“Thank you,” I say again. “You’re here to help. I can see that.”
His mouth quivers. “Well, all right,” he says after a moment. He motions to the others to let us pass. They step back. Kamal puts the car into gear and we go. I take in a deep, full breath as we emerge back into daylight. My whole body is vibrating. It’s the feeling of swimming a personal best or solving a complex equation. Only better.
Seconds later, another tunnel envelopes us again.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” my brother exclaims, daring to look back over his shoulder.
“That was utterly insane.” Kamal’s English accent and the smell of pine tug on every cell inside me—their own form of gravity.
“Nice one, Lu,” Phoebe says.
Kamal catches my eye in the mirror again. This time I look away.
We pass through the second tunnel and out into the rolling countryside of western Pennsylvania. I lean toward my open window. Warm, sticky air smothers my face.
“Since I shockingly didn’t just piss my pants, I still need to stop,” Ben says.
Kamal alters the car’s GPS. “There’s a gas station at the next exit.”
The sky begins to darken. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
“How did you know what to say to him?” Kamal asks.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I just did.” I look at my phone.
“You hear back from Mom?” Ben asks.
“Yeah, I got a text. You?”
“Two texts and a voicemail. She’s pissed.”
“She can be pissed,” I say. “I’m pissed too. About a lot of things. And I care more about helping Dad than her being mad.”
“I’m with you,” he says. “But shit, you guys. I seriously thought those dudes were gonna shoot us. I probably would’ve shot us. If I were them.”
“He didn’t want to shoot anyone,” I say.
We pull into a deserted gas station. More thunder rolls across the horizon, then lightning. The car slowly cruises past the pumps. They’re hung with handwritten signs that say, “No gas.” Kamal pulls the car up to the electric charging post.
“I hope this thing works,” he says.
“Power’s still on and it takes credit cards,” replies Ben. “It’ll work.” He goes over to a bush and pees.
I hop out. This place is bleak. The glass door of the convenience store is shattered. There’s trash littered everywhere and the darkening sky casts everything in eerie, flat light. I feel for my dad’s knife in my pocket and re-secure it as I follow Ben and Phoebe into the store. The shelves and cold cases are bare. A huge pile of scratched-off lottery tickets covers the floor.
“Check this out,” Ben marvels. “How long do you think it would take to scratch off all these tickets?” I shrug and go back outside. My legs are stiff from so many hours in the car. It feels good to move.
“It’s working,” Kamal calls from the charging station. I give him a thumbs-up and trail Phoebe to the ladies’ room. Locked.
“There’s probably a key behind the counter,” I say.
“Let’s just go around back.” She leads us to a woodsy overgrown area behind the store.
I kick up some empty milk cartons and crumpled bags of chips on the ground. A heavy feeling passes over me. The storm is getting closer. “Looks like someone was living back here.”
Phoebe pulls down her shorts and squats over a pile of dead leaves.
Thunder booms again in the distance. “That rain’s coming any minute.” I say. But Phoebe’s staring a million miles away. I study her eyes. I swallow the taste of salt and squat down to pee. “What’s up with you? You seem kind of off. I mean, not that I really know you well enough to say that.”
She finishes and stands up. My eyes dart to her underwear as she pulls her shorts on. Black lace. A blast of heat down my arms.
“I’m fine,” she says. “Or more precisely, I don’t want to talk about it.” She undoes her hair tie and bends forward. Her long red tresses spill toward the ground. She combs them with her fingers.
I pull up my shorts as a small orange tabby appears from under a cardboard box. She’s mewing. I kneel down to pet her. “Hey little one,” I coo. “Are you hungry?” She buries her soft head in my hands. She’s just a baby. Her sweetness almost makes me want to cry. But I don’t cry.
Instead, I feel for my knife. Because in a red flash, I know he’s there even before he is.
He’s young, maybe mid-twenties. His face is hollow and unshaven. His clothes are tattered and dirty, like he’s been living in the woods for days. He grabs Phoebe by the hair and yanks her upright, a broken bottle in his other hand.
