”

The Sentinels don’t speak; at least, not to us.

Instead they look to Ethan, who points to our suite of rooms on the second floor of the Home.

They march us up the stairs, one by one, until Roger and I are sitting on the two chairs in my room.

Alex sits on my single bed, fuming, his future uncertain; his eyes darting everywhere but at me.

The Sentinels spread out, covering every inch of space in my tiny room.

Ethan and Dana fill the door, smirking.

“What gives?” I ask, wondering if Fiona and Tara have had time to sneak back into the closet after saving our butts with their little second floor archery display.

Ethan starts to speak but Dana beats him to the punch, “After your little stunt today, we were left holding the bag, forced to explain to Dean Winters why 300 Drama Club geeks spontaneously decided to dress up as zombies on the same day YOU got outed as one, thanks.”

“No one asked YOU to be our spokesperson,” I snap, the Sentinels watching carefully.

“No one asked YOU to out us all,” she snaps back, inching into the room and leaving Ethan alone in the doorway.

We stare each other down for a second before Roger – of all people – brings us to reason, “Whatever, what now? Who are these goons and where are they taking us?”

“Us?” asks Ethan, inching forward threateningly. “There is no US, you half-zombie. You and Lucy here are going with the Sentinels, and Dana and I are starting over, somewhere far, far—”

“That’s not entirely correct,” says a Sentinel near my closet. “Actually, Ethan, we’ve been ordered to bring you back as well.”

“Me?” Ethan barks, as if he’s a Sentinel himself. “What for?”

The Sentinel clears his throat and says, awkwardly, “Just a standard debriefing, Ethan, and then once we get your story, you’ll be relocated to…”

The Sentinel keeps talking, but all I see is Ethan glance nervously at Roger, and Roger give Ethan a knowing look.

I shake my head, spitting, “You see, Ethan, you see? Weren’t YOU the one who said we all needed to stick together? Weren’t you the one who said we were a team? Now you see what happens when we turn on each other!”

The Sentinels are straightening to take possession of us and march us downstairs where, I can only assume, a van or truck or some super secret spy vehicle is waiting to drive us to our doom.

Ethan is strong, but not strong enough to overpower all these trained killers, although I see his jaw flexing and his eyes doing the math to see how many of them he can take down before they overpower him.

Dana is mute, her eyes wide, not believing their plan has backfired.

I am calm, resigned to my fate, when the doorway fills with two familiar faces, each munching candy bars.

“Hey,” Tara asks, looking saucy with chocolate on her lips, “how come nobody invited us to the zombie party?”

Ethan whips around, stumbling back into Roger, Roger smiles to see his AV Club Friends, Dana is in the process of turning, I’m wondering what’s up and the Sentinels are growling, the scent of human flesh and sizzling, electric fresh brains driving them toward the door.

“Run!” I shout, not realizing why they’re just standing there, reaching into their pockets with a dozen professionally trained zombie killers blitzing them.

“Get out of here!”

I see the pennies in their hands before they launch into the air, handfuls and handfuls of fresh, beautiful, gleaming copper pennies, flying here and there, landing willy-nilly and heading straight toward me and…