Read Online Undead (9780545473460) by Kirsty McKay - Free Book Online

over my shoulder, making me jump. I stop myself from pulling the bloody jeans back up again. It’s not like I have anything to be ashamed of.
    â€œDon’t get any ideas,” I say. “There are some butterfly bandages in this box.” I rifle in the first-aid kit. “They’ll do the trick.”
    â€œShame.” Smitty sits on the dashboard and slurps on a soda. “I’m a dab hand at needlework.”
    Yeah, like I’d let that happen. “So, you OK?” I casually switch the focus to him as I take out some antibacterial ointment and put a big glob of it on the hole in my leg.
    â€œIs this the part where we do competitive injuries?” He laughs, and the sound warms me up a little. “You win. I’ve got nothing except a sugar high.”
    â€œI think Pete beats us all with his busted head.” I glance down the aisle in his direction.
    â€œNo kidding.” Smitty grins at me. “Petey-poo! Come and see the naughty nurse!”
    Pete takes some persuading, but he eventually sits on the top step, and Smitty and I look at his head. White-blond is the best hair color if you’re aiming for maximum horror effect with a head wound. The blood has pinkened thick sections of his hair, and there’s angry-looking swelling around the place where the metal was sticking into his skull, although the wound is already scabbing. I leave it alone, and clean the surrounding scalp as best as I can with a wipe. He’s uncomplaining, stoical even. A far cry from the wobbling mess I found in the toilet stall. He’s probably still pumping adrenaline right now. Or maybe it’s all the chemicals in his inhaler. Hope I’m not around when he crashes and burns.
    â€œSo, before . . . how did you end up in the bathroom?” I say conversationally as I fasten a pad of cotton around his head with a polka-dot bandanna that I think used to belong to one of Alice’s cronies. It’s mint-green and white, and it makes him look like a Lost Boy. The Peter Pan ones, not the fugly eighties vamps.
    â€œI ran.” He breathes in deeply and his chest rattles. He delves into a pocket and takes a hit off his inhaler.
    â€œYou were in the Cheery Chomper when it all . . . went down?”
    There’s a brief smile, wry and sharp and beyond his years. “Yes. In the gift shop, out of sight. Browsing the magazines.”
    I smile back encouragingly and he continues.
    â€œYes, I suppose you could say I was in a world of my own.” His eyes glaze over. “Intellikit has just brought out a new computer chip — it’s beyond clever. I was reading an article in
PCWorld —
”
    â€œGet out of town, that’s intense,” Smitty mocks. “Why didn’t you tell us this before?”
    â€œDon’t worry, I’m not going to bore you with it.” Pete raises an eyebrow. “But suffice to say, absorbed as I was in the magazine, I wasn’t entirely present.”
    â€œEverybody else was eating in the café?” I ask.
    â€œJust a few feet away.” He nods slowly. “Baying like dogs for their burgers. I shut them out; I always do.”
    â€œYeah, me too.” I try to bond, but he gives me a strange look, and so does Smitty. “So what happened?” I ask.
    â€œMr. Taylor came in.” Pete frowns. “Asked me if Smitty was allergic to nuts. Why he wanted to know, I couldn’t tell you.”
    Smitty chuckles.
    â€œThen what?” I urge.
    â€œThat’s when he collapsed.”
    â€œWhat?” I say. “Mr. Taylor?”
    â€œYup. One minute he’s dithering by the cold drinks, next he’s keeled over on the floor.”
    â€œWhat did you do?”
    Pete looks at me, surprised. “Nothing. I waited for someone to notice, but the woman behind the register was gone and nobody else appeared. It was only then that I realized the baying had stopped.” He cracks his knuckles. “It