He starts to speak, but his voice catches in his throat.
The cough.
“You have a car?” he rasps. Phoebe nods. Her eyes narrow and she whimpers as he pulls her hair tighter. None of us moves. The knife’s handle is cool against my skin. Red and yellow swirl in front of me, but I know what I’m going to do. Because I know what he’s going to do. In an instant, his hands are around her neck. Phoebe is gasping for air and I’m in motion.
I rip the blade from the sheath and plunge it straight into his back. It’s so fast I’m not even sure I’ve done it. But he lets go of her and stumbles. He reaches toward his back, then turns to me.
Thunder again and my whole body quakes. His eyes widen. I see a whole life in his face now. The disappointments, the joys, the dreams and wants. And these, the final moments. The realization that it’s over. I see heartbreak stream out of his eyes in one long, coffee-colored ribbon. He crumples to the ground.
“Ben!” I yell. Phoebe is panting, still gasping for air. Kamal and my brother come tearing around the side of the store. We all stand frozen as the man stops moving. The air is thick. The only sound is our breath and the cat meowing. I look down at the man’s face, at the pool of blood forming on the ground beneath him. He’s dead and the thought that follows is too bizarre to comprehend: I killed him.
CHAPTER 9
I am ice-cold in the warm air. Blues, blacks, horns, bells, tones, and the taste of red meat overwhelm me. My mouth waters with hunger so intense I almost don’t recognize it. I begin to shake. My brother rushes over and puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Are you all right?” He seems to be shouting. I look at him. I can’t speak or move. I feel like I’m floating above everything and don’t have access to my limbs.
“What happened?” Kamal demands. I glance at Phoebe who stands hunched over, her hands on her knees.
“Luisa just saved my life,” she says. A drop of rain hits my nose. I blink. Tap my foot. Another raindrop. The sounds and colors start to calm. I walk over to the man.
“He was coughing,” I mumble. I pull up my mask. “I’m going to be sick.”
“Fuck, Lu!” my brother yells. “Did you touch him?”
My stomach is churning. I spit onto the ground. I find a still point in the dirt. I breathe. I notice the kitten again. She has no idea what’s just happened, what any of it might mean.
“She didn’t touch him,” Phoebe answers. “He tried to strangle me. She stabbed him.”
We all stare at Phoebe. She is now at risk.
“We have to go home,” Ben says. “This is insane.”
“No. Not an option,” Phoebe snaps.
“Dude, my sister just killed some infected zombie. Some infected zombie who almost choked you to death.” The meaning of his words is hard for me to grasp. It’s like he’s speaking a language I only sort of know. I pull out my phone with shaking hands. I dial my dad.
It rings and the wind rushes through the trees behind us. That sound, an echo of his image in my head. I don’t know what I’ll do or say if he answers. I just want to hear him tell me it’s all right.
“Who are you calling?” Ben asks.
My dad’s voice mail picks up. I click off. “No one.”
I bend down and let the cat sniff my hand. Her only concern is survival. Sitting on the ground as the thunder booms again, I
realize mine is too.
“We can’t go back,” I say. “There’s zero guarantee of safety there and our only hope of helping Dad is to keep going.” Tears pool in Ben’s eyes. His lips turn down. “It’s okay,” I tell him. “I’m okay.”
“What we shouldn’t do is stay out here any longer than we have to,” Kamal says. Phoebe nods and starts walking. I follow next as the rain starts, then Kamal, then Ben. We move quickly to the car. Light drizzle gives way to sheets of cascading water. White-hot blasts of lightning explode across the horizon and thunder pounds overhead.
Everyone climbs into the car, but I hesitate. A gust of wind rattles the trees again. It’s like a message without words. “Hang on,” I say and run back.
I kneel down next to the dead man. “I’m sorry,” I whisper. Then I pull the knife from his back in one swift movement. The rain hammers down and washes away the blood. I hustle back to the car.
