How To Lose A Zombie In 10 Days (How I Met My Monster #4)

Chapter 1

ONE

Jen

I peel off my scrubs and drop them into the laundry hamper, switching on the water in the shower and turning up the heat to scalding.

I suck in a breath as I step under the spray a moment later and let it out on a sigh.

It was a long shift in the emergency room and Annie, the charge nurse on duty today, has a reputation as a hard ass for a reason.

Don’t get me wrong, I like working a shift when Annie is on duty. She suffers no fools and I’ve had it up to my eyeballs with fools, so I can appreciate that. But a shift worked under Annie’s supervision is a shift where no time is wasted.

I scrub off the last of my day, shave my legs, my armpits, my pussy. Then I hurry out, wrapping my hair up in a towel and snatching my phone from the counter to check for messages.

Nothing.

Huh. It’s only twenty minutes until I’m supposed to meet my date, and we haven’t confirmed which of the three bars near my flat we’ll meet at. He was going to let me know when he was on his way so I could meet him outside and we could pick one.

Maybe he’s running late like I am. I relax a little, not feeling so bad about the fact I stayed back half an hour talking to the old griffin who transferred to Cardiology two days ago but hasn’t had a visit from her family since she was brought in.

It’s always hard to say no to the lonely ones.

I yank my brush through my knots at the same time as I slide open my closet door and rifle through until I find the short black dress that’s become my uniform for first dates recently.

Before this year it had been so long since I went on a first date I almost forgot how to do them, but now I feel like a pro.

Still no messages by the time I’ve dressed and returned to the bathroom.

Undeterred, I blow dry my hair, flipping out the edges of my long bangs and curling them up into rollers while I do my makeup.

Smoky eyes, a little blush on my cheeks, and a bright red shade of lipstick.

Ready for whatever the night brings. I sure it hope it brings a little action.

It’s been a little while since I graduated anyone from date to an invite home.

Guys on the apps are all just the same cookie-cutter versions of disappointing.

Like cardboard cutouts of my manchild ex-boyfriend, Adam.

Except none of them give me butterflies the way he did.

With a sigh, I push Adam’s far-too-handsome-to-be-reasonable-given-his-shitty-personality face out of my mind, take out the rollers and give my hair a final spritz with hairspray.

Ready.

I pick up my phone from the bathroom counter. Still no messages.

Frowning, I open the message chain with Frank, my date, just to check if I accidentally missed something. No.

Absently I scroll back through a few days’ worth of flirting and a few naughty pics; then pause on the late-night confession he made that he’s always kinda wanted to try butt stuff. On him.

I smile.

That’s what made me agree to go out with him if I’m honest. I’m a little tired of all the alpha guys who want to do the jack rabbit for two minutes and pretend they rocked my world.

Frank seems different.

Biting my lip, I snap a mirror selfie and send it off.

Jen: Ready. Can’t wait to see u xx

I catch a glimpse of three dots, and then they disappear and there’s nothing.

Oh shit. Not another one. Another ghost who talks big but is too scared to put his money where his mouth is.

I’m so sick of idiot men using me as their fantasy only to bail when it’s crunch time.

I roll my eyes. I’m about to lock my screen and call it a night when my phone buzzes in my hand. Maybe not such a write-off after all. I lift it to my ear without checking the caller ID, sure it will be Frank. “Hi.”

The voice on the other end of the line is not Frank’s. Not that I know what Frank sounds like. But I sure know this voice. This voice makes my neck and my ears heat with anger and my hands curl into fists.

I’m just about to hang up when Adam says, “Jen, please don’t hang up, OK? I didn’t know who else to call.”

Taking a deep breath in and letting it out nice and slow, I tell myself not to get mad. I don’t want to break out into a sweat and ruin my makeup. “Why are you calling?” I spit through clenched teeth. “I told you never to call me again.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry.”

That makes me pull the phone away from my ear to check that I’m not imagining things. It is my ex-boyfriend, Adam, on the line, actually apologising to me. Which might be a first.

God damn it. Now I’m curious. “What is it?”

“There’s something really wrong, and I don’t know what to do.”

OK, he actually sounds kinda scared. “What kind of wrong? Go slow, OK?”

“Yeah. Right. It’s just. I don’t know if I should say or if you could just take a look. I don’t think you’ll believe me if I told you.”

“Well you’ll have to try me if you don’t want me to hang up right this second. I’m going on a date tonight, and he’ll be here any moment.” So that’s a bit of a lie. Adam doesn’t need to know that.

“Aww, Jen. Don’t be like that. Please?”

Despite myself, my heart gives a little squeeze. “Fine. What’s happened? Have you got something stuck up your ass and you don’t want to go to emergency? Have you convinced yourself you have syphilis again?”

“No, it’s really bad this time, Jen. I think… I think I died.”

“What? Adam, how much have you had to drink?”

“See? I knew you wouldn’t believe me. Aw this is stupid—” There’s a rustle, and I think he’s about to hang up.

Dead curious despite everything, I yell, “Wait! Say that again. Just in case I’m imagining.”

There’s a pause. “I think I died.”

I shake my head. This is too good to be true.

Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Only he appears to still be talking, breathing, and bothering me, so I may have to retract the too good to be true part.

I sigh. “Look, you’re talking, so I’d say that’s a pretty good indication that you’re not dead. Glad I could help clear that up.”

