Voodoo Girl

Her skin is white cloth,

and she's all sewn apart

and she has many colored pins

sticking out of her heart.

-

Voodoo Girl

, Tim Burton

I woke up alone.

I woke up alone

and

wide awake. I didn't want to be; I wanted to be in a deep sleep, and if I had to wake up, then I wanted to wake up and be back to the life I knew before. But that was never going to happen. That life and that world was gone.

I knew Nate wasn't beside me, and that he hadn't been beside me for some time. I felt the lack of him acutely and worried, as I was prone to doing, about how much I was attuned to him.

And of course I was hungover, as Libby promised. The world was dim and slanted. Every muscle hurt. My head throbbed unbelievably, and though I craved it, I knew if I asked Ariel for an aspirin she'd give me a glare.

Getting out of bed took great care. I nearly threw up once I was in an upright position. Then I smelled Wendy's perfume and a lump of loss stuck in my throat.

I stared at her wood floor that she still made time to clean, and it just seemed incredible to me she was gone. One minute she'd been comforting me about my mother; it seemed that the very next I was shooting her between the eyes to put her out of her misery. I hadn't been with her the longest, but she'd felt like a mother to me. A

real

mother. She was the glue that held us all together, and we all knew that. She knew how to tame us at our worst. Who would do it now? Who would

want

to?

It broke my heart to see the clothes she had set out in her bathroom, I guess to wear for the next day. Forever an optimist, she was. Perhaps the last optimist left. I shut my eyes tightly, telling myself I had to keep going, and when my eyes were open again I went quickly about my business. I brushed my teeth with some of Wendy's collected water, and ran some loosely against my body. I still had a bit of her blood on me, some Libby must've missed when she rinsed me off the night before. I refused to let myself think about that. I used her deodorant and then stared at myself in the mirror.

My nose was getting very brown. It made it look even more up-turned than usual. And I was thin.

So

thin. I was an entirely different person now, inside and out. I didn't recognize the girl staring back at me, as suspicious and curious about me as I was about her.

A huge swell of homesickness came over me. Where was my father? My grandmother? Were they breathing? Part of me hoped they'd died. Taken pills. Got into a car accident. Something like that. I didn't want them living like this. Grandma wouldn't be able to handle it. She always believed people were good, that they were just victims of their circumstances. What a surprise she would have had, staring at the landscape of our new world, seeing what people could and would do to one another to survive.

And what about my mother? Was she an undead crisp in Florida, or was she hiding out in some house, too, sweating and waiting to die? Missing her only daughter? Nah. Was she stewing over her regrets? Embroiled in some end-of-the-world love affair? The last scenario seemed most likely. She

would

seek the most dramatic exit she could.

After putting my boots on, I reluctantly went downstairs. Libby sat on the bottom step and lifted her hand to me. I took it.

"Sit with me, girl."

I sat close to her and huddled into her warmth. We watched Nate and Doug lug things around outside through the dirty screen door.

"What are they doing?" I asked after a few minutes.

Libby sighed and rested her head against mine. "They're looking for ways we can cross the field without worrying about being shot at. And the chance of a zombie coming at us without us knowing will be much smaller."

She ran a hand down my knotted hair and pulled it away from my face and over my shoulder. I met her dark eyes and tried not to cry. "You okay?" She rolled her eyes. "I mean, are you as okay as you possibly

can

be under the circumstances?"

I smiled, getting her meaning. "No."

"You're smiling," she said, pushing one last wave of hair out of my face. "That's a start."

"Are

you

okay?"

Libby bent over and peered into the kitchen. When she sat back up and saw my face, she mouthed, "

Ariel

".

"I'm okay," she said out loud. "Want to go collect the eggs with me? We should probably go together, anyway."

I followed her outside, jumping when the screen door slammed against the old house. I was still on high alert. Zach was sitting in the porch swing, sketching in his notepad while Doug and Nate did all the work. It provoked me.

"And what are

you

doing?" I asked him.

He glanced up at me. "Sketching out various ways we could arrange the hay."

I looked over Doug and Nate, ignoring the flare of electricity when Nate's eyes met mine. "We're making a maze of

hay

?"

"For the time being, until we can warp some metal or something to stand up, ward off bullets."

"That's... That sounds really stupid. I mean, they can still climb up on top, right?"

