Zombie Train by David Macinnis Gill

Author:David Macinnis Gill
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2024-02-28T00:00:00+00:00

30

Ryle

As the truck peeled from the dealership lot, Ryle danced in her seat. Wyatt let out a horse laugh, then covered his mouth, embarrassed, and Ryle giggled uncontrollably as she made a hard right turn. The rear end fishtailed, and she lost control, doing an ice-aided one-eighty in the middle of Main Street.

“Oops,” she said. It felt good to laugh, a real laugh, not a forced one to make others feel better. She hit the gas, and they shot down the road, dodging wreckage like a two-ton slalom skier on tricked-out skis.

Wyatt turned in the seat. “Sometimes you have to laugh at the scary stuff.”

In the rearview, the girl stared at Ryle blankly. There was something different about her eyes—they were distant, a little cold. She didn’t look so innocent now.

“How old are you?” Ryle asked.

The girl stared back at Ryle. “Fourteen.”

Fourteen? Ryle thought. Nobody was fourteen freaking years old. She had to be lying.

“But you’re so short,” Wyatt said.

“I’m five foot one, dork. Not my fault you and your girlfriend are Amazons.”

“No offense,” Wyatt said. “But if you’re fourteen—let me see your fingers.”

The girl held up two middle fingers. “How’s that?”

“Her nails are black,” Wyatt said. “All of them.”

Ryle slammed the brakes. Black fingernails were usually the first sign of the change, followed by bloodshot eyes. She turned to face the girl, whose eyes were clear. “But you haven’t turned?”

“Obviously,” the girl said.

“You should be a zombie,” Wyatt said. “Why aren’t you?”

“Because I’ve never been bit before.” She held up her arm with the teeth marks in it. “How long does it take?”

“You don’t get the parasite from zombie bites,” said Ryle.

“We don’t know what triggers it,” Wyatt said. “When did your nails turn black?”

“A year ago?” The girl rolled her eyes. “What difference does it make?”

“Because,” Wyatt said, “maybe you’re never going to turn. What’s your name?”

“Starla,” she said.

“Come back with us,” Ryle said. “We can get you food, a hot shower, and meds for the bite. Right, Wyatt?”

“Not interested,” said Starla, reaching for the door handle. “Drop me off on the next corner.”

Ryle traded a nod with Wyatt. There was probably an immune person right in their truck, and she been holed up in a car dealership living off vending machines. They couldn’t let the girl go, even if it meant keeping her against her will. It meant they’d be kidnappers. But if it saved all of them and even the whole human race, what choice did they have?

“Shut the door,” Ryle said and felt guilt tighten her chest.

“Sorry, Starla,” Wyatt said, aiming the paintball gun at her. “You’re coming with us.”

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