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“I have some pain pills,” said Alice, putting the plate and cup on the night table. “But you need to eat something first.”
Her mother moved and groaned a little. It made Alice sad that she was in so much pain. As she set the tray on the night table, her mom reached out and touched her wrist.
“You okay?” Alice asked gently.
The touching fingers curled around her wrist. Mama felt cold, and Alice glanced at the window to see if she’d accidentally left it open. The days were hot, but the nights were often frigid. The curtains stirred in the breeze.
“Hold on,” she said, “let me close the window before you catch your death.”
The circling fingers tightened.
They locked around Alice’s wrist in a powerful, unbreakable grip.
“Ow! Mom, don’t, you’re hurting me—”
Her voice cut off as her mother sat up in bed. The covers fell away, and Alice saw that the sleeve of her mother’s left arm—the one with all the cuts—was torn to rags and soaked with blood. But in the lantern light the blood looked too dark. Nearly black.
The truth rose up above her like a vast wave: Mom had been hurt at the wagonwright’s place when it was overrun by ravagers and shamblers. The monsters had been beaten back, slaughtered. Their blood was splashed everywhere. On the walls. On the splintered doors. Everywhere.
And that’s where her mother had been scratched. But how much more than a drop of los muertos blood did it really take?
“Oh my God,” Alice breathed.
The grab turned into a pull as her mother opened her dead eyes and stretched her dead mouth wide and lunged forward with awful, snapping teeth.
71
AS GUTSY AND ALETHEA WALKED quickly through town, they saw people running from house to house, yelling for friends and neighbors to start packing. Riders on horses galloped up and down the streets, spreading the news. Most people jumped right to it, running to gather belongings and loved ones; but some just stood there, watching everything unfold around them as if what was going on didn’t matter to them. Was it some kind of shock, Gutsy wondered, or had those people plain given up?
The two girls hurried on.
The big tower crane above Alice’s house creaked as it swung slowly around.
“Why are they still bothering to do that if we’re all bugging out of here?” Alethea asked.
Gutsy shook her head. “If there are ravager spies, they’d get suspicious if we suddenly stopped reinforcing the walls. Those guys up there will be the last to leave, and they’ll block off the tunnel on the way out.”
Alethea grunted. “Okay, that’s pretty smart.”
As they approached the corner near the Chung house, Alethea slowed. “Look,” she said “I’ll hang back a bit. You know, in case you two need to get all kissy-face.”
Gutsy flashed her a smile and hurried up the block. The house was neat and tidy, with a manicured lawn and lovely flower beds in which something bright and fragrant was always blooming. A pair of big live oaks stood vigil on either side of the walkway, and there were bird feeders hung from a dozen limbs.
Gutsy was embarrassed to realize that she really did stink to high heaven, but there wasn’t time to do anything about it now. She needed to see Alice. She needed a tiny bit of normal, a small piece of undamaged ground to stand on. Even if for only five minutes.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
Which is when she heard Alice Chung scream.
72
“ALICE? ALICE!” GUTSY YELLED AS fear shot through her. There were more screams, but no actual answers. Gutsy pounded on the door.
“Mama… no!”
Gutsy stepped back, braced herself, and then kicked at the door with the flat of her foot. It shuddered, but the strong lock held.
“Alethea!” she bellowed, but Alethea was already running down the street, her bat ready.
