by White, Ben
"Heh, got that right, little man. Safest damn place in the city, I guarantee it."
The building was eight storeys high. It seemed to take forever to get to the top, one painful step at a time, but eventually they emerged onto the roof. It was sheltered by high walls, and most of it was taken up by a large, bean-shaped swimming pool, dry. At the far end the roof just dropped away.
"Damn. Used to be a big ol' smudged perspex screen there. Wind must've took it." Zed narrowed his eyes at the gap, then clapped his hands together. "Let's get us some seating."
Imogen stood, staring at the gaping hole.
"All right now, reckon there could be—hoo boy, jackpot! Get on over here and help me with these, son."
There was a small storage hut at the corner of the roof, from which Zed and Zack now pulled long wooden deckchairs.
"Warm still night like this, reckon we'd just be stifled under blankets," Zed said, as he set up three of the chairs beside the pool. "And these'll be a damn sight more comfortable than sleeping in my truck, believe you me. Okay now, let's go have ourselves a look at that good view."
Imogen let Zed drag her to the side of the roof where the barrier had been, where it now dropped away to nothing. Without her glasses she couldn't make out much, just a big blurry darkness with points of brightness here and there.
"Hell of a lot better view without the plastic here, I tell you what," said Zed, before grabbing Zack's shoulder and pushing him forward. "Don't fall!"
Zed laughed as Zack recovered from his near-heart attack.
"Damn, this view, though. Used to bring girls up here, way back when. Sure-fire way to ... well, heh, maybe you don't need to hear about that." Zed coughed, then pointed to something in the distance. "Some places still got power, look at that. Lot of fires, too."
"Fires?" Zack said.
"Yeah, well, figure some folks got desperate."
Zed fell silent after that, gazing out at the city.
Imogen was silent too.
She wasn't looking out, though.
She was looking down.
Just one step.
Just one tiny step ...
"Lord bless me." Zed was looking up, his face a picture of innocent wonder. "Stars in a city, god-damn. Now how could you live without seeing something like that, huh?"
After a minute of star-gazing Zed looked back down, at Zack and Imogen.
"Look at me here, though," he said. "Going on about stars and views while you two young people are dead on your feet—'scuse the expression. Why don't you two hit the deckchairs over there? I mean look at all this, stars above, nice still night, you couldn't ask for more—well, you could, but you'd be an ungrateful sumbitch for doing it."
Zack was already dragging himself over to a deckchair, asleep almost before lying on it. Imogen hadn't moved. She was still staring down, over the edge.
"Not tired?" Zed asked, after a minute.
It took Imogen a few seconds to react, to look around at him. He was gazing out at the city, his rifle settled comfortably over his shoulder, barrel pointed up.
"I ain't feeling overly energetic myself, to tell the truth," Zed continued. "But I reckon I'll take some time to unwind before I hit the chair. Lot went down tonight, need to start, y'know, getting it all straight in my head—well hell, you know, you were there."
Imogen said nothing.
"Hey, you wanna do me a favour? Go fetch me my little green bag, not the big one, the one I got from the station—you know, when we first met up."
Imogen looked blankly at Zed, then she limped off to get the bag.
"Know what's in here?" Zed asked, as Imogen handed it to him. "Bet you wouldn't never guess, not in one million years."
Imogen just stared at him.
"It's a god-damned comic book!" Zed pulled it out and handed it to Imogen—it was big and bulky, the cover showing a yellow smiley face with a splatter of blood on it. "Got this a few days ago from a real good friend of mine, first night I came into town. I tell you, the look on his face when I told him I ain't never heard of it—he told me there's only one rule with this thing. Wanna hear it?"
Imogen was silent.
"You only get to read one chapter a day—when this first came out there was a month between issues, hell if I could even imagine waiting that long, it's killing me going a day between. I'm on chapter four and damn if there ain't nothing I want more than to just read straight on through."
Imogen held the comic in her hands, staring down at the cover.
"I tell you, if I get myself killed before I finish there's gonna be a damned vengeful literary ghost around here, I tell you what!"
Imogen surprised herself by speaking: "So why don't you just read it all?"
"Hell, rules are rules. Besides, once you start with it you get what the deal is." Zed looked thoughtfully at Imogen. "You ain't one for comics, are ya?"
"I prefer real books."
Zed made a face. "Now don't you start off with that kind of crap—you read that and tell me it ain't real!"
Imogen's eyes were half-closed. Past the comic was the drop, and blurred darkness far below.
"In fact, I bet you—more'n that, I dare you to read that and tell me it's 'just a comic'. Now what do you say to that?"
It was easier to focus on the comic than the darkness.
"Just one chapter though." Imogen looked up at Zed. "Right?"
Zed was grinning at her. "Right."
The last thing Imogen saw, as the panels of the comic swam before her eyes, as sleep overtook her, was Zed standing at the edge of the roof, rifle over his shoulder, gazing out at the city.
*
It was more the breeze than the light that woke Imogen, although after opening her eyes she immediately squeezed them shut again. It was early morning and the sun was shining bright from a pale blue sky, throwing long, crisp shadows against the stark yellow of the roof.
Eventually Imogen got herself into a sitting position and had her usual morning cough, before spitting on the ground and pushing herself to her feet.
