We reach the bunker, and I give a brief rundown on everything that’s happened. We kick our butts into gear and start working our way around town, warning everyone about the impending second apocalypse.
“Etem’s scouting ahead through the city to see if there are any we missed,” I say as we begin our walk back to the bunker. We’ve been at it for a day already. “I haven’t seen anyone try to follow us yet.”
“Me neither,” Mikey confirms, glancing over her shoulder.
We travel in silence for a few minutes before Mikey speaks again.
“I think I’m going to hijack a news station.”
I snort, a pang of pain splitting my chest. “The last time you were on TV, you died.”
“But I lived!” she jokes, exhaustion seeping into the corners. “But I’m thinking if we can explain that Mount Rook is behind all this—”
“I don’t think they’ll listen to us, let alone about a secret society that isn’t supposed to exist. Besides, they all think you’re dead. I’m sure you’ll have tall tales made up about you since you were in the background of some shots.”
“I hope they got my good side,” she mutters jokingly as we fall into silence once more.
Almost out of town, we notice a few news crews posted around a dead body. I overhear something about a zombie attack, and it spikes my worry. But there haven’t been any signs of an apocalypse. Not yet, anyway.
Talk about synchronicity, Mikey chuckles. I mention a news station and one appears. God’s on our side, for sure.
I make a face as we watch from the alleyway. I can’t help but think Mikey’s right. Maybe we should say something. After all, one of us is known to be alive.
Mikey gives me a knowing smirk and shoves me out of the alleyway.
Break a leg, she pushes outwards to me, giving a gentle grin as I glare in her direction.
A news lady not far from us stops mid-sentence as her hazel eyes catch on me. The cameraman gives her a strange look as she points at me.
The non-metal contraption turns as they stand, stunned. Finally, the woman regains her wits and rushes over.
“Zeke Mahelona,” she breathes. “Were you bitten? Can you tell us what happened in your own words?”
I hesitate, feeling like a deer in headlights. Should I mention Mount Rook? I feel like it’s a necessity, since they’re at the root of this whole thing, but will people write me off as insane.
When I don’t respond, lost in the tangles of my emotions, the woman speaks again.
“You must be so traumatized. Fist the loss of your counterpart, and now a chunk of the people you saved. Word is there are several other zombie outbreaks in other areas around the world—how are you feeling right now, Mr. Mahelona?”
I inhale, blocking out her questions and replacing them with everything I know. I’m by no means the type of person to be a face for any movement, but…
“What’s your name?” I ask, my nerves frying my brain as I attempt to keep the deluge inside.
She seems taken aback by this question as other news reporters notice me and crowd in, angry they didn’t get the scoop first.
“June,” she replies.
“Ms. June,” I repeat respectfully, “and anyone else who is listening. I was born a zombie. These are my people that litter the streets, turned Mindless. They were let loose on purpose, but not by their own means.”
“Can you elaborate?” June asks.
“Stick with me here. I have a lot to get out before I’m cut off.” I clear my throat. “I was scratched by Mikaela Kent, a human-turned Bleeder, and the daughter of a shapeshifting man by the name of Atlas Zephyr. Together, we changed the world—but this isn’t the world we envisioned. We wanted harmony between the first and second-worlders, not the opposite of what was already instated. Little did we know, we had forces working against us.”
“And what were these so-called forces?” June asks, and I can sense I’m losing her.
Boom.
Mikey lands at my side, fully Raged Out. June and the other reporters take a step back, their faces paling as if they’ve seen a ghost.
“Mount Rook,” she answers as she returns to her normal form.
“Mikaela, the Queen of Bleeders!” June exclaims. “I guess it’s true you can’t really kill your kind.”
Mikey’s gaze penetrates the woman at your kind. “We need to stop this segregation nonsense. It’s exactly what Mount Rook feeds on. Do you know how much money they’ve made off of us? They’re funded specifically by three families: Chavez, Rofiel, and Stone. Beyond that, only God knows what kinds of politicians are involved with their money schemes.”
“This sounds like quite a statement,” June says, visibly shaken. I notice two or three news people’s faces darken, as if they’re a part of Mount Rook as well.
“Mount Rook is an old establishment that got away from its creator. It was supposed to be a group of learning and helping the world, but it festered somewhere along the line.”
I notice June glancing nervously at the cameraman.
“This is the distraction as the government, who’s deeply involved with Mount Rook, passes laws and acts and money hand-over-fist to other countries and governments. Don’t let them divide us. We’re all living on this Earth, so why don’t we take care of it and one another. Stand up for yourselves and your neighbors, no matter their DNA.” Mikey grabs my hand. “If a human and a zombie can work together to change the world, anyone can.”
“The connection’s been cut,” the cameraman announces. A few others say theirs have been dropped as well, and June beams nervously at us, keeping her distance.
“Thank you for all you’ve done for humans,” she says with a faltering smile. “But I’m not sure this can be made better.”
“Anything can be,” Mikey says as she squeezes my fingers. “And you know what? Even if they can kill Bleeders now, they can’t kill us.”
“Oh yeah?” the cameraman grunts as he deconstructs his camera. “Why’s that?”
“Because now we’re bigger than ourselves,” Mikey answers. “Even if we die, we’ll become a legend. An idea. We aren’t alone in our feelings, but the squeaky wheel gets the oil.”
June stares at us, mouth slightly agape.
“I sure hope you’re one of those journalists that seek truth rather than line her own pockets,” Mikey says, her voice gentler than I’d expect. “Because I’d hate to meet again if I found out you were.”
She cuts through the tension as she meets every journalist’s eye, especially those glowering at her. There are a few on the phone, glancing to and from us. We were broadcasting to at least ten news stations, so that has to cover something. Hopefully it goes viral and more people see. We’ll get called kooks, sure, but at this point, I don’t care. People know.
And I sure hope they listen this time.