Nate eyes narrowed and he jammed his rake into the dirt. "Yeah, a zombie climbs

really

well, Fiona."

"I didn't realize the maze was protecting us

just

from the zombies, Nate."

Libby took my arm. "We're going over to get the eggs."

"That's not wise right now," Nate said, coming to stand in front of us.

God, I wanted to hug him. I wanted to hold him as I had the night before. I longed to run my hands over the muscles in his back, feel them flex under my touch. He needed me and my lips on his shoulder as my hand calmed him. He'd suffered a tremendous loss, something I couldn't even begin to understand or appreciate. I knew, however, that daylight changes everything. The heat and tenderness in his eyes were gone; now he was all business. He had to be, and I understood. It still sucked.

He looked awful. His scruff had grown in, and his eyes didn't look right. They never stopped scanning, searching, looking for something. He looked tired but

mean

. Nate had been a dick to me since I first arrived on the compound, but this Nate appeared wild. Feral. He was ferocious and just waiting to bite off the head of the next person who gave him a hard time. I would have put a bet on myself, if I could've.

"C'mon, Nate, five seconds."

"Can't risk it."

Libby groaned. "Fine, we're going out back. To be

alone

, okay?"

"Nobody's interested in your sex stories, Libby," Doug called out, trying to lighten the mood. "Or I am, actually, if you two are going off to make out. Nate, man, I might need a break in five."

Zach and Doug tried to laugh.

It didn't help.

"We'll call you if we need you," Zach said, surprisingly easing the tension. I never heard him so fucking talkative before.

Libby dragged me to the back, her expression changing from nonchalance to genuine concern. She made me bend down low to the ground behind some crates.

"We need to get out of here."

My heart pounded. "What are you talking—"

"Someone is working with MacKenzie. We all know it. No one has the guts to say it, not even Nate. He's out there with Doug like a moron, trying to fix something that can't be fixed. I won't wait for some fucker to come in here and mutilate

me

, not after everything I've gone through."

Bile filled my mouth. "But the guy said that he... he wasn't... whatever you call it. Working with him.

Affiliated

with him."

Libby gave me a quick smile. "Darling, you are so out of your league. It's a sinking ship here, sweetheart. Doesn't matter if he was with Mac or not, though my vote is yes. We have a lot of great stuff and it kills me to leave it, but it

will

kill me if I stay. Us. Kill us. And I like you. I want to protect you."

I smiled, heart warm. It was nice to have a friend after plowing through alone for so long.

"Who else is coming?"

Libby fiddled with a ring on her finger. "No one." When I began to speak, she put a finger over my lips. "We can't risk it."

"Nate and Doug are obviously not in on it," I whispered furiously. "And we need men. We have only so much body strength. We wouldn't last a second out there without them."

"You did." Libby looked me over. "When you came to us, you'd lasted—what? A year? All on your own."

"Yeah, but—"

"Just think about it," Libby said.

I heaved in a breath and smiled disbelievingly. "What about Doug? He's your friend."

We both heard a sound and jumped, peeking over the crates. We didn't see anyone, but I felt the prickling feeling on the back of my neck that someone had been listening.

Libby looked back at me, spooked. "It's

go

time, Fiona. Think about it."

_____________________

Dinner was a strange affair. We ate canned beans and no one talked much. Wendy missing left a haunting gap that no trite chitchat could fill.

Nate avoided me as much as he could throughout the day. It hurt my feelings, as much as I attempted to rationalize it.

It wasn't all about me, I told myself. He had a lot of shit on his plate. I wanted to be next to him, to be all over him, but I had to man up and accept he couldn't be all kissy-feely with me at the moment. Not only was his mother gone, but he was now in charge. It wouldn't look right for him to make out with me in front of everyone. I got that.

Yet now, during dinner, it seemed he couldn't keep his eyes off me. His expression wasn't lusty or affectionate, however; it was calculating. Not a good sign for me.

I finished early and grabbed a paperback, hoping he'd leave me alone. No luck.

He stomped into one of the many little cozy rooms the house had and stood on top of me so that I had to tilt my head back uncomfortably to meet his eyes.

"We need to talk," he said gruffly.

"What is it?"

One of his rough hands traveled up my arm. "We need to leave here."

"The room?"

