This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)

by N. D. Iverson

  “That was crazy,” I said.

  Darren shrugged and left to secure the rest of the sun deck.

  I knew this was a bad idea; I could almost hear John berating Darren and me for being stupid, but forgetting about everything for a while was beyond appealing and almost necessary. I was so tired of constantly worrying and being on edge. I wanted a brief chance to relax. Was that so wrong?

  Plus, I had Darren with me. He was proving himself more useful as the day went on. And we were stashed safely away on the deck, two floors off the ground, with scores of junk food. All we were missing was a season of The Office to binge watch.

  Darren returned, told me the area was secure, and plunked down on a lounger. He tore into his backpack.

  Fuck it. With a mental shrug, I sat on the chair beside Darren and lay back to enjoy the view.

  Chapter 36

  Two joints later, we’d chewed through a couple of chip bags each. I had no idea of how much time had passed, but the sun was no longer above us and instead, now was closer to the tops of the buildings. I was feeling pretty good. I always preferred pot to drinking for the sheer fact I wouldn’t have a hangover later. We sat in companionable silence, eating our fill and wondering about the pretty colors shining off rooftops and windows as the sun set.

  Darren turned to me. “You know I had nothing to do with those murders, right?”

  It took me a minute to gather my thoughts away from the setting sun and come up with coherent words. “I know.”

  I hadn’t told him about our findings in Wyatt’s condo. And I really didn’t want to have this conversation with him, not while I was high and definitely not when I was sober.

  “Good.” He nodded and returned to gazing at the city skyline.

  I snorted and then started to laugh. “But when we first met, I thought something was up with you. I mean, where were your friends?”

  Darren put down his chips, his face falling. “I left them.”

  There was an awkward pause, which I ruined by laughing again. He shot me a hurt look.

  “Sorry. I’m normally not a giggler when I smoke pot.” I giggled again, ruining my previous claim.

  “That wasn’t the only thing,” Darren said cryptically.

  “I told you everything. Quid pro quo, Clarice.” I snickered again at my lame joke.

  Darren took a breath through his nose. “I had to kill one of my friends.”

  That stopped my giggles.

  “It was back at our hotel. My buddy, Brodie, got bit by one of the infected downtown while we were all plastered. The stupid bastard wanted to stay and keep drinking, but we forced him back to the hotel room to patch him up.” Darren gave me a sad smile. “Within an hour, he was really bad, and another hour after that, he stopped breathing. We were freaking out, still drunk when he … came back. I had to bash his head in with the tiny closet safe that wasn’t bolted down.”

  “I can’t even imagine.” I didn’t think I could ever do that to Zoe, and especially not back then.

  “I felt so guilty this whole time,” Darren said. “We’d driven to New Orleans as a road trip, but after Brodie died, they panicked and drove back home to Wisconsin. I thought that was a stupid idea, so I left them and headed for the school. I don’t even know if they got out of the city alive.”

  I took a big lungful of air, trying to stifle the urge to laugh. I swore I wasn’t normally like this.

  “I feel guilty for a lot of shit too,” I confessed.

  Darren smacked his hand down on the lounger. “You have nothing to feel guilty about.”

  “I killed two people, Darren.” I paused. “Shit, I guess it’s up to four now.”

  “Once again, you had no choice. It’s kill or be killed.”

  I hadn’t realized how much of a burden holding this in had been. Between my admission in the truck and here, I felt the straps of my heavy conscience loosen once again. It was liberating, adding to my current high. We fell back into silence, chewing on each other’s words instead of on our chips.

  “Come at me, you crusty, pox-filled motherfuckers!”

  I turned to Darren. “What did you say to me?”

  “That wasn’t me.” Darren looked back at me, confused.

  I jumped to my feet, but a wave of dizziness sent me back to the lounger.

  “Whoa,” I said, holding my hand to my forehead.

  Darren stumbled to the ledge, his steps slightly off. We were really baked. Fear ran through me and panic closed in. This had been a bad idea. How could we fight infected while high? I could barely stand, let alone shoot. This was how those fatal accidents you hear about on the news happened.

