Zombie Attack! Rise of the Horde (20 page)

“That was amazing,” I said, standing up. Jackson stopped
playing mid-song and turned to me. Benji just stared with his mouth hanging
open like a prize bass. A quick glance down told me that Felicity had to stifle
back a laugh with the back of her hand. I had just been shown what Jax could
really do. “I hope you don't mind me interrupting, but I wanted to rinse off
and get cleaned up before dark. The sun is almost all the way down and I heard
you're not partial to indoor lighting. A wise decision, I might add, but one
that leaves me pressed for time.”

“Of course,” Jackson said, setting his guitar down. Benji
shot me an angry look for interrupting our personal once-in-a-lifetime concert.
“The guest bathroom is three doors down the hallway on the right. There should
still be towels in there. I haven't had any company since the maid was last
here, other than the lovely Felicity Jane.”

“Awesome,” I said, walking past him and down the hallway. I
turned on the water and was splashing my face when there was a knock on the
door. I opened it to find Felicity.

“Here,” she said, handing me a thick, brown candle and a
book of matches. “Just in case it gets too dark to see.”

“Thanks,” I said. She stood there a minute, like she had
something else to say. She bit her lip. I was sure she was going to share a
secret with me. I waited but after a minute when she didn't say anything, I
started getting annoyed.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she muttered. She turned and walked away. I shut
and locked the door.

“Geez,” I griped out loud to myself. “What's her problem?”

I lit the candle and shook out the match. The smell of
sulfur filled the small room making my eyes water. I blew my nose on some
tissue, then went to throw it away and stopped dead in my tracks. Sitting in
the wastebasket was a bunch of hypodermic needles. I leaned in to get a closer
look. There were wads of cotton with what looked like dried blood on them. The
realization hit me all at once—Jackson was a
drug addict!
That's
why he was sick. He was trying to get off heroin. Was that why Felicity was
here?

I decided not to mention it to Benji. The last thing he
needed to worry about was his idol being a junkie. I'd only seen stuff like
this on television, but I'd heard that dope fiends were capable of anything
when they were going through withdrawal.

It might not be safe to stay here long
, I thought.
Let's
just hope he has enough stuff to keep him high as a kite until tomorrow. We'll
have to leave soon for sure.

I ran a cool bath and used a hand towel to sponge away the
chlorine from the pool. It wasn't nearly as good as the hot shower I'd taken in
New Lompoc, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it might be either. For the
moment we seemed to be safe. I knew that it could change at any minute, but I
pushed the thought out of my mind. The recent madness and chaos and insanity
taught me that it was more important than ever to hold on to the good times.
You never knew how long they were going to last.

When I got back out to the kitchen, everyone was sitting
around the kitchen table eating by candle light. They'd covered the windows
with black sheets to cut down on the amount of light they put off.

That may be the only reason they haven't been attacked up
here yet
, I thought.

Benji had opened up a can of Chef Boyardee beef ravioli and
was eating right out of it with a fork. He looked more content than I had ever
seen him. Jackson was picking at a bag of freeze dried ice cream, the kind we
were told astronauts ate when we were little kids. I knew now why Jax wouldn't
be eating. The drugs were all he cared about. That's how he stayed so skinny.
Felicity had what looked like a plate of steaming beef fajitas with rice and
beans.

“I thought you said you didn't have gas or electricity.” I
said. “How did you cook that meal?”

Felicity looked up at me and smiled.

“It's from the food rations kit,” she explained. “Cooks in
the bag, ready in under five minutes.”

“You're kidding?” I said. “That's amazing. It looks like
real food.”

“Survival in style,” she said. “Plus all I have to do is
throw out the bag when I'm done.”

“Too bad it tastes like low end fast food,” Jackson said,
still picking at the chalky pink block in front of him. The fire he'd had in
him earlier was steadily going out. Now he looked pale and sickly. He'd used up
all his energy trying to impress us.

“Really?” I said, a grumble rolling through my stomach as if
on cue. “I'd kill for some Carl's Jr right about now.” Felicity made a face I
couldn't decipher.

“Felicity, would you please be so kind as to make our guest
one of our finest meals-in-a-bag, my love?”

“I can make it,” I said. “You enjoy your food. I'm sure I
can figure it out.” Jackson dismissed me casually with a wave of his hand. I
found the bags of ready-to-eat meals on the counter. They had every kind of
meal I could imagine, from sweet and sour pork to beef stroganoff to lasagna. I
grabbed a bag that read
Jamaican Chicken
and flipped it over to read the
directions. It said to pour water into the top portion, seal, then pull a cord
on the side and it cooked right in the bag. I took some bottled Voss off the
counter and got to work.

“There is still some soda in the fridge,” Felicity said.

“Thanks,” I said, opening the door and pulling out a two
liter of Coke. Nothing in the fridge was cold.

I guess the video game console is more important than the
food
, I thought sarcastically.
Why do they even bother to keep this
stuff in the fridge if they aren't going to keep it cool?

I grabbed my meal bag. It was now piping hot. I pulled the
top open and steam poured out along with the smell of delicious chicken.

“Grab it from the bottom,” she suggested.

It was cooler down there. I took the whole bag and my cola
to the table and sat down next to Jax. I was so hungry that I dug right into my
meal. I didn't care if I burned my tongue. The last thing we'd had to eat was
the fruit cocktail back at the high school and I'd thrown up half of that.

“How is it?” Jackson asked.

“Surprisingly good for food from a bag,” I said in between
bites. I was suddenly overcome with hunger. “You're not going to eat?”

“Naw,” he said, flicking his freeze dried ice cream away
from him. “I played in Jamaica once. Big benefit in Trenchtown. Home of Bob
Marley and the Wailers.”

“Did you get to meet Bob Marley?” Benji asked. Felicity
giggled. Jackson smiled and turned to him.

“I wish,” he said good-naturedly. “Bob Marley died before I
was born.”

“Oh,” said Benji, looking embarrassed.

“You know what?” Jackson continued. “You can still feel his
spirit when you walk through the streets there. He stood for love and peace and
unity through music and that message is still alive today. So in a way, you can
say he lives on and I did meet him there.”

Benji blushed. He had bags under his eyes. He looked almost
as exhausted as Jackson.

“How long did you sleep this afternoon?” I asked.

“He didn't,” Felicity said. “He followed me around asking me
questions about my career as a child actress and whether or not I had a twin
sister for when I shot
Double Trouble in Acapulco
like he read on some
fan site. He's got quite an active imagination.”

“How do you know if you don't ask?” Benji looked worn out.
He was getting fussy at being teased. His battery was going down. It had been a
long day by any standards.

“After that, Jackson was up and feeling better,” Felicity
said.

“That's when he challenged me to a guitar battle,” Jackson
said. He was starting to look green around the gills. If I hadn't seen his
trash in the bathroom I might have asked to inspect him for bite marks. “He's
got the heart of a rock star.”

Let's just hope he never inherits any other rock star
organs
, I thought.

“He's been up for almost two days now,” I gave him a worried
look. “I think it's time to get some rest. We wanna get back out on the road
tomorrow.”

I expected Benji to put up a fight at the suggestion of
going to bed but instead he looked relieved, as if he had been waiting for
someone to order him around.

“You can use the bedroom next to the one Xander slept in,”
Felicity said. “That way you will be close to each other.”

“Does it have a bathroom in it?” I asked.

“Yours does,” she said. “Why?”

“I think I broke the one in here,” I said turning to Benji.
“Don't go in there.”

“Good night,” Benji said standing up. He couldn't get out of
there fast enough.

“I think I'm going to call it a night as well,” Jackson
said.

“You feeling okay?” Felicity asked with a note of fresh
concern in her voice.

“Better than okay,” he said with a sad smile. “I'd say this
is the best I've felt in years and I have you all to thank for it.”

“Thank you so much for letting us stay here,” I said, trying
to show my appreciation. “It was very kind of you.”

