I got nothin. Nothin to say, nothin to do, nothin to add. I had somethin once. I had me a sistah. Tamika. She got lost, though. Ma fault.

After she gone, they started calling me Zephyr. Nothing. A bit of air. When I spoke, others got mad. When I didn't speak, others complained I was stand-offish. When I tried be clever, people told me to shut up and listen to ma betters. When I gave nothing but snarks, they called me stupid. When I tried to fit in with the slow, they eyed me weird, as if I was laughing at em. It was enough to really screw me up.

I wasn't screwed up, though. Mama told me be grateful for what I got, but when I asked what's worth gratefulness, she told me not to sass, and clipped ma ear a good one.

So I went and asked ma ol' teacher, and leader of our posse. Was Mr. Marsh that gave me the Zephyr nickname, I never could figure why. He looked at me with his big blue bug eyes he was always winking at ma Mama, and said, "Whatchoo got?" He sucked on a pencil for a few seconds and eyes me. "Why'r'u asking me?" I scampered outta there right quick.

I asked ma priest, "what I got?" during ma next meeting.

"You have the Lord our God, who will never let you fall."

I glanced down at ma mud n' blood-covered boots, and laughed like a rat with a cracker. I looked back at her, and she turned all red.

"Zephyr," she said, "you got your life." I turned away, and asked, "And how much'll someone give me for that?"

The walk home took some time, with all the ducking and skittering I had t'do to avoid the Z gangs. They don't move fast, but once they saw or smelled you, they never stopped. As I was hiding in a dumpster stinking with rotten fish, a gang of mostly youngsters shuffled past. I spied on em through a crack, and bit ma lips as ma little sistah Tamika trailed behind, dragging her twisted leg. Her hair, that used to be done up in fancy cornrow braids and beads, was all messy, and some was gone, maybe burnt off. She'd always been small, but now she was bent over like an ol' woman, and her skinny arms and legs were bruised all over. Now those bruises would never go away. She hadn't eaten in awhile, her skin was all loose, and she was chewing on her thumb, the crunch of the bone sending a curl down ma spine.

I felt ma skinny arm through ma shirt. Even if I gave her some, it ain't gonna last long.

I done some thinking about joining her and her gang, but even for zombies food was getting rare. And, course, there wasn't no promise they'd stop with ma offering. Even zombies don't have no honor no more. Not these days. Afta they done gone, I dug through the fish, seeing if there wasn't nothing left that wouldn't kill us. A few fins, a few heads don't smell too bad. Maybe Mama could use em.

Mama growled at the fish heads, and threw em in the pot. "Stew, mebbe," she said, and, "go clean out the zombie guard." I hated that. I'd skipped over it on the way in, and there's a few there. This thing worked roughly the same as a cattle guard, they said. Zombies cain't control their steps good, so in they fell. We all threw in a bucketful of salt or lime every time we passed. It dried em out, made em really klutzy, and then once a week or so we poured in some gas or something and lit em up. Cleaning out that ash mess was the worst. Every time I tried not to look for ma sistah. I just knew she'd come looking for me.

I filled a plastic bag full of gas and chucked it down the guard, followed by a flaming newspaper. The Zs went up likes a torch, and I stumbled away from the reek. They moaned and cried, but I just went back inside. It'd be a few hours fore I could go out and stir the ashes, and shovel em out. Good for the veg garden, those ashes.

Inside I heard the chanting of the kids in class. I got outta class last year. Kids only go til they reach ten or so. Too much to do to waste time learning when chances are you won't last til twenty. If yer lucky. Tamika was still in class, at age eight when they grabbed her, two months ago now. Anyways, I snuck into the back of the classroom, and sat down onto a cushion.

  "Salt, fire, chop off the head.
  These are the ways to kill the dead.
  Dry them out, blow them up,
  beat the brain to a pulp.
  These are the ways to kill the dead."

