Overrun: Turncoats, #1

Chapter 1

Nathan Bristol tossed his phone onto his bed, bored with playing Catapult Crows for the three thousandth time. His homework still secured in his backpack, he made no move to unearth the Chemistry reading he had avoided all week; a small protest to the unfair punishment he endured.

His laptop had been confiscated earlier in the week after his parents had gotten hold of his mid-term report. While he had not failed any classes, his progress report hadn’t displayed the same amount of progress as his sister’s.

His parents had put up a united front: no computer for two weeks and no roaming the neighborhood after school and on weekends, hunting down fellow mischief-minded accomplices. By Friday, he had driven himself crazy. He had answered a tempting text from Hayden, plotting to meet up with him Friday night at the neighborhood park.

Nathan had tried to sneak out last night to meet up with Hayden, but his father had caught him. Nathan was certain his dad had not bought his story about sneaking downstairs for a late night snack. Who puts their sneakers on to raid the refrigerator? To his father’s credit, he had not called him on it. Instead, his dad had made a point of checking the front and back doors as Nathan made his sandwich, wolfed it down, and then returned to his room.

It was now Saturday afternoon. No one else was home. His father had picked up an extra shift and his sister was out with their mom doing a victory lap for her good grades by shopping until she dropped.

Nothing kept him from sneaking out and looking for trouble, but Nathan didn’t feel up to the consequences.

His phone vibrated. He bounced over to his bed, taking a shot with his foam basketball at the hoop mounted over his door. His sudden presence on the mattress caused the phone to pop into the air. He snatched it before it came back down, drawing small pleasure in his agility.

It was Hayden, pestering him to come out, no doubt. He stowed the phone under his pillow after hitting ignore. He was about to head downstairs to fish around for a snack in the pantry when a round of thumping knocks echoed through the house.

He paused at the top of the steps. The thunderous pounding was not coming from the front door. Whoever wanted in had snuck around back, scaled their fence, and dropped in on their patio. Nathan frowned. Hayden was entirely too persistent. He must not have appreciated being snubbed on the phone. Nathan thudded down the stairs, taking the last flight in one leap.

As he tore through the kitchen, he fumed. Hayden had to know all the commotion would attract the attention of their neighbors. Mrs. Merriweather next door would surely peek through her blinds and catalog everything happening in their backyard. The snoop would be over as soon as his mom pulled up in the driveway, tattling on him for entertaining such a noisy and unapproved visitor.

The gauzy curtains that framed the small window in the back door didn’t allow him a clear view of his visitor. He could confirm it was not Hayden though. His friend was big, linebacker big. The figure framed in the window was much smaller than he expected. This made Nathan pause as he stepped onto the cheap tan linoleum.

The door’s assailant had stopped pounding and was now trying to look in.

As Nathan drew closer, the hairs on the back of his neck raised. Something wasn’t right. He ducked behind the counter only feet away from the door. The figure was hunched over, jiggling the knob.

Closer, he could definitely tell whoever was on the other side was not his bulky friend Hayden. The arms were too slender and the intruder had long hair. His visitor was a girl. He could see her hair tossing about as she wrestled with the door knob. Whoever it was sounded determined to get in. She grunted and Nathan even thought he heard the girl swear under her breath, but it came out a ragged slur. Was it a friend of his sister’s? None of the girls in his own classes knew where he lived. In order for that to happen he’d have to give them more than one-syllable responses to their infrequent questions. Chalk up another arena where his sister reigned supreme. She had no trouble striking up friendships with either sex. Nathan could count on one hand the friendships he had, all male and grossly immature.

The lurker outside slammed her body against the door. Nathan slipped back behind the counter, thankful he had not been seen.

What if some obsessed girl who admired him from afar had stalked him to his home? What if his Saturday afternoon was about to go from dull to hysterically crazy?

He shook his head. More than likely, it was a friend of his sister’s playing a trick on him. Jessie had probably texted one of her million friends and put them up to it. Nathan bit his bottom lip, peeved at her nerve. Here he was serving out his punishment in good faith and she was causing a ruckus. Mrs. Merriweather would surely rat him out. Whoever was outside had been there long enough for their nosy neighbor to set up proper surveillance. The old woman had probably fetched her camera and was popping off shots of the whole scene. Heck, she might even have pulled out the camcorder and was recording every crashing knock in HD.

If that was the case, Nathan needed to put a stop to it. He’d march out, whisk open the door and loudly voice how he was the victim of a horrible prank. Let his sister take the hit on this one.