“No, Jen, wait. Can I just come over? Would you just check my pulse and tell me I’m crazy or something? Then I promise I’ll leave you alone. Please?”

Since there’s still no message from my so-called date, I guess I don’t have anything better to do. “Fine. You get five minutes. But only because I really like your sister and I don’t want her to have to drive from the other side of the country to deal with your bullshit.”

“Thanks, Jen. You’re the best. I’ll be right over.”

I don’t ask how he knows my new address. One of our mutuals probably told him, and I should be more mad about that except I’ve never kept it much of a secret. Up until now I haven’t really had to worry about Adam trying to bother me. He was the one who broke up with me after all.

I send one final message to Frank, just to make things clear: don’t bother messaging me back if you get this tomorrow. I don’t do second chances.

Five minutes later there’s a knock on my door, and I drop my phone onto my bed and hurry to answer it.

Adam’s face is gray and there are dark circles under his eyes that I’ve never seen before.

He glances back over his shoulder in a way that makes me edgy, so I grab him and pull him in, slamming the door shut behind him.

“What the fuck is this really all about, Adam?” I mean he can’t honestly be dead, can he?

“I don’t know. It’s a long story. Can I sit?” He walks over to my brand-new sofa without waiting for an answer and drops onto it like he owns it. My nails dig into my palms as I struggle to keep calm.

“Why don’t you explain to me where you got the idea that you are dead, and then I can clear it up and you can be on your way.”

He laughs, but it’s so hollow sounding I cringe. “Ha! Yeah. Good plan.”

Adam leans forward and rests his head in his hands. I wait impatiently for him to begin.

“So I went on this bad date a few weeks ago. She was a total witch.”

I roll my eyes. “Can you skip to the end? I have things to do.”

I don’t apparently, but he doesn’t need to know that.

He looks up at me. “No. This bit’s important. Because I’m telling you this lady was a witch. I think she cursed me.”

“Oh! You meant an actual witch. I thought you were just being a jerk. Go on.”

His expression clouds, but then he shakes his head. “Yeah. Nah. She’s a witch. I didn’t notice at first cause she was pretty hot, but then after we had sex and I told her I wasn’t really looking for a relationship, she got mad—”

I fold my arms across my chest. “Imagine that.”

To his credit, he gives me an apologetic look.

“What should I do? Lie? Anyway, I told her, and she just leans right over, grabs my hair, and pulls out a whole chunk. Like yanks out a big fat tuft and stands over me chanting or some shit. Then while I was still working out what the fuck was going on, she grabs a lighter and sets it on fire. Dropped it on my carpet and it left a big fucking hole. So now I’ll lose my deposit, but that’s not the worst part.

She got her clothes and left and the house stunk after, but I didn’t think anything much of it.

Only a few days later I was coming out of the gym and this truck comes around the corner like crazy and runs right into me.

I went flying over the hood and landed on the other side, and I swear to god I heard the most horrible cracking sounds.

There’s blood everywhere, but I can move, so I get up.

I was dizzy, but the truck driver didn’t even stop.

He just screamed off down the street. There was no one around.

I was so mad, I tried to run after him and get his licence plate, but he was too fast.”

I frown. “Right, but you got up and now you’re fine.”

“Am I?” Adam runs a hand through his ’90s style undercut. “Because I don’t feel fine. I don’t eat. I don’t sleep. And I don’t have a heartbeat. I mean there’s nothing. I checked. I even went to the pharmacy and used one of those blood pressure machines. Nothing.”

“Why haven’t you been to a doctor, you idiot?”

“Are you kidding me? Do you know what they’d do to me if people found out I’m a zombie?”

“You’re not a zombie,” I say instinctively. He has a point, though. I can imagine all sorts of scientific experiments people would want to conduct.

“Check my pulse.” He grabs my hand and brings it to his neck, which is cold to the touch. He’s holding my hand in completely the wrong position, so I adjust, but no matter how much I search, I can’t find a pulse.

I frown. “Give me your arm.”

Adam holds out his arm. His skin looks pale, and the veins are like dark rivers beneath. Shaken, I gesture to his shirt. “Take off your shirt.”

He yanks the shirt over his head, and I put my hand over his heart. Or over the place his heart should be. I wait for a really long time, but there’s still nothing. Only the smooth, firm shape of his pecs beneath my fingertips.

Ugh, he always did have really nice pecs.

I pull my hand away. “Put your shirt on.” Closing my eyes for a moment I try to clear my mind of the suspect thoughts that are now threatening to take over.

I let out a long sigh. “OK, let’s say you’re not crazy.

Let’s say something happened and I don’t know what it is yet. What do you expect me to do about it?”

He looks at me with big, blue, mournful eyes. “You gotta help me, Jen. Can I hide here with you until we figure out what to do?”

I leap up like I’ve been burned, putting space between us. “Absolutely not!”

He shocks me by dropping to his knees and clutching my legs. “Please, Jen. If I go back home, my roommate will one hundred percent work out there’s something up. No one can know. Please. Just for a few weeks—”

“A few weeks!”

“How about a couple days?”

I stare down at him. This is not happening. The guy who walked out of my life to pursue bigger and better opportunities seven months ago is begging to sleep on my couch. He’d better be begging to sleep on my couch, cause he sure as hell isn’t sleeping in my bed.

He looks so desperate. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.

“Ugh! Fine, but my sister is coming to stay in ten days, so you have to be out of here by then.”

“Aw, thanks, Jen. I knew you’d help. You really are the best.”