Zombie Ocean (Book 3): The Least

by Michael John Grist

  Cerulean frowned at him. Everyone knew that, but why say it. "She's right here," he said. "Her name's Anna."

  "That's what you're afraid of, isn't it, Anna?" Julio said. Anna ignored him completely. He shrugged.

  They drove through that day, stopping for the night near the border with Nevada in a Big Eastern motel lodged at the edge of the Red Cliffs National Conservation area. Bald red hills rose either side of the dusty road, broken by the jutting crags of pitted sandstone, like blocks of the earth's striped muscle rising through the skin. All around were scrubby stands of sagebrush, creosote bush, and the odd towering yucca, flowered with thick white blossoms.

  Cerulean read Alice in Wonderland to Anna in the dark of the motel restaurant, lit by a camp light hung from the rafters and buzzing with moths, while the others bedded down in private rooms.

  "Luxury," Jake said, popping his head into the restaurant with a towel round his neck and rumpled wet hair. "They even have running water."

  "That's the water towers," Julio answered flatly, from somewhere out in the lobby. "It's not hot though."

  "Warm, at least," Jake said. "Heated by the sun."

  "Luxury," mumbled Cerulean, then Jake was gone. Anna had drifted off some time in his lap, in the midst of the Garden of Live Flowers while the Red Queen was spouting off about how she owned all the ways about here. He looked up at the moths buzzing round the camp light, like zombies endlessly heading west.

  They went into the ocean, Anna had said, in their hundreds and thousands. It didn't explain the ones in Maine though, piled up around the gun tower, nor Matthew, nor all the ones that walked to Amo to be slaughtered.

  "We need to talk."

  He looked down from the light and saw Julio standing there, off to the side, staring down at Cerulean with his brows working like boiling puddings. Cerulean sighed inside, then nodded and wheeled himself to face him.

  "Sure. What's up?"

  "You don't respect me enough."

  Julio said it and let it hang, following up with his dark stare. Cerulean wished he would just go away, but like it or not he'd made himself leader of this little troupe, and Julio wore a pistol at his hip all the time.

  "Can you explain that a little?"

  "I can," said Julio, ticking off one finger on his hand, like he'd prepared it all in advance. "The first time we met, the racist hag insulted me and you attacked me. You're lucky I didn't shoot both of you then."

  Cerulean sighed. "I apologized for that. I explained we'd just met her. And she was racist to me too."

  Julio ticked off a second finger. "You left us behind to quibble like we were children. I'm older than you, stronger, faster, and I'm better adapted to survive out here. You should have left her behind and been grateful to find me."

  Cerulean nodded. He was starting to get a headache. "OK. Is there anything else?"

  Julio ticked off a third finger. "You contradict and correct me in front of the girl." He pointed at Anna. "She doesn't talk to me now. I'm on the outside. I know that little shit Jake is gossiping about me."

  "You drive in your Mustang," Cerulean said, exasperated. "I know you like the car, but what do you expect? We're together all day and all night, and you're out there. Have I not invited you in with us lots of times?"

  Julio flicked out a fourth finger, nodding. "On that, every time you stop for a break, I stop with you and I come out, but nobody talks to me. Nobody thanks me for scouting the route, for not resting like everybody else does. I should be getting gratitude for all my efforts."

  Cerulean shook his head. Jesus, these people. Nobody benefited from Julio not stopping to pee more, and his scouting mostly consisted of driving a few hundred yards ahead of the RV, on roads plainly already scouted by Amo a few weeks ahead. What was he supposed to be grateful for?

  But he couldn't say any of that. Julio was a survivor, and he'd laid down the law about that himself: they were all in this together. The headache thickened behind his eyes, like a faint memory of the demon days of old.

  "We do appreciate you scouting, Julio. It's an important job."

  "And I need my Mustang for it, don't I? I can't scout from inside the RV, can I?"

  "No, I suppose not. So we should be more grateful."

  "You should. And the girl should talk to me."

  Cerulean looked down at sleeping Anna.

  "She talks to you," Julio went on, "to Masako, to the old racist, and I know she just loves Jake. It's only me she won't talk to."

  Cerulean gave a purposefully feeble shrug. "What do you want me to do? Do you want to be the vegetables on the side of the plate, so we force her to talk to you? She's just a kid, she's scared no matter how tough she acts, and you're scary."