The more he thought about it, the more it made sense. The girl had to be a friend of his sister’s. Jessie would regret fooling with him at such a low point.

Nathan stood and stepped over to the door. He shouted, Stop it! I’m opening up. You’re gonna get me in all kinds of trouble.

He flipped the deadbolt and flung the door open.

Standing outside, hunched over with her eyes wide was indeed a friend of his sister’s. In fact, it was one of her closest. Only problem was the girl who occupied the small stone patio, Trina Bivens, had no right being here. Nathan knew her all too well. She had been a fixture in their house up until about two weeks ago.

What? You can’t be― Nathan said.

Trina flicked back a stray length of hair that had fallen in front of her face and pushed past him. Don’t make a scene, Nathan. Let me in.

She rushed in, shutting the door behind her. Nathan took two steps back, his face frozen in shock.

Shut your mouth. Enough with the panicky goldfish impression. She cruelly mirrored his bobbing open mouth.

Nathan fell back and slid to the floor. Trina Bivens had been inseparable from his sister for the past three years. Only recent circumstances had changed that. He looked up at her, his voice caught in his throat.

It was impossible. She shouldn’t be here.

Trina Bivens was dead.

Two weeks ago, Trina had died in a car crash. They had gone to her funeral. His black pants and white button down shirt were still slung over the laundry hamper in the hall, a reminder of his attendance in the morbid proceedings.

He finally squeaked out a response. Y-you’re dead.

Brilliant powers of observation, Einstein. She looked around the kitchen, her eyes darting about in an all-too-predatory fashion. You got something to eat? I’m starving.

Chapter 2

In between taking huge bites of the pastry, Trina chewed at her nails. Nathan sat atop the counter, keeping a bar stool between them. Uncertain if she posed a threat.

Trina was dead, that much was obvious. Her appearance didn’t dispute this. She had on the simple black dress she had worn in her coffin. The gray head band was gone as well as the few rings she had worn at the viewing. Probably her mother had requested the jewelry and tucked it away in some sort of memory box. Her skin, pale and gaunt, was stretched thin over her cheekbones. In life, she had always looked fresh and cheery, her complexion blemish free, with just enough make-up on to not look overdone. Unlike his sister, who thought her lips needed to be noticed by any eagle-eyed passengers of any passing commercial airliners. Trina flicked a stray piece of icing from her thin lips.

Nathan looked for the remotest hint as to what she had become. In elementary school, he had been all up in the world of geeks. He knew way too much about creatures of the night and silly superheroes. With the pressures of middle school, he had tucked his small comic collection under his bed and not looked back.

He searched for any signs of decay. She had been six feet under for well over a week. While he doubted that would be enough time for any insects to start in on her, shouldn’t she look a little more ragged than she did? As it stood, she might have simply suffered a restless night. The bags under her eyes were slight and her normally iridescent blue eyes were a tad more subdued, almost a washed-out grey. There were no gaping wounds or loose patches of skin on her. She looked herself, just paler. Her blond hair was unkempt, but nothing a good brushing couldn’t fix.

As she licked her lips, he got a peek at her teeth. No exaggerated incisors so that eliminated vampire. She wasn’t hairy so that took werewolf out of the running.

That left ghost and zombie. As she feverishly finished off the last of the danish, he decided against ghost. She wouldn’t have been able to clutch her food so tightly if that were the case. For that matter, she wouldn’t have indulged in her earlier barrage of knocking, simply ghosting through the door and entering his house with ease.

You’re a zombie, aren’t you? he asked.

She licked her fingers. Nathan saw her nails were broken and filled in with dirt. Her palms and knuckles were also caked in dried mud. She seemed oblivious to how dirty her hands were and continued to lick away. I think so. You got anything to wash this down? She sat up suddenly.

Nathan cringed, fearful she would lurch toward him.

Out of the corner of her eye, she smirked. Relax, Nathan. I’m not about to chow down on you, if that’s what you’re worried about. She stepped over to the fridge, flung open the door and grabbed a carton of milk. She shook it. The minimal sloshing announced it was nearly empty. She held it up briefly. Don’t mind if I finish this, do you?

Before he could answer, she flipped open the top and guzzled it down. She placed the empty carton in the sink and sat on the stool Nathan had earlier offered up as a buffer between the two of them.

