I grabbed Sybil's hand.
"What are you doing?"
I didn't respond. Silently, I pulled her downstairs. As quiet as we were, with every step we could hear the person retreating.
"He's on to us," I said. "Let's go!"
We bolted down the stairs two at a time, but the person we were chasing was doing the same. The culprit hit the first-floor landing and shot through the swinging door-- swoosh. We arrived seconds later and barreled through into the first-floor corridor. Silence. Empty. We looked up and down the corridor. Nothing.
"He got away," Sybil said, catching her breath.
"Or maybe it was she who got away."
Sybil slid to the floor. "I'm so tired."
"Rest," I said. She looked horrible. It was as if she'd aged ten years right before my eyes. But at least she wasn't a zombie ... yet.
That's when I saw it. In their retreat, the person's clothing had caught on a tiny nail sticking out of the door. A small piece of fabric now clung to the nail. "Look," I called.
I removed the tiny swatch from the nail. We examined it closely under the light. I rubbed the silky blue swatch between my thumb and forefinger, getting a feel for the soft material. I'd seen the fabric somewhere before. But where? I couldn't
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remember, but I knew I had to. My best friend's survival might well depend on deciphering the tiny clue.
I turned to Sybil, slumped on the floor. Her complexion had turned ghastly pale. "Let me see the bite."
"Margot, it's nothing. It doesn't even hurt."
"I need to see how bad it is." I grabbed her hand and examined it. There were two tiny puncture wounds. "The thing's teeth didn't break much flesh. Maybe only a tiny bit of the virus got in. Maybe this is the worst of it."
She nodded. "I am feeling a bit better."
"Maybe I should try sucking it out."
She drew back her hand. "You mean like snake venom?"
"Yes. We might be able to limit the damage if I suck it out."
She smiled.
"What?"
"I knew the real Margot was in there somewhere." Her smile broadened. I looked away. The smile was as bad as her accusing stare. Same effect--heavy guilt.
"Give me your hand, Syb," I said, avoiding her eyes.
She shook her head. "You know I can't let you suck on my wound. It's too dangerous. Someone has to be around to end this thing."
Just my luck that someone would be me, the person who'd caused all this misery in the first place. "The boys," I said all of a sudden. "Maybe they have some of the antidote left." My voice rose with hope.
"They finished the antidote?" *
"Urn ... Yes. Baron didn't tell you?"
"No."
I couldn't tell if not knowing had hurt her. She was so out of it.
"Umm... He probably didn't tell you because he gave me
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some to give to Dirk and it didn't work," I said, trying to justify Baron's silence.
"0h," she said softly. "But if it didn't work, what good would it do now?"
"Well... Maybe it just didn't work on Dirk. Maybe it'll work on you."
"No offense, Margot, but I wouldn't put much faith in a failed antidote." She was smiling again. "Although I appreciate your optimism."
"We have to try something!" My words reeked of desperation.
She nodded and heaved a deep sigh. "I guess we do." She shrugged. "Okay. Let's go."
School was out by the time we reached the basement. The zombie students had all vacated the premises. Walking the halls with Sybil made the dimly lit basement seem even creepier. Her breath came in short, ragged bursts, punctuating the silence around us. She's beginning to sound like one of them, I thought. I quickened my pace.
Up ahead we saw the handwritten cardboard sign declaring THE FORTRESS OF SOLITUDE hanging on the door. I was flooded with relief.
We entered. The room was empty ... abandoned was more like it. Baron and Milton's hideout, which had once contained lab equipment and youthful optimism, now appeared to have been ransacked. A prickly feeling spread over my entire body, as if someone were sticking me with hundreds of tiny needles.
"They're not here." My eyes darted around the room. "This cannot be happening." Hurriedly, I began rummagmg through the dusty bins and cubbies, hoping to find the antidote. Nothing.
Sybil seated herself on a lab stool, watching me go through
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my search. I glanced over at her a few times. She appeared to be resigned to her fate.
"Someone got to them," she said. These were words I didn't want to hear, couldn't accept.
"I bet they went into