The old chant skipped outta ma mouth, and I closed ma eyes. I got nothin, I reminded maself. I was supposed to be protecting Tamika. And if I hadn't run into a looting for a beer, I might have saved her. I dunno how she made it through the attack un-eaten, I watched em drag her off down a stinking alley, kicking and screaming. I slitted ma eyes, and glanced at the kids in the back row, and they was slitting their eyes at me. Zephyr theys called me, after Tamika got gone. Nothing. There wasn't nothing for me here no more. I slithered out of the back of that close room.

Next morning, dawn leaked into ma room, leaving dark bars on the far wall, close enough togethers that nothing could get into the window, not even a kid zombie. I got dressed, knocked some of the mud off ma boots, and headed out into the yard. A thin trickle of smoke still rose from the zombie guard. I wandered over and peered in. They was all gone, and the ashes just smoking. I grabbed a broom and a shovel, and started in. By the time I was done, I was the same light color as the Zs, ash ground into ma dreads. From fore, I knew there was black tracks down ma face, tears keeping the grit from ma eyes. The last of the bones I threw into the cruncher, and headed out into the neighborhood.

Tamika's gang usually hung out by the old YMCA. They kept bodies sommat fresh in the old pool there. I hadn't ever seen inside since the Z bomb, but I'd heard some skin-raising tales, that's sure.

I'd been doing some learning, to see if there was a way to get Tamika back. Not much info in the old horror stories and flicks. Once a zombie, all ya could do was kill em dead. "Salt, fire, chop off the head..." But that was all back when Zs were still a myth, something just out of stories, fore they started wandering in packs. Before the bomb. But Tamika's eight. I couldn't leave her to that.

I headed towards downtown, shivering in the wind off the lake. Maybe 'nother trip to the library would turn up something I hadn't thought of fore. On the way, I scouted around for some supplies. Chances were I'd have to spend the night in the library, or wherever I ended up. Not safe t'all to travel after dark, even when you was a scrawny street'in without a lick of meat on you.

I dodged from shadow to shadow, heading deeper into the eerie deadness of downtown. I missed the sounds of pigeons, stray cats, rats. But there wasn't nothing left alive in the city, other than a few of us people. We and the Zs had eaten everything early on. Now there was some trade, some folks were fishing out in Lake Michigan, and those living outside the cities were growing what they could, and even doing some hunting up into Wisconsin, but gas was starting to be a problem, too. We were looking for other burny things to throw down the zombie guard.

I neared the dumpsters of a hospital and climbed in, hoping there might be something useful. Nothing much, a few surg'cal masks, a few gloves, but they hadn't been here a week ago.

I stuffed the masks and gloves into ma bag, and scampered to the loading dock of the hospital, ears out for any movement. There was still some use o' the hospitals, mostly by well-meaning docs and meat wagon guys, but the Zs knew that too, so it never lasted long.

The doors yawned open, and I caught a noseful of bleach and rubbing alcohol. Someone was using the place, at least near here. I couldn't resist. I headed in.

The lights were even on, but many were blinky. I tiptoed down the hall, pausing at each door to listen. The lights only trailed along a few halls, and I followed em up two flights of stairs and through a swinging door.

Diesel fumes tickled ma nose as a generator shook the walls. A bed with some rags hanging round it was lit up. I dropped behind a table, scouting. Surely someone wouldn't be up here alone, no guards posted?

Over the generator's groan I heard some low moaning and grunting, that matched with the sounds of metal squeaking and leather creaking. The grunting sounded an awful lot like a Z, wrastling something beyond its strength.

I hugged ma knees, thinking. If there was a zombie in the room, I'd best get out of there right quick, but the generator caught ma curiosity. It's not like Zs needed light, or warmth, and power tools were usually beyond their know-how anyhow.

I tucked ma bag under the table, strap stuck out a bit case of a quick exit, and snuck over to the curtain. There was an old, low voice mumbling under the moans, something about Pee Esh I, titran rates, litters. Made not a lick of sense to me. But it wasn't no Z. There was a gleam of light poking out between the curtain and the wall, away from the opening, so I tiptoed over there and twisted to get ma eye to the crack.

The Z was strapt to a bed, tubes poking out all over it. An old, old woman, maybe in her fifties, leaned over it, her short white hair sticking up all over like it had been pecked over by birds, her axle-grease face all warped with thinking.