  “Holy shit, there’s a kid down there!” Darren yelled louder than was necessary.

  “That’s no way for a kid to talk,” I yelled back, slapping a hand over my mouth at the volume. And then I started to laugh again. I really shouldn’t be yelling.

  “Well, he’s more like a teenager,” Darren bellowed.

  I got up again, and this time the floor stayed put under my feet. I walked over to Darren and peeked over the ledge. Indeed, a teen boy was running along the main boulevard that split the campus in half. Infected roamed all over the place like scattered game pieces. The boy was easy to spot with his short but shaggy electric blue hair.

  He shot at a bunch of the infected with a handgun. The sound bounced off the buildings, echoing through the streets.

  “Take that, you brainless fucks!” he yelled again as if expecting them to shout an insult back.

  “That stupid shithead is going to bring in all the infected!” Darren grumbled.

  “We need to shut him up,” I said.

  “We could shoot him from here,” Darren said.

  “What?!” I jerked my head to face him.

  Darren put his hands in the air. “I’m joking.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “Should we yell at him to shut up?”

  “If he knows we’re here, he’ll head for the dorm’s front doors, which are currently zip tied, and the other entrances are probably locked,” Darren said.

  I jogged around the entire perimeter of the sundeck, looking for a fire escape.

  “Here!” I flagged Darren over. “We can tell him to run over here.”

  Darren jogged over, almost tripping over the leg of a folding chair.

  “He’ll bring the whole horde with him, and we’ll probably need that for our own escape.”

  “Well, we can’t just leave the kid to die.”

  “He’s egging them on,” Darren argued.

  “You want to start working away at that guilt?” I asked. “Then start by helping people.”

  Apparently I turned into a philosopher when I was high.

  Darren ran his tongue over his teeth. “Fine.”

  I ran back to the side of the deck facing the street and cupped my hands around my mouth. “Hey! Kid with the stupid blue hair!”

  Darren raised a brow at my word choice. We watched the kid stop his tirade and look around, blue head whipping back and forth.

  “On top of the dorm!” Darren piped in.

  His stare shot toward us, and I waved my arms as if I were front row at a concert.

  “Head to the south side. There’s a fire escape you can climb!”

  He darted across the boulevard, taking out more infected with his loud handgun. We followed him around the deck until he disappeared around the west wing of the dorm. We ran to the south side to see if he’d made it. After a few minutes, his blue hair came into view. Once he reached the fire escape, he looked up.

  “It’s not all the way down!” he shouted.

  I scanned the area for an idea.

  “Push the trash bin closer,” Darren said, his mind working quicker than mine.

  “Are you kidding me? What about the pinheads?”

  It took me a couple seconds to get who he was referring to. I started to laugh at his nickname for the infected.

  Darren rolled his eyes as I struggled to contain my la
ughter. “I thought you said you weren’t the giggly type.”

  “I’m not, I swear!”

  Darren turned back to the kid. “Maybe you shouldn’t have run around yelling then, yeah?”

  He flipped Darren the middle finger.

  “Little shit,” Darren muttered.

  “Pfft …” I smothered another round of laughter.

  The rusted wheels squealed as the kid pushed the garbage bin toward the fire escape. If I could hear it from the deck, that meant the infected could also hear it. A bunch of them poured in from around the corner the teen had come from.

  The kid shot off a few rounds, not even making a dent in the swarm. I stumbled back to the lounger, trying to sober up with every inhale.

  “What are you doing?” Darren asked, following me.

  “Getting my Beretta,” I said, grabbing the gun.

  “Shooting while stoned isn’t a good idea,” Darren scolded.

  “The kid’s going to become a live happy meal if we don’t do something!”

  Darren blinked, and then started to laugh. Oh sure, now he got the giggles. I ran back over to the ledge to see the teen on top of the garbage bin, reaching up for the end of the fire escape. The infected surrounded the bin, their hands grabbing for him.

