James inspects the book. “Dude, this is perfect. What happened? We were getting worried.”
“That place is crawling with Lexers. We tried to lead them away from the dealership, but they wouldn’t follow.”
Zeke hands me a large shopping bag, and I hug him when I see the books it contains: Everything from kids’ books to sci-fi to chick-lit to an astronomy book. “Glad you like them, sugar.”
“I’m not hugging you because of the books, although you are my hero. I’m hugging you because you’re back. You know I can’t live without you.”
He dips me low with a booming laugh. Zeke is almost always in a good mood, and if he’s not, you only have to wait a few minutes until he is again. He tells me he wasn’t always that way, but it’s the only Zeke I know.
“You are sweet as sugar.” Zeke sets me upright. “Isn’t she?”
Peter and Nelly look at him like he’s crazy, and I glare at them before I kiss Zeke’s cheek. “Only with you, Zeke, because you deserve it.”
“It doesn’t solve the problem of another vehicle,” Zeke says, drawing out the word like vee-hick-ul. “But the RV’s a place to sleep if we can’t find one. Maybe it’s better this way.”
“This baby ain’t breaking down,” Shawn says, as he kicks an RV tire.
“Speaking of sleep, the kids are still sleeping,” Maureen says. “Why don’t we leave before they wake?”
“Your stories always put me to sleep,” Rohan says to his dad, who cuffs him good-naturedly.
The kids didn’t get much rest last night. Of course, this nap is probably going to lead to kids being awake all night, but cranky daytime kids are worse than happy nighttime kids.
While we drive, James sits at the RV’s dinette with his new best friend, flipping pages and muttering. Houses appear through the foliage that borders the highway, and with the increase in population comes abandoned cars. At first we can weave our way through, but then we hit what must have been a mass exodus out of Thunder Bay. Car doors hang open where people ran for their lives, thereby leaving lanes, the shoulder and the median unusable. A few figures rise in the distance and begin stumbling our way.
We sit, engines idling and James muttering, until he has us turn around. We head north on a two-lane road that’s seen better days, then a network of dirt roads that deposit us back on the main highway past Thunder Bay.
***
Bits, Hank and Nicki have awakened, and between their longing for another movie and treats, I wish they’d go back to sleep. I hate to say no about the treats, but as far as I’m concerned they can watch movies until their brains implode. Once we get to Alaska movies will be a rare occurrence again.
“Does it drain the battery?” Bits asks for the thousandth time.
“Isn’t there solar?” Hank asks. “Doesn’t that mean we can watch?”
“Can we, Daddy?” Nicki asks.
Kyle looks to me. Now that they’ve gotten a taste of movies they’re like desert travelers who’ve been allowed to sip from a full water bottle. “James?” I ask.
“It should be fine,” he says with a shrug.
James’s jaw-length hair is stringy and greasy. I brushed mine earlier before winding it back into buns and consoled myself with the thought that those natural oils were giving it the deepest conditioning treatment ever, which made me miss Ana. Even a year after the apocalypse I’m accustomed to being relatively clean, which is probably more than other survivors can say.
“Go ahead,” I say. Once they’ve scampered back to the bed, Ash included, I look to the others. “I wonder if we’ll see anyone.”
There are small groups who’ve contacted Safe Zones to let them know they’re out here. We know of one official Safe Zone on our way. It was a green pin on Whitefield’s map—meaning it hadn’t been heard from in a while—but we’re going to stop anyway.
Adam spins in the passenger’s seat where he sits next to Nelly. “They’re probably off the main road. And if they see us, they’ll probably hide. Wouldn’t you?”
“They might shoot first and ask questions later,” Kyle says. “Back home, anyone who wanted a piece of us wouldn’t take the chance. You think these people are as lucky?”
Kyle’s right that it’s different out here. I want to believe that most people are basically good, but desperate people do desperate things—I’d probably steal and lie to keep the kids alive if I absolutely had to. Others might want what we have, which isn’t much compared to what we had in Vermont, but it’s a lot to people living on the edge. We’re living on the edge now, and the difference between life and death this winter lies in our gas tanks and weapons and the tiny pantry of the RV.