Phoebe is cleansing her neck with a wipe. “Can I have one of those?” I ask as I take my seat. She passes one back and I run it up and down the blade.
“You took the knife?” Ben asks. “It’s totally contaminated.”
“Not anymore.” I throw the wipe out the window, stuff the knife into my backpack, and we pull back onto the road.
“Let the record reflect,” Ben announces, “that I think continuing this trip is the worst possible idea in the history of bad ideas.”
“Noted,” Phoebe replies. She throws her gloves and mask out the window and replaces them with a fresh set from her pack. She offers me a clean pair too. “Here’s the thing, Ben,” she says. “You can’t worry about getting sick. You just have to put it out of your mind and keep moving forward.”
“I’m actually not worried about getting sick,” Ben responds. “I’m worried about some nut job like that guy or the guys in the tunnel blowing our brains out to get our car or our food or whatever. ARNS is honestly the least of our concerns.”
“Can you all be quiet, please?” I snap.
“Of course,” Phoebe replies.
“Do you want to talk about it?” my brother whispers. I shake my head no and find the horizon out the window.
• • •
“What happens when someone dies?” I asked. My father was sitting at the foot of my bed.
“Well, lamb,” he said carefully. “They stop breathing.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Different people believe different things. Some say they go to heaven. Some say their spirit gets taken back up into the stars and planets and comes back down into a new person or animal just being born.”
“Animal?” I asked.
“Some people believe that, yes.”
“So, like, I could be a horse?”
“Possibly,” he said. “It’s like they go away but then come back as something or someone else.”
“Can we see them when they come back?”
“Maybe. But we might not recognize them. I think they would look different and maybe be very far away.” I looked down at the hundreds of tiny silver stars embroidered on my quilt.
“What do you think?” I asked.
“I think that death is not the end. That’s the thing to remember. Even if we don’t know what’s next.” He swept the hair off my forehead.
“When we die, let’s be next to each other so we can stand up together and come back to earth together,” I said.
He smiled at me. “That’s a perfect plan.”
My eyes slowly hinged closed. The weight of his hand on my head was like the steady pressure of a ship’s wheel on the rudder, guiding my mind swiftly into sleep.
• • •
Hours pass along with the flat prairies of Western PA. Fast-food signposts dot the highway edge like giraffes on a savannah. Kamal and Ben fall asleep.
Phoebe leans over and reprograms the GPS. “Change of plans. We’re gonna stop in Ohio,” she says. “I have an aunt there. We’re gonna stay the night with her.”
“Okay,” I reply. “That’s nice. Right?” She doesn’t answer.
My phone buzzes. A new x.chat message from Nam.
“Holy shit. I got another poem.”
Phoebe whips around. “Let me see.” I hand her the phone and she reads it aloud:
“From dust he bloomed, a fragile rose whose petals slowly fell
As the seed inside kept burning still, the mind at least was well
They tore their clothes and begged for help, a nightly vigil kept
But when he was gone, all hope was lost and they, like Jesus, wept.”
She looks up at me. “Do you know what it means?”
“There’s something familiar about it,” I say. “But no, I don’t know.”
“You should respond. See if you can get him to tell you something more.”
“How do I do that?” I ask, wishing I already knew.
“Well, last time you gave him the answer to his puzzle.”
“Right.”
“Don’t do that. If you give him the answer, there’s nowhere left to go.”
“But he’s sending me a message and it seems like the answer is the message. I have to solve the puzzle to know what the message is.”
“Yes, but you can discern the meaning without telling him you’ve figured it out. Telling him the answer is just about showing him you’re smart. He already knows you’re smart. You need to be even smarter and coax him into revealing something more.” This is what Kamal likes about her. She’s persuasive. Or is she cunning?
“Say something like, ‘I know where you are.’ ”
“But I don’t,” I say.
She laughs. “Don’t be so literal.” Her salty eyes sparkle in the setting sun.
“Okay,” I say. I type the words: I know where you are. I read it over, trying to hear it through the ears of a phantom stranger. “No,” I mutter to myself.
