Get Zombie: 8-Book Set (9 page)

(Rest
of report missing.)

JANICE

Jackson
took me outside, and we played soccer for thirty minutes. He was once
a champion soccer player, and world famous, too. I felt bad for not
knowing. Michael Jordan, Tiger Woods...these people I knew were
famous sports stars, but whoever heard of Jackson Coontang? He was
teaching me all his tricks, and he was a good teacher. It's a gift.
Some people are born with it. I was falling for this man. I liked
being near him. He was strong, and I felt safe, like nothing could
harm me. His arms were skinny, but decades of running around and
doing squat thrusts and horse stances made his legs thick with
muscle. He kicked the ball to prove his strength to me, and it flew
all the way over the hospital, right onto the other side. A car alarm
went off. A baby cried.

I
was impressed.

As
we played, a bug crawled across my brain.

That
lady...Pepper...invaded my thoughts. Why did she make those sexy
moves at Jackson? Did they have something going on? Exhausted –
mentally by thinking about her for too long – I asked if we
could take a break from playing. Jackson agreed, and we sat down on
the grass. I sipped my water.

“Did
your family dump you in here, too?”

“Of
course,” he said. “Once upon a time, my wife left me,
took the kids and all my money and went to the Philippines and
married some jackass game show host named Kuya Antong Lopez. The
end.”

“That's
a tragic story. You should publish.”

He
gave out a laugh, and we smiled at each other.

And
then he asked me a question that I wished he hadn't: “Are you
married?”

The
question brought my dead husband to my mind all over again. He was
waving – always waving. Was he saying hello? Or goodbye? I was
never sure.

“I
was married,” I said. “His name was Sanglan. He died two
years ago.”

“I'm
sorry. May I ask how he died?”

“He
got a heart attack while ice swimming in Alaska. It was so sudden. I
don't understand it. He was healthy – always exercising and
doing situps. And then his heart just gives out?
What?
How
does that happen to someone taking such good care of themselves. He
was the one that got me into this whole health thing. Now I'm
addicted to it. I'm afraid that if I slack off...I don't know...maybe
time will catch up with me. Time will sense me giving up and come
running out from behind that tree there and kill me.”

“I
know what you mean,” he said. “I
fear
time, too.”

“That's
why you play soccer all the time?”

“That
why I play soccer all the time,” he said. “I have to stay
fit. Besides, I enjoy the workout. It...invigorates me. Fills me with
life.”

That
was good to hear. Here was a man that I understood me. It was nice.
Then I heard Sanglan's voice in my head. He was accusing me of
cheating on him – betraying him. I forced him away and put my
hand on Jackson's knee. He flinched.

We
chatted about favorite books and movies, then we played a little bit
more. When it got dark, he walked me to my room. I was in my bed,
close to sleep, when there was a knock on the door. I rushed to it,
expecting it to be him, but it wasn't Jackson. It was Pepper. I
immediately felt threatened. I forced out a smile. No point in
showing my fear. No need to insult her. I extended my hand.

“Hello.
My name's Janice. I'm new here.”

She
shook my hand.

“Hi.
I'm Pepper. Nice to meet you.”

The
mood changed. This was no witch. I smiled again, this time for real.

“Hi,
Pepper. Care to come in and sit down?”

“That
won't be necessary, but thank you for the offer.”

“How
may I help you?”

“You're
new here, yes?”

“I
am.”

“Enjoying
your stay?”

“Yes,”
I said. “Everyone has been very nice.”

“I
saw that you were playing soccer with our friend Jackson.”

Something
in my brain backpedaled to the scene earlier of Pepper massaging her
breasts for Jackson. My heart sank. Something bad was about to
happen, but I had to keep my smile on, to try and keep things as
pleasant as possible no matter what. I just arrived. No sense in
making enemies.

“We
were kicking the ball around, yes,” I said. “Jackson's a
very fine man.”

Pepper's
eyes blew up.

“Oh,
I agree,” she said. “He is a very fine man, indeed.”
She looked to the ground and leaned against the door frame. “But...”
she continued, “...I feel I must warn you.”

I
frowned. Here it came. The big bite.

Pepper
looked at me, eyes narrowed.

“He's
suicidal, my dear. Unstable.”

