The Hidden (sample)

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

THOMAS

The sound of my shotgun reloading echoed around me. It was the only sound in the quiet streets. I aimed it in front of me and took a tentative step, rounding a corner into a dark alley. My feet scraped against pavement as I moved forward, rats scurrying in the dumpsters as I passed. My tiny flashlight was ineffectual and blackness was all I saw at the end of the alley.

A low, inhuman growl rumbled ahead of me.

There.

I fired a shot in its direction, lighting the dark alley for a split second, like lightning. It was long enough to see there was nothing there. The growl rumbled again, to my right–

The zombie pounced on me before I even had a chance to turn. He mauled me as I struggled to fight him off, tearing flesh from me and spraying my blood everywhere.

“Brian!” No response. “Brian, I’m down!” Still nothing.

Damn it, where is he?

My health bar rapidly decreased on the screen, flashing red as it got lower. I was gonna die. Brian couldn’t save me at this point. I’d lost too much health.

“Son of a–” I squeezed the controller in my hands, cracking the thick plastic as I watched my avatar die on my television screen.

Rustling movements filled my earpiece, followed by crunching. “You died,” Brian said around a mouthful of food. “That’s like the millionth time tonight.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and pinched the bridge of my nose. “I know.”

More crunching. “You’re playing really shitty tonight, Thomas.”

“I know.”

He swallowed. “How come? You usually kick my ass.”

I frowned and leaned back against my couch. “I’m just having an off day, all right? And where the fuck were you? I wouldn’t have died if you’d been there.”

“I told you I was gonna make nachos. You should’ve paused the game.”

“Motherfucker, why would you leave to make nachos in the middle of the–” 

I inhaled a sharp breath between my clenched teeth, then exhaled. “Whatever, I’m done for the night. See you tomorrow.”

“ ’Kay,” he mumbled through his food.

Truth be told, I knew exactly why I’d played so horribly tonight. It was because of her. Emily.

I checked the time on my cell phone, then set it down on my coffee table next to my open laptop. It was 11:46 PM.

I was proud of myself, I really was. All day I tried to talk myself out of doing this, but who was I kidding? I knew I wasn’t strong enough to hold out. No, my victory was that I’d waited eleven and a half hours to do this, even though it ate away at my thoughts all day.

Leaning forward, I picked up my laptop from the coffee table. It wasn’t hard to hack into the school’s computer system. After a couple clicks, I found the only Emily in my Intro to Sociology class was Emily Hayes. Her transcripts on file were from a high school in Dallas. It all looked good and well, but that was the point, wasn’t it? It was all part of her cover. She wouldn’t want any glaring discrepancies in her records.

I closed my eyes and rubbed my forehead. All that “information” was worthless. That probably wasn’t even her real last name, and that damn sure wasn’t her high school. Our kind didn’t do public schools–it was nothing but top-notch private tutoring for our young because, God forbid, our children attend public school with humans. Oh, the horror.

Just for shits and giggles, I typed her name and the high school into a search engine. I knew it was a waste of time, and that nothing would come of–

Several pictures appeared on my screen as the results popped up. The small, pixilated pictures were all from the high school’s website. The caption to the first picture read, “Seniors Emily Hayes and Derek Webber Enjoying the Last Dance of Prom.” I clicked on the picture to enlarge it.

It was her. Beautiful and smiling at the camera, it was her. She was in a darkened room, on a dance floor, crowds of couples slow dancing around her. Tables lined the outskirts, decked out in white linens with lush, white flower arrangements.

Loose waves framed her face, and her dark green dress really brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. Her date embraced her in their dance, but he hadn’t turned to look at the camera like Emily. Instead, he stared down at her as they danced–his expression nothing but complete adoration.

Did she feel that way about him?

My chest ached as soon as the thought popped into my head. I winced and rubbed my breastbone, shutting my laptop in the process. It must have been indigestion. Or something.