"Ugh," she murmured, three seconds later, her cheek hard against the concrete of the roof. She'd forgotten about her bad foot. It still hurt just as much as it had the night before and was just as useless at supporting her weight.
After adjusting the brace as best she could Imogen pulled herself up again, then hobbled over to the door leading down—Zed had put up a makeshift barricade in the night, just a broken bit of deckchair over the door. It hadn't moved.
Zed was still asleep, drooling lightly against the deckchair, his hat at an angle over his head, his rifle clutched protectively in his arms. Zack lay still and silent, and Imogen stood near him for half a minute before she was assured that he was breathing.
The wind blew soft, gently ruffling Zack's messy blonde hair.
Imogen took a chocolate bar and a bottle of water from Zack's bag, then she limped over to the open edge of the roof to squint out at the city. The morning light meant that she could at least make out the shapes of buildings and the lines of roads, but details eluded her. Here and there she spotted fires, thin lines of smoke trailing up into the sky. She wasn't sure, but there seemed to be more now than there had been in the night.
Imogen didn't remember eating the chocolate bar or drinking the water, but she now held an empty wrapper and an almost empty bottle. She dropped both to the roof. The bottle rolled over the edge and fell, sparkling droplets shining in the morning light. Imogen didn't remember taking out her cigarettes and lighter either, but they were in her hands now so she pulled one from the pack—six left, she thought, and then after that only fifteen hundred in Zack's bag—and she clicked away at her lighter until it caught, the soft breeze making the flame flutter, and she held the cigarette up close to her ear so she could listen to the faint sizzle of it catching.
"Got a spare one?"
Imogen glanced back, the cigarette between her lips now—Zed was standing there behind her, gazing out at the city.
&nb
sp; "I thought you quit."
"Yeah, well ... got to thinking that maybe it don't make so much difference now."
Imogen was staring at Zed. He grinned.
"Or maybe it does. Who knows. You thinking about the others?"
"No."
"Yeah, me too. Had a dream about 'em. That's what woke me up."
Imogen sucked in smoke from her cigarette, but her heart wasn't in it. She flicked it out over the edge, the tiny white tube gone in an instant.
"What you think of that comic?"
Imogen shrugged.
"Gonna read another chapter today?"
Imogen shrugged again.
"I tell you, it just gets better. Had a peek myself, before coming over to join you, chapter five looks like a doozy."
"No spoilers."
Zed raised his eyebrows. "You're like me, huh? Don't like having the ending ruined for you?"
"I hate any spoilers. I want to experience things for myself. I hate it even when someone says there might be something to spoil. Like if a book has a twist ending, I don't want to know that. Just let me read and discover it on my own."
"Take it serious, don't you?"
Imogen shrugged.
"Well don't worry, you're not gonna hear a peep out of me about that there book."
"It's not a book. It's a comic."
"Heh, well, we'll see." Zed grinned out at the view. "Damn but damn. Being here in the morning brings back some memories. Used to bring girls up here, back in—"
"You said that last night," Imogen said, coldly. Zed chuckled.
"Maybe I did. Heh, don't you get to worrying now, darlin', even if you weren't one o' them lesbian girls you ain't exactly my type."
"I'll try to contain my disappointment."
Zed chuckled again, then glanced at Imogen. "Listen, you okay up here? I gotta go down, get something from my truck."
Imogen turned her head, just slightly, just enough to put Zed at the edge of her vision.
"Sure," she said, her voice flat.
"Be back in a jiff, don't you go nowhere!" Zed chuckled to himself as he headed for the door leading down. "'Don't go nowhere', that's funny."
Imogen looked out at the view as the door clicked closed behind Zed. And that's him gone, she thought. Not that I blame him. I wouldn't want to be weighed down with a cripple and a kid either. She sighed as she shuffled forward, the tip of her left boot over the edge. I wish I could see this view properly.
"Where's Zed? Imogen! Imogen, where's Zed?"
Imogen blinked, and moved back from the edge. When she looked back at her little brother her expression was both irritated and superior. "Where do you think?"
"What? But ... but he said ... he was ..."
The cigarette packet was back in her hands again. So was her lighter. Imogen lit one.
"Imogen? Imogen, why—"
"What does he owe us? Why should he help us?"
"He's ... he's ..."
"Forget him. What's important, Zack?"
Imogen's little brother frowned. "Huh?"
"Forget it."
Zack stared at Imogen as she smoked her cigarette at him.
"Can I have one?" he asked. "A smoke?"
Imogen half-smirked as she looked back out again. "Nope."
"But—"
"But what?"
Zack was silent, thinking, then he spoke again: "But why not? Everyone kept saying it's the end of the world, maybe everyone's a zombie now! It's just us—"
"I'd stop if I could."
Zack took a step towards Imogen. She'd spoken quietly.
"What?"
"I said I'd stop if I could!" Imogen snapped. "You think I liked puffing and wheezing every time I had to do ANYTHING yesterday? You think I like always having to be thinking about when and how and where I can have my next one? It's NOT GOOD, Zack."
"So ... so why—"
"Because stopping is hard! You have NO IDEA how hard, absolutely NO IDEA. Huh, you know the best way to stