by Kate L. Mary
We kiss while we go at it, the echo of our bodies slapping against one another the only sound in the empty room. He’s fast and big enough to drive every thought out of my head, and he’s a damn good kisser on top of everything else. Even tasting like vodka I can’t stop running my tongue over his. His hands sink into my hips as he pulls me against him, over and over again, pushing away the crushing grief that had settled in my body over the last few days.
We finish together, gasping and sweating, my legs shaking, but it’s too soon, and the second it’s over reality comes screaming back in one, violent burst.
I want to cry, and I can feel the tears working their way up my throat to my eyes. I blink them back while pulling my underwear on. Riley has his back to me when he drops the used condom in the trash, but his shoulders seem lower than they were before. Like now that it’s over, he realizes it wasn’t the answer to anything. Just like I do.
“That sucked,” he says.
“Thanks a lot.” The tears I’ve been trying to hold back force their way out even though I know he isn’t talking about the sex and I totally agree with him. That did suck. The sex was great. Amazing, even. But the way reality slammed into me afterward sucked big time.
“That’s not what I meant.” Riley turns to face me.
His pants are now up and my underwear is back in place, and any evidence that we just screwed on top of my teacher’s desk is gone. We’d have to drag the sex out all night if we wanted to really keep reality at bay, and even then it would all come crashing down on us once we had finished.
“I know.” I let out a sigh and reach for the bottle of vodka, but Riley stops me.
He grabs my hand and pulls me against him, and the second his arms wrap around me the tears let loose.
“I don’t want die,” I say against his chest, balling his shirt up in my hands like I’m trying to rip it off instead of anchoring myself to something strong.
“I know.”
He runs his hand down my head, over my blond hair, and when he lets out a deep breath it’s shaky. Like he’s either crying or trying not to cry. I don’t know which one, but I don’t look up. I hate crying in front of people and I’m not a big strong man with a magnum ego to protect.
We stay like that for a few minutes, and when I finally pull away I still don’t look him in the eye. Just in case he wants some space to pull himself together. I know I do.
I turn my back to him and wipe my palm across my face. My hands are shaky when I pull out another cigarette. I light it and inhale, pulling as many of the chemicals crammed into that little stick as I possibly can down into my lungs. I hope it rots them. I hope it coats them in poison so thick that I’m never able to take another step and keel over right here in this room and die.
When I exhale the smoke floats up, but I don’t die.
Guess there are no real miracles anymore.
“Let’s go see what everyone else is doing,” I say, heading for the door without looking Riley’s way.
I’m still smoking when I walk into the cafeteria. Riley is holding the bottle of vodka and the string of condoms is hanging out of his back pocket, the word magnum so big and bright that it’s like he’s holding up a billboard that says: Hey everyone, I have a huge dick. People stare, but only a few give us the evil eye. Most notice the vodka and cigarettes and look jealous.
The older lady I saw pat Riley on the arm earlier heads over to meet us when we’re only halfway across the cafeteria. “Can I bum one?” Her eyes are glued to the cigarettes and they’re lit up like it’s Christmas morning.
“Take the whole pack,” I say, my own cigarette bobbing between my lips. “I found two.” I pluck the cancer stick out of my mouth and blow smoke into the air. “Mr. Ball was a chain smoker, so we got lucky, but we could probably find more if we searched the lockers.”
The old woman grins when she takes the pack from me. “That’s a hell of an idea, young lady. I’m going to sit down right here and smoke two cigarettes, and then I’m going to organize a group so we can do just that.”
“Do you have to smoke that in here?” a woman in her fifties calls from across the room. “Some of us don’t want to get cancer.”
I snort. “Cancer? Have you seen the world lately? Cancer is the least of our concerns.”
A couple people gasp and someone starts to cry softly. A kid with big brown eyes stares at me like I just told him the boogeyman is real and living under his bed. I guess I did.
The old lady rolls her eyes before turning to the other woman, who apparently thinks she’s going to be alive long enough to die of cancer from secondhand smoke. “No worries, June. I’ll go to another part of the school to smoke it.”
