Z Children (Book 1): Awakening (21 page)

Grandma was on
the ground, her body limp and looking small in the oversized sweater. I’d only
been turned away from her for a moment, and now a girl with mousey brown hair
was chewing absentmindedly on her exposed right calf. “Get away from her!” I
screamed, bending over and pushing the girl as hard as I could.  

The girl snarled
and rolled away from me. It didn’t take her long to recover and she quickly
leapt back towards her scavenged dinner. “No!” Another push, but she was smart
now, easily avoiding my sorry excuse for self-defense.

Everything
around me seemed to fade into the background as I fended off the miniature
monster’s advances. I had no idea how I’d get out of the store myself, let
alone how I’d get Grandma out… if I could kill this second child and even have
the chance to get out. Grandma weighed barely a hundred pounds, but if I
dragged her, then I couldn’t defend her.

She needed to
wake up, be able to walk by herself. Nudging her with my toe, my eyes staying
on the monstrous girl, I mentally begged my grandma to wake up, to be fine. But
her face was so pale and her chest was not moving.
Please wake up. Please
wake up. You can call me any name you want. Just please wake up.

I couldn’t keep
pushing the tenacious girl away forever.

I was so tired,
exhausted from defending Grandma and scared of the four other kids that were
standing a short distance away, eyeballing the situation… maybe wondering if
I’d taste better than a wrinkled old woman. I wasn’t going to make it out. I was
going to die at twelve, twelve years old and in this stupid town.

That’s when
Grandma stirred, just when I’d given up hope and written my sad little obituary
in my head. “Oh my god; oh my god. Grandma!” I bent down to help her up,
knowing that my diverted focus would likely mean death by cannibal munchkin.

As I reached
under her arms and bent my knees to lift, her eyelids fluttered like
hummingbird’s wings and finally, her lashes fully parted. To reveal dead eyes,
the lovely gray of her irises nearly obscured by a milky film that reminded me
of the condensed milk she always used in her banana pudding.

I fell
backwards, hands automatically finding their way behind me for support.
“Grandma?” I whispered, but, in my gut, I knew she wasn’t Grandma. Not anymore.

The hoard of
other children converged now, as if her waking up was their cue to attack. The
exit was so close, but I was so afraid. If I turned my back to run… they were
so fast, they’d catch me in a millisecond. “Grandma, please… oh, god, please
help me.” My words were a whispered prayer to a woman that no longer existed.

The shell of my
grandma was standing now and her soulless eyes stared at me unblinking.

“Please.” I
begged. “Please. It’s me. It’s Bonnie. I’m Rosie’s daughter. Please. Please
don’t let them hurt me.”

I clumsily got
to my feet, never losing sight of the five cannibal kids and grandma’s body.

Just walk
slowly. Don’t let them see how afraid you are.

The boy who’d
killed Grandma seemed to hear my thoughts and his pace quickened. They were all
so fast. I didn’t stand a chance.

I felt the
automatic door whoosh open behind me.

Grandma’s shell
was still looking at me. She had moved though and was between me and the kids.
We looked at each other for an instance and I could swear I saw a glint of
recognition behind the cloudy eyes. She stumbled to her left and grunted loudly
as her hands made contact with a large shelving unit to the left of the
entrance. The shell of my grandma yanked and Snapple and sparkling grape juice
rained down onto the rock-hard floors. Glass bottles shattered into pieces, the
sharp shards glinting under the fluorescent lighting.

The deranged
kids howled in unison and tried to race towards me. They slipped and slid
across the linoleum, now slick with liquid. As they fell, their small frames
came into contact with sizeable bottle shards. Clary met the worst fate- a
particularly large, jagged piece of dark green bottle found its way into her
neck. It must have severed the left carotid artery. Bright red blood that
morphed to pitch black sprayed out in a wet fan- like a paint sprayer on the
fritz.

I gasped.

Grandma was
dead. I had no doubt about that.

But why would a
dead woman… try and save me?

Don’t look a
gift horse in the mouth, Bon. Just run!

I wasn’t going
to the bus stop. I couldn’t stand still, be a sitting duck.

The gas station
wasn’t far, two miles at most. I was fast. I could run that in sixteen minutes
flat.

***

I was out of
breath, out of energy, my throat parched. But I was nearly there. I could see
the gas station now, the green and orange sign a beacon to help me navigate my
fear and push past my exhaustion. That short distance, a tiny bit further, and
I’d be with Dad. He’d make everything okay.

Moving faster
now, ignoring the aches and pains, I kept my mind focused on my dad, on getting
to him. It kept me going, footfall after footfall against the busted sidewalk.
My eyes were refusing to leave the singular door that provided entrance into
the station’s store.
Keep running, you’re almost there.

The homestretch
now, only a few more yards. But the sidewalks in our town were hazardous. I
should have been looking down, watching where I was going. A stubborn root
system connected to a large white oak had pushed the concrete upwards, creating
a hump that often tripped the most sure-footed walker. I knew it was there; my
mind had just been elsewhere. The town had petitioned to tear it down, repair
the walkway, but the tree was in contention to be on the Texas Big Tree
Registry. If it was taller than 110 feet, it would beat out the white oak in
Newton County. That was too much fame for the town council to pass up.

A big tree.

That’s the most
important thing this stupid town is known for.

That was my
thought as I careened forward out of control and face-planted against the
pitted, cracked path.

