Zombie Season by Justin Weinberger

Author:Justin Weinberger [Weinberger, Justin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Scholastic
Published: 2023-07-03T00:00:00+00:00

Regina tries to give Joule and Mrs. Artis privacy as they talk in the spare bedroom, but her brain is in overdrive, making it impossible to sit still. Like a goldfish in a fishbowl that’s way too small, her thoughts and memories move back and forth from one to the other as she paces around her room—

The heat is too much for her skin, like a sunburn taking hold. Eyes wide, she sees the terrible hunger of the zombie, powerless to escape. Its jaw hangs open horribly, its eyes blank and chilling. Its hand advances—

All those dirty, sooty fingers curling, reaching—

Regina feels a flash of revulsion as the memory flares in her mind. She tries to push it away, but that only gets her tangled up in it even more.

Stay, Nix says. Please. His fingers thrust out wide. She feels her mouth grow less and less cooperative. Less and less—in her control. It comes out as a mumble. As … a throaty, raw sound. Your home is with us now.

He watches her, with a horrible, awful, patient smile, as the truth of this statement seems to get more and more undeniable—

Regina pushes back against this with all her willpower. And here in her home, it’s easier to dismiss the monster’s claim on her, however undeniable it seemed to be while it was happening.

She tests her voice, clearing her throat easily.

She stares at her hands and rubs feeling back into her fingers.

As she heads down the hall to the bathroom to splash water on her face, she sees Joule and her mother through the cracked-open spare bedroom door, sitting on the bed. Messy and full of feelings. Smelly and exhausted and an inch from tears. Regina looks at them together, and starts to get choked up in a way that she never, ever does.

“Psst,” Joule whispers.

Regina’s eyes shift, meeting Joule’s gaze.

“Hey,” Joule whispers. “Is my mom asleep?”

Seeing Mrs. Artis’s eyes are closed, her arm draped around her daughter, Regina nods.

“Your mom’s pretty upset,” says Regina quietly.

“She’s always like this,” Joule says with a sigh. “It’s so exhausting sometimes.”

“Is that why you left?”

“She’s the one who’s leaving. Not me.”

“Oh,” says Regina, on awkward and unfamiliar ground with the emotion in Joule’s voice. Logic problems that need solving are Regina’s native language—but feelings get ooky quickly for her.

“Look, it’s kind of a long story,” says Joule. “Can we just have a deal where we don’t talk about the way we got here, and just focus on what we’re gonna do next?”

Regina feels herself grin. “Deal,” she says, and they shake hands on it. Very businesslike and proper. “So: What do we do next?”

With the stealth of a bank robber, Joule slips free from her mother, and tiptoes out the door, into the hall. Mrs. Artis apparently didn’t sleep for a minute during the whole three days that her daughter was absent, based on how deeply she slumbers now.

Joule nods for Regina to lead, and Regina heads to her bedroom, where she wishes she could just crawl into bed.

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