Zoey and the Zombies (A Mondamin Court Adventure)

Chapter Nine #2

Jessica came up from the basement with a basket of laundry. She paused in the front room and looked at their kitchen table. Last night after the meeting they had rescued every single juice bottle out of the recycle bin. Following Jack's advice, they had rinsed them and filled them with tap water.

Holding the laundry and looking at the bottles, the irony of the situation hit her. There were zombies. The end of the world was coming, if the military couldn't stop it soon. But there was still laundry to be done, meals to be made, work.

Actually, no work today. She'd watched the morning news and was glad she didn't have to go anywhere. Twenty-four hours since the news went official, and the panic was only growing. The authorities had confirmed around noon that some planes had left Miami International Airport moments before the quarantine was instituted. One had landed in LA later that night, and after days of rumors, they were now confirming infected individuals there too.

As far as the other planes, authorities were being tight lipped about how many and where they were headed. They promised an appropriate response, but said they feared widespread panic if they revealed names.

It didn't matter. There was already widespread panic. There were riots in every major city, even quiet cities like Des Moines. The southside Walmart had been overrun sometime last night by people desperate to get guns. The store had sold out within hours of the news. But the shoppers hadn't believe the staff, and the police had to intervene. Before it was all over, three people were dead.

That was a fraction of the deaths in bigger cities, but it shook Jessica. She hadn't thought people would react like that around here. Iowans were cool, reserved.

She put the thought out of her mind and finished folding the laundry.

As she climbed the stairs, she heard a noise from Jacob's room. She pushed the door open. He was sitting on his bed, facing away from her. He had a length of cord, twisting it around and around in his pudgy hands. Sobs escaped him as he worked.

She put the laundry down and sat next to him. She took the cord. He let it go but wouldn't look up at her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"I don't know how to make noose," he whispered.

Fear shot through her.

"Why?" she asked. Tears started to form in her eyes.

"It's my fault," he whispered. "It's all my fault."

"What's your fault?"

"Everything. The zombies. It's my fault." He turned and buried his head in her chest, sobbing harder.

"It's not your fault." How could he even think that?

"It is! I wished for it. Don't you see? All those times I played those games, I wished that they were real, that I could kill zombies. Now, it's real. Only it's not like the games, is it? People are dying for real."

Magical thinking. Kids do that. Like when parents get divorced and the kids think they caused it.

"You didn't cause this," she said. She lifted his chin. "Look at me," she commanded. "You didn't cause this. It doesn't work that way."

He nodded his understanding. He fell against her again, but he seemed more relaxed. She held him as he continued to cry. She silently cried too. As she looked out the window, she tenderly stroked his hair. How many other kids think this way? What are they doing right now?

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