My face started
stinging instantly and I knew I’d scraped it up pretty badly. “Ugh,” I moaned,
fingering the area that hurt the most. The left side of my face, above the
temple stretching down towards the cheek, was one big world of hurt. Looking
down at my hands, I let loose a second moan. My palms, which had taken some of
the impact and saved my face from worse damage, were bleeding and sported
shallow abrasions. A small piece of skin flapped in the breeze.

A noise to my
left made me whirl. It had come from across the street. Sunny Valley Daycare
seemed inordinately cheerful today; the Texas daylight made it look like a
haven for angels. The sight of the happy building made me momentarily forget
the scrapes and cuts. Dad’s gas station was right across the street from a
bunch of little kids. I hadn’t even thought of that as I’d run here. I’d just
wanted to get to my dad.

My heart was a
race horse again, threatening to break the gates and run laps around my
internal organs. He had to be okay. Dad had to be okay. I couldn’t lose him.

I hadn’t
realized my right knee was also hurt until I started limping forward. Looking
down, I saw that my only pair of good jeans was torn, revealing more scrapes,
more blood. I was almost at the front door though. Just a few more steps.

My eyes were
magnetically drawn toward the daycare, as if I expected a flood of mini
monsters to pour through the door and towards me at any moment.

The door handle
was cold against my palm. I pushed, but the door didn’t budge. An earthquake
attacked my body; it sent seismic tremors through every part of me.

Tears began to
gather at the corner of my eyes and I continued to push futilely. I wanted to scream
for Dad, yell at the top of my lungs, but the cheery daycare across the street
arrested my voice. Hope was abandoning me quickly and I slumped against the
glass.
“
Daddy… daddy… I’m sorry. I should have protected Grandma. I’m so
sorry.” My words were a whispered prayer against the door, its surface slightly
cooler than the hot air around me. My eyes were closed, but they flashed open
at the sound of my name.

“Bonnie! Bonnie,
don’t come in here!”

I could see him
through the glass.

And I could see
her.

A willowy child
with dark brown hair and sun-kissed highlights framing what once must have been
a cherubic face was rummaging through the candy display beneath the register.
Her lavender dress was ripped and ruined with dark stains. I didn’t know where to
look- at the girl or at my dad’s terrified face?

My indecision
probably saved my life.

Because by the
time I decided I had to enter the building, had to put myself between Dad and the
monster child, she’d come away from the display with a handful of Paydays and
her gaze had found my dad. And then she’d started moving towards him. “Dad!
Dad!” My palms were pounding against the door. I couldn’t do anything. I
couldn’t open the door. My dad was going to die. Grandma was dead. I was going
to be alone. Dad was moving backwards, inching away from the girl, but moving
slowly, as if a sudden, fast action would flare her malice.

He was between
the soda fountain and the chips display now, his lower half no longer in sight.

The girl was so
close to him. My everything hurt. Watching someone you love face death was so
much worse than facing death yourself.  

That’s when my
eyes saw the word ‘PULL’ in large red letters on the small store’s door. It had
always been that way. I had entered a million times before to see Dad. Why had
I chosen today to go brain dead? So stupid. I was so stupid.

Without
thinking, I began to pull the door open. Dad’s gaze darted to the motion and
the squeak of the door moving. “No! Bonnie, no!”

His attention on
me took his attention off of the murderous girl with the sweet tooth. She
launched herself at him, not dropping a single candy bar. Frozen in horror, I
watched my dad stumble backwards, lose his footing, and fall towards the floor.
The girl rode him downward, her hair fanning out behind her in an almost
graceful arc.

I couldn’t see
my dad now; he and the girl were obscured by the food displays.

Dad had told me
to run, to not come in, but I couldn’t do that. I could not leave without
seeing that there was no hope. Otherwise, I’d never accept he was gone.

The door was
still pushed inward several inches.

I opened it the
rest of the way and walked slowly, as if I approached the gas chamber.

When I rounded
the corner, bringing Dad and his attacker into sight, I could not deny that I
was officially alone in the world.

The girl’s mouth
was pressed against my father’s chin. She was kneeling beside his body; so it
was hard to miss the large gaping hole in his stomach.

His legs were
still twitching in the after-throes of death. There was no saving him though.
The wound was too large, the pool of blood on the floor too expansive.

I was absolutely
silent, taking in the scene.

Buried inside my
body, I knew was pain, the kind of pain I’d never experienced or been able to
quantify. It was an agony, the intense difficulty of losing a piece of my soul.

When the
brunette child abandoned my father’s face, there wasn’t much left of it.

Chin, lip and
jaw—were missing.

And as she perched
herself atop my father, sticking her hand deep inside his belly, her other hand
deftly unwrapped a candy bar.

I backed away. I
had to get out of here, get outside, start running again. If I stayed one
second longer, I would scream until the child killed me too.

A child. I kept
calling these kids monsters and cannibals, but it could easily be me. I was
twelve, not so much older.

It might as well
have been me that had murdered my family.

My body was
shaking by the time I pushed the store door open and stepped out into the sun-
so inappropriate against the landscape of my mind, which was dark and mournful.

Dad said run.
Run, Bon.

I only made it
to the side of the building. I leaned against the brick, not knowing what to do
or where to go. There would be no one at home. Dozens of kids lived in our
neighborhood. But I needed clothes and I knew where Dad’s money jar was- the
one he filled with change all year until my birthday in November. Then he’d
give it all to me and take me shopping.

I don’t
understand. I don’t understand what is happening. It’s not fair. We’ve had it
hard enough. You hear that, God! We’ve had it hard enough! They shouldn’t have
died! What kind of life did we have? Ramen and chicken dogs? Barely affording
bills each month?