June, who was scowling at me before the old lady reassured her, lets out a relived sigh. “Thank you, Mrs. Meadows.”
Mrs. Meadows—whose name I did not know until this second—gives the other woman a smile before holding the cigarettes above her head. “Anyone else?”
A few people head her way and as they go by Riley passes the bottle of vodka to a heavyset balding man in his late forties.
I don’t put my cigarette out despite June’s fear of lung cancer.
“I don’t see Jim,” Riley says, frowning. “I wanted to have a talk with him.”
I follow his gaze but the man he’s looking for is nowhere in sight. Patty is, though. She’s on the little stage at the front of the room, kneeling. Her hands are clasped in front of her and her eyes are closed, and her lips move in silent prayer as she lifts her head toward the ceiling.
I know she’s probably supposed to be looking up toward heaven, but ever since this whole zombie business started I’m having trouble believing that little utopia actually exists. I mean, if it does, I’d have to assume that hell is real too, and if I admit that then the only logical conclusion would be that the devil has thrown the roof off his kingdom and allowed his minions to spill out onto the earth. Which is why there are dead people trying to kill us. And that’s just too scary and fucked up to think about.
My hand trembles as I put my cigarette to my lips again, but it’s burnt down to nothing and the trail of ashes smoldering on the end has gotten so long that it’s curled over. I drop the cigarette to the floor and grind the toe of my ballerina flats against it. Riley frowns, but he doesn’t give me a lecture. Only a couple hours together and he already realizes how useless that would be. He’s smart as well as hot.
“I’m going to look for Jim,” Riley says, but when he turns to face me his frown deepens. He looks me over slowly as if he’s trying to decide what to say, and after a few seconds nods. “I know it’s dumb worrying about secondhand smoke and litter—” He waves to the cigarette at my feet. “—but we aren’t alone here and everyone has their way of dealing. For some people it’s clinging to the impossibility that we will get rescued. We should respect that.”
“Always have to be Mr. Popularity,” I mutter even though I know he’s right.
He grins. “It will be the death of me.”
“We’re sick people, you know that?” I say, returning his smile.
“I know.”
“I’ll smoke somewhere else,” I say, grimacing. “But I’m not picking up the cigarette.”
Riley throws his arm around my shoulder as we head for the door. “Compromise. I like that. It’s also the sign of a strong woman.”
“So is making it through a virus that kills more than eighty percent of the population.”
“Very true.”
Riley shoves the door open, his one arm still slung over my shoulders, and when we step out of the cafeteria we narrowly miss slamming into Tori. Her dark hair is wet and her t-shirt is clinging to her breasts—she isn’t wearing a bra—and Jim is only two steps behind her. He’s older than her, probably close to fifty. Tall and thin, but not overly skinny. He has a short beard that’s neatly trimmed despite almost a week in the school, and there’s only a little gray in his wavy brown hair, which is also damp.
That
little minx…
“There you are.” The grin on Riley’s face tells me he played the same game of connect that dots that I just did and came up with the same picture. “I was looking for you. Wanted to have a little chat.”
Jim flushes, the red creeping up his neck to his cheeks. “Well, then, why don’t you follow me into my office,” he says, waving his hand toward the door we just came out of.
Riley pats me on the ass. “I’ll catch up with you.”
“Take your time,” I say, pulling out another cigarette before giving him a wave.
When the two men have slipped back through the cafeteria door, I turn my gaze on Tori. “Nice shower?”
The other woman gives me an unapologetic shrug that makes me instantly like her. “I thought you had a good idea. Jim isn’t bad looking and he’s smart.”
“Don’t let the villagers catch you or they’ll burn you at the stake,” I say. “I already got a lecture from Patty, and now she’s in the cafeteria praying. For my soul, no doubt.”
“It’s like she expects the hand of God to come out of heaven and set off a nuke, blowing every dead bastard roaming the earth back to hell.” Tori snorts to let me know how unlikely she thinks that is.
