They Call Me Daring

Chapter 8

"Dude, you're soaked!" Clark guffawed at the sight of me when I walked in the door, dripping wet, my hair plastered to my forehead.
    "What're you talking about?" I shook my head like a dog, spraying him with water, laughing when he leapt back in disgust. "Not anymore!"
    "Yeah, well, while you were out swimming, I found out something." He said ominously, no trace of humor on his face. My heart stopped.
    "Wh-What kind of something?" I asked shakily, hoping my expression wasn't giving anything away.
    He looked behind him, and lowered his voice. "The zombies. They-They're evolving!"
    I decided to play dumb, since I wasn't supposed to read the letter anyways. "What do you mean?"
    "They're trying to come out in daylight!" He whispered as dramatically as possible.
    "Oh, God, that's terrible!" I tried to look surprised and devastated, which was hard because I had found out about ten minutes ago.
    "I know!" Clark shook his head. "Dad told me like five minutes ago. He's writing out letters for the heli-team to take to the other cities, to warn them."
    "He told you?" I asked stupidly, and now my dumbfounded-ness was completely real. Dad told Clark... but I was just the ignorant messenger?
    "Yeah.... It's some pretty serious-"
    "FOOD!" Me and Clark both jumped and stared at the horror on the staircase. "MAKE ME FOOD!" Jess screamed louder, his little face puffed up and red.
    "Man, calm down, I'm hungry too." I said calmingly. In response, he threw his nerf sword at my head.
    Suddenly my normal Liam instinct, to shield my face with my hands and hope I wouldn't die, was taken over by another, much more powerful instinct. It took over my entire body, piercing my mind... and I knew exactly what to do.
    I twisted my shoulder out of the way as the soft sword hurtled by. I reached out and grasped the hilt, throwing my weight into a spin and sending the sword screaming back at Jess.
    He yelped and jumped from the stairs to the floor as the foam weapon struck the wall right where he'd been standing, and broke through the plaster.
    And, just as quickly as it came, that strange, alien feeling left me, and I was left as normal, awkward, clumsy Liam.
    It took me a few to realize that Clark was staring at me like I'd just started singing opera.
    "What?" I raised an eyebrow at him, and he speechlessly raised his hand to point at the gaping, sword-shaped hole in the wall.
    "L-L-Lia-amm...." Jess's unusually high-pitched, trembling voice floated from where he was huddled on the floor. "Y-you b-butth-head..."
    "Dude, I know you don't like him, but c'mon, really?" Clark laughed shakily, still glancing wide-eyed from me to the hole in the wall. "Taking out your little bro? Isn't that just a little over the top?"
    "I-I-" The grandfather clock suddenly began to chime. One, two, three, I counted. It stopped at four o'clock. "I need dinner..."
    I muttered a distracted excuse and turned away into the kitchen. Mechanically, I took out a can of pasta or something, and stuck it in the microwave, my fingers darting over the buttons without thinking.
    The faint light pinged, and I watched through the little window as the can began to circle around on its plate.
    What. Was. That? I didn't have a clue what had come over me... But it wasn't me, that was for sure. No, even if I had wanted, I could never have caught that thing, much less launched it back with that much finesse.... And worse, I wasn't the only one who had realized that.
    "WHY!" I roared suddenly, and slammed my forehead into the microwave. The bang was satisfying, so I did it again, ramming my head repeatedly into the plastic.
    Suddenly my head was on fire.
    "AHH!" I threw my hands up over my face to shield myself from the light, and I caught a glimpse of Clark standing uncertainly in the doorway, his hand hovering above the switch.
    "Turn it off! No more! Make it stop!" I groaned, cringing as I pulled myself back into the furthest corner from the lightbulb.
    "Man," Clark shook his head, but flipped the switch off. Darkness crept through the room again, like ice water on my skin after a fire. "You really need to get outside more."
    "I-" I began, but thankfully the microwave pinged, and I ran over to open it.
    "Yeah, um, Liam, lately you've been acting, well-" I stuck my hand in and grabbed the can. Immediately I pulled back with a yelp, mostly because my skin began to smoke with the heat coming off the metal. "-odd..." He finished, his eyes narrowing. With a sigh he reached in and pulled the can out- his hand did not smoke.