The
news struck me as a flat out lie. I laughed out loud.

“What
did you just say? I don't believe you.”

“Oh,
but it's true. At least once a week he tries to hang himself. It's
depressing.”

“Why
tell me this?”

“I
like helping people,” she said. “I
care
about
people. I
care
about our newcomers. You're getting close to
Jackson. He'll only hurt you.”

“I
can handle myself, but thanks for the warning,” I said, closing
the door. “It's late. I need my sleep.”

She
put her foot to the door.

“One
day he's really gonna do it.”

“What?”

“You
think you're the only girl he's fallen for? I've seen your kind so
many times. He's hurt so many women. I'm only trying to help you,”
she claimed. “Take my advice, Janice. Stay away from Jackson.
Or else.”

I
was about to ask, “or else
what?
” but she scurried
off into the dark hallway. I swear I heard laughter. I began to
wonder. Should I tell Jackson about the weird encounter? Ask about
him being suicidal? I thought back to the first time I saw him –
with the nurse and the rope. Was he really trying to commit suicide?
I thought about just asking him. Just ask him in the middle of
laughing. “Hahaha, hey, are you suicidal?” Would that
fly? Would that be too insulting? I had to find out. The more I
thought about it, the more I had to KNOW. If anything was to develop
between us, I had to KNOW.

I
made the choice.

I'd
ask him in the morning.

Noises
outside my door. People mumbling. A woman cried. Oja, the woman that
I saw on the ground, on her face when I first arrived, was being
escorted away by men in lab coats and black gloves. A man was walking
with the warden, chatting about something important. I would later
know this man as Dr. Kilt.

Pepper's
son.

PEPPER
ANN

I
didn't disappear into the dark like she says. I just waited there. I
knew Jackson was watching nearby...waiting for me to leave. I
wondered what she would do next. Did she believe me? Had my plan
worked? Did I scare her good? Jackson walked out of his room, knocked
on Janice's door, and went inside.

DAMN.

The
strength in my legs gave out, and I fell to the floor.

“I
love him so much,” I wept. “I'm his woman – ME. He
said he loved me. I believed him. I should've known better. Why am I
letting him control how I feel? I don't want to feel this way
anymore. This has to stop. I have to do something.”

I
held the wall and climbed to my feet. I felt tired all the time. Too
heavy. Coffee helped sometimes; but just sometimes.
Janice...Janice...Janice. That name was going to haunt my dreams, I
knew it. She'd torture me. What were they doing in her room? What
were they doing in there? What were they
doing?

My
heart raced. I was getting dizzy. I could imagine Janice getting a
sharp rock right to the temple and dying there on the grass, blood
spurting everywhere. Jackson would cry and run off. Later, he'd knock
on my door and fall into my arms. He'd say how sorry he was that he
ever left me. He would want to be with me. He would NEED me.

Seeing
all this...made me feel better. I felt alive again. Things were going
to be all right: The plan was boiling in my mind. I went over to my
pal Woodrow's room and had a little talk with him.

“What
do you want me to do?” he asked.

I
grinned. “I want you to push her down the stairs.”

“Why
don't you do it?”

“I
have to be around the warden. When Janice has her little accident,
they'll all say, 'Well, couldn't have been Pepper; she was with Miss
Veronica.' See how it works?”

“How
much will I get paid?”

“I
can give you $100.”

Woodrow
put his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair. I had to
get him on board. He was the only one capable of pulling this off for
me. This 87-year-old man was an ex con. Back in '74, he was convicted
for murdering a Samoan woman. He didn't know her. He was paid by her
husband to do the job. Woodrow took the $100, cut off her head and
hands and feet like he was ordered to for some reason, and paid his
cable bill. When he was in court, he said nothing. He was a man of
his word. I prayed that a little bit of that greed – and honor
– was still in him.

Walking
back to my room was a hassle. It took all my concentration to not
fall down. It was always embarrassing. Each day, even though I was
living with my fellow elderly folk, I could FEEL their pity applause.
“Go, Granny, go!” That sort of thing.
Just leave me
alone. Pretend I'm not here. Don't look at me.

When
I finally made it to my room, I eased myself into bed and exhaled.
Felt like I was walking for hours. Maybe I was. My feet hurt. My back
was numb. If only there was something to take. All this money in the
world – all these advancements in science – and no one
came up with some kind of “youth” pill? It didn't seem
right. Maybe the government was keeping it from us for themselves. I
got up and went to my closet. The pot inside was boiling. Well...
I'd
come up with something. My concoction was working so far. Soon I'd be
a hundred. I opened a shoebox and took out a rat and dropped it into
the pot. I stirred. I dipped a cup into the stuff and drank. I felt
strong again. I felt YOUNG again. But my invention wasn't perfect. I
looked in the mirror. Nope. No change. Still old. Still wrinkled.
Still sad-looking. I didn't even bother to look into my mouth. I got
half of it right – the inside part. But more important (to me)
was the outside. I wanted to LOOK young again. Inside, I felt like I
could run a marathon, that I could karate-chop a stack of bricks,
bicycle UP a volcano, jump up and down for hours, kick a football,
dunk a basketball, punch a horse in the face, and, most importantly,
make love with Jackson all night long.

BUT...it
all meant diddlysquat if my body didn't want to work. I put a lid on
the caldron and closed the closet. I stood there for a long time,
thinking, thinking. That slop was missing something. I was missing a
key ingredient. But what? I went back to bed. More tests had to be
done in the morning. But I was hopeful. I had Jackson. Thinking about
him made me feel better – made me happier.

“For
now,” I said, “
I can dream about you.
”

That
night, I dreamed of making love to Jackson. I hadn't dreamed of him
in months. The sex was wonderful.

JACKSON

Why
was Woodrow following Janice around? Was he making moves on her? How
was I gonna handle this one? He was dangerous. Rumor had it that
Woodrow killed a gang of Samoan women back in the '80s. They all had
knives, but it didn't matter to him. I heard he was stabbed, but no
blood came out. He was a beast! A REAL man. At least that's what I
heard. Looking at the old man, you'd believe it. He had that
confident, tough, chest out, straight-back saunter. He was not to be
messed with. I had to be careful.

I
turned a corner and walked into Pepper. She had her hands on my
chest.

“Slow
down, sailor, what's the hurry?”

“I
told you never to touch me.”

“What's
the matter? I'm not going to bite.”

I
showed her my arm.

“Then
what's this?”

“I
told you not to surprise me,” she said. “Besides, that
was a long time ago. I don't do those things anymore. I've calmed
down. I'm
normal
.”

I
tried to walk around her.

“I
have to go.”

She
fell.

“Oh!
I've fallen and I can't get up! If only there was a strong man to
help me up. But who?”

I
picked her up.

“Dammit.
This is the last time we talk. Deal?”

She
laughed.

“Now
you know I can't do that.”

Someone
screamed. It was Janice. Pepper gripped my arm. She brought her face
close to me, looking like she wanted to kiss. I tore her off and ran
away. Janice was in a stairwell, holding onto the railing. Woodrow
had his foot on her chest. I charged and yelled “HEY!”
and when he turned around I socked him in the jaw. He went tumbling
down the stairs, and I heard many bones snapping like firecrackers.
Janice hugged me. She was trembling and weeping and hyperventilating.
Her breaths were hot against my neck.

“Pepper!
It was Pepper Ann,” she said, words echoing in the stairwell.
“She warned me to stay away from you. Or else.”

I
believed her.

A
nurse ran into the stairwell and gripped the sides of her head and
shrieked.

Woodrow
was on his belly, but his head had turned all the way around. And he
was still alive and looked at us in absolute shock. His mouth moved,
but no intelligible words came out...just a strange creaking sound,
like a door slowly opening. Janice wanted to look too, but before she
got the chance, I forced her face into my armpit and dragged her
outside. I, on the other hand, could not take my eyes off Woodrow's
weird situation. The sight of him made me sick to my stomach. That
wasn't my thing. I didn't get off on death. You know how people
passing car crashes just have to look? Never me. I just kept driving.
Why pollute my mind with such spooky imagery? I didn't even have the
stomach for the gross details on the local news shows – but
this time, I couldn't look away. For a second, I questioned my own
purity. It would take a lot of soccer games to wash his disturbing
image out of my mind.