CHAPTER SEVENTY-EIGHT
STEBBINS LITTLE SCHOOL
STEBBINS, PENNSYLVANIA
Billy Trout felt like death.
Since yesterday he had been slapped, punched, shoved, shot at, attacked by zombies, nearly gunned down by helicopters, pulled his back out, and punched some more. There was no part of his body that did not hurt. His stomach felt like it was filled with broken glass and he had a persistent ringing in his ear. Nausea eddied in his gut and his eyes had trouble focusing. He felt ninety years old as he limped slowly after Dez as she trotted down the hall toward the rear exit.
Finally he had to stop and lean against the wall, gulping in ragged lungfuls of air.
When Dez realized he wasn’t following her, she stopped and turned. “What are you doing?”
“Watching all the pretty fireflies,” he croaked.
He expected a sharp comeback, but instead she came back to where he stood, an expression of concern clouding her pretty face. She smoothed the lank blond hair out of his eyes and placed her palm on his cheek. An act of tenderness that was an echo of a Dez Fox that Trout used to know.
“I should have cut his balls off and fed them to him,” she said.
Trout managed a weak grin. “I’d have enjoyed that.”
She grunted and smiled. “Piper rang his chimes pretty well, though. Who’da thought?”
“Wish I’d seen it.”
“It was sweet.”
“Sure.”
Trout straightened slowly and then hissed sharply, collapsing back against the wall.
“Jesus Christ, Billy, how fucked up are you?”
“Oh … I’ve had worse.”
“No you haven’t, you asshole.”
“No, I haven’t,” he agreed weakly. “It’s the sort of thing people say.”
“Is it bad?”
“It’s not terrific,” he admitted through clenched teeth.
She shook her head. “We need to get you to a hospital.”
He slowly straightened again, face set against pain spikes. He made it to a relatively upright position. “On the list of immediate priorities, Dez, that’s right near the bottom.”
Dez didn’t argue.
“Come on,” he said, “we have work to—”
“Officer Fox!” a voice called sharply, and they both looked toward the stairwell as Jenny DeGroot came bursting out. “Something’s happening outside.”
“We already know about the soldiers leaving—”
“No,” said Jenny breathlessly, “it’s something else. You’d better come look.”
Dez cut a look at Trout, but he waved her away. “Go, I’ll catch up.”