“There’s a lake with a beach up ahead,” Nelly says.
We need to wash off the reddish-brown and black juices left by our ride through the pod. We’ve been opening the vehicle doors with rags, and I freak out whenever Bits or Hank go near the exterior, so this is time well spent in my book. The lake is surrounded by open fields and small clusters of trees that aren’t hiding any undead. I make the kids stretch their legs with the promise that the movie will resume after intermission, and then I stand on the shore with Peter while we wait for our turn with the sponges and buckets.
“Sparky doesn’t like the water,” Bits calls.
She’d insisted Sparky needed exercise, but it’s clear she likes the novelty of walking a cat. Sparky sniffs at the water’s edge and jumps back. Bits’s laugh echoes across the water when Hank picks up Sparky and pretends to walk her across the lake’s surface.
“They’re good for each other,” Peter says.
“Like a brother and sister who don’t fight all the time. Eric and I did at that age. It drove my parents crazy.” I wish Eric were here to fight with. To do anything with.
“My sister and I did, too. My mother would send us to one of our rooms and tell us to play until we could be friends.”
“How’d that work out?” I ask.
“It worked until we got out of the room.”
I laugh and watch the kids dry Sparky’s paws. Hank folds the towel and drapes it over his shoulder; Bits would’ve dropped it on the ground and forgotten it immediately. “Henry and I had a deal. I told him I’d take care of Hank if anything happened.”
“We will,” Peter says.
I nod. The lake is huge and marshy, reflecting the gray of the now overcast sky. I tell myself we will hit the mountains. It’s just going to take a little longer than we’d hoped. We’ll have time. The more northerly our route, the longer it will take any northbound Lexers to reach us.
“You know, for someone who’s a big crybaby, you’ve hardly cried at all,” Peter says.
“When we get to Alaska I’m going to fall apart. So watch out.” Maybe he thinks I’m kidding, since he laughs. Boy, is he going to be surprised.
“Just don’t do anything stupid,” he says. “Promise?”
“I promise I won’t. You promise me?”
His nod is comforting. I need him for more than just raising two kids—I never would’ve gotten through this summer without him. I think at this point Peter might know me better than Nelly and Penny do, and he still likes me in spite of it, even when I’ve been at my most unlikeable.
“What are you two doing lollygagging over here?” Nelly asks. “I’m not cleaning off that crap without y’all.”
“You don’t want me on your cleaning detail anyway,” I say. “I’m such a slob, with junk drawers everywhere, right? How much help could I be?”
“Nice try,” Nelly says. “But no. The soap’s been sitting long enough.”
He hands us ponchos and rubber gloves. The others fill buckets for us to rinse and scrub until it’s as clean as cold water can make it. When we’re finished, I walk to where trees grow near the lake, strip to my tank top and roll up my jeans. I pant as I step into the cold water with a bottle of soap. This is an insane idea, but I can’t shake the feeling that I have cooties.
“Remember when we washed up in the st
ream at that campground in Jersey?” Penny asks.
I spin around. Her face is puffy with pregnancy and grief, but her brown eyes are bright. “You even washed your hair,” I say. “Want to come in?”
“No freaking way. I’m cleaner than you, anyway. Ha.”
We wouldn’t let her help with cleanup, and she didn’t sweat her way through hundreds of Lexers two days ago. That baby is making it to Alaska. She laughs at my attempt to wash my armpits while not getting wet. I give up once my arms are clean and splash her as I walk out.
“Coño!” she yells, and wipes the droplets off her face. “But I’m still cleaner.”
“Well, at least I don’t have to squeeze the equivalent of an eight-pound ham out of my nether regions in the next few months.”
She throws back her head, her laugh mixing with the calls of the birds above, and her eyes are moist when she flings my towel at me. “You win.”
CHAPTER 9
The pickup pulls over near Winnipeg, where we’ve planned to stop for the night before venturing into the city for fuel tomorrow morning. Zeke steps out and points to a thin stream of smoke rising from a group of trees to the west. No house is visible, but two silos sit at the edge of the overgrown farmland. “Looks like people. We’ll have to pass, so let’s be on our guard.”
“Should we stop?” Nelly asks.
Mark taps his chin. “Most people I met on the way to Vermont were sociable, if somewhat desperate. It could be helpful to get some details about Winnipeg.”
“I’m not so sure,” Zeke says. “They might not want to share details, seeing as how we plan to take what they might think of as their gas.”
“Winnipeg was a city of 600,000,” Mark says. “Getting gas while staying alive is going to be difficult. A little insider knowledge might prove useful.”
Zeke points to Kyle, Shawn, Peter and Nelly. “Okay, we’ll drive the pickup behind the RV. If they look friendly, we’ll circle back while the RV waits up ahead.”
“Maybe I should go in the pickup,” Jamie says. “I don’t know—me, Mark, Margaret and Cassie? They’re much less likely to feel threatened by women than men.”
I take in Zeke, who’s a teddy bear but looks threatening if you don’t know him. The others are no better. A bunch of grubby guys are bound to set off anyone’s alarms. I don’t love the idea of being shot at, to put it mildly, but it’s a better plan—I know I’d be more frightened of a truck full of men than women.
“Okay,” I say. Peter shakes his head. I shrug and wait for him to offer a better idea, but he only tightens his mouth.
“Sure,” Margaret says. She’s in her early forties, lean and ropy, and always wears a low ponytail, the ends still dyed auburn. Her face has settled into lines that make me think she hasn’t had an easy life; she doesn’t talk about life before Bornavirus enough for me to know for sure. In fact, she barely speaks. She’s the kind of lady you know at a moment’s glance not to fuck with, but she gives off a live-and-let-live vibe that keeps her from being scary. Perfect for meeting new friends—or enemies.
“Right, they won’t shoot at women, they’ll just ra—” Nelly stops at Peter’s head tilt toward the kids.
“This is the biggest city we’ve been to in the past year,” Jamie says. “It’s huge. We need some help.” She quiets Shawn’s protest with a scowl. “We’ll be in a truck. We’ll be out of there before anything happens.”
“No.” Peter shakes his head like he’s the final decision maker. I may not want to do this, but to be told I can’t is irritating. “We’ll figure it out ourselves.”
Zeke nods like it’s been settled. It was his plan to begin with, but because they don’t want the womenfolk to go, it’s off the table. I understand their concern, even if I do find it a bit surprising. Chivalry hasn’t completely died out in the past year but, at least in our group, chauvinism has taken a back seat to survival. And we need to do something besides stand here and wait to be murdered.
“I think Zeke’s plan was best, but Jamie’s right, too,” I say, even as I want to smack myself for arguing in favor of being one of the first people killed. “Kyle, remember what you said about strangers shooting first and asking questions later? Wouldn’t you be less likely to shoot first if you saw women?”
Kyle thinks for a moment, then nods. He talks more than Margaret does, although ninety percent of those words are to Nicki.
“That’s all I’m saying,” Jamie says with a sweet smile. I swear she bats her eyelashes. “I’m not suggesting we go in there guns blazing or anything. And you’ll be just down the road. I won’t be worried if you guys are there.”
Zeke tugs on his beard. “I guess it’s not a bad plan.”
Jamie gives me a subtle eye roll when the others agree. Shawn looks half-pleased with the idea of rescuing us, but Peter watches like he’s not buying it and then says with a sigh, “I’m driving the pickup.”
Once Peter, Mark, Jamie, Margaret and I have situated ourselves in the truck, guns in laps, we follow at a steady pace a short distance behind the RV.
“This is a stupid idea,” Peter mutters. “You promised you wouldn’t do anything stupid.”
“We’re in Canada, home of the nicest people on Earth,” I joke, although my nervousness grows with each passing second. “What could go wrong, eh?”