He watched her massage the skin of her lower arms, detecting a mix of fascination and shock in her eyes. She flung her left arm in his face. My skin’s so cold. Feel it. She brushed the top of her hand against his cheek. He flinched, but did not jerk his head back. The skin was ice cold. It sent goose bumps down his own arms.

She withdrew her appendage and sprang off the bench. She rubbed her stomach, scrunching her face in a questioning way. Something’s not right. I’m still hungry.

Nathan’s eyes jittered.

Trina waved at him dismissively. Oh, stop. I’m not going to feast on your brains. I know at least that much about my circumstances.

What circumstances would they be? he asked.

She opened the pantry door and retrieved a bag of chips. Why I came back. I mean, there’s some sort of grand plan to this, right?

So, you snuck out of your grave? Nathan said.

Trina sat down, this time sliding into the left booth of the breakfast nook. The leather cushion squeaked humorously as she settled in. Not really snuck. I made a real mess of it. Bet everyone down at the cemetery is scratching their heads at that.

You dug yourself out? he asked tentatively.

Only after I turned my casket into so much mulch. That took a whole lot of time. She scarfed down three chips, eyeing her ravaged nails, disaffected. Really did a number on my mani.

But you shouldn’t have been able to dig yourself out. Aren’t caskets super sturdy?

She laughed. Well, I came back a bit changed, Nate. She clenched her fingers, testing their flexibility. I’m a little stronger than before. Busting free and then digging out took some work, but it was more about time and patience on my part. You seen anything on TV about the cemetery? she asked, nodding to the wall-mounted flat screen situated above the kitchen counter.

Why? Did more of you come back to life? He half-heartedly searched for the remote. Not certain he wanted to see an emergency broadcast decrying an outright zombie apocalypse.

No, so far it’s just me. I figured my disturbed gravesite might make the news. I got loose two days ago. You haven’t seen anything on the TV about it?

He shrugged. Don’t watch much news.

Ah, she replied as she brushed the excess salt off her fingertips. I could really use a shower. You mind?

She was already hustling up the steps, heading toward the linen closet at the top of the stairwell. Nathan scrambled to catch up.

Wait, no, my mom and Jessie’ll be home any minute, you can’t.

She snagged a large plush towel and scooted down the hall toward the guest bath.

Nathan found her coordination surprising. For a zombie, she hadn’t done much shambling or lurching. You can’t be here! he squawked.

She whirled and held the towel up as if about to whip him. Look, let me catch a quick steam, and I’ll fill you in on what I know so far, okay? I came here for a reason.

She slid into the bathroom, shutting the door before he could protest.

But Jessie isn’t here, and I really don’t think she would take your sudden reanimation half as well as I am. He reached for the knob, intent on what? Stopping her from showering? She was probably already slipping out of her dress. He hesitated.

He heard the whine of the shower kick in.

That’s why I didn’t come here to see her, she shouted. He heard the shower curtain pull back and the soft thud of her situating herself in the tub. I was told to specifically seek you out, Nate.

Nathan drove his head against the wall.

He had an actual living, breathing girl over, showering in his house, all to himself. He should’ve been thrilled. Only thing, she wasn’t technically living, and he was uncertain if she even needed to use her lungs.

He drew a hand to his forehead and rubbed it furiously. He had to hope Trina would finish her shower quickly, tell him why she was here, and then he could give her the boot. Dead or not, his mom would never understand him entertaining a female house guest when he was supposed to be grounded.

He slid to the carpet and covered his head with his arms, miming the fetal position they practiced in the halls whenever there was a schoolwide tornado drill.

I’d trade this for a full-blown twister any day, he thought.

Chapter 3

Trina closed her eyes and plunged her face into the stream of hot water. She had wrenched the knob all the way to hot. The water should’ve been scalding, but she didn’t feel anything. She wondered if blood even pumped through her at this point. She had hoped the shower would spark any sort of warmth in her, but it didn’t.

She had been free of her grave for nearly three days. The first day had been a blur. She had been disoriented and nursing a growing panic at her situation. She could barely recall the events of that day. Lots of hiding and staying out of sight.

The first night, when she had tried to sleep and found she couldn’t, she didn’t so much come up with a plan as have one foisted onto her. While she could not make her undead body slumber, she did dream. Or rather, someone or something had sent her visions. Yes, that was it. Almost like transmissions. She had been hunkered down in the back of an unlocked shed when the first images had invaded her mind.