  I took deep breaths to clear my head, and I slapped my cheek. If my aim was off, I might accidentally hit the blue-haired teen. His legs flailed below as he clung to the bottom of the fire escape, enticing the infected like a squirming piñata. One of the infected latched onto his leg, and he yelled a slew of curse words that even made me cringe.

  Using the ledge to steady my arm, I aimed for the offending infected and pulled the trigger. The thing’s head blew back, its falling body knocking down a few of the others. The teen’s head jerked up.

  “Hey! You could’ve hit me, you crazy bitch!”

  “You’re welcome asshole!” I yelled back.

  Instead of arguing, the kid swung back and forth until he got enough momentum to hook his legs onto the bottom rung of the ladder, so he was hanging upside down. From there, he pulled himself upright and scaled the ladder. Taking the steps two at a time, he ran up the metal stairs while the infected swarmed below like a pool of enraged sharks denied their meal.

  Darren and I helped the kid onto the sun deck. The teen hunched over, bracing his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. Even bent over, the teen was obviously tall and lanky. His electric blue hair was matted with sweat and dark circles hung under his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t gotten a good night’s sleep—or a full meal—in months. He was as pale as me after a long Canadian winter, but who wouldn’t be after all that running and climbing.

  “Holy”—he took a deep lungful of air—“shit.”

  “Thanks, kid. Now you’ve trapped us as well,” Darren said as if he were a father scolding his son.

  “Kid? What are you, fifty?”

  Darren bristled, and the teen turned from Darren to me, giving me a lopsided grin. “Why hello there. What’s your name?”

  “Crazy bitch, remember?” I said.

  His grinned widened. “I was a little frazzled at the moment. Didn’t mean anything by it. Let’s start over. I’m Colin, but I prefer Captain Awesome.”

  “Captain Douche would be more appropriate,” Darren said, getting his jabs in.

  Colin ignored Darren and extended a sweaty palm my way. I looked down at it until he wiped his hand on his shorts.

  “I’m Bailey, and the old guy here is Darren.” I took his dry, outstretched hand with a chuckle.

  Darren mumbled something, not unlike an old man, making me laugh harder.

  “What’s wrong with you two?” Colin sniffed the air. “You stoned? Care to share?”

  “What are you, thirteen? No way in hell I’m giving pot to a kid.”

  “Fifteen, actually, and who cares? It’s the end of the world. We’re all fucked.”

  “Is that why you were running down the street like you had a death wish?” I asked.

  “More or less.” His eyes drifted to my cleavage, which the V-neck shirt I borrowed showed off more than my usual shirts. Lecherous teen boy.

  I crossed my arms over my chest, covering my apparently enticing cleavage.

  “Turn around. We have to check you for bites,” Darren instructed.

  I hadn’t even thought of that. At least one of us had a semi-working brain.

  “That your excuse for checking out young boys?” Colin taunted.

  “If you don’t let us, I’ll toss your ass right back over the ledge,” Darren said.

  After the way he’d steamrolled that infected earlier, I assumed it wouldn’t be too hard for Darren to do it either.

  “Fine,” Colin said and turned to face the city skyline.

  Darren patted him down, confiscating the teen’s handgun and a giant knife from the backpack he wore.

  “I’ll give these back when you give us more information,” Darren said. “He’s clear.”

  Darren walked over to our chairs and put Colin’s weapons into one of the plastic bags. If Colin rummaged through them, the crinkling of the plastic would give us a heads-up.

  “Are you with others? Do you have a group somewhere?” Darren asked, launching straight into the interrogation.

  “I’m what you call a lone wolf,” Colin said, his thin lips turning up. “Do you guys have a group? Or is it just you two?”

  “Perhaps,” Darren answered evasively.

  Colin narrowed his eyes. “What, you only ask questions, not answer them?”

  The teen had quite a mouth on him, which kind of reminded me of, well, me. Minus the blue hair, of course. I’d never gone through that phase.

  “You want to come back with us?” I blurted out, and Darren shot me an angered look.

  “Uh.” Colin hesitated, brushing his hand up and down the back of his neck.

