14: Uninvited Guests

Monday 28th September 1998

The day of Lisa's party dawned, bright and sunny. Normally the sunshine never failed to make Lisa happy. But today she just couldn't work up enthusiasm for anything, least of all a party that she didn't even want.

Julie turned up at exactly 9 a.m., bursting with energy and looking far happier than anyone had a right to be first thing in the morning. As Lisa watched, bleary-eyed, Julie took over the entire house with her preparations for the party, chatting all the while:

"I can't wait for this party, this'll be so much fun, it'll take everyone's mind off these stupid zombie rumours at any rate, and I know you're disappointed about your bestest buddy from downtown not coming, but believe me it'll be much better without him being here, and don't you think Phil Barrett is much cuter than he is anyway?"

10 o'clock came, and then 11 o'clock – by now Lisa was looking longingly at the clock, hoping that Jack was going to come over and rescue her from the party-obsessed Julie. If he swept her off her feet and carried her off into the sunset at the same time, she decided, this was all to the good.

But he never came. 11 o'clock was closely followed by 12 o'clock, and suddenly Lisa found herself besieged from all sides by guests, many of whom she'd never seen before in her life.

"Julie," said Lisa, after greeting another group of people that she'd never even met, "Correct me if I'm wrong and I can't count properly, but I think there's more than fourteen people. Quite a lot more, actually."

"Well, I did tell everyone they could bring friends, didn't I?" said Julie, as if having twenty or thirty extra guests unexpectedly turning up was no big deal.

It was at times like these that Lisa felt like strangling Julie.

"And it didn't occur to you to ask me at all, did it?" said Lisa, through gritted teeth.

"You're just making a fuss over nothing, Lisa," said Julie breezily. "Chill out."

"Fine. I'll go sit in the refrigerator for a couple of hours and let the party go on without me. Bang on the door when they've all gone and it's safe to come out," said Lisa sarcastically.

"Oh, no, don't do that," said Julie absent-mindedly as she pinned a fallen banner back up. "The frost will ruin your hair, dear."

Lisa snorted, and went out into the back yard. It had been completely taken over by her guests and their friends and relations; there was a baseball game going on at the far end of the yard, and those who weren't participating were chatting in groups, helping themselves to food and drink, or fighting over which radio station to put on.

Lisa wondered why she'd allowed Julie to take over her social life yet again. Why hadn't she refused? She wished she'd screamed "No!" so loudly that even Julie would have taken the hint; she wished even more that she'd never let Julie become her official best friend after Charlotte went.

What had happened to Charlotte, anyway? One day she'd been sitting at her desk; the next, just gone. When Lisa had gone round to her house the next day, it was empty, and stripped bare – it looked as if Charlotte and her parents had just moved out, but Charlotte hadn't mentioned anything about moving house, and that wasn't like her. Lisa had asked everyone she knew, even Charlotte's neighbours, but no-one seemed to know where the Lascelles family had gone. They'd just – well, gone.

Lisa missed Charlotte. She'd been a nice girl; shy, retiring, thoughtful and kind, much like Jack in some respects. She wished that Charlotte was here now, to keep her company while she reluctantly hosted this unwanted party.

"Hey, Lisa!" Julie called.

Frowning, Lisa went over to see what she wanted.

"What is it, Julie?" she said.

"We're missing a guest," said Julie.

"Who?" said Lisa. "I thought you invited the whole town."

"Paul's not here," said Julie, pointedly ignoring the remark.

"So where is he?"

Julie shrugged. "No idea. He said he was coming. Maybe he got stuck in traffic."

"What traffic?" said Lisa. "Town's quiet as the grave. I've never seen downtown look so empty. Ever since that thing in the papers about those strange murders, the whole town seems to have just shut down. You don't see more than a handful of people in the whole of Main Street during the day now, and that's weird. Normally you've gotta push, shove and elbow your way from one end of the street to the other."

"Gotta?" sniffed Julie. "God, Lisa, you have to stop hanging round with that Jack guy. You're starting to sound like him – and dress like him! Look at you! Skimpy red top, jeans and sneakers! You're turning into trailer-trash, dear."

"Jack doesn't live in a trailer," Lisa pointed out. "He lives in an apartment above the record store on West and 16th. There aren't any trailers in downtown Raccoon City, Julie, in case you hadn't noticed."

Julie made a face.

"Anyway," said Lisa, continuing, "There's nothing wrong with Jack. He's a really nice guy."

"He's trash," said Julie, "It's about time you realised it."

"He is not trash!" Lisa snapped. "He's my friend. Granted he isn't exactly a paragon of virtue, but he's a decent guy. At least he doesn't skip school or throw stones at his neighbour's cat like Justin, or steal his dad's wallet so he can buy cigarettes like Tyrone does!"

"Hmm," said Julie, who didn't look in the least bit convinced. "If you say so."

Lisa was furious, but before she could say anything more in defence of her friend, the garden gate banged open and her train of thought was suddenly derailed.

Her last guest had arrived; in Lisa's opinion he looked like he should have stayed at home instead. Paul looked pale and tired, and he was swaying slightly, as if he'd had too much to drink – which, since Paul didn't drink, was very strange.

"Hi, Paul!" called one of the boys.

"Hi, Alex," said Paul hollowly, and he didn't sound much better than he looked.

"Hey, what's the matter, Paul? You look terrible!" said Alex.

