Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,62

They came from there.”

“Maybe, or maybe they’re all in the ballroom now,” Linus argues.

“Right,” I say. “And if they are all in the ballroom, or if enough of them are, then it’s only a matter of time before they’re done in there.”

Unwanted images float into my mind’s eye, and the same vision must enter the others’ minds, too, because we all get quiet.

Tearing. Ripping. Eating.

Humans.

Humans with bites becoming more zombies, if that’s how this particular biohazard outbreak works.

We draw even with the first closet or office door. No name on the sign next to it, just a number, 102. Maybe it’s an office, or a meeting room. Or a dressing room.

I put my hand out.

As my fingers curl around the lever, it drops down and the door is yanked open.

I let out an involuntary yelp, which should sound bloodcurdling, because I’m that startled.

Instead I sound like that Muppet who speaks in “meep” noises.

Janet O’Shea looks out at me. She’s holding a slab of wood, what looks like the front piece of a desk drawer, shoulder high like a baseball bat.

“June!” she gasps, lowering her arm.

The scripted words and bad impersonation come out before I think to stop them.

“We’re going to fight our way out, Vivian,” I say.

Janet lets out a relieved laugh, and grasps my shoulder.

“Yes, we are,” she says. “That we are.”

17

Everyone, this is Janet,” I say, sweeping a hand from her to the group.

“Hello.” Janet nods in recognition to Annie and Linus. Of course, she knows them.

Behind Janet I see Human Wasteland actor Simon Wong. He’s in his midtwenties and, like all the others on the show, completely beautiful and full of that actorly magic.

The zombie woman in the stairwell lets out an unholy shriek.

“Why don’t we step back in here, see if it calms our friend down?” Janet takes a sidestep back, holding the door open.

I glance down the hall at the woman zombie.

Maybe out of sight, out of mind?

Or out of braaaaaiiiinzzz.

My inner voice needs to settle down.

“Good idea,” Imani says, hustling past Janet. “I’m Imani Choi.”

“Hello, Imani,” Janet says as Rosa steps inside the greenroom.

“Ms. O’Shea,” Rosa says, sticking out a hand. “I know this is, like, the worst timing, but I am such a huge fan of Fight the Dead.”

“Oh, thank you!” Janet replies, taking her hand and sounding warmly pleased. “What’s your name?”

Rosa’s face has flushed a deep red. “Oh! Rosa García! I’m from Miami. I mean I was, now I’m here! I’m in the certification program at Pinewood Studios. You gotta start somewhere, right? But I’m a filmmaker. I mean, I’m going to be a filmmaker. I . . . well. Anyway—”

Her eyes flick over the rest of us, suddenly self-conscious. “When we get out of this,” she concludes.

“Of course!” Janet says, squeezing Rosa’s shoulder in a bracing, stiff-upper-lip Brittishy way.

“That’s so cool that you’re in film school,” Imani tells her. “My little sister would love to talk to you, I bet, about if there’s a makeup program.”

“Oooh!” I say. “Tish’d be so good at that!”

“Maybe she can help me out and do the makeup for my student short film,” Rosa says, and this frissiony, open-hearted feeling goes through me, just talking about normal things, planning for a normal future.

For a moment, at least.

We all shuffle into the small room. It’s one part greenroom, one part dressing room. Three separate vanity areas, complete with comically large makeup bulb frames, are on the left; beyond the vanity counter is a bathroom.

“Hey, babe,” Mia says, and air kisses over Janet’s cheek.

“Hello, Ms. Fontaine,” Janet replies, smiling but with a little hovering, quirked corner that seems amused at the familiarity.

I guess Mia has had her hustle on since the con opened.

“Simon,” Mia says, kissing the air over Simon’s cheek