Her hand skittered over a clipboard, making all sorts of writing, but I couldn't read. Her mumblings sorted out into bits like "Couldn't be that simple, could it?" "They really duped the Z cucumber?" This last made me swallow a laugh.

"Come out, little one, I won't hurt you." Her voice was quiet and raspy, and her eyes glinted under the painful lights, staring at me. Ma fingers a-jiggling, I pulled aside the curtain, and squeezed past the side rail on the Z's bed. I shook, that close to a Z. Its stench made ma eyes water, and I wiped em, mad to show this old thing a weakness.

"Gran, what ya doin' with that thing?" I asked, unsure if I should watch her or the Z, and making maself dizzy trying to do both. "Izzit safe?"

"It's reasonably safe," she replied, running fingers through that natty hair and sighing. "This one hasn't eaten in a long time, and the straps should be strong enough. Also, I have a saline drip inserted, and zombies tend to weaken when exposed to it."

"Saline? Is that some kind of poison?"

She glanced down at me again, and her face twisted up more. "Sorry. Saline is salt water. Tears, or close enough."

I looked down at ma still-wet fingers. "Tears hurt Zs? How can that be? It's not likes we haven't done our cryin!" I reached ma hand out towards the Z, but the old woman grabbed it, her grip like the boa constrictor ma school had had, fore we ate it.

"Don't touch it. Especially not with more salt water."

I pulled back ma hand, getting curiouser and curiouser. "What ya doin?"

The old woman looked up at the ceiling, like she was asking it for advice, the lines on her face shifting like the crust on bubbling cheese. She looked at me sideways, so I tried to look even more skinny and shy, like "what harm could I do?"

Her clipboard clattered down on a table, and she asked, "Have you eaten today?" I shook ma head, and she held back the curtain and pointed to a counter further in the room. A lump of rucksack spilled a few MREs and bits of paper. She reached in and grabbed two shriveled apples. I hadn't seen fruit in months, and hadta suck spit off ma tongue. She handed me one, and then opened a 'veggie burger in BBQ sauce' MRE. Even MREs were hard to come by these days, the ones with meat impossible. I wondered where this food was coming from, but when she started to split up the burger, I happily took a share.

"What's your name, boy?" she asked while squeezing some sauce on the burger.

"Most folks call me Zephyr," I said around a bite of apple. The burst of flavor made ma eyes water more, and I wiped a bit of drool from ma chin.

"As in 'West Wind?'"

"No, ma'am, as in 'weak.' A nobody."

She looked at me for a bit, her eyes kinda squinched together. Then she wiped her mouth, and said, "Nice to meet you, Zephyr. I'm Jessica. The term 'zombie' comes from old Caribbean superstitions, old voodoo magic. When I was growing up, my grammy told us stories of voodoo and zombies to scare us. Do you know anything about voodoo?"

"Nah, not really. Just that it's an old folk-magic," I said.

"Supposedly," she continued, "a witch would poison a person with some sort of neurotoxin, that's a brain poison, and the person would seem to die. Sometimes they also performed a magic ritual. The zombie would be revived using a 'zombie cucumber,' which was more hallucinogenic, or vision-creating, drugs."

I giggled again at the funny term. She smiled, and took a bite. I listened as hard as I could while I chowed down on that burger.

"Anyway, then the zombie would be used as slave labor, or whatever." She shook her head. "Pretty crazy, really. Very few educated people took the zombie thing seriously. But the really interesting fact was that salt was supposed to de-zombie them, but then sometimes they would die for good."

"Die? We kill em just fine."

"Shhhhh," she said. "Let me finish. The whole voodoo thing was thought to be pretty kooky. Then people were infected by the bomb, and the best way people had to describe them was 'zombie.' Not much personality, slow, cumbersome movements, cannibalistic, and it's clear that their bodies are partially dead." She plugged her nose and made a gagging noise. I laughed.

"Before, I was a scientist. I was trying to figure out how life started. After, I tried to help figure out how to fix the bomb damage, but we weren't getting anywhere."

