Girls Save the World in This One - Ash Parsons Page 0,86

Can they think?

If so, will they think to walk around the base of the volcanic rock?

If yes, how long will it take them to do it?

If no, how long will it take for them to forget I was ever there, and to start their aimless, shuffling meandering like fish in an aquarium, but that might result in the same thing—

The zombies moving around the edge, and able to see me again.

My foot slides, then loses its perch. I fall several feet, one cuff of my jeans gets pushed up by the jagged concrete, and it gouges into my lower shin. I let out a quiet noise at the pain as the other foot shoves on a step, and my hand grips a thick tuffet of hearty green fern.

I breathe a curse and finish climbing down, into the pool, trying not to splash more than the waterfall behind me as I turn to face the security booth.

The door stands open, but there’s no gesturing arm anymore.

I sit on the ledge of the fountain and lift first my banged-up leg over, then the good one. The water slaps loudly on the tile, running off my clothes onto the floor as I lurch across the floor to the open door.

I fall in, ducking under the desk, beneath the window line.

Under the desk there is a bank of angled screens showing footage of the security cameras positioned all around the ground floor of the lobby and atrium.

Nearby a voice hisses, “Shh!”

I scoot back on my butt, pivoting to face the door while simultaneously pressing my back against the wall under the desk.

Hunter Sterling is crouched behind the door, holding a finger to his lips, begging me with his eyes to be quiet.

24

Hunter Sterling is sitting right there.

Hunter Sterling basically just saved me.

I was doing okay without Hunter Sterling, more or less. But I am appreciative, because Hunter Sterling is apparently an all-around good guy. Yay!

Look! It’s Hunter Sterling.

Hunter Sterling watches the angled video monitors next to my head, and I understand how he knew where I was, what I was doing, and that he could signal to me.

Not taking his eyes off the screens, Hunter Sterling gently eases the booth door closed, painstakingly slow, gentle push, pause, gentle push, pause, almost like he’s making a stop-motion movie.

Then it clicks, quietly. And he reaches up to shoot the deadbolt. Then he glances at me.

I mouth the words.

“Thank you.”

Hunter Sterling nods, and looks back at the screens. He crawls nearer to me and sits with his back against the wall that meets mine in the corner, so we’re nearer and also perpendicular to each other.

There’s not much space in the security booth.

Hunter Sterling picks up a small handheld radio. Probably a guard snuck it in to listen to a game.

Hunter Sterling puts it to his ear and turns it on. He’s quiet, listening.

“Anything?” I ask.

“Just the usual stuff,” he whispers back.

Our knees are close enough to touch, so I’m careful not to accidentally bump his as I stretch my injured leg out, flat on the floor.

The injury is kind of impressive.

It’s gratifying when something painful looks as bad as it feels. As opposed to, say, heartbreak. Which feels like hell and looks like self-indulgence or worse. Mopey songs and mopier face.

Not the raw bleeding pain that it feels. Or the sinking, sucking weight in your chest.

Or the humiliation. If you’re me.

“I can see them on the monitors,” Hunter Sterling whispers, gesturing to the screens next to my head. “I saw them coming, the second group. I tried to warn you guys.”

The voice that yelled “Run!”

“Thank you,” I say.

Even in a whisper, I can tell his voice is raspy, cracked. “I couldn’t think of how to warn you before, then when you started making noise, I could see them coming, and that’s when I yelled.”