She shuddered at the memory. Black towers erupting from the Earth. People gathering at their base, their eyes milky white. Possessed, she had thought. A swirl of darkness with endless screaming as the crowds around the towers transformed, became shambling corpses like herself, but much worse. She remembered hearing otherworldly commands issuing from each of the towers. She hadn’t understood the words, but had decoded their intent. Upon hearing the evil whispers, her corrupted brothers and sisters had lost interest in the towers and scattered, shuffling forth, their minds clouded with rage and an insatiable hunger.

Luckily, the dark forces had held no sway over her. She had felt none of the hunger it had sparked in the others. She would not take part in their slack-jawed feast.

As the images had left her mind, she had been overtaken by grief. She had curled up into a ball and sobbed for what had felt like forever. Surprisingly, her lifeless body could still manufacture actual tears. Only when she could cry no more, her tear ducts spent, had she risen and left the shed.

She had raced home, craving the familiar.

On the second day, she had sought refuge in the battered tree fort in the back half of her parent’s property. It had been a favored spot she only ever shared with her older sister. She had not been back to their hideout in several years. Accessible by a meandering narrow path that was almost nonexistent thanks to the eager ground cover that had reclaimed the path, she had been sure it would allow her to stay hidden. In the back of her mind, she had also hoped it would keep the dark visions from returning. She knew that made no sense. What could a ramshackle wooden fort do to keep the evil out? She had realized it was the security of being somewhere familiar, someplace that offered comfort, that had made her think her mind was now defensible.

On the second night, the two-by-four reinforced walls had proven inadequate barricades. The visions had forced themselves in yet again. Only this time, they had not been filled with despair and decay. She had sensed that they had come from another source. Something had sent her a message of hope. It had been that vision which had driven her to seek out Nathan. It had been vague about many points, but one thing had been clear: Nathan Bristol was important. She guffawed at the notion. Her best friend’s socially awkward brother was the key to banishing the impending evil.

She turned around, allowing her back access to the running water. Nathan had no idea what they faced. She would tell him about her first two visions, that much was certain. The third one, the nightmare she had received on the morning of the third day, she would keep to herself.

No sense letting him know that one.

It would be a dark burden only she would bear.

She resigned herself to rinsing the shampoo out of her hair. After a quick towel-off, she’d explain to Nathan what was about to happen. She worked feverishly to eradicate the dirt under her fingernails.

There was no easy way to break the news that all hell was about to be loosed on the Earth, but she’d have to find a way.

It was at that moment the doorbell rang. It rang three times.

From out in the hall, she heard Nathan’s reaction. Oh, jeez. They’re home.

He rapped twice on the bathroom door. Mom and Jessie are home. You have to get out of there!

Trina hastily washed off the lather on her legs and shut off the shower. She snatched a towel and wrapped it around herself.

With inching care, she turned the knob, hoping to prevent any obvious clicks. She succeeded in being covert. The door swung open silently. Nathan was gone.

She heard Nathan open the front door and the dull roar of his sister as she fell through the threshold. Good going, lame brain. I was leaning against the door, trying to yank my keys out of my pocket. Do you ever think before you act?

Trina heard a car door shut as she retreated down the hall, putting distance between herself and the new arrivals. She slid into the next room, Jessie’s. She dashed over to the window and peered out the blinds to see Mrs. Bristol carrying several bags into the house.

Trina looked around, desperate for a hiding place. It would do Nathan no good if she was found.

She heard the rapid approach of footsteps. Jessie said as she ascended the stairs, I’m gonna go put my new clothes away, Mom, and take a quick shower. Jeanie Fredericks invited me over to watch a movie.

Trina cringed, realizing she had left her dress in the bathroom. She quickly slipped into Jessie’s closet and pulled a sweatshirt and slacks from off their hangers. Realizing she didn’t have underwear, she exited the closet and rummaged through her best friend’s top drawer. After grabbing socks and a pair of yellow panties, beggars can’t be choosers, she fled to the closet, shutting the door just in the nick of time.

Jessie breezed in and dropped her purchases on the bed. Through the closet slats, Trina saw her pull out socks and grey panties along with a matching bra.

Please don’t go into your closet. Please don’t go into your closet.

Jessie searched through her bags, pulling out a hot pink half-top and brown short shorts. She plucked off their tags and exited the room.

As the shower came on in the guest bath, Trina exhaled in relief. She had done it. She had succeeded in remaining undetected.

Abruptly, the shower stopped. She heard Jessie yell, Mom, get up here right now! Nathan had a girl over!

Uh-oh, her black dress.