Peter pretends he hasn’t heard me. The fence that surrounds the house and trees has small wooden doors set at eye level, perfect for killing Lexers, keeping watch and, I suppose, shooting us. The razor wire at the top doesn’t exactly scream welcome. The RV speeds past. We go a bit slower, and we’re halfway there when one of the small doors swings open. Peter hits the accelerator hard enough to give me whiplash. I expect to see the barrel of a shotgun in the side view mirror, but it’s a square of white cloth waving at the end of a stick.
“Wait!” I say. “It’s a truce flag.”
Zeke’s voice comes through the radio. “Looks like they want to talk.”
The flag hangs limply out of the hole by the time we reach the RV. “Could be a trap,” Zeke says out the window, “but I think we should check it out. It’s almost dark and they know we’re here. They could sneak up on us tonight.”
Peter doesn’t say a word before pulling the truck around and heading back to where the flag has resumed its waving. He stops on the opposite side of the road and rolls down his window, pistol in his hand out of eyeshot. A head appears in the small square.
“Hello,” a man’s voice calls. He sounds happy enough to see us.
“Hi,” Peter says. His voice gives away nothing. No fear or happiness at the sight of another human being in a world full of zombies. I want to request that he act a bit friendlier, but he’d probably shoot me.
“Where are you heading?” the voice comes again.
“West. Alaska.”
“How many are you?”
“Twenty.”
“Shouldn’t go through Winnipeg at night. Too dangerous. We don’t have much to spare, but if you need a safe place until the morning, you’re welcome to stay.”
“I think we should take him up on his offer,” Mark says from the back
I nod at Peter’s glance. There’s only one way to know if they’re as welcoming as they say, and that’s to let down our guard. I have a good feeling about this place. Staying behind a fence would be safer. Peter reverses the truck. For a moment it looks as though he’s decided against taking them up on their hospitality, but then he pulls ten feet from the door. A man with a thin face peers out at us, his sloped eyes friendly when he smiles.
“Name’s Thomas.”
“Peter.”
“That’s a long drive.”
“We had to leave the Vermont Safe Zone. The Lex—zombies are coming up north. Thousands of them.”
Thomas’s eyes leave Peter’s face for the south before they return. “I’d like to hear more about that. We’ve only had a few visitors in the past year.”
Peter watches him for another beat, then puts the rad
io in my lap and says, “Tell them to come.”
CHAPTER 10
When Thomas swings open the wooden gate, it becomes apparent that this is no ordinary enclosure. The outside resembles a privacy fence, the type you’d find around any suburban home, but the inside is lined with metal of all types. Everything from highway signs to sheet metal has been screwed into the wood. Rocks have been mortared into walls along the fence, and every three feet or so there’s a thick brace made of wood or metal. I’m still apprehensive about their motives, but it’s comforting to be inside a barrier again.
Kingdom Come’s trench must be packed with enough Lexers to walk across. I’d like to believe that they didn’t pull the fences down, since there were no humans left, but the livestock would have been irresistible—we’re the preferred snack, although animals will do in a pinch. The grass must be trodden, the barn fences destroyed. I’m sure they’re trampling Adrian’s grave. It shouldn’t matter, but it makes me angry to think they’ve probably claimed his resting place as well as his life.
The gate swings closed behind us, followed by the loud latching of several bolts. I force myself to stay on high alert once we’ve hit the dirt. They have a couple of acres fenced off, with a small barn and several tiny sheds within. A large garden sits to the right of the house, dark shapes of low, bushy fruit trees behind it, and the familiar clucking of chickens settling for the night fills the air from our left. I move Bits behind me in case I need to draw my gun and shush her when she barrages me with questions. I would’ve preferred she stayed in the RV.
Thomas turns at the opening of the house’s door. A woman who looks to be his age—forty or so—with shoulder-length brown hair and a round, pleasant face stops on the top step and watches us with her hand on her collarbone. When she sees Bits, Hank and Nicki, she perks up and makes her way down the stairs to join Thomas, who says, “This is my wife, Jessica.”
“We appreciate the offer of a place to sleep, ma’am,” Zeke says. “We’ll stay in the RV and be out of your way in the morning. Name’s Zeke.”
“We have room in the house,” she says. “It’s the floor, but it’s warm.”
Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky Page 4