Better. “All right, so how was a spiritual medicine created?” What was now running through my veins?
“The only way I know to describe it is to say it’s a type of holy water. Like I said, it doesn’t cure zombies, and it doesn’t kill them, but it does hurt them. However, it’s too valuable to waste that way unless absolutely necessary.”
Overwhelmed, I rubbed my arms. There was so much more to learn than I’d ever realized. I mean, how could I have known being crazy would have been way easier?
He continued, “Going back to the timing thing. A dose has to be administered to a spirit within the first hour of infection. We have vials and syringes in my Jeep, and I carry one in my pocket like an EpiPen. You’ll need to do the same. Never leave home without it.”
“I won’t,” I vowed.
“As for where they live, they create nests. They group together in caves, in basements, anywhere and everywhere away from the light. They sleep during the day, because their eyes and skin are too sensitive for the sun. Your spirit does better in the light, but you haven’t learned to hide yourself from prying eyes yet, so don’t try it. Plus, your senses haven’t been trained.”
“I’m not even sure how I did it tonight!”
“We’ll work on that, I promise.”
That, and about a thousand other things I hoped. Right now I was seriously handicapped.
“What was the first thing you noticed when you were in that form?” he asked.
“How cold I was,” I said, even the memory making me shiver.
“Exactly. Without the shield of our body, we experience extreme cold. We’re more sensitive. Also, you must never—and I mean never—speak while in that form, unless you want to have what you say.”
Again I found myself mumbling, “I don’t understand.”
“Just like there are rules in this natural realm, there are rules in the spirit realm. We’ve learned that whatever we speak while in spirit form happens, good or bad, as long as it doesn’t violate someone’s free will and as long as we believe it. So, if you say something like, ‘This zombie is killing me,’ and you’re convinced that he is, in fact, killing you, he absolutely will succeed in killing you, and there will be nothing more you can do to stop him.”
After everything I’d seen, I shouldn’t doubt him, but that was just a little too out there. “So we just speak, and boom, it happens?”
“Yes. Sometimes it takes time, but yes.” His hand tightened on my knee. “Trust me on that until I can prove it, okay?”
Rather than telling him he’d have to do a lot to convince me, I nodded.
“Good. Any other questions?”
How cute. Of course I had more questions! “How did you kill them? What was that light in your hand?”
“That was a purified fire. The zombies disintegrate when they come into prolonged contact with it.”
Prolonged? “Seemed to only take a few seconds.”
“You were out of it, so time wasn’t registering properly. That’s why we do everything we can to disable the zombies first. The less they fight us, the easier it is to get our hands on their chests without having our wrists chewed.”
A spark of excitement zinged just under my skin. “Will I be able to produce that fire?” The thought of wielding such a potent weapon against the zombies…oh, yeah! Ali liked.
“With time you will. Now, I’ll give you one more question,” he said. “I don’t want to overwhelm you.”
Too late. But I thought for a moment, trying to pick from an endless pit of potentials. “Why don’t the zombies enter our homes? Why do they only come out once every two weeks or so? Or, as with tonight, every few days?”
“Someone needs lessons in math, too. That was three questions.”
I shrugged. “I like to round up.”
A laugh escaped him, far hardier than his chuckle, yet rough also, as if he hadn’t experienced this much amusement in a long time. “If you’ve still got a sense of humor I guess you’re better off than I thought.” This time he patted my knee in a sweet, brotherly gesture that kind of irritated me. “They don’t enter our homes because we create what’s called a Blood Line.”
“And that is?”
“When we pour a specific mix of chemicals around the foundation of a home, the zombies cannot get in, no matter what they try.”
Well, then. “I want—”
“The mixture has already been poured around your house.”
“When?” The zombies had stayed outside my grandparents’ house all summer, before I’d met Cole.
“Since the day I met you.”
See. The timing was off—and I wasn’t going to touch the realization that Cole had been looking out for me since day one. My dad had to have poured the mixture around my grandparents’ house during his high school days. But how had he known about it, whatever it was?
“What?” Cole asked.
“Nothing,” I replied, not yet ready to voice my thoughts.
He eyed me with suspicion, but let the subject drop. “All right then, back to your barrage of questions. I think I have only one left. The zombies come out so infrequently because they need to rest and rebuild their energy. Also, it takes them a while to digest what they ate.”
They digested goodness. What a lovely image.
“Now I have a question for you.” He waited until I nodded before he continued. “Do you want to fight them? You made it sound like you did, but I have to be sure.”
“Yes, I do.” Very much. The more I learned, the more sure I was.
“Good. I want to get you on rotation as soon as possible. On any given night, some of us are patrolling the city, just in case they emerge. Some of us are training. Some of us are relaxing. On the nights they emerge, we all fight.”
So organized. So precise. But I couldn’t see my grandparents going for that.
“The zombies are growing in number while we are dwindling, and we need all the help we can get.”
“You would trust me to help?” None of his friends had, and he’d avoided that question when they’d issued it.
“I’m willing to give you a chance.”
Another avoidance. Whatever. I wanted this; I’d take it. “I’ll find a way to make it work,” I vowed.
“If you have problems…”
He’d kick me out, whether he needed me or not. Well, time for a little reminder. “In our visions, we saw ourselves kissing each other, and now we have. We saw ourselves fighting zombies together, and now we have. That has to mean something.”