Through the Zombie Glass by Gena Showalter, Gena Showalter (ereader android .txt) 📖

Where should I begin? With travesty? Heartache?No. I don’t want to begin with where I am now.I don’t want to end that way, either.We’ll start with this. A truth. Everything around us is subjectto change. Today is cold. Tomorrow, heat will come. Flowersbloom, then wither. Those we love, we can grow to hate. Andlife…life can be perfect one minute and in shambles the next.I learned that lesson the hard way when my parents and be-loved little sister died in a car crash, shattering every corridorof my heart.I’ve done my best to weld the pieces back together, but—tick,tock.Another change.A change that cost me everything.The respect of my friends. My new home. My purpose. My pride.

My boyfriend.And it’s my fault. I can blame no one else.One mistake gave birth to a thousand others.I knew there were monsters out there. Zombies. I knew theyweren’t the mindless beings movies and books portrayed themto be. They exist in spirit form, unseen to the ungifted eye.They’re fast, determined and, at times, smart. They hunger forthe source of life.Our spirits.I know, I know. That’s laughable, right? Invisible creatures de-termined to feast on humans from the inside out? Please. Butit’s true. I know, because I became an all-you-can-eat buffet—and offered my friends as dessert.Now I’m not just fighting the zombies. I’m fighting to savethe life I love.I will succeed.Tick, tock.It’s time.