“Nice.” I lift my eyebrows at her. “Stephen King was one of my favorites.”
“Is,” Tori corrects me. “He may have ended up as a creature even more terrifying than any of the ones he wrote about, but he’ll live on forever thanks to his books.”
“All those years Ponce De Leon searched for the fountain of youth and King found it while he was trying to kill himself with booze.” I roll my eyes as I nod toward the stairs and start walking. “These days it sounds like a pretty good way to go.”
Tori follows me, keeping pace as she nods toward the pack of cigarettes in my hand. “Mind if I join?”
“The more the merrier.” It sounds even less sincere than it felt coming out.
“Why do I think you’re lying?”
“I’m not. Not really, anyway.”
“You’ve barely spoken to anyone since we got here, so I find it hard to believe that you’re okay with me intruding on your reflection time.”
We jog up the stairs side by side, and I can’t help watching her expression out of the corner of my eye. She doesn’t seem like she thinks I’m a bitch, so I’m not sure what she’s thinking.
“I thought keeping to myself was better,” I say.
“I get it.” She doesn’t say anything else, and I believe her. She already said we were screwed, so she probably knows exactly how I feel.
We make our way to the second floor where I shove the door to room two fifteen open and step inside. It looks almost exactly the same as it did three years ago.
“I had English in here my senior year.” I lean my bat against the wall right next to the door, then light up as I head to the window. “It was my favorite class. I had a teacher who inspired me to want to write down every little story in my head. Without him, I’m not sure I would have had the confidence to just go for it. Not that any of that matters now. It’s funny, spending years and years working hard to get where you want to be, and then something like this happens and you realize you’d be in the exact same place even if you’d spent your life laying on the couch doing nothing.”
I put the cigarette between my lips and suck in as much of the chemicals as possible. They used to burn my throat going down, but now they feel like a balm against an open wound. I hold the smoke in my lungs while jimmying the window open, then let it all out. The smoke blows back inside when a breeze sweeps through the open window, burning my eyes. Yeah. That’s why they’re tearing up. The smoke.
“Sorry,” Tori says from behind me, giving me a start.
I’d almost forgotten she was there.
I shrug and pop the cigarette between my lips so I can get her one. “Whatever.”
Tori takes the cigarette when I hold it out to her. She lights it, then we stand together in silence. Smoking. Staring out the window as the sun shines down on the field below us. It looks like a war zone. There are bodies everywhere, torn to shreds like they’ve been put through a wood chipper. The once green grass is a sea of red that shimmers in the sunlight and makes my full stomach flip inside out.
The zombies ambling between the bodies, though, are a whole different story.
“What was it like for you?” Tori asks out of nowhere.
“Horrible.” I take a long drag, then hold it in. When I blow it out I say, “Classes were canceled so I came home from college. My mom got sick early enough that they were able to take her body away, but my dad and I made it through the virus untouched. We’d been stuck in the house for so long and we were running out of supplies. There were no more news reports or emergency signals and the streets were empty. We had no clue about the dead when we went out for supplies. How could we have guessed?”
I don’t mention that I ran toward the school while zombies ripped apart my dad, or that I can still here the sound of his screams when I lay down at night to go to sleep. I don’t mention that I almost didn’t make it. That I saw my childhood best friend right here in the schoolyard just before I reached the door. That she had already changed and she tried to eat me. I don’t mention that there are times I wish she had succeeded.
“None of us could have. I mean, how could we?” Tori shakes her head and flicks the cigarette out the window. “Wish we had some pot.”
I snort as I take one final drag before following her lead. “Mrs. Meadows is going to get a group together and search the lockers. Bet you could find some there.”
“That’s a good point. There’s probably a lot of good stuff in the lockers.”
“Uppers, downers. Maybe some meth.” I know she’s not referring to drugs, but my mood is too sour to be anything but sarcastic. “If we’re lucky, we can spend the rest of our time so fucked up that we won’t even notice when some bastard tries to eat us.”