  "I'm a serious person," Julio said. "This is work to me, not play. I've got good advice too."

  Cerulean tried another track. "You never smile. You're always severe. You just stare. It's creepy. Maybe if you-"

  "It's how I am," Julio interrupted.

  The two stared at each other. So it was clear, any compromise was going to have to be entirely on Cerulean's side. He'd be damned though before he made Anna dance to his whims.

  "I can't make her like you, Julio. I won't. If you make an effort, I'll encourage her to be friendly, but it can't start with her."

  Julio stared hard, with his brows rumbling. Then he nodded, and pointed at Cerulean, coming to what seemed a well-rehearsed summary of his grievances. "You stop them gossiping about me. You show me some appreciation for what I do. I'm not going into LA to meet your friend Amo looking like a fool. That's all I'm asking. Do you understand?"

  Cerulean nodded, thinking it through. Minus the Anna stuff, was that so unreasonable? No. He had to make allowances. "All right. I promise, no more gossip. And if you could try, you know, to be friendlier?"

  Julio sneered. "You should thank your lucky stars every day I didn't shoot you for jumping me in that parking lot. Remember that."

  He tapped the gun at his waist then strode out.

  Cerulean sighed, looking up at the camp light again, frothing now with bugs.

  "Why me?" he whispered to it.

  Perhaps Cynthia was right; he'd let the devil in with Julio. He'd need to start wearing a gun, too.

  * * *

  They drove on with first light, Julio 'scouting' the way ahead as ever, heading into the dark with the sun rising behind them. When they crossed over into Arizona and everyone in the RV gave a whoop. Half an hour later they crossed into Nevada and the whoop was even louder.

  All the way southwest toward Las Vegas excitement built, and even Anna gazed out of the front window, rather than burying her face in Cerulean's shoulder or looking at her phone. Everyone knew they were catching up to Amo, and soon they'd be on him. Nobody knew what to expect.

  Mesquite, Bunkerville, Riverside; little towns passed by like strange blots on the golden desert. Here there were cacti and scattered palm trees by the roadside. Moapa and Crystal passed by, and then out of the midst of the desert, like an oyster unfolding to reveal a great blighted pearl, was Las Vegas.

  "I'm coming home!" Jake shouted, even though he wasn't from Las Vegas. They all cheered. Even Julio up ahead honked his horn. Cerulean answered with an answering honk.

  It was Vegas, as seen a hundred times in movies and TV, though of course all the lights were down and it was midday only. Still they could pick out the flash of sunlight reflecting off the bizarre themed hotels along the strip. Jake started nattering to Cynthia about all the things he was going to do.

  "Dice, of course some dice, then baccarat, is that dice? and we'll catch a show, and poker, of course slot machines, and roulette! How could I forget roulette!"

  Cynthia cackled. Maybe she was sweet on Jake? Cerulean chuckled at that. The boy would have to watch out.

  Julio kept honking his horn for a long time. That grew annoying quick, dampening everyone's spirits, but soon they were in the thick of the city and he stopped. They rolled all the windows down and hung out
of them gawping while Julio led them at a steady pace up through the city's heart.

  Anna gasped and pointed as they reached the strip, and the first of its crazy hotels reared its head, The Mirage. "Look at that," she called, awed

  Everybody looked. Next was Caesar's Palace, then the grand Bellagio, then Excalibur, the black pyramid of Luxor, until they hit the northern tip and the tilted oval disc of the UFO, crash-landed at a steep angle into the earth.

  Masako laughed and pointed at the alien saucer. "Are you seeing what I'm seeing?"

  They all saw it. Drawn across the UFO saucer's silvery surface was the huge figure of a very familiar man: the Nike logo of Michael Jordan, legs spread and in flight, reaching up to the pinnacle of the flying saucer. Underneath the familiar logo had been adapted:

  JUST LIVE ON

  "I think that's probably copyright infringement," Jake said. Cerulean laughed good and hard, for relief as much as anything. Amo's tag was underneath it.

  LMA

  It was a vast relief. He hadn't realized how heavily the pressures of dealing with this little troupe had been weighing on him. He'd be more than happy to hand them over to Amo when the chance came. He'd be more than happy to see Amo at all.

