The Rising - A Zombie Novel

Chapter VII - Picture On The Wall (New Version)

Mark did not respond, only letting out forced sighs to fill the air. But in between the silence, I let my ears intensify their senses to hear something from above—scraping noises, faint stomps, and sometimes a snarl. The evening passed without a meal, and I should not skip one. Not when the day of the month was coming so soon.

My throat was dry due to all the running, yearning for water to quench its thirst. My stomach cramped so painfully that it made me want to sit so still, never making another move. I felt my heart pulsing faster and faster. I wanted to stop breathing for an hour, as it started to feel like an obstacle to my cause. The pain took away what was left of my strength. I really needed to eat.

"What's up?" Mark asked.

I shook my head deliberately. "Nothing."

I remained staring at him. Questions popped, and it seemed like a huge question mark was painted on my face. But to my surprise, he looked more like it than I seemed to be. He probably wanted to argue again about why I chose to help him, but I wanted something different. Curiosity was not familiar to me, yet it filled my mind like a flash flood without a warning. It was only a matter of time before any of us would start to think it was a competition of 'whoever asks first wins'. Mark and I stared at each other so competently, as if we were trying to get inside each other's heads and just ask the questions in there.

But I was the first one to break the silence. "What was Gwen blabbering about earlier?

Mark sighed in relief, releasing all the tension that had painted his face. His eyebrows were upraised as if he hadn't heard me the first time, and so he wanted me to repeat the question.

"Gwen," I said, "she was yapping about us having, uh, a 'sibling thing'. I don't get it."

He nodded, not saying a word.

My eyes looked everywhere to find better words to rephrase what I had just said. "I know you treat me like a sister because, well, we're friends. But she made it sound like it was such a big deal."

"And what's your guess?" he finally replied.

"No idea."

Mark sighed deeply, clasping both hands together. He sat on the dusted floor in front of me and looked at me intently. Although I was sitting on the stool, his sitting height still made me feel so unbelievably small. "Did it ever cross your mind as to why Nathalie stopped hanging out with you?"

My eyebrows met. "What does this have to do with me?"

"Just answer the question."

"No idea." I looked up to the wooden ceiling and noticed dust fall on us. Something's walking around up there. I strolled down memory lane and continued, "One Saturday after that night at the amusement park, she stopped answering my calls."

I didn't have a phone of my own, so I used the house's telephone line to talk with her in secret. My mother didn't ever want me near it after she found out one time. Nathalie and I were chatting for what felt like forever, and I didn't notice how long I had been tugging at the curled wire one midnight. Then, when my mother snuck up behind me, she grabbed the phone and told Nathalie in a deceptively nice tone that I had gone to sleep. Then she slammed the phone on the wall, ending the call, and later yelled at me for bed. I wondered what Nathalie felt about that, but it never occurred to her for once. "Then on Monday," I continued, "it started that Monday. She began ignoring me like I never existed."

"It started on Monday too," Mark wondered, nodding. "It's when Isaac started acting like a jerk."

I took in the details. "At lunchtime, I went to the table where she sat, and then the moment she saw me, she quickly left and went to a different table. I heard she broke up with you that day."