I had shushed, but she was talking lower now, so I moved a bit closer, to hear her better outta ma bad ear.

"I told the other scientists those crazy stories grammy used to tell, and suggested maybe they had some useful information. They thought I was crazy, and kicked me out. So here I am, seeing if maybe grammy was right. I can't think of much else to do but roll over and die. She made a high sound I realized was her laughing. "And I'm too crotchety for that!"

She licked BBQ sauce off her fingers, and started to clean up the meal a bit. I got up, feeling almost wobbly after ma first good meal in weeks.

"So you think givin the Zs lots of salt will cure em and not kill em?"

"Kinda, yeah. Currently, I'm seeing if replacing their blood with saline for awhile will help. Maybe the saline will kill whatever is in their bodies that causes this. I'm also filtering their blood with this dialysis machine, and then putting it back in them. But normal table salt doesn't seem to do much. I've been trying various other mineral salts."

"Ewww. That's really gross. No wonder yer doc friends booted you out." I was backing away from the Z, looking at the tubes going in, and remembering how it had thrashed earlier.

"Would you rather they continue on as they are? We have no information on this, Zephyr." She rubbed the back of her neck, and looked down at her feet.

"I dunno, gran. This sounds like something Mistah Marsh would think is cool, though." I curled ma lip at the thought of that wiggly fish. "Mr. Marsh? Who is he?"

"Ma old teacher back at home. He's been gathering information on how to kill the Z's, and made up a chant for us kids to remember. 'Salt, fire, chop off the head...'" I recited.

Her eyes widened and she stared at me. "Has he done anything else like that? Studying the zombies?"

"Well, he made us build the zombie guard, says it's like the old cattle guards. What's a cattle?"

"A zombie guard! That's great!" she laughed. "Does it work? And how?"

"Yeah, it kinda works. It's a big pit with bars spaced wide across the top. Sometimes the Zs make it across, but mostly they fall in. Then I gotta roast em and clean out the ashes. Feed the garden. I hate it."

"Do you think you could get one of those zombies here?" Her eyes were kinda blazing now, and I could see her hands squeezing the clipboard so hard it must've hurt. Ma stomach curled up with fear. How had Jessica got this Z? And how could I get a live and kicking Z outta the trap in one piece? I started backing away from her, and muttered "I'll talk to Mama and Marsh, mebbe we can figure somethin out. Thanks for the food. I'll come back tomorrow."

And with that, I grabbed ma bag and beat it home.

#

The chow room was loud and crowded when I got back from the hospital. Mama and Mr. Marsh sat at one end of a table, minding the stew-pot. I sat down across from Marsh, making him jump a bit. Looked like someone found a bit o' flour, cause there was pieces of flat bread on the table. Mama handed me a bowl, slopped some fish head stew innit, and passed over a sliver of bread. I took it and ate it, knowing if I said anything about having an MRE earlier, it'd just make things worse.

As I ate, I eyed Mr. Marsh. Some of our teens got trapped in the zombie guard afta they was infected. I had nightmares about getting infected and falling in, and now I dreamt of finding Tamika in there.

But mebbe I could get Marsh and some of the older boys to help me make a way to take a Z to the hospital. I feared, though, if they heard about Jessica, they'd take her supplies. Unless they knew what she was doing, and that maybe there was some hope. Not much, but we'd done with none for so long, it was something.

"Mama," I said, not sure how to continue.

She looked at me, then examined ma bowl. It wasn't scraped clean, and that made her s'picious. I wiped up the last of the soup with some bread. Mama raised an eyebrow. "What, Zephyr?" I knew she was never gonna thank me for the fish heads.

"Mama, and Mistah Marsh..." I stopped, cause Mr. Marsh pointed his bug-eyed glare at me, and I hated that.

Mr. Marsh poked his finger hard in ma chest. "Speak up, boy, we ain't got all night." The stink of oil and ash wafted off his hand. I gritted ma teeth.

"Do ya think we could come up with a way to move a zombie caught in the guard? Like, somewhere else?"

