BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

10| Turning Into A Popsicle

"Let me go!" I shouted furiously to Xavier and Simon who both have grabbed my arms the second I took a step forward towards the door.

"He's dead, Hazel," Xavier said to me, his eyes sad. "If you could just think clearly for a moment, you'll see that."

"HE IS NOT DEAD!" I screamed, doubling my struggle against them.

Bree and Dana were crying on the bottom of a staircase leading upwards, Sally engulfing them in a warm hug.

You know, I don't even know why I'm struggling. He's an obnoxious, arrogant jerk-faced dickhead who annoyed the life out of me. But yet, here I am, struggling like Tommy in Never Let Me Go, only more insane and wild-looking (on an unrelated sidenote, you should watch that movie. Andrew Garfield? So HOT).

"He can't be dead!" I yelled, to no one in particular. "No one's supposed to kill him except me. Fuck zombies. He isn't dead!"

To my everlasting and eternal embarrassment, tears trickled down my cheeks and I started to sniffle.

Xavier and Simon must have noticed I was already starting to calm down (if crying is ever considered as calm) because they let me go. Wrapping an arm around my waist, Xavier pulled me to him, his head resting on top of mine. He was making this little cooing noises that if it was any day but today, would have started me on a giggling fit. But today? I have to get all the comfort he could give.

When I composed myself enough and convinced Xavier and Simon that A) I wouldn't rush towards the door in hope of saving Ethan and B) I wouldn't go homicidal maniac on them.

I can't blame them, really.

We trooped up the stairs, Simon taking the lead and Xavier in the rear. Simon was holding Sally's hand, Bree and Dana were clutching each other and me and my shotgun tense and ready. I might not be able to save Ethan, but at least I can kill some son-of-a-bitch zombies. Forget Hazel Williams the zombie-killer. I'm Hazel Williams the Avenger now. 

And I really need to kick some zombie butt.

We continued our trip up the stairs, climbing until we reached a corridor. The building must have been a municipal hall some years ago, because the hall was filled with offices and political titles written on gold plaques outside their doors.

We stopped at the top of the stairs, looking around. Dust had settled on the furniture, and rats scurried away, looking thin and sickly. Except for them, the place looked bare and empty.

But we scouted it out anyway (just to be sure).

Xavier and I went to check the east wing, and the other four went to scout west, since the stairs led us to opposite corridors. When we met together again, Simon signaled that they haven't met any zombies. I said we didn't either.

And since there were zombies outside, Xavier had suggested to take shelter here and wait for the day. If I was ever asked for my suggestion, I would have said to stay here forever. I didn't want to go outside and find Ethan's remains. I'd prefer not to go out at all.

But no one asked for my opinion, so I kept my mouth shut. I need to face Ethan's death someday anyway. Might as well be tomorrow.

I didn't sleep well, if you haven't already guessed. Conscience disturbing me, I suppose. After all, Ethan had saved my life once, despite me being a total stranger. I knew him, and I still didn't save his. It must be survivor's guilt. Over the years, I felt a lot of those.

Being a trouble-maker means you have a lot of enemies. Like cops. Once, a classmate of mine had dared me to steal an expensive bracelet from the mall. I was never the one to back up from challenges, especially nasty ones, so despite the warning of my best friend that time, Rayne, I still did it, and unaware that my classmate pulled a prank on me and called a guard, got caught doing it in the act.