Tori stands up. “I don’t think that’s funny.”
“Neither do I,” I say, watching a zombie head across the football field. Where the hell is he going? Do they have a plan?
“I’m serious, Kyra.”
Tori’s tone has morphed into one that reminds me of my mom, which only makes my stomach clench so hard I think I might hurl. I can see the other woman out of the corner of my eye, her arms crossed. Her eyes narrowed.
I can’t look at her or I’ll burst into tears, so I just shrug and pull out another cigarette. “So am I. It just so happens that I’m honest, too.”
Tori snorts and turns away as I light up. She doesn’t slam the door—or even shut it—but it feels like she did. My body actually jerks as I imagine the bang of the door slamming against the frame. But once she’s gone, I feel a little better. Less tense.
I settle against the windowsill and smoke. Watching the zombies. Staring at the mangled bodies and wishing that I could catch a glimpse of the house I grew up in, all the way across the football field and two streets over. Knowing I’ll never see it or my family again.
After I’ve smoked a few cigarettes, someone walks into the room behind me. I turn, expecting to see Riley, and almost fall out the window when I meet the judgmental glare of Patty.
“I’ve been looking for you,” she says, her floral skirt swishing around her legs as she weaves her way between the desks.
I arch an eyebrow and take a long drag off my cigarette. “Is that so?” Smoke floats of my mouth with the words, making her frown. I almost smile. Almost.
“You strike me as a very troubled young lady.”
I laugh without meaning to. “Lady, we’re all troubled. Have you seen what’s going on out there?”
“Some of us are more troubled than others. I have the Lord to guide me, and He’s been telling me to have a talk with you.”
I flick my cigarette outside and hop off the windowsill. “Is that right? And would this talk have something to do with the fact that you caught Riley and me going at it in the princip
al’s office?”
Her hand whips out so fast I don’t even see it coming, meeting my face with a sickening smack that rings through the room and makes my whole cheek sting.
“Watch your tongue!” she hisses.
I rub my cheek as heat spreads through me, and before I can think better of it I have a handful of her hideous floral dress and I’m pulling her closer until our faces are only inches apart. “Bitch, you better never touch me again or you’ll regret it. Do you understand? You’re not my mom and you’re not my friend, and I don’t have to answer to you!”
Riley steps into the room behind her and his eyes get big. “What the hell?”
I don’t know why, but I let go.
Patty stumbles back, slamming into a desk and almost toppling over. I wish she would. I wish she’d land on her face and break her nose so I could see it bleed all over. If she ever touches me again, I will make her bleed.
Patty stands up and adjusts her dress, then she turns to face Riley. “This harlot threatened me. She’ll be the end of you and me and everyone in this building. Mark my words. God has told me that she will be the end of all of us!”
Riley narrows his eyes on the woman, then glances my way. When his eyes get huge I can only assume that there’s a hand shaped red mark on my cheek. “You need to walk away from here right now, Patty. I’ve never hit a woman before and I don’t want to start now, but I’m not going to put up with you treating Kyra that way. You got it?”
Patty’s eyes morph into tiny full moons, but she doesn’t argue. She huffs and stomps out, leaving Riley and me alone.
He steps inside as the bitchy woman’s footsteps pound down the hall, getting fainter and fainter with each passing moment. Riley shuts the door, then crosses the room to me.
“Are you okay?” he asks, taking my face between his.
I shrug him off and pull out another cigarette. “Peachy.”
He doesn’t say anything as I light up and go back to staring out the window, but I can feel his gaze on my back. It’s hotter than the sun.
“My Dad and I found out about the zombies when we went out for supplies,” I say, narrowing my eyes as I try once again to stare through the trees. “We had no clue. We were unarmed. Unprepared. We rounded a corner and there was a horde in front of us. I froze. I couldn’t believe it, wasn’t sure if what I was seeing was real. Then they charged and it was like something out of a nightmare. The snarls were unreal. The smell. I knew instantly what they were, but I couldn’t make myself move.”