Marsh opened his mouth and brayed laughter, his crooked teeth out there for everyone to see. Mama covered her eyes with her hand and snickered. The whole room was looking at me, and I ducked ma head, ma gut cold, ma ears hot.

"What on earth are you up to this time, boy?" Marsh was standing now, and I just knew this was gonna get bad. "What, you wanna keep a Z for a pet? Maybe you wanna catch that sister of yours and keep her in a cage? I hear the zoo has some available!" The room was laughing now, the critters in the zoo were long eaten. I glanced at Mama, and she was just shaking her head at me.

I closed ma eyes, and stood up, fists tight at ma sides. The room quieted, and I could hear people shuffling back around to their food. I knew they expected me to run, like I always did.

"No," I said as loud as I could. Everyone turned. Marsh just stared at me. "No. I found something today. Someone that might help. Help end all this." I waved a fist wide round over ma head.

"What you on about, Zephyr?" asked Mama, and I turned to her. Her eyes, dull for months, had a tad of spark in em.

"In the downtown hospital, there's this doc. A scientist. She's tryin to turn the zombies back to normal folk. I knows, it sounds cracked, but we got the Zs, why not try to help her?"

Juan, one of the oldest of the teens, stood up on the other side of the room. "Why not?" he said. "I'll help ya, little one. What do you need?"

I stared at Juan. He'd never helped me before, but then, he'd never teased me either. Huh.

I smiled. "I needs a way to get a Z outta the trap, while it's still healthy," I had to pause cause they was laughing, "and... and move it about ten blocks, without gettin' maself infected." I turned to some of the other teens. "Hey, it's somethin to do, anyway, ain't it? Help us."

A few nodded, and nudged their friends. I handed ma bowl to Mama, and kinda skipped over to the teen table. They welcomed me in, and we started making plans.

Jessica's Z looked dreadful the next morning, all drawn and wrinkled. Jessica didn't look much better, eyes all red and squinty. I think she spent the night in the hospital. That was a losing proposition even fore the bomb. She was washing her face outta her canteen, using an old strip of rag that looked like it used to be blue jeans.

She waved when she saw me, and said, "I wasn't sure I was going to see you again. Good morning."

I nodded, and sat down on a stool. Ma feet snaked their way through the rungs, and I scratched behind ma ear. "A few of us think we can get a zombie here. We figure if we wraps it up tightly enough in an old blanket or rug or something, cover it's head, and stick it in a car, it'll come on just fine.

Jessica frowned, then turned to the Z. "Hmm. Maybe. How are you going to get one of out of the trap, though?"

"Rope and muscle. Lots of the kids is interested, and if we can get at em when there's just one in the trap, we thinks maybe we can do it. If not, we just light it up like usual." Ma ear-stink rose up from under ma scratching finger, and I frowned.

A big grin took over Jessica's face. "Can I come and help?"

A chill ran up ma neck, and I coughed. "It's not a great idea. I thinks ma posse might..." I stopped, not sure how to say this.

"What?"

"They's might, well, mug you. Take yer supplies and all." I jumped up and walked around a bit. Couldn't sit still.

"Ah, well. I can take pretty good care of myself, but thanks for the warning. They'd have to help get the zombie out of the car and up here anyway, right? So I'll just hide my stuff and go back with you and help. It won't be any more dangerous that way, right?"

I nodded, admitting this was true. "If you brings a few scraps of food for trade, that might make em okay with you."

She agreed. We had ourselves a plan

#

Back at home, we all set ourselves up a watch, trying to catch ourselves a zombie alone in the trap. Mama took a liking to Jessica, which surprised me lots. That made Jessica's staying there real easy. And these days, we had lotsa room.

I'd never really noticed before that the Zs fell into the trap in groups, just like they traveled. Not even Zs wandered alone these days. We got a few groups over the next few days, but guessed it too dangerous to try to get just one out. So Mr. Marsh said we should go scare one up.

Right.