BEGIN AT THE BEGINING

few months earlier More and more I’d been dreaming about the crash thatkilled my parents and younger sister. I relived themoments as our car flipped end over end. The sounds ometal crunching into pavement. The stillness wheeverything was over, and I was the only oneawake...maybe the only one alive.I’d struggled to free myself from the seat belt, desperateto help little Emma. Her head had been twisted at such aodd angle. My mother’s cheek had been slashed open likea Christmas ham, and my father’s body had been throwout of the car. Panic had made me stupid, and I’d hit myhead on a sharp piece of metal. Darkness had swallowedme whole.But in my dreams, I watched my mother blink open her eyes. She was disoriented at first, moaning in pain andtrying to make sense of the chaos around her.Unlike me, she had no problem with her seat belt,freeing herself and turning, her gaze landing on Emma.Tears began to rain down her cheeks.She looked at me and gasped, reaching out to place atrembling hand on my leg. A river of warmth seemed to rush through me, strengthening me.“Alice,” she shouted, shaking me. “Wake up—”I jolted upright.Panting, my body dotted with perspiration, I scanned mysurroundings. I saw walls of ivory and gold, painted iswirling patterns. An antique dresser. A furry white rug onthe floor. A mahogany nightstand, with a Tiffany lamp perched next to a photo of my boyfriend, Cole.I was in my new bedroom, safe.Alone.My heart slammed against my ribs as though trying to burst free. I forced the dream to the back of my mind andmoved to the edge of the bed to peer out the large baywindow and find a sense of calm. Despite thegorgeousness of the view—a garden teeming with bright,lush flowers that somehow thrived in the cool October weather—my stomach twisted. Night was in full bloom,and so were the creepies.Fog that had brewed on the horizon for hours had finallyspilled over, gliding closer and closer to my window. Themoon was round and full, set ablaze with orange and red,as if the surface had been wounded and was bleeding.Anything was possible.Zombies were out tonight.My friends were out there, too, fighting the creatureswithout me. I hated myself for falling asleep at such acritical time. What if a slayer needed my help? Called me? Who was I kidding? No one would call, no matter how badly I was needed.I stood and paced the room, cursing the injuries thatkept me tucked inside. So I’d been sliced from hip to hip afew weeks ago. So what? My stitches had been removedand the flesh was already scarring.Maybe I should just arm up and head out. I’d rather savesomeone I love and risk another life-threatening injurythan do nothing and stay out of harm’s way. But...I didn’tknow where the group had gone, and more than that, if Idid manage to track them down, Cole would freak. Hewould be distracted.Distraction killed.Dang it. I would do as I’d been told and wait.Minutes stretched into hours as I continued to pace, asense of unease growing sharper with every second that passed. Would everyone come back alive? We’d lost twoslayers in the past month alone. None of us were preparedto lose another.The hinges on my door squeaked.Cole slipped inside the room and threw the lock,ensuring that no one would bust in on us. Relief pluckedthe claws right out of the unease, and I thrilled.He was here. He was okay.He was mine.His gaze landed on me, and I shivered, waiting for avision...hoping for one.                Since the day we’d met, we’d experienced a smallglimpse of the future the first time our eyes locked on anygiven day. We’d seen ourselves making out, fightingzombies and even relaxing in a swing. Today, like almostevery day since my stabbing, I experienced nothing butcrushing disappointment.Why had the visions stopped?Deep down, I suspected one of us had built up somesort of emotional wall—and I knew it hadn’t been me.I was too entranced by him.Always he threw off enough testosterone to draw thenotice of every girl within a ten-mile radius. Though hewas only seventeen years old, he seemed far older. He hadmajor experience on the battlefield, had fought in thehuman/zombie war since he could walk. He hadexperience with girls, too. Maybetoomuch experience.He knew just what to say...how to touch...and we melted.I’d never met anyone like him. I doubted I ever wouldagain.He wore all black, like a phantom of the night. Inky hair stuck out in spikes, with leaves and twigs intertwined ithe strands. He hadn’t bothered to clean his face, so hischeeks were streaked with black paint, dirt and blood.So. Danged. Hot.Violet eyes almost otherworldly in their purityshuttered, becoming unreadable, even as his lipscompressed into a hard, anguished line. I knew him, and                knew this was his let’s-just-burn-the-world-to-the-ground-and-call-it-good face.“What are you doing out of bed, Ali?”I ignored the question as well as the harshness of histone, understanding that both sprang from a place of deepconcern for me. “What’s wrong?” I asked. “Whathappened out there?”Silent, he disarmed, dropping daggers, guns, magazinesof ammo and his personal favorite, a crossbow. He’dcome to me first, I realized, not even bothering to stop athis house.“Were you bitten?” I asked. Suffering? Zombie bites lefta burning toxin behind. Yes, we had an antidote, but thehuman body could take only so much before it brokedown.“I saw Haun,” he finally responded.Oh, no.“Cole, I’m so sorry.” A while back, Haun had been killed by zombies. The fact that Cole had seen hiagain meant only one thing. Haun had risen from his graveas the enemy.“I suspected it would happen, but I wasn’t ready for thereality of it.” Cole’s shirt was the next to go.The blade-sharp cut of his body always stole my breath,and now was no exception, regardless of the horror of our conversation. I drank him in—the delightfully wickednipple ring, the sinewy chest and washboard abs coveredwith a plethora of tattoos. Every design, every word,                meant something to him, from the names of the friends he’dlost in the war to the depiction of the grim reaper’s scythe.Because that was what he was. A zombie killer.He was total bad boy—the dangerous guy monstersfeared finding intheir closets.And he was closing the distance between us. I buzzedwith anticipation, expecting him to draw me into his arms.Instead, he bypassed me to fall onto the bed and cover hisface with scabbed hands.“I ashed him tonight. Ended him forever.”“I’m so sorry.” I eased beside him and brushed myfingers over his thigh, offering what comfort I could. Iknew he understood that he hadn’t actually ashed Haun, or even the ghost of Haun. The creature he’d fought hadn’thad Haun’s memories or his personality. It had had hisface and nothing more. His body had simply been a shellfor unending hunger and malevolence.“You had to do it,” I added. “If you’d let him go, hewould have come back for you and our friends, and hewould have done his best to destroy us.”“I know, but that doesn’t make it any easier.” Hereleased a shuddering sigh.I looked him over more intently. He had angry cuts onhis arms, chest and stomach. Zombies were spirits, thesource of life—or afterlife in their case—and had to befought by other spirits. That was why, to engage, we had toforce ours out of our bodies, like a hand being pulled out                of glove. And yet, even though we left our bodies behind,frozen in place, the two were still connected. Whatever injury one received, the other received, as well.I padded to the bathroom, wet several washrags andgrabbed a tube of antibiotic cream.“Tomorrow I start training again,” I said as I tendedhim, distracting us both.He glared up at me through lashes so thick and black helooked as if he wore eyeliner. “Tomorrow’s Halloween.ll of us have the day and night off. And by the way, I’mtaking you to a costume party at the club. I’m thinkingwe’ll stick with the whole battered and bruised theme andgo as a naughty nurse and even naughtier patient.”My first outing in weeks would be a date with Cole.Yes, please.“I think you’ll make a very sexy naughtynurse.”“I know,” he said without missing a beat. “Just wait tillyou see my dress. Slutty doesn’t even begin to describe.nd you will, of course, require a sponge bath.” Don’t laugh.“Promises, promises.” I tsked, then triedto continue more seriously. “But I never mentionedhunting.” Too many people would be out, and some would be dressed as zombies. At first glance, we might not beable to tell the real deal from the fake. “I only mentionedtraining. Youareworking out tomorrow morning, aren’tyou?” He always did.He ignored my question, saying, “You’re not ready.”                “No, you’renot ready for me to be ready, but it’shappening whether you like it or not.”He scowled at me, dark and dangerous. “Is that so?”“Yes.” Not many people stood up to Cole Holland.Everyone at our school considered him a full-blow predator, more animal than human. Feral. Dangerous.They weren’t wrong.Cole wouldn’t hesitate to tear into someone—anyone— for the slightest offense. Except me. I could do what Iwanted, say what I wanted, and he was charmed. Evewhen he was scowling. And it was strange, definitelysomething I wasn’t used to—having power over someoneelse—but I’d be lying if I claimed not to like it.“Two problems with your plan,” he said. “One, youdon’t have a key to the gym. And two, there’s a goodchance your instructor will suddenly becomeunreachable.”Sincehewas my instructor, I took his words as thegentle threat they were and sighed.When I’d first joined his group, he’d thrown me into thethick of battle without hesitation. I think he’d trusted hisability to protect me from any kind of threat more thahe’d trusted my skills.Then I’d proved myself and he’d backed off.Thenhe’d accidentally stabbed me.Yep. Him. He’d aimed for the zombie snarling and biting at him; I’d stepped in to help, and, with a single                touch, ashed the only