  He hadn't killed himself yet.

  They pulled right up to the saucer's lobby door and bundled out of the RV in a frenzied mob, laughing and hungry like little kids eager to see what goodies Santa Amo had left for them. Even Julio seemed touched by the good cheer.

  It was better than any of them had expected. On a big blackboard hanging over the main reception desk were two names written on the same line.

  AMO & LARA 07/18/2018

  Amo and Lara were together!

  Masako came up and took his hand, squeezing tight. There were tears in her eyes. This was hope.

  There was all kinds of stuff arrayed on neat tables in the cairn, in addition to the stuff they'd found in previous cairns; sunglasses, swimwear, a map to a clean pool, a pyramid of champagne bottles with crystal glasses nearby. They poured a glass each and everybody clinked glasses and drank some of the hot, bubbly liquid.

  "It went up my nose!" Anna charged. Cerulean frowned at Jake, who guiltily took the glass away.

  There was a new section of the comic printed out too, detailing Amo's journey west and reunion with Lara, plus a horrible encounter with a zombie-rapist called Don.

  Amo killed him and almost died in the process, then Lara nursed him to health. That was only few days ago! They all sat and read through the new pages together, sipping on champagne. Cerulean couldn't help but look up at Julio in the middle of it, while Don was cornering Amo in his battle-tank. Unfortunately Julio looked up and caught his eye at the same time, holding it for a moment.

  Cerulean looked away.

  They could have stayed there all day, especially after Cynthia reported back that, "The pool's pretty clean, only one dead eagle in it," but now everybody wanted to get on and actually see Amo and Lara in the flesh. So they bundled into the RV and tore off.

  Nevada flew by, and Cerulean pushed the RV to 80 miles an hour, so fast the frame rattled and the floor shook, a few times overtaking Julio which he didn't seem too pleased about. By early afternoon they crossed the state line to California, and Masako cued up 'California Dreaming' then played it blasting out at full volume, so loud that Cynthia held her hands to her ears and Anna screamed along to the music and no one could even make out what she was saying.

  It was dark as they hit the outskirts of Los Angeles, the sun setting far ahead off the edge of the continent. They slowed through the city's traffic-congested sprawl, all white-cement warehouses and blank condominiums with the stain of humidity and rot blooming at their corners. There were old newspapers blowing everywhere and the smell of salt and old sewage in the air.

  They reached the coast in time to catch the last of the sunset off Newport Beach, burning like an orange ember over the waves. Cerulean pulled a hard right and took them tearing north up the Pacific Coast highway, tension burning in the air, leaving Julio trailing behind on the narrow roads.

  When they saw the lights of the Chinese Theater up ahead, Amo's longtime destination, they cheered. It was a distant building decked with twinkling fairy lights, and as they wound up the coast and closer still, weaving around a steady tide of gray bodies traipsing down into the water to the left, they could see two figures standing in the Theater's open courtyard.

  "Is that them?" Anna asked hungrily. "Is that Amo and Lara?"

  Cerulean could hardly answer, his throat was so thick with emotion. He'd never expected to reach this point, had never even wanted it, but now he wanted it more than anything. He wanted to see Amo in the flesh for the first time, and meet his Lara, and hold onto them both.

  They were all silent as they pulled up into the flashing Chinese Theater forecourt with Amo and Lara standing there hand in hand. They piled out, Cerulean last out of the back, settling into his wheelchair and readying himself for all the changes that were going to come now.

  Then he rolled around the RV's side, and Amo saw him. The look on his face was worth it all, as his jaw dropped and sheer joy shone in his eyes.

  "Cerulean!" he shouted, and ran over, dropping to his knees to pull him into a tight embrace. "Goddamn, Cerulean!"

  17. SETTLING IN

  It was chaos for hours, like a school reunion where nobody really knew anyone though they all shared the same past; the apocalypse had stolen everything from them.

  Though they all knew Amo.

  He looked much as Cerulean had always imagined, a sensitive hipster wearing the last generation's fashion in baggy cargo shorts and polo shirt, with a scraggy goatee and sandals. The scar on the side of his head where he'd shot himself was prominent, a jagged circle of mottled skin in amongst his dark hair, but he seemed to be the same Amo he'd known in the Yangtze, with warm brown eyes and an easy, confident grin.