Mr. Marsh, Juan, Nasirah, Kunal, and a few of the other teens went out zombie-hunting. I watched as they rounded up torches, baseball bats and old pipes, made some armor out of old PVC pipes, and got a bunch of old pans and other things to bang on. They took down an old parachute from the roof, and made up some Molotov cocktails with sugar in them. The sugar would melt and stick like the devil. Those were one of our best zombie killers.

I didn't think the hunt would go too well, so I went back inside and started in on some of the chores. I was checking uselessly at the rat traps, hoping for some meat at dinner, when I heard pots banging and Marsh laughing like a maniac. I just knew something bad was coming. I walked out into the yard, and held ma breath, sick, as Tamika was chased into the trap.

Jessica came up behind me, put her hands on ma shoulder, and asked, "What's up? What's wrong?"

I turned and hid ma eyes in her belly and whispered, "That's ma sistah."

Her arms tightened around ma shoulders, and I heard her chewing out Marsh for being a big ol' meanie. I flinched as I heard Mama's voice yelling for the teens to come help get the Z outta the guard, to grab blankets to wrap it up in and stuff. I heard Jessica ask Mama if that was her daughter, and I heard Mama say "yes" like someone was asking her to close the door. I raised ma head, and Mama was giving me the evil eye. I ran inside, eyes streaming, and stumbled into ma room. I slammed the door, and curled up in blankets, wailing.

#

There was a knock on the door, and Jessica came in. I was lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling. Ma face felt all swollen and crunchy from dried tears, and ma throat ached. She crouched down and said, "We have her restrained and in the car. She's unhurt, as far as that goes." She rubbed her hair and added, "Why didn't you tell me your sister was a zombie?"

I sat up and glared at her. "And what, pass ma sistah to you like a rat?"

She chewed her lip and nodded. "That's a good point, but I might be able to help."

I scooted back into a corner. "And you might not. Has yer doc thing worked on a Z yet?"

"Well, no. But Tamika is young. Maybe having a younger one will help. She doesn't look too damaged. This is her best chance, Zephyr." The wall, splintered slats sticking out through the crumbling plaster, scratched ma sides. I eyed her, still crouched in the center of the room, her hands hanging loose between her knees. If I didn't do this, what chance did ma sistah have? None, none at all. And if Mama agreed to it, not that Mama ever cared much about Tamika, well hell, why not? Maybe Tamika would be betta off dead anyways.

I looked up at Jessica again, and said, "Okay, what can I do?"

#

Tamika was athrashing and whimpering, tied down to the hospital bed. Mama she left, to go get us some food, she said, but I think she was just tired of all the doc mumbo-jumbo. Mr. Marsh still stood over in the corner, panting like a starving dog. He said he was there to protect us, which I believed like there'd be meat for dinner.

I hunched under the desk and tried not to listen. But I couldn't to leave. Earlier I'd tried holding Tamika's hand, but she just hissed and bit at me, and I couldn't stand seeing her hands all nibbled on.

The dialsys machine pumped and thumped next to Tamika, sucking in the brown, goopy blood from her body. I was expecting red, 'course, but she'd been dead too long for that. Jessica was putting something in it to stop it from going crusty.

The last of the blood left Tamika. Jessica had to add a couple of bottles to hold all her blood. Now she was just full of salt, and Jessica added some more, of a different sort, through a needle in Tamika's arm. Jessica was explaining all this as she went along, but I was having a tough time listening. I thought I might barf as it was.

Tamika started wailing this high-pitched thing like I never heard before. Screaming so high ma ears tried to crawl back into ma head. I rushed to her side, and Jessica started fiddling with all sorts of knobs, buttons and needles, muttering under her breath. Between fiddling she was scratching as fast as she could on her clipboard.

The screams stopped on a choking sound, and Tamika went still. I tried to see if she was breathing fore I remembered zombies didn't breathe. Jessica waved me back, put a rolled rag between Tamika's teeth, tied it down, then stuck a huge needle into Tamika's chest and squirted something in. Then Jessica whirled and turned more knobs on the dialsys machine, and the goopy blood, redder now, gurgled back down the tubes towards Tamika.

