Free All Together Now: A Zombie Story by Robert Kent Page B

students came running out.
    Jessica Fenton , sophomore, the most beautiful girl in the school. I guess not everybody thought so, but I always did. She had short amber hair, creamy pale skin, and the long neck of a model.
    I sat behind her in health and I used to imagine what it would be like to run my fingers from her neck to the base of her slight shoulders and down to the small of her back and graze the cleft of her cheeks.
    She was dating Mathew Kincaid. Had been since the start of second semester, which as high school relationships go was practically engaged.
    But you'll notice I didn't underline Mathew's name. He was one of the first students to come running out of the building. Six or seven more came after him and then Jessica.
    She stumbled as she exited, tripping over nothing, and I feared the worst. But her clear blue eyes were the same ocean hue as ever.
    "Jessica, are you alright?"
    She tripped again and fell to the ground. She was wearing a tank top that had been ripped in the back. Beneath, much of the flesh I'd dreamed of touching was missing, including most of her left buttock.
    I bent down and put my hand on her arm.
    "Ricky?"
    "Yeah."
    "Will you call my mom?"
    "I can't. The phones are out."
    "Oh."
    "We can't call anybody. You have to—"
    She wasn't listening. Jessica Fenton closed her eyes, and though they opened a minute later, she never saw through them again.
    "You have to get up," I said.
    I could see by the way she exhaled and didn't inhale again she couldn't hear me, but I kept talking. "My dad's just down the street. We're going to get in his truck and then we can take you to the hospital.
    "But we can't carry you, so you have to walk. Can you walk? Can you..."
    There wasn't any point.
    I rolled her over and her arm flopped from her side to the cement.
    "Jessica?"
    Her fingers twitched.
    "Jessica?"
    Her delicate lips drew back and moaned.
    "Ricky," Ben said. "Get away from her."
    Her eyes opened, all white, and I knew she was gone.
    Her hands seized my arms and pulled herself to me.
    I turned my head and closed my eyes. I tried to stand, but couldn't.
    Jessica Fenton snarled.
    She stopped.
    I felt her hands tremble with the impact and release. Warm droplets sprayed my face.
    When I opened my eyes, I saw Michelle standing over Jessica, Ben's bat raised high.
    I saw what she meant to do. "Don't!"
    Michelle brought the bat down against the back of Jessica's skull, driving her face to the cement.
    Michelle lowered the bat and let it dangle at her side. She went back to staring off at whatever she'd been looking at before.
    Ben wrapped his arm beneath mine and pulled me to my feet. "We have to go," he said.
    "But—"
    "Go now."
    Behind us the front doors opened and three moaning teenagers staggered out.
     

34
    —IN MEMORIAM—
     
     
     
    THE BURNING OF THE SCHOOL wasn't the worst thing I saw that day, but somehow it's the most memorable. As Michelle, Ben, and I walked away, we could see the fire spreading and black smoke billowing upward until it blocked the sky.
    We used to sing that song "My eyes have seen the glory of the burning of the school." But it wasn't anything like we used to imagine it would be.
    Three blocks away, we could still hear the fire alarm. But no engines came, no emergency sirens sounded.
    The school just went on burning.
    There are a lot of names I didn't write here. The truth is I don't know who all died and who made it out. The news reports I saw later had bigger stories to report than the burning of one high school.
    Maybe in the grand scheme of things, they have the right idea.
    But I remember.
    And I won't ever forget.
     

35
     
     
     
    MICHELLE WAS ASLEEP WHEN I finished the previous chapter, or so I thought. As soon as I stashed this journal in my bag and stretched out to sleep, she sat up.
    "What are you writing about all day?"
    "My life," I said.
    "Really? Like what?"
    "It's personal. But if something happens to us and people find my journal, they'll know... they'll