    "It's just... you know, teen years..." I shrugged unconcernedly, patting my still-smoking hand against my jeans.
    "Yeah..." Clark found a can opener and passed it to me. I set it and began to crank it around the edges. "But, um, I don't think smoking skin and a fear of light are part of puberty."
    The lid popped off the can and clattered loudly across the metal counter. I breathed in the tomato-scented steam, satisfied.
    "No? Maybe I just need to get some sleep." I reasoned, and Clark walked away angrily, knowing the conversation was over.
    I spooned the canned pasta preservative crap into my mouth, the burning making my eyes water, but I savored the pain. At least it seemed real.
    The past two days had flown by, passing swiftly while I lumbered around in a dreamlike state. I literally couldn't believe I only had a few days left to live my life, a few days left to be Liam. And they were flying by, so quickly I couldn't even keep track.... How long did I have?
    "Ouch!" I grimaced, tasting metallic blood in my mouth. I swallowed and gingerly felt my throbbing tongue. My fingers came back red. Did somebody put a knife in my Spaghettio's?
    Then a terrible thought jolted into my mind. Almost against my will, I reached up and timidly felt around my top incisors. Had they always been that sharp? I pressed my finger too hard into the tip, and winced when I pulled it back with a small bleeding hole in the tip. No, teeth shouldn't do that, definitely not.
    I gulped down the last of the gross food that I wasn't sure why I was even eating, and absently stuck my bloody finger in my mouth. The taste of blood was strange, and I had never considered it much before, I thought, as I threw the empty can into the garbage, where it would be dumped into the underground garbage deposit, aka the old subway tunnel. Down there was a decade's worth of humanity's junk that would never decompose, and would still be down there a thousand years from now when we were all gone.
    I took the stairs up to my room and slammed the doorway behind me. Privacy was the best policy as far as I was going, even if it didn't rhyme.
    I took a moment to savor the darkness of my room, how it soothed my burning skin. I turned nervously to the mirror, and it was then when I realized my finger was still in my mouth. I yanked it out, disgusted at myself, but for some reason I felt tempted to put it back in.
    I shook my head to clear the weird thoughts, and I finally took a good long look in the mirror. There was no doubt that I was pale. Long sleeves would be a good idea for tomorrow, because I was so freakishly white that I wouldn't even be able to pass it off as sickness or exhaustion. I breathed a sigh of relief when I made sure my hair was still a dark, coppery brown and my eyes still green.... Then I opened my mouth.
    Yep, I had fangs. Okay, I'm not going to lie that at one point I hadn't envisioned myself as a vampire flocked by fan-crazed chicks, especially when all the girls were in the Twilight fad.... But somehow, I don't think the female species finds zombies as hot as vampires.
    "You've only got a couple days left to live, Liam." I said to my reflection. "What're you going to do with your life?"
Hmmm....
    Five seconds later I was crashed on my bed with a bag of potato chips and a gameboy. Yup, living the dream.
    It didn't take long for me to grow tired of it all, though, and soon I was lying still in my bed, staring at the ceiling.
    Every single sound floated up to me, as intense and sharp as if the zombies were howling right next to me. My gaze travelled to the window, daylight still going strong, as it was only about five thirty. I didn't want to go anywhere, though, and face the pain of knowing it could be one of the last times I was there.
    So I laid on my bed, eyes wide open and staring, far past when I heard the clock downstairs chiming for ten, then for eleven. Yet again, I found myself looking longingly to the window. What would it be like to sneak out in the night? To go off on one final adventure before it was all over, and clear away as many zombies as I could before they tore me to shreds... I was a dead man anyway.
    But I still had at least a day or two to live, maybe more. And I couldn't throw that away. Not when I could still do something, something big. Something that people would remember me for, the boy who was invisible would become seen for. Something so big that Liam Trackerson would never truly die.
    Then a memory from earlier that day popped into my head without warning, something important that I had totally forgotten about. And a grin spread across my face, fangs and all, as I began to formulate a plan, which filled my dreams with a dozen possible scenarios as I drifted off.