  “Well, sounds like you’re not too interested. Can’t say we didn’t try,” Darren said.

  “We can’t just leave him,” I said.

  Darren grabbed my arm and dragged me off to the side, out of Colin’s earshot. I looked back to see Colin starring at his feet, rocking back and forth on his soles.

  “You trying to bring back a stray?” Darren whispered.

  Looked like I’d picked up one of Ethan’s bad habits—or good habits, depending on who you asked.

  “You know, I thought that about you once,” I said. “Back when we met on the bus.”

  Darren let out a harsh breath.

  “I can tell you don’t like him, but he’s just a teen. We can’t leave him here to fend for himself,” I said, stomping my foot.

  “What if he’s lying about not having a group and some crazies come after us looking for him?” Darren said.

  “There’re crazies inside Hargrove, so they’ve got to get past them first. Do you think it’s even safe to bring him back there?”

  I wasn’t sure whether it was proper to disclose the murders to Colin. It seemed like something you’d want to know before stepping inside. But I also didn’t want him to say no, because then we’d have to leave him out here by himself.

  “Honestly, I don’t care about his safety. It’s our group I care about,” Darren said gruffly.

  “Awe, Darren,” I cooed.

  He glowered at me, then turned to Colin. “Yes, we have a group. You can come back with us, but be warned, Hargrove’s not some oasis in the desert.”

  “They should make pamphlets that say that.” I waved my hand in a wide arc. “Not great, but it’ll do.”

  “You guys really went hard on that pot, eh?” Colin smirked. “I still didn’t agree to anything.”

  With a shrug, Darren returned to his lounger chair.

  “How have you been surviving out here this long by yourself?” I asked.

  “I’m fucking awesome?” Colin answered, but it sounded more like a question.

  “Yeah, I don’t buy what you’re selling,” I said.

  “Mind if we sit?
I’m feeling a little tired from all that running.” Colin pointed to the loungers we’d been sitting on.

  I motioned for him to go over. Colin took off his backpack and plunked down on the ratty chair cushion, giving him one buffer lounger between him and Darren.

  He took a deep breath. “I’ve been keeping a low profile. Not staying in one place too long. The key is to always be on the move.”

  “What about food?”

  “Been scavenging grocery stores and convenience stores mostly.”

  “And you’ve been by yourself the whole time? What about your parents?”

  “I was here for”—Colin paused ever so briefly—“boarding school, so my parents weren’t with me when everything went down. I have no idea what happened to them.”

  I sat down on the chair between Darren and Colin. “Me too. Well, not the school part. I was only here for Mardi Gras. I’m actually Canadian.”

  “But you don’t have the goofy accent.”

  “You’re thinking of the Newfie accent. We’d don’t all talk like that.”

  “Say aboot,” Colin teased.

  I laughed again. “I probably shouldn’t be laughing; I should be offended.”

  “Didn’t your Canadian school ever tell you drugs are bad?” Colin grinned.

  “You haven’t had the week I’ve had, kid,” I grumbled, my laughter stopping.

  “I know pot messes with your brain cells and all, but it’s Colin, remember?”

  I scowled at him. “Don’t make me regret my offer.”

  “Anyway, I’m not that bad off,” Colin said, almost offended. “I met this guy at the hos—school. He had his full leg in a cast when the infection first broke out.”

  “That’s pretty shitty,” I said. It was frightening to imagine hobbling away from a bunch of infected with your leg wrapped in a cast. The guy probably hadn’t lasted very long.

  “You never gave us an answer,” Darren butted in.

  “I’ll think about it,” Colin said, his nose in the air.

  We decided to camp out on the sun deck since it was getting dark, hoping the majority of the infected would have wandered off by morning. Colin told us about Krissy, the red Mustang he was essentially living out of. It was official. Even a fifteen-year-old kid had a better car than me. He said it was parked in a lot a few blocks away from the university. When I asked him what he was doing at the campus, he simply said, “I just wanted a chance to see what university was like. A lot less parties than I thought.”