Free Devil’s Wake by Steven Barnes, Tananarive Due

sure.” Grandpa Joe’s grin widened until Kendra could see the hole where his tooth usedto be: his straw hole, Grandpa Joe called it. He mussed Kendra’s hair with his big palm. “Good girl, Kendra. You keep it up. I knew your tongue was in there somewhere. You start using it, or you’ll forget how. Hear me? You start talking again, and I’ll whip you up a lumberjack breakfast, like before.”
    It would be good to eat one of Grandpa Joe’s famous belly-busters again, piled nearly to the ceiling: a bowl of fluffy eggs, a stack of pancakes, a plate full of bacon and sausage, and buttermilk biscuits made from scratch. Grandpa Joe had learned to cook in the army. But whenever Kendra thought about talking, her stomach filled up like a balloon and she thought she would puke. Some things couldn’t be said out loud, and some things shouldn’t . There was more to talking than most people thought. A whole lot more.
    Kendra’s eye went to the bandage on Grandpa Joe’s left arm, just below his elbow, where the tip peeked out at the edge of his shirtsleeve. Grandpa Joe had said he’d hurt himself chopping wood yesterday. Kendra’s heart had turned into a rock when she’d seen a spot of blood on the bandage. She hadn’t seen blood in a long time. She couldn’t see any blood now, but Kendra still felt worried. Mom said Grandpa Joe didn’t heal as fast as other people because of his diabetes…
    That stung. That thought of her mother… and then of her father… ripped open the scabs protecting the ugly memories. Dad. The bitten foot growing hot and swollen with infection, Dad running from the house, afraid to be with his wife and daughter because of the radio reports.
    Mom, trying to pretend she wasn’t worried sick about Dad. Then she’d tried to help Carolyn Stiller, their next-door neighbor, a nice old local playwright… and discovered that the old lady scratching at the window was infected too. But too late. Too late. Mom in shock, shoulder bandaged, knowing what was coming. All the people on the radio said that if you were bitten, it was the end. No cure, onehundred percent infection. Mom had gotten a shortwave message to Grandpa, and then tried to hold on until Grandpa could drive down and get her. Mom had locked Kendra in the basement for never-ending hours, sobbing, “Bolt the door tight. Stay here, Kendra, and don’t open the door until you hear Grandpa’s ‘danger word’—NO MATTER WHAT.”
    She made her swear to Jesus, which was a very big deal. Kendra had been afraid to move or breathe. She’d heard other footsteps in the house, the awful sound of crashing and breaking. A single terrible scream. It could have been her mother. Or maybe it was someone else completely. She didn’t know.
    Followed by silence; for one hour, two, three. Then, the hardest part. The worst part. Show me your math homework, Kendra.
    The danger word was the special, secret word she and Grandpa Joe had picked. He’d insisted on it. Grandpa Joe had made a special trip in his truck to tell them something bad could happen to them, and he had a list of reasons how and why. Mom didn’t like Grandpa Joe’s yelling much, but she’d listened. So Kendra and Grandpa Joe had made up a danger word nobody else knew in the world, not even Mom. And she had to wait to hear the danger word, Mom said. No matter what. She’d heard Grandpa’s truck. Footsteps, and then Grandpa had said the right thing, and Kendra opened the door. Mom was nowhere in sight, and Kendra had wanted to search for her.
    Grandpa had dragged Kendra from the house, kicking. Had she seen her mother one last time, peeking out between the boarded-up front windows, waving to them as Grandpa sped away? Was that a shadow, or a shadowed, lost face? She might never know. Grandpa would never talk about it. Was Mom still… alive? Was Dad? Were any of those blood-eyed things alive, really? And could she even think about it and not go insane? All she had now was Grandpa, a man