“What?” Phoebe asks.
“Nothing,” I reply. I make a change. I know who you are. I hit send, then lean back and wait.
The sun is dropping fast when we arrive in Granville, Ohio. We wind up a hill lined by sweet old Victorians, their grassy lawns peppered with American flags and swing sets. Phoebe’s aunt Georgette lives at the top, at the end of a cul-de-sac. Birdsong and still summer heat envelop us as we step out of the car. This place already feels like home.
I follow Phoebe up the stone-covered path, past beds of brightly colored azaleas as Georgette bursts through the door. She’s got a silk scarf tied around her face and no gloves.
Two large huskies come bounding out behind her and the smell of something delicious cooking inside fills my nose. The dogs jump up, trying to lick my face.
“Kelly! Barb! Get down!” Georgette shouts. She grabs them by their collars and holds them back. Her wide, brown eyes meet mine. She tastes like honey and instantly, I wish she were my mom.
“Come in, come in,” she offers warmly, turning to Phoebe. “Sweetheart, let me see you.” Phoebe lifts her mask and, like dawn into day, she transforms into an awkward little girl. Her shoulders slope down, her eyes seem to beg.
“Hi G,” she says softly.
A sob escapes Georgette’s plum-colored lips. “It’s been too long.”
“I’m sorry for that,” Phoebe says. They hold each other’s gaze. A river of emotion passes between them and I’m reminded: Phoebe has a whole history I know nothing about.
“Well,” Georgette says, brightening. “I need to meet your friends.”
“I’m Kamal, Ms. Maxwell. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for having us stay.” His good English manners make me want to I don’t even know what.
“I couldn’t be happier you’re here. And please call me G.”
“I’m Ben,” my brother adds. “This is my sister, Luisa.”
G looks at me the way my dad does. “Oh baby,” she says gently. “You need to lie down, don’t you?”
“That would be nice,” I say.
“I have two rooms, plus the basement. I lea
ve it to you to decide who sleeps where.”
“Lu can have my room,” Phoebe says. “I’ll take the basement.”
G puts her hand on Phoebe’s back as we head inside. I glance at my watch. Nothing from Nam.
G leads us down the hall. “Everything is clean,” she says. Phoebe stops in the doorway of a small bedroom. She surveys the two twin beds with their pink rose-printed comforters. The walls are covered with drawings and photos. There’s a drafting table surrounded by paints, pencils, and markers. The whole room is teeming with the life of a teenage girl.
“What?” I ask.
“Nothing.” She goes into the room and sets down her bag. I follow and take a seat on the edge of one bed.
I look around. “Is this all your stuff?”
Her expression is distant. “It’s my little sister’s.”
“Where is she?”
“You should rest,” she says. “I’m gonna take my stuff downstairs and help G with dinner.” She grabs her bag and walks out. I lie back and sink into the pillows. The opposite wall holds a charcoal portrait of G’s dogs posed on the edge of a cliff. They look strong and proud, like two sentries standing guard over a distant realm—the protected having become the protectors.
Time dissolves and I lose myself. The next thing I know, it’s nearly dark outside and someone is knocking on the door.
“Come in.” I sound groggy.
The door creaks open and Kamal’s head appears. “Dinner’s ready.”
I look around, then sit up. “Thank you.”
“How do you feel?” he asks. “Did you sleep?”
“I’m okay. I’m not sure if I slept. I feel like I didn’t.”
“You will. You’re in shock. You need to eat and rest. You’ll sleep.”
I avoid his gaze. “I just feel … I can’t believe what I did.”
“What you did was amazing.”
“I killed someone. I mean, what the fuck? Those are words you never think you’ll actually say, right? Those are words people on TV say.” My legs tingle. A burst of pine, but he steadies me with his eyes.
“You saved someone. That guy was going to die anyway. And he would’ve killed all of us if given the chance. You saved our lives, my life.” He pauses, just looking at me. “I’m feeling pretty grateful.”
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