Gena Showalter - Through the Zombie Glass

Where should I begin?

With travesty? Heartache?

No. I dont want to begin with where I am now.

I dont want to end that way, either.

Well start with this. A truth. Everything around us is subject to change. Today is cold. Tomorrow, heat will come. Flowers bloom, then wither. Those we love, we can grow to hate. And life...life can be perfect one minute and in shambles the next. I learned that lesson the hard way when my parents and beloved little sister died in a car crash, shattering every corridor of my heart.

Ive done my best to weld the pieces back together, buttick, tock. Another change.

A change that cost me everything.

The respect of my friends. My new home. My purpose. My pride.

My boyfriend.

And its my fault. I can blame no one else.

One mistake gave birth to a thousand others.

I knew there were monsters out there. Zombies. I knew they werent the mindless beings movies and books portrayed them to be. They exist in spirit form, unseen to the ungifted eye. Theyre fast, determined and, at times, smart. They hunger for the source of life. Our spirits.

I know, I know. Thats laughable, right? Invisible creatures determined to feast on humans from the inside out? Please. But its true. I know, because I became an all-you-can-eat buffetand offered my friends as dessert.

Now Im not just fighting the zombies. Im fighting to save the life Ive grown to love.

I will succeed.

Tick, tock.

Its time.

A few months earlier

More and more Id been dreaming about the crash that killed my parents and younger sister. I relived the moments as our car flipped end over end. The sounds of metal crunching into pavement. The stillness when everything was over, and I was the only one awake...maybe the only one alive.

Id struggled to free myself from the seat belt, desperate to help little Emma. Her head had been twisted at such an odd angle. My mothers cheek had been slashed open like a Christmas ham, and my fathers body had been thrown out of the car. Panic had made me stupid, and Id hit my head on a sharp piece of metal. Darkness had swallowed me whole.

But in my dreams, I watched my mother blink open her eyes. She was disoriented at first, moaning in pain and trying to make sense of the chaos around her.

Unlike me, she had no problem with her seat belt, freeing herself and turning, her gaze landing on Emma. Tears began to rain down her cheeks.

She looked at me and gasped, reaching out to place a trembling hand on my leg. A river of warmth seemed to rush through me, strengthening me.

Alice, she shouted, shaking me. Wake up

I jolted upright.

Panting, my body dotted with perspiration, I scanned my surroundings. I saw walls of ivory and gold, painted in swirling patterns. An antique dresser. A furry white rug on the floor. A mahogany nightstand, with a Tiffany lamp perched next to a photo of my boyfriend, Cole.

I was in my new bedroom, safe.

Alone.

My heart slammed against my ribs as though trying to burst free. I forced the dream to the back of my mind and moved to the edge of the bed to peer out the large bay window and find a sense of calm. Despite the gorgeousness of the viewa garden teeming with bright, lush flowers that somehow thrived in the cool October weathermy stomach twisted. Night was in full bloom, and so were the creepies.

Fog that had brewed on the horizon for hours had finally spilled over, gliding closer and closer to my window. The moon was round and full, set ablaze with orange and red, as if the surface had been wounded and was bleeding.

Anything was possible.

Zombies were out tonight.

My friends were out there, too, fighting the creatures without me. I hated myself for falling asleep at such a critical time. What if a slayer needed my help? Called me?

Who was I kidding? No one would call, no matter how badly I was needed.

I stood and paced the room, cursing the injuries that kept me tucked inside. So Id been sliced from hip to hip a few weeks ago. So what? My stitches had been removed and the flesh was already scarring.

Maybe I should just arm up and head out. Id rather save someone I love and risk another life-threatening injury than do nothing and stay out of harms way. But...I didnt know where the group had gone, and more than that, if I did manage to track them down, Cole would freak. He would be distracted.

Distraction killed.

Dang it. I would do as Id been told and wait.

Minutes stretched into hours as I continued to pace, a sense of unease growing sharper with every second that passed. Would everyone come back alive? Wed lost two slayers in the past month alone. None of us were prepared to lose another.

The hinges on my door squeaked.

Cole slipped inside the room and threw the lock, ensuring that no one would bust in on us. Relief plucked the claws right out of the unease, and I thrilled.

He was here. He was okay.

He was mine.

His gaze landed on me, and I shivered, waiting for a vision...hoping for one.

Since the day wed met, wed experienced a small glimpse of the future the first time our eyes locked on any given day. Wed seen ourselves making out, fighting zombies and even relaxing in a swing. Today, like almost every day since my stabbing, I experienced nothing but crushing disappointment.

Why had the visions stopped?

Deep down, I suspected one of us had built up some sort of emotional walland I knew it hadnt been me.

I was too entranced by him.

Always he threw off enough testosterone to draw the notice of every girl within a ten-mile radius. Though he was only seventeen years old, he seemed far older. He had major experience on the battlefield, had fought in the human/zombie war since he could walk. He had experience with girls, too. Maybe too much experience. He knew just what to say...how to touch...and we melted. Id never met anyone like him. I doubted I ever would again.

He wore all black, like a phantom of the night. Inky hair stuck out in spikes, with leaves and twigs intertwined in the strands. He hadnt bothered to clean his face, so his cheeks were streaked with black paint, dirt and blood.

So. Danged. Hot.

Violet eyes almost otherworldly in their purity shuttered, becoming unreadable, even as his lips compressed into a hard, anguished line. I knew him, and knew this was his lets-just-burn-the-world-to-the-ground-and-call-it-good face.