“So you’ve gotten a request from them before? Do you know them?”
“I think they’re new to social media, so they’re probably confused. Did you know that the fastest growing demographic is senior citizens?”
Yeah, I’ve heard that before.
A few minutes later, as we head out on our run, it occurs to me that he didn’t say he didn’t know the Olivers.
chapter seventeen
Get a kickass partner.
Ivy
Dani, Cassidy, and I arrive outside Explorer Stadium about thirty minutes before the race is scheduled to start. We’re supposed to meet up with James, Kelly, and Reese somewhere. Jon’s already here, since he had to arrive early to meet with the organizers, but we haven’t seen him.
People are dressed in all sorts of crazy costumes. Businessmen, ballerinas, baristas, cowboys, soldiers, dog walkers, construction workers, doctors, and nurses. Basically, every occupation you can think of where people could be working when the zombie apocalypse occurs.
Even though I’m not into wearing costumes, Dani begged me to wear a pink tutu over my running shorts, like she and Cassidy. Since Jon’s planning on wearing some sort of costume too, I eventually relented.
We pick up our packets at the main gate. There must be close to a thousand people waiting around for the apocalypse to begin. I pin my number to my sleeve, making sure that it lies flat.
The zombie check-in is near the north entrance. Jon said that list filled quickly. Everyone wanted to be one of the infected and chase after the humans trying to get through the obstacle course. From what I can see, their costumes consist of a lot of torn clothing and massive quantities of blood. I spot a clown zombie and quickly turn away. I seriously. Hate. Clowns. Stephen King’s It, anyone? That’s all I’m saying.
“Hey, isn’t that Touch Montgomery?” Dani says, pointing across the street.
Cassidy cranks her head around to look. “Touch is here?”
Dani frowns. “He’s not running in the race, is he?”
“He’d better not be. Here, hold my stuff.” Cassidy thrusts her water bottle and race number at me, threads through the people on the sidewalk and marches over there. It’ll be hard for anyone to take her seriously with that pink tutu and large polka-dot bow on the top of her head. She went to a couple of kickbacks at Touch’s apartment, but says it’s nothing serious. I think she still has feelings for Will.
I scan the crowd, looking for Jon. He’s been quiet lately. I can tell something’s been bothering him, but whenever I ask, he acts like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about and that he’s fine. On top of making sure everything was ready for the race, he also had a busy tutoring schedule and a long paper to write. I don’t know, though. I think something else is up. Spotting James, Kelly, and Reese on the other side of the street, I wave them over. James is wearing a football jersey, while Kelly and Reese are dressed like—pirates?
“Have you guys seen Jon yet?” I ask. “I know he’s here.”
“What about over there?” Kelly says, pointing. “I see pink.”
I look in that direction and see the crowd, all right. A bunch of sorority girls in pink Parishioner T-shirts.
Wonderful. My boyfriend and his groupies.
We head in that direction. I spot the local news station van with a satellite dish mounted to the roof, parked near the giant bronze Explorer statue in the middle of the courtyard. Holding a white shirt and tie, Jon is talking to the female reporter, but they’re not on the air. The reporter must be waiting to go live with the station.
As we get closer, Jon spots us. He signs, Hello, beautiful.
Okay, maybe it is the race he’s been worried about. I sign back, Hello, handsome.
The reporter touches her earpiece, unaware that her interview subject is having a conversation in sign language. “We’re on right after the commercial. Are you ready?”
“Ready when you are.”
A couple of girls ask him to come over and sign their shirts, but he tells them he’s going live in a minute and can’t right now. I’m not sure how he always stays so patient. It’s not uncommon for people to approach him and ask him to sign their shirts. I know it must get old, but I’ve never heard him complain. When I’ve asked him about it, he just gives me one of those million-dollar smiles and says he appreciates their support.
He looks over at me and signs, After the race is over, want to go back to my place and have sex?
I nearly choke. Jon! I sign back, finger spelling his name with emphasis. I glance at the others gathered around to watch the broadcast, but no one is reacting. Other people can sign too, you know.
He shrugs. You look hot and you’re my girlfriend. How is the fact that we’re going to have sex later surprising? Shouldn’t that be obvious? Even from fifteen feet away, I can see that gleam in his eye.
You’re such a guy.
The cameraman is indicating they’re about to go live, so Jon turns his attention back to the reporter, an attractive Asian woman in a navy blue wool coat.
After the lead-in, she puts the microphone in his face and asks him to explain how the race works. If I were him, I’d be stammering and stumbling over my words, but Jon is a natural.
“All the runners start out with three humanity flags hooked to their belts. The ten kilometer obstacle course is littered with hordes of zombies. The goal for the runners is to get across the finish line with at least one flag still attached. If so, they’re still human. If not, they’ve been infected. And then, of course, there are the zombies. Their goal is to infect people.”
“So who are the zombies?”
“Anyone who wanted to be one,” he says, laughing. “We maxed out on zombies well before the human runner list was filled.”
“And why is that, do you think?”
He shrugs. “People are excited to dress up and unleash their inner monsters, I guess. ”
“So how do these zombies infect people?” she asks.
“We’ve got three types of zombies,” he says, holding up three fingers. “Shamblers are the fastest. They can run after you for about ten feet. The walkers aren’t allowed to run, but they can go more than ten feet. And then there are the crawlers. They can be the most dangerous because you don’t know where they’re hiding.”
“Sounds frightening. Okay, so tell us a little bit about the charity that the race benefits.”
Jon’s tone shifts from playful to serious. He tells the reporter that the money will go to fund a hospice and home care charity helping terminally ill cancer patients and their children. She listens attentively, nodding occasionally. “It’s difficult for kids to deal with the fact that a parent is dying, and this group is there to help them.”
“How did you get involved in the organization?”
Jon hesitates. “They helped me when my mother died.”
Jon
We’re standing near the front of the stadium, along with about a thousand other runners and two or three times that number of spectators.
I’m not sure how long I’ll last wearing this white shirt and tie, because I’m already getting hot. I’ll probably end up taking it off and leaving it on a fence somewhere before the race is over.
“What are our chances?” Ivy asks, fluffing up her tutu.
I’m glad Dani and Cassidy talked her into wearing a costume. She looks awesome.