Terrible is right, thought Lisa. He looks like the living dead!

"Not feeling well," Paul muttered.

"Too much to drink, huh? I thought you were meant to start drinking after you arrived at Lisa's place, not before!" Alex laughed. "Oh well. Hair of the dog, buddy?"

"No," said Paul abruptly. He frowned, and scratched his arm. And scratched it again. And kept scratching.

"You have fleas or something?" said Alex, grinning. "Stop scratching, Paul!"

"Can't," growled Paul, still scratching obsessively at his arm. With a faint twinge of horror, Lisa noticed that he'd drawn blood.

Alex noticed it too, and he looked concerned. "Hey, stop it, Paul, you're bleeding!" he told his friend.

But Paul shrugged, and carried on scratching. By now, everyone had turned to look, and Lisa suddenly felt uneasy. Something's not right…

"Stop it!" shouted Alex, finally losing his cool, and he grabbed Paul's arm.

For a second, Paul stared blankly at the hand gripping his elbow. Then, very slowly, he loosened Alex's grip, held his hand for a moment, and then with an air of concentration he bit into it.

Alex screamed, and pulled his hand free. Blood was running down his wrist in little streaks, welling between his fingers and oozing from the marks on the side of his hand.

"What the hell's wrong with you?" he yelled at the impassive Paul, shaking the injured fist in his face. This time Paul snarled and, picking Alex up by the collar of his shirt, he went for the throat. Alex screamed again; a horrible scream of agony that ended abruptly in a gurgle. Paul tossed him aside, and only then did the horrified audience come to their senses.

"Get him!"

"Call the police!"

"He killed Alex! He killed him!"

Lisa's mind was fogging with terror. What do I do, how do I get out? Got to get away from here, got to run away, far away . . .

The world blurred, and Lisa panicked. She knew she was going to faint, but she couldn't, not when she was in real trouble – Paul had just thrown two of the guests right across the yard and torn the throat out of a third, and everyone was running and screaming hysterically. There was blood everywhere. Lisa's last thought was I can't faint, I can't, I can't …and then everything went black.

----------

Groaning, Lisa slowly opened her eyes, dreading what she was about to see. Paul – no, the zombie-thing that looked like Paul, the real Paul would never have hurt anyone – was looking down at her, as if idly wondering what she'd taste like.

"No!" screamed Lisa, as it lunged at her with clumsy, bloodstained fingers, and she rolled out of its reach just in time. As it snarled, and began lurching towards her, she grabbed the first thing that came to hand – a broken table-leg.

"Get away from me!" she shrieked, and swung the table-leg as hard as she could, hitting it full in the face.

Lisa was expecting the zombie or whatever the thing was to give a cry of pain, or fall over; she certainly wasn't expecting its head to fly off and roll across the yard like an obscene football. But that was exactly what happened.

For a moment she stared at the scene of carnage, at the newly decapitated zombie, at the bodies of her friends, unable to take it all in. It was the most horrific thing she'd seen in her life, and she didn't know whether to cry, scream, or throw up. Instead she just stood there, still holding the table-leg, and stared, speechless and open-mouthed, too shocked to move.

This is impossible, Lisa told herself. I have to be imagining this. If I close my eyes and open them again, everything will be normal. I'll be talking to Julie, Mary will be serving punch to Joey, Tyrone will be play-fighting with Phil and Mike and Jamie, and Leonie and Sarah will be chatting about the concert they went to last week.

Hoping against hope, Lisa closed her eyes, and opened them, but she was still met with the awful sight of corpses and blood. Just in front of her was one of the victims, sprawled on the ground, her wide eyes staring up at the sky, face still locked in a silent scream. Her clothes and blonde hair were soaked with blood. She was just recognisable as Julie.

Dropping the table-leg, Lisa grabbed a cellphone from the hand of a dead guest, and called the police. To her horror, but not entirely to her surprise, there was no answer.

Panic rising in her chest, she tried to call her parents' work number, but no-one answered. The phone rang, on and on, until at last she gave up and turned the cellphone off.

There was a rumble of thunder overhead, and Lisa looked up at the dark clouds that had gathered during her unconsciousness. They'd completely shut out the sunlight, leaving only a thin, greyish second-hand light to illuminate the scene before her. As well as stealing the sunshine, the clouds seemed to have sucked out all the beauty and happiness from the world. Life had turned to death, a party had turned into a massacre, and Lisa's belief that there were no such things as zombies had been turned upside down.

Were there more of these things around? There had to be. Diseases spread, and they'd been talking about the virus for a few weeks now. So given the rate of infection, there were probably hundreds of zombies in Raccoon City by now.

She didn't know what to do. If there were more zombies around, then it was much too dangerous for her to leave the house. Besides, it wouldn't do any good. There were roadblocks and barricades all over town, and Raccoon City was completely sealed off from the outside world. Escape was impossible.

On the other hand, she was damned if she was going to sit there in the back yard and wait for more zombies to come along and eat her alive. If Jack were here, he'd be telling her that, one way or another, they had to get out of town.

Jack… was he still alive? Lisa hoped so. She couldn't bear to think that he might be lying somewhere, scared and alone, slowly bleeding to death after being bitten – or that he had died an agonising death and that even now one of those hideous creatures was tearing lumps out of his cooling flesh.

"Oh, Jack, please be okay," she murmured. "Please, please be all right…"