“It's not a problem,” he said. “In a lot of ways I was
waiting for you. Now I can finally relax knowing that she will be taken care of
if anything happens to me.”

“You're really sick then?”

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Jax,” Felicity said
fiercely. “You are going to be fine.”

“In more ways than I can explain,” he said to me, ignoring
her. He put his hand on my shoulder and stared into my eyes. “Take whatever you
want. I mean it. I have more than I will ever need. I have been very blessed in
this life. I never understood that before. I wasted so much time on so many
useless things in this forgettable world. I wish I could do it all over again.”

“You've brought a lot of happiness to people all over the
world with your music,” I said, and I meant it. “Kids like Benji. You have a
wonderful gift.”

“They never tell you that it comes with a curse,” he said
cryptically. “It was nice to meet you.” He walked over and kissed Felicity on
the head. A single tear escaped from her eye and rolled down her cheek, just
like the way Demi Moore soundlessly cries in movies.

“Sweet dreams, angel,” he said. “See you in the morning.”

He turned and walked out of the room, back down the long
dark hallway full of awards and honors, disappearing out of sight.

“I guess that just leaves you and me,” I said. “You feeling
tired?” She shook her head no. She seemed to lose all interest in her fajitas.
“Me neither. Must have been the nap. What do you want to do now?”

“You don't have to do that,” she said in a voice just above
a whisper.

“Do what?” I asked.

“Act like everything is okay,” she said. “I know the
bathroom isn't broken. You figured out what's wrong with Jax. Admit it.”

“I guess I did,” I said. “The trash can was full of used
needles and bloody cotton balls. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two
together with that kind of evidence. You want to talk about it?”

“It's not his fault,” she said. “Drugs are a big part of the
music industry.”

“You mean like they are in Hollywood?” I didn't know if I
was stepping over the line. I hoped I didn't sound condescending.

“Exactly,” she said. “So now you know why I am here. I came
here to try to help him get clean, before the zombies took over the whole
world.”

“Why didn't he just go to rehab?”

“He did,” she said, letting out a big sigh. “We met in
rehab, actually. In Malibu.”

“I don't remember you going to rehab,” I said. “What were
you addicted to, if you don't mind me asking?”

“It's fine,” she said. “I was taking prescription pills. A
lot of them. It started out as a way to get through long days on the set but
before I knew it, I was taking something every hour just to get by. I had
several doctors giving me almost anything I asked for. I'm lucky I didn't end
up like Michael Jackson.”

“Isn't that the kind of thing the tabloids would have a
field day with? Under-age actress checking into Betty Ford?”

“My agent worked hard to keep it out of the news,” Felicity
said. “She told everyone that I was suffering from exhaustion. We canceled the
Disney movie I was supposed to be shooting in Fiji. She threatened to sue
anyone who let it out. They wanted me to go on
Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew
.
My mom wouldn't have it. She said I needed to be away from the cameras, that
they were part of my disease. She was right. I checked into the in-patient
rehab program and stayed there without television or computer or any contact
with the outside world for thirty days.”

“That doesn't seem so long,” I said.

“It felt like an eternity,” she confessed.

“Were all the people there celebrities like you?”

“No,” she said. “That's what made it so hard. Most of them
were just rich kids with drug problems caused by boredom and privilege. There
were a few housewives, a CEO who snapped under the pressure and started
shooting junk, and a horror author strung out on speedballs.”

“Anyone I would know?”

“Probably,” she shrugged. “I know it doesn't really matter
now but I don't feel comfortable naming him.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Sorry. Force of habit. Go on.”

“Jackson was the only other famous person there,” she said.
“The others didn't treat us all that well, to be honest. They were pretty
nasty. Detoxing off drugs can really bring out the worst in you.”

“What would they do?”

“They'd throw stuff in my face when we were holding outside
sessions,” she explained. “Stuff they'd read in a magazine about my father
dating girls my age, or about my little sisters death. They'd talk about my
mother and call me names, or quote lines from movies I'd been in. It got really
bad. At one point I honestly wanted to kill myself.”