Lies (Gone 3)

FIFTEEN

29 HOURS, 51 MINUTES

BRIANNA TOOK BRITTNEY in, as Sam asked. She gave her a room.

Sam had instructed her not to tell anyone. She was fine with that.

Brianna respected Astrid and Albert and the others on the council, but she and Sam, hey, they had been in battle together many times. He had saved her life. She had saved his.

Jack was also at Brianna’s, but she didn’t think that was really Sam’s business, or anyone’s. Jack was doing a little better. The flu seemed to have a short shelf life, just one of those twenty-four-hour things. Jack had stopped coughing quite so spectacularly. The walls and floor were safe again. Besides, one of Jack’s charming quirks was that if it wasn’t on a computer screen, he pretty much didn’t see it. So she doubted he would notice their new roomie unless she came with a USB port in her head.

Sam had also asked Brianna not to do anything other than feed Brittney, maybe help her wash up a little, though the closest thing to a shower now was walking into the surf.

“Don’t ask her questions,” Sam had said quite clearly.

“Why not?”

“Because we may not want to hear the answers,” he had muttered. Then, he amended that. “Look, we don’t want to stress her, okay? Something very weird has happened. We don’t know if this is some kind of freak thing or something else. Either way, she’s been through a lot.”

“You think?” Brianna had said. “What with being dead and buried and all?”

Sam sighed, but tolerantly. “If anyone’s going to question her, it probably shouldn’t be me. And definitely not you.”

Brianna knew what he was saying. Despite keeping Brittney under wraps, Sam probably figured it would all have to come out soon enough. And he probably figured if anyone was going to question Brittney, it should probably be Astrid.

Well…

“So, Brittney, how are you?” Brianna asked. She had been up for a few minutes, which was a long time for Brianna. In a few minutes she had been able to run down to the shore, fill a gallon jug with salt water, and run back to the house.

Brittney was still in the room where Brianna had put her. Still on the bed. Still lying there, eyes open. Brianna wondered if she’d slept at all.

Did zombies sleep?

Brittney sat up in the bed. Brianna set the water down on the nightstand.

“You want to wash up?”

The sheets were smeared with mud, which wasn’t much dirtier than they usually were. It was amazingly hard to get things clean by swooshing them around in the ocean, even when you could swoosh at super speed like Brianna.

Things still came out kind of dirty. And crusty with salt. And scratchy. And they gave you rashes.

Brittney sort of smiled, showing her dirty braces. But she showed no interest in cleaning up.

“Okay, let me help out.” Brianna took a dirty old T-shirt off the floor and dipped it in the water. She rubbed at some mud on Brittney’s shoulder.

The mud came off.

But Brittney’s skin did not come clean.

Brianna rubbed some more. More mud came off. No clean skin showed through.

Brianna felt a chill. Brianna wasn’t scared of much. She had grown accustomed to the fact that her super speed rendered her almost invulnerable, unstoppable. She had gone toe-to-toe with Caine and walked away laughing. But this was just plain disturbing.

Brianna swallowed hard. She wiped again. And again, the same thing.

“Okay,” Brianna said softly. “Brittney, I think maybe it’s, like, time for you to tell me what’s going on with you. Because I’d like to know whether you’re sitting there thinking you’d like to eat my brain.”

“Your brain?” Brittney asked.