Chapter 23: The Russian Twins [1]
Her school blouse was half-unbuttoned, revealing a glimpse of white lace underneath, and her hands were frozen mid-motion on the fabric. Her navy blue skirt was wrinkled, and her knee-high socks had fallen down to her ankles. She looked like she’d been in the process of changing clothes when I’d burst in.
For a moment, neither of us moved. The silence stretched between us, broken only by the distant moans of the infected and the sound of my own ragged breathing.
I slowly averted my gaze, trying to give her some semblance of privacy in this awkward situation. That’s when I noticed the shadow moving in my peripheral vision—someone else was in the room with us.
"Wait, Elena—" The blonde girl started to say.
"Uh!" I managed to grunt, but it was too late.
The second figure had already moved with deadly precision. Something hard and wooden connected with the side of my skull with a sickening crack. Pain exploded through my head like white-hot lightning, and the world tilted sideways before going completely black.
The last thing I heard was my own body hitting the floor.
Consciousness returned slowly, like surfacing from deep, dark water. The first sensation was pain—a throbbing, pulsing agony that radiated from the left side of my head down through my neck and shoulders. I could feel something warm and sticky matting my hair, and the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.
I groaned softly, trying to focus my eyes. The world swam in and out of focus, shapes blurring together like watercolors in the rain. Gradually, two figures materialized before me, and for a moment, I thought the blow to my head had given me double vision.
But no—there really were two of them.
The girl I’d first encountered was still there, her ice-blonde hair now properly arranged and her blouse buttoned up. Her bright blue eyes watched me with a mixture of concern and embarrassment. But beside her stood another girl who looked almost identical—the same ice blonde hair, the same piercing blue eyes, the same delicate features that belonged on a magazine cover rather than in a zombie-infested school.
The only difference was their hairstyles. The first girl had gathered her hair into a neat ponytail with a navy blue scrunchie. The second girl whom I caught in the middle of changing clothes wore her hair loose, cascading over her shoulders like a golden waterfall.