Chapter 9

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Zane could barely move. He lay on his bed, trying to relax out the soreness, and didn't move a muscle when Owen came in with his laptop and sat down near Zane's feet.

"Rough practice?" Owen asked.

"The worst." Mr. Goodman, or Drill Sergeant, as he preferred to be called, had given Zane a reason to never want to join the military.

"Sucks to be you. Anyway, you know how they haven't shown anything more about the zombie outbreak on TV? I went on the CDC website and found a map of pandemic outbreaks, and we're on it! Look."

He pointed to a little box with a biohazard symbol hovering over Southern California.

"Awesome," Zane said.

Owen typed something on the keyboard. "The original news report mentioned five deaths, right? Well, a government press release now states that those deaths were drug-related. And those fifteen in quarantine, there's absolutely nothing about them except that they are suffering from an unknown, non-fatal illness and are being monitored. Zane, this," he indicated the screen, "is a government cover-up."

"Can't anyone talk about anything other than zombies?" Zane moaned.

"It's the end times. Sorry if that disrupts your schedule."

"Come on." Zane started to sit up, then thought better of it when his abdominal muscles screamed in pain. "If this were really a big deal, somebody else would have seen something, or heard something. People would be panicking."

"People are panicking!" Owen said. "I'm panicking!"

"Everything is going to be fine. Hey, do you think you could sleep over your friend Jeff's house Friday night? I'm cooking dinner for Harmony."

"And you want some private kissy time?"

Sometimes Zane forgot that his brother was twelve.

"Yeah. I'm hoping Mom and Dad will take a hint to go out Friday night too."

"Oh, I get it." Owen nodded and smiled at Zane. "You and Harmony are gonna bake cookies."

"What? No. I'm going to grill her some steaks—"

"You're going to bury the bone."

"What?"

"Butter the muffin. Clam dip. Glaze the donut?" Owen raised his eyebrows.

Zane shook his head. "There are no muffins or clams or pastries involved. Just steaks. Maybe a nice vegetable mix. Speaking of which, I need to find out when the Farmer's Markets are around here."

Owen grinned. "So, what you're saying is, you'll be giving Harmony a hot beef injection?"

"You're weird."

"So you're not going to clean the carpet? Knock mops? Maybe you'll lay some piping?"

"Uh, I'm pretty sure Harmony doesn't want to do any housework or home improvement projects while she's here."

"So, what you're saying is, you're going to mount her and nail her?"

Zane buried his face in his pillow and groaned. "Owen! Oh my god. Where did you even hear stuff like that? That's just... that's just..."

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