Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,73

can decide what’s next. Try to get a signal, or try to find roof access.

“Safety first, right?” I say to Linus and Janet. “First we should try to secure those doors, or perhaps confirm how many zombies are up there? In the balcony? I wouldn’t want to be surprised if they suddenly blunder their way out.”

Linus nods encouragingly.

Siggy puts her hand a little ways into the air, like she’s in class and I’m the teacher. I nod at her. “We should check all our phones over by the windows in an organized way,” she says.

“Great idea,” I tell her.

“None of ’em are gonna work, but go right ahead, chickadees.” Cuellar knocks back the rest of his drink like I’ve personally offended him somehow, and he has to knock a bad taste out of his mouth.

“What’s your problem, buddy?” Blair asks, and I have a rush of gratitude—that she’s backing me up and that it’s not just all in my head.

Then I remember about Scott. About running around behind my back, instead of just telling me. And the gratitude slips away like a receding tide, quick, leaving gross flotsam on the shore.

“Nothing,” Cuellar says. “I just don’t think we should be taking orders from a teenager.”

The teenage “girl” part is unspoken.

“No one’s taking orders,” Rosa says. “We’re all strategizing, here. And she thinks clearly, and we can all use a bit of that right now.”

Simon nods, arching an eyebrow at Cuellar’s empty glass.

Cuellar’s eyes tighten.

“Someone should check the bathrooms, and that balcony door,” Mia says, defusing the moment. “We hide out up here long enough we’ll want the bathrooms, plus we can see if they lock from the inside.”

“Right,” Simon agrees. “And we can control the access now. Take out the zombies one at a time if there are any.”

He hoists the blood-and-goop-spattered vanity stool.

“Cuellar, how about you come help me?” he asks.

“Sure thing, Wong,” Cuellar says, a bitter undertone to his voice. But he lifts the empty whiskey bottle in his hand and flips it around, grasping it by the neck.

“I like bashing things in the head,” Cuellar says as they walk to the bathroom doors.

20

Cuellar stands behind the door, waiting. Simon nods his head, and Cuellar pops it open.

No zombies rush out. Simon eases into the men’s room to make sure it’s clear.

“I’ll go test our phones by this window,” Imani says to me, pointing to the window on the exterior wall close to the bar. I hand her my cell. Blair and Siggy move over to the windows with her. Annie is already walking along the wall farther up by the upholstered chairs, holding her phone like a dowser’s wand.

They hold their phones up and start slow-walking forward along the window wall, watching their screens.

“Is anyone wearing a belt they don’t need?” Linus asks. “I can start with the doors.”

Rosa nods and takes off her belt, handing it over.

“No belt, but I have this.” Mia digs in her sharp-edged, small purse. She pulls out a braided nylon strip. She gives it an expert tug, and it twirls open into a thin cord.

“That’s . . .” Linus trails off and laughs. “That’s paracord, right?”

Mia smooths her bangs. “Yeah, it’s one of those survival bracelets. Bear gave it to me.”

We all just kind of blink at her for a moment.

Then Linus thanks her and drapes the cord over his shoulder alongside Rosa’s belt. He lifts his shirt and goes to pull his own belt off.

Which is when I notice his hands.

They’re shaking. But more than that, they’re . . . off-color. Paler, and lightly mottled. Like the vessels under the skin are faintly bruising. Or like blood is becoming sluggish, pooling somehow.

Or starting to.

“Linus?” I ask. My heart feels crouched in my chest, tiny and frightened.

“Yeah,” he says. “I was waiting for the right moment to tell everyone.” He glances around, making sure no one else other than