His eyebrows went up. Apparently he didn't appreciate my snarky attitude. Then it dawned on me.

My heart sped up. "Oh, Libby talked to you,

too

?! Oh, thank

God

. She said... Well, I was going to tell her no but maybe—"

"Libby?" Nate cut in.

Sound was sucked from the room as we studied one another.

I wasn't a moron; clearly he knew nothing about what Libby intended.

Nate paced. "Fuck.

Fuck

!"

"What's the problem?

Shhh

. So, she had the same idea. It doesn't mean anything. It's not surprising considering what's happened."

He came back and bent over me. "I think it's her," he confided. His voice was low and close to my ear.

I inhaled, breathing in the smell of him—smoke, leather, freshly cut grass and just the teensiest bit of liquor.

"Don't be ridiculous. She's my friend."

"There are no such thing as

friends

these days. Did you forget?"

"Then what are

we

?"

He sat next to me on the couch and pulled my forgotten book from my hands, tossing it somewhere. "I don't know."

"A bad idea?"

He rested his head against the back of the couch, still facing me. "Yes."

Poor Nate. He'd been through so much, and he didn't even have a moment to acclimate himself. To grieve. He was our leader—we looked to him—and he knew it. Now he had to come to terms with the fact he might have to flee from his boyhood home, from the land his father reaped and sowed, from where he had memories—nice, wholesome memories.

My hands wanted to go to him but I wasn't sure he'd be receptive. "How are you doing? I mean, are you okay? As okay as can be expected?"

My phrasing reminded me of Libby and a sad note struck my heart.

He kissed me, touching both sides of my face gingerly as if my skull might collapse beneath the weight of his hands.

"I'm surviving."

_______________________________

Nate continued to sleep in Wendy's room, but I went back to the room I'd been given when I came. We both had a lot to think about the week following Wendy's death, and it seemed like a romantic entanglement should be last on both our lists. He never said anything about it, never asked me to join him. He didn't kiss me again.

But I couldn't help but be aware of him. In the mornings we typically rose at the same time. We sipped coffee on opposite sides of the kitchen. I watched him from the corner of my eye; he usually looked out the window. We didn't speak again about leaving, and Libby didn't bring up the topic, either. It brewed in the air, though; I could feel both of them thinking, planning.

I knew Libby was waiting for me to approach her.

Ariel was my pick for the person who betrayed us. I watched her like a hawk for the next few days, and she knew it. She sighed whenever she caught me studying her for some sign of guilt.

"I didn't let that undead fucker in," she finally said one night, fed up.

It was boiling hot and we'd left the screen door open for some cool air. The others were off doing whatever, but Ariel and I were pretending to read in the main living room.

I slammed my book shut. "You

did

keep questioning Wendy's leadership."

"Look, the woman pissed me off sometimes but I'm not gonna risk my life or anyone else's just because of a few squabbles. Okay? So stop staring at me. It's fucking creepy."

It didn't alleviate my concerns, but I did open my book back up with a tiny smile. It was the first time I nearly liked Ariel.

Later that night I knocked on Nate's door. He opened it a sliver.

"What's up?"

"Can I come in for a minute?"

He inhaled slowly. "I was just about to go to bed."

Wow.

"Like I said, it'll only take a minute."

He opened the door wider, just wide enough for me to slip in, and put his hands on his hips. Now I knew why he was reluctant to open the door—he was only in boxer-briefs.

I quieted my hormones and stared into his eyes. "I'm worried. Ariel isn't responsible, either. I just know it. That leaves Zach."

Nate ruffled his hair. "Or Doug, Libby."

I gave him a look.

"Fiona, have you forgotten what I said to you before? Nobody is anyone's

friend

here. We just coexist. We all play a part in keeping each other alive, otherwise every last one of the others would betray us if it saved their asses."

I felt a little thrill when he said

us

. I blame stress for what I said next. "Nate, will you do something very weird and possibly dangerous for me? Just this once?"

He examined me before answering. I think he might have even had an idea of what I was going to ask him. "Yes."

"Will you kiss me? I could

really

use a kiss right now, to just feel close to someone. And you're one of the few people I trust...and I just

want you

. It's crazy, I know, but I just keep thinking about your lips on mine...."

Nate's eyes caught fire, but he said, "I think you might regret that later."

"There is no way I'd regret it."