When the blood hit her, Tamika jerked and twisted her belly into the air, her mouth a big O. I yelled at Jessica "stop it!" and reached for the tube, but she knocked ma hand away. "This is essential, Zephyr! Let me finish!"

Tears plopped down onto ma arm, and onto Tamika's neck. She jerked away from em, and seized even harder, biting down so hard on the rag I thought she was gonna break what was left of her teeth. I covered ma ears and turned away, and crawled under the desk. I sat, curled up, arms over ma head, for a long time.

I heard more screaming, a lot of slapping sounds, and then Jessica called "Clear!" and a loud buzzing thunk weaseled its way down ma back. I crunched up even tighter, til I felt a hand on ma shoulder. I looked. It was Mama. She waved at me to come out.

I took ma hands from ma ears, and realized it was quiet. I unfolded, and poked ma head round the desk. Tamika was sitting up in bed, her hands tied with leather straps to bars. I could see her chest move. She was breathing! I jumped up and ran over.

"Careful," warned Jessica, and I stopped short of piling into Tamika, I was so glad! "She's alive, but I have no idea what state she's in. Let me do some tests."

I looked at Tamika's face, and could see a bit of spark in her eyes again, but her face muscles were loose, and her mouth hung open, her tongue out a bit, drooling.

"Tamika?" I asked, but she didn't turn to look at me. I took her hand, but it was wet. Bright red blood seeped from her fingertips. I jumped back.

Jessica leaned over Tamika with one of those heart-listening things, and closed her eyes. I could see her count under her breath. Then she looked in Tamika's eyes with a little flashlight, and moved a finger in front of her face. I couldn't see Tamika watching the finger, but maybe she just couldn't move yet.

Jessica poked and prodded Tamika, and turned her around to sit over the edge of the bed. Jessica knocked her kneecap, and felt her ankles. There was very little movement. Jessica turned to Mama and said, "Cloe, can you find us something easy to eat? A mash of some sort? I'd like to see if Tamika can eat anything."

Mama stared at Jessica with big eyes, and turned away to head out. Jessica got her canteen and dribbled a bit of water into Tamika's mouth. She swallowed a bit, but most of it ran down her chin and dripped onto her shirt.

Her eyes never focused on Jessica or me.

Jessica lay Tamika back on the bed. I went over and put ma hand on her chest. I could feel her heart beat! I could feel her breath. But something was wrong. I couldn't figure out what. I looked at Jessica, and her eyes were wet.

"Zephyr," she said. "Go home. Get some sleep. Let's see how she's doing after that, shall we? Who knows how long it'll take to recover from something like this. But she's alive again! We did that much!"

She turned to Marsh, who was still in the corner. "Bruce, can you take Zephyr home?"

Marsh twitched, like he'd forgot how to move, but then he came over, took ma arm, and we headed back to our place, me stumbling in exhaustion.

#

Sleeping was useless. I lay around in ma room staring at the unsteady light reflections on the ceiling. Out in the yard beyond ma window the teens roamed with lit torches, the sparks whipping around in the wind. I figured it had been a few hours, so I got up and wandered around the place, seeing if Mama was back. She wasn't. I heard Marsh in the school room, snoring under the desk, as usual. Passing through the kitchen, I grabbed a scrap of flat bread and headed back to the hospital.

Muffled crying sounds warned me as I made ma ways up the stairs, but I still ran to Mama and wrapped ma arms around her. She was standing next to Tamika's bed, hands curled in her own hair, howling. Jessica stood next to her, an arm across Mama's shoulder.

I peeked around Mama to see Tamika. Her eyes were open, but her mouth was still drooping and drooling. I let go and leaned over her. Her eyes kinda focused on me for a sec, but then went dull again. I looked up at Jessica, but she shook her head.

"There's still a chance, but I think she has brain damage. From being a zombie, from the salt or procedure, I don't know. She might come out of it, but I doubt it. But let's give it awhile, shall we?"

I felt tears pricking ma eyes, and I put ma hand on Tamika's arm and squeezed, hoping she'd feel it, and know I was here. I couldn't leave her like this.

-end-