  To the others he was like an A-list movie star, grinning and laughing at the center of the world.

  Cerulean couldn't stop grinning and laughing himself. Anna clung to Amo's pant leg and Cerulean's at the same time, looking up with wild admiration. Jake babbled endlessly like a star-struck fan, about what a stroke of genius the Pac-Man was, about how cool the Nike logo had been. Cynthia asked Amo bluntly what it had felt like to shoot himself in the head, with the respect plain in her rusty old voice. Masako tried to thank him for bringing them hope, but couldn't get the words out for crying.

  Of course there was Lara too; shown only briefly in the comics. In real life she was gorgeous, with cream-coffee brown skin, tightly curled black hair in a palm tree-like mass on her head, and a look of deep, relaxed happiness in her swimming blue eyes. She was everything he'd expected and more.

  "So you're Cerulean," she said, kneeling before him with a smile and sparkling eyes. "He's talked about little else since we got in."

  "Robert, please," he said. "He's been on my mind too. Both of you have been, blazing a trail like Louis and Clark ahead."

  She laughed and the sparkle in her eyes became a tear down her cheek, following a well-worn path. She took his hand in both of hers. "I can't believe you're really here," she said. "It's like a dream come true."

  He squeezed her hand. "We're really here."

  "Come inside!" Amo shouted over the hubbub. "Come on in, we've got a feast ready to throw on."

  He stepped to one side, grinning like a madman, and allowed Lara to take the lead.

  "This way," she called and started toward the main entrance. Everyone fell into orbit behind her, even Julio, though he'd been loitering round the edges shooting murderous glances at Cerulean throughout the greeting. Even that miserable bastard couldn't ruin this moment.

  Amo excused himself from an overzealous Jake and fell in beside Cerulean, speaking in low tones.

  "You don't know what this means to me," he said, looking solemnly into Cerulean's eyes. "That you're alive, and you came. After what you did."

  Cerulean snor
ted. "I think I know."

  Amo rubbed his eyes. "I suppose you do. I never would have made it this far without all the things you did for me. I would have died in New York without a doubt. I would have killed myself and made it stick." He gestured to the RV and the fairy lights and the Theater. "All this, the cairns, Lara, it all stands on your shoulders."

  A chill ran down Cerulean's spine, as far as it could, crunching into the memory of the cold bag of milk left there when Amo shot himself. "I tried to kill myself too," he said, in a quiet and unfamiliar voice. "Almost twice. That I didn't is on your shoulders as well."

  Amo grinned down, and squeezed Cerulean's shoulder. "We're stronger together. We always were. I'm so glad you're here."

  The bag of cold milk in his belly went away, replaced by something wonderful rising in its place; a happiness and relief like nothing he'd felt before. For a while he couldn't find words, and it seemed Amo couldn't either, because they just looked at each other and walked and rolled.

  "I'm glad too!" Anna piped up between them.

  Cerulean laughed and patted her head. She came round the side and took both of their hands.

  "We're all glad," Amo said. "And I want to hear everything, every bit of your stories, both of you." He pointed at Anna. "I bet you've had some amazing adventures."

  She grinned and nodded. "I'll tell you about the puppies!"

  Cerulean winced, then they were at the Theater and Lara held the swing doors open. The lobby was a vast, red-carpeted space, festooned with twinkling fairy lights and huge posters for the superhero movie Ragnarok III.

  "We've got the movie," Lara announced to them as she headed toward a long row of tables laid out with electric grills, fridges and Nespresso machines, with three generators sitting under them. She grinned widely at the table's edge. "We've got all the movies you could want in brilliant 4K, plus popcorn, beer, food, whatever you need."

  Jake cheered. Anna was so excited she was hopping up and down.

  They fired up the generators and fell into an easy, dizzy, laughing collaboration to boil up a feast of canned roast beef and fresh asparagus, fry fresh potato slices, grill baby carrots and of course Spam, with onion consommé soup for starters and a melted Hershey bar fountain for dessert. There was beer and champagne on ice and Nespresso and whiskey. Cerulean worked coffees then manned a fry station, while all around people were digging in and contributing like it was 4th of July.