"I can't give you what you want, Fiona. We're not two people who bumped into each other at a bar. We're fighting for our lives."

My eyes embarrassingly began to fill up with tears. "Don't you think I know that?"

"I can't be your boyfriend." He pitied me. I could see it in his eyes, the way he breathed. "I can't start this. I don't have the time, the attention span. I can't mean something to someone and vice versa, okay? I don't want to mess with you any more than I already have."

I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand. There was no point hiding my tears from Nate; he saw everything, anyway. The worst part of it was that he was right. It would be so easy for us to come together, to melt into each other's bodies, but when it was over those pesky

feelings

would be even harder to fight. At least, for me. Probably mostly for me.

"Okay," I whispered.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I wanted to—I liked kissing you, too, okay? And I keep meaning to thank you for laying with me that night and just being a big help."

A big help

. Like I brought him a casserole. This was quickly becoming worse.

"All right."

"If things weren't so complicated—"

"I get it, Nate," I cut in, "thanks."

He looked like he wanted to say something else. The moment passed and he nodded his head.

I walked over to his door, hating that this one fragile, deep connection I felt with someone was being torn from me again. The loss of Wendy was tremendous. This was even more so, especially since I'd begun to crave Nate. Inappropriate, crazy, unnecessary craving...yes. But I craved him all the same.

"Good night," I said as cheerfully as I could, which wasn't very cheerful at all, before walking out and clicking the door shut behind me.

______________________________

I was prodded awake earlier than usual. I wiped my eyes and saw Zach hovering above me. My body froze and I sat straight up in bed.

"What is it?"

"Will you help me milk the cows?" He flashed a grin. "I'm sort of hopeless at it."

Out of everyone in the house, I trusted Zach the least. I didn't know why, exactly. He'd never done anything to make me dislike him. Perhaps that was just it—he seemed like a quiet bystander, always watching. And waiting. Call it intuition.

"I think you can handle on your own. The rest of us do, and I'm sure you've done it before."

I was just beginning to get comfortable when Zach spoke again. "We need to talk. It's very important."

My eyes fluttered open and I watched Zach carefully. He didn't seem like he planned on hurting me. I was probably a moron to go with him, but I was curious.

"Give me a minute to get dressed."

It was a brisk morning, but I knew the chill wouldn't last for long. It was supposed to be one of the hottest days this week.

I followed Zach to the barn and then dragged over my stool, snorting when I saw how Zach approached the cow's poor udders. I walked over, correcting his method the best I could. Then I sat back down and we worked in silence for a while until he finally got to the point.

"Are you planning on leaving the compound?"

I focused on squeezing milk into the pail. "Why would I leave the compound?"

"Don't be coy. Doesn't suit you, and you're the shittiest liar I ever saw."

I opened my mouth to disagree but he was watching me in the dim lighting, and as much as I didn't trust him, I knew he had me figured pretty well. I sighed and wondered how bad telling the truth could be. "I might be leaving. I don't know. Things haven't been great around here."

"Really think that's a good idea? I mean, we have everything we could possibly want here."

"Yeah," I said with a bitter laugh. "That seems to be the problem." I turned back to the cow but kept an eye on him. "What does Ariel think?"

"She doesn't."

"Don't you think you're being a little harsh? Ariel isn't stupid."

He sighed and pulled his hands away from the cow. "Could we not talk about Ariel, please?"

"Have a fight?"

He scoffed and kicked a little at the dirt. "She's a bitch. An idiot. She fights me on everything little... She's not what I want.

Who

I want."

The danger compass that's in every woman immediately went south. I struggled to change the subject.

"Um, well." Swallowing, I twisted my hair up into a bun. "I guess you've decided already you won't leave."

"I think we all should stay put. Whoever is doing this crap wants us to scatter." He sniffed and wiped his nose. "Easier to pick us off that way."

I studied him. "Do you really think that?"

"Absolutely."

"Have you told Nate?"

Zach sort of rolled his eyes. "I broached the topic but he says it doesn't matter, we gotta protect lives, not solve mysteries, blah blah

blah

."

"Don't you think he's kind of right, too?" I gave him a small smile. "Your theory is interesting but they seem to be picking us off one by one already if you think about what happened with Wendy."

"I think," he began, turning to face me, "that maybe whoever did it didn't intend on Wendy dying."