Trina quickly dressed and exited the closet. Nathan would have to fend for himself on this one. She’d hook up with him later. That is, if he managed to be let out of the house ever again.

She grabbed a pair of worn sandals half shoved under the bed and slipped open the front window. She delicately slid up the screen and stepped out onto the front porch roof. She turned and closed the window, leaving it unlocked. She did her best to return the screen to its closed position, only allowing an inch gap at the bottom for her to remove her fingers. She spared a glance around. Seeing no one in their front yards, she leaped to the ground, tucking and rolling as best she could. She was unsure if breaking a bone as one of the undead meant it would never heal. She didn’t want to chance it. She sprang to her feet, retrieved her left sandal which had fallen off in the drop and raced away, hoping Nathan could think on his feet as well as she had.

Chapter 4

Nathan raced upstairs, hoping his sister had not found Trina. As much as Jessie was a constant thorn, he had no desire to subject her to seeing her dead and buried friend up and about. His sister hung out of the bathroom, wearing only a towel. Dangling from two outstretched fingers was the black dress Trina had been wearing.

Nathan furtively glanced about, searching for where his uninvited guest had hidden herself.

His mother crested the stairs and frowned at the sight of the dress.

Quite a fancy dresser he had over. Wonder if she’s still here? Jessie stalked out of the bathroom, flinging the garment at him. She combed the bonus room and their parents’ room, peeking under the bed for the owner of the dress. I found it on the floor. Whoever she was took a shower. The curtain was wet before I even turned on the water.

I took a shower, Nathan said, not even believing himself.

He tucked the dress under his shirt, noticing smudges of dirt on the fabric.

What were you two up to while we were gone? The dress has dirt stains all over it. You have a friend over to wrestle in the backyard? She tsk-tsked him. Hate to tell you, brother, but girls your age don’t have that in mind when they come over. She didn’t drop by for a sandbox playdate.

Jessie, enough! Nathan’s mother stood at the top of the steps. She extended her arm, gesturing for him to hand over the item.

Nathan slipped it out from under his shirt. Telling the truth was not an option. Denying what they were imagining would also land him in more hot water. Too much evidence. He decided to go along with his sister’s accusation, as outlandish as it might be.

As he handed the dress to his mother, he saw the waistband of Trina’s underwear creeping out. He pulled his gaze away.

His sister didn’t miss a beat. Oh, looks like she left her panties, too. She knew the volatile word would upset their mother.

This stirred his mother into action. Nathan, explain.

I’m guilty. I had a girl over. He remembered to be brief. He had heard that liars gave themselves away by spinning too much detail into their fabrications.

Who was it? Jessie said, her eyes lighting up at the thought of being front row center to some juicy gossip.

"I’d rather not say. She came over to hang out," he whispered, hoping his vague phrasing wouldn’t set off his mother.

How’d the dirt get on it? Jessie grinned, eager to catch him in a lie.

She snuck in through the backyard. When she climbed over the fence, she sort of fell into Dad’s garden.

And the shower? That sounds pretty serious. Why the need to scrub herself clean? Jessie crossed her arms.

Well, she got dirty, and I suggested she clean up. He saw his sister raise an eyebrow. She had just enough time to get washed up before you guys got home. When you pulled in, she dashed out of here. Nothing happened, honest.

So is she still here, hiding out somewhere? Jessie made for her room.

I doubt it. Probably headed out through a window, I think. I was downstairs when you got home, remember? I don’t know what she did. He shrugged, sensing he was entering the realm of offering too much detail. He also knew Trina was long gone. His nerves were no longer a tangled mess. If she had still been here, he would have felt it. He didn’t dwell on this intimate connection with the dead girl.

Jessie was now in her room, scoping out the underbelly of her bed. "So if she didn’t leave with what she wore here, is she scrambling back to her house in just a towel?" She moved on to her closet and whisked it open, expecting to find her brother’s mystery girl huddled inside.

Um, I don’t know. I hope not. Nathan didn’t know what else to say. There had been too much talk of underwear and discarded clothing for his liking.

Jessie whirled around, clearly upset by what she had seen in the closet. Some of my clothes are gone. A grey sweatshirt and some black stretch pants. His sister grimaced and glared at Nathan. She held up Trina’s discarded towel.

Guess that answers your question. Nathan smiled sheepishly.

His mother hovered by the window. She tugged on the window, lifting it with ease. All three saw the screen was not completely down. Nathan was relieved the evidence was making his story more believable.

Their mother said nothing. She closed the window, locked it securely