Sixteen

          A scream rips the air as Emily is caught in the fire of the glass. Shards fly onto the ground, through the air and into Emily’s skin. I shield my face with my hands and turn away, my ears ringing from the loud sound. When I turn back, holding my shotgun ready, my hands begin to tremble.

            I can’t count how many hands are ripping themselves, grasping through the wires of the window. Each one of them reaches for Emily and though I can’t see the faces of the attackers, I can hear their moans.

            Emily shrieks as one’s hand tears her skin on her collarbone, ripping through her shirt and shredding her skin. Blood starts to come to surface where its nails dig into her and it only makes the zombies want her more.

            “Emily,” I gasp, raising my shotgun. I point it to the left, aiming at a now-visible monster with only half of a face. As Emily struggles she moves into my line of sight so I point to the right, only to have the same thing happen again.

            I can’t take a clear shot and not only is it killing me, it’s actually killing Emily. They’re breaking through the wire quicker than before, pulling Emily against it as they try to taste her through the barrier.

            “Shoot, Sloane!” she cries, her voice hoarse and her body bloody. Tears are streaming down her cheeks and blood stains her cheeks from a fresh scratch. “Save me!”

            I move closer, trying to get the shot when I realize I can’t. If I shoot, it will kill Emily. I let out a breath through my teeth before dropping the shotgun and running to Emily. Her arms and hands are held by the zombies and she can’t shake herself free. Without thinking, I grab her shoulders and try to pry her from their grasp.

            Instantly the monsters reach for me, giving me scratches and small wounds, but none of them put their mouths near me. It’s as if they’re human, trying to get me to let go of Emily so they can keep her instead.

            It’s a fight with no leverage. The only one winning is the zombies, because regardless of me not letting Emily go, she might just rip apart from our tugging and that’s basically what they want. I give one last final tug on her before my fingers slip and a zombie manages to throw me onto the ground through the glass.

            Everything is black for the moment I’m moving until I hit the ground. I blink, trying to understand what just happened when Emily screams again. The zombies ripped the cage preventing them from having her flesh and are pulling her through it.

            I jump to my feet and reach for her hands. Her bloody fingertips are holding each side of the window, turning white despite the red because she’s holding on for dear life – literally.

            Knowing grabbing her would make it worse, I try to get through the window and start pulling hands off her. She lets out another scream as a zombie bites into her upper arm and I pull as hard as I can to rip him from her flesh.

            “Help me!” she screams hoarsely. “Sloane, why aren’t you saving me?”

            At one time, I think I hated Emily. I think that I disliked her so much that at a time I would have said I hoped this would happen. And though I don’t like her that much still, I would never wish this on somebody. As I see her now, being ripped through broken glass, she isn’t the same girl.

            Emily is just like me. We’re both just girls surviving the apocalypse. I don’t have my memory and she doesn’t have her family. We’re both the same.

            I grab her hand as she slips, being pulled deeper into the darkness. For a moment our eyes meet, my hand clenching hers as tightly as I can. Her green eyes are wide, filled with fear and pain. She’s screaming but I can’t hear it; I’m somewhere else.

            “Come on, Sloane,” she laughs, smiling as she grabs my hand.

            My fingers are losing grip and I have to hold the glass with the other to make sure I’m not pulled across it with her.

            “We need to find you something nice for your date.”

            “No,” I whisper, trying to stay in the present. I squeeze my eyes shut and try to erase the memory so I don’t let go. I need to be here, helping Emily. I can’t be in the past.

            Her eyes are smiling at me as she pulls me into a store. “My brother is excited, even though he tries not to show it.” She moves across the store towards a rack of dresses.

            Emily’s hand is covered in blood and sweat, making it slip from mine easier and easier.

            “Something blue?” she asks, holding it in front of her as if she’s trying it on.

            “Emily!” I scream as I try to grab her wrist. I let go for one brief moment to get a better grip and barely graze her skin.

            “What about green?”

            “Emily!” I cry out again, as loud as I can. I reach and reach for her into the blackness, but my hands only graze her skin. She’s too far to reach.

            “This is fun,” she laughs.

            I climb over the glass, trying to get inside to get her. I reach and grab something. I pull it back as I quickly as I can as Emily screams. I pull the arm towards me and stare at it in shock. It’s not Emily’s arm.

            “Are you having fun, Sloane?” Emily asks.

            Arms are hugging my waist before I can process them. I fight them, trying to get into the window if it kills me, but the hands are too strong. I cut my hands on the glass shards as I grip the windowpane, trying to fight the person to let me go.

            “Sloane!” a male voice shouts, trying to extract me.

            There’s so much blood on the window. Emily’s, and now mine, mix together in the shards.   

            “My best friend is in there!” I scream.

            Instantly my grip on the window loosens and I’m pulled away. I’m stunned. I have no idea where the words came from, or how they even came out. They feel foreign and I can’t agree that they’re mine.

            Whoever’s holding me sets me down on the grass and I stare blankly at the black window. The person moves in front of me, blocking my view and grips my shoulders. They’re talking, saying something, but I’m still not all here. A part of me is still in the mall with Emily.

            “We should get these,” Emily smiles, holding up a pair of matching necklaces.

            I hear yelling, crying and everything in between as someone moves me away from the scene. I’m still not all here, but stuck in my mind, fighting myself. I don’t like being two different people. I just want to be me, who I am now, but instead I’m learning about a past that I don’t feel like is mine.

            “I don’t want to be two people,” I whisper when I finally come to.

            I’m sitting in the passenger seat of the Hummer with the door open. I don’t look directly to my right, but I know Jagger is there, leaning against the door, watching me.

            “You aren’t two people, Sloane,” he replies easily.

            I shake my head but don’t say anything. He doesn’t understand.

            After a while, my head runs over everything that happened clearly, or in this case, as clearly as it can get with foggy memories. When all is said and done and Jagger and I are still the only ones at the front of the gas station, I speak.

            “Why did nobody tell me?” I ask quietly, not daring to look at him. I’m angry and devastated all at the same time. I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel or how to manage my emotions right now so I just decide to be quiet.

            “We didn’t know how to handle you,” Jagger says honestly. He’s still watching me but I can’t meet his eyes. “You were the girl who was there one day and then went missing the next.”

            “But I don’t remember.” I lower my head towards my lap. “No one told me the truth about my past.”

            Jagger doesn’t say anything.

            The white photograph is burning a hole in my pocket. I want to look at it but I can’t with Jagger being here. Some part of me wants to distance myself from him, because he hid the truth about who Emily was to me at the time.

            I get my opportunity to look when Jack rounds the corner of the gas station.

            “Is it Cole?” Jagger calls to him.

            Jack nods. “He still won’t budge. Come help me?”

            Jagger looks to me for a moment but I don’t say anything. “Yeah.”

            As soon as Jagger is out of my sight, I pull the photograph out of my pocket.

            The best summer ever.

            I examine the writing on the back a few more times before flipping it over. Flashbacks rock my mind as I look at the photograph, but I only get flickers of mismatched memories, none of them making sense.

            “Drive faster,” Emily laughs, leaning into the front seat.

            I stand in front of a big sign with a name and a wave on it as a flash takes my picture.

            I lick my strawberry ice cream cone before it falls on the ground.

            Water covers my feet.

            In the photography I recognize myself instantly. I’m standing on the right, smiling up at who’s beside me. On the other side of the person is Emily, smiling widely at the camera. It takes me several minutes to register who’s in the middle because I refuse to believe it.

            His lips are pressed to my forehead and he’s smiling. His eyes are covered by aviator sunglasses and his t-shirt is black.

            There’s someone calling for me in the distance. I look up briefly, seeing Cole storming towards me with Jack behind him. I look at the person beside Cole and look back down at the photograph, still in disbelief.

            Jagger is kissing my forehead.