Page 30 of Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

I cross my arms over my chest. “She’s my best friend. I may never see her again. We may never see any of this again. Give me a chance to say goodbye.”

“You have five minutes and you can’t go in the house.”

“Okay.”

We traipse through Liza’s large backyard. Mom perches on the edge of a patio chair, tucked in a dark corner and I walk to Liza’s window. A pile of tools lies on the ground, as though someone forgot to put them up when they finished working. I stepped over a hammer and pushed the rake against the wall. Grabbing a handful of pebbles from under the rosebushes, I toss one at the second story window. I miss so I toss another, this time it clinks loud against the glass. I throw two more when I see a shadow cross the window.

“Liza!” I whisper yell. Again, I see shadows but no actual movement by the window. “Liza!”

I hear a bump, not from above, but from the window closest to me. I assume it’s her parent’s bedroom on the main floor. This time the curtain flutters and I take step back. A familiar face pops into view.

“Matt?”

He lifts the window an inch or two. I notice the dark purple marks under his eyes. He’s exhausted. “Hey, Alex.”

“What are you doing here? Where’s Liza.”

“Upstairs,” he replies. “She’s…she’s locked in her room.”

My stomach twists in a knot. “Why?”

I know why.

He knows that I know why.

“It happened after the party. Everyone got sick. Someone there must have been infected and contaminated the punch.”

“But I saw her—did she know?”

He shook his head. “No. She didn’t know. I broke curfew and snuck around some. I went to all the houses of the kids I knew. They all have—no had the E-TR virus. Most are dead.”

Most but not all.

“But you’re okay?” I search his eyes. They look clear, no sign of the spidery infection.

He shrugs but looks over his shoulder. “No. I’m not okay. You should probably get out of here.”

“Is there anything I can do? Do you need help?”

A loud thump comes from behind him and I hear a low, hungry growl. “Matt?”

“We’re all dead, Alex. Our families, our friends. We signed a death warrant the minute we went to that party.”

What is he saying? That we’re all infected? Me too? It’s too late to ask though because the moan turns to a guttural roar.

“Run while you can,” he says calmer than he should.

He slams the window shut but his hand catches in the curtain, tearing it off the rod. A thin arm reaches for him, teeth bared. I step back, terrified I’ll see Liza. Eater Liza. For some reason, Matt doesn’t fight back.

Why?

A figure moves close to the window and it’s not the sheet of long blonde hair I expect from my best friend. Black, black eyes skim past me and her hand scratches the window. It’s not Liza. It’s Patricia, Liza’s sister.

Blood drips from her mouth. Matt’s blood.

She screams and I stumble backwards, over the rake and piles of tools. I reach for one and my hand lands on something heavy and sharp. I struggle to my feet and hold up the tool—a hatchet, panicked and freaked. I’m caught in my own struggle. Do I finish them? Do I let this happen?

Before I can make a choice I hear the sound of a blade slicing through flesh. The solid thud of something heavy falling to the floor. The screaming stops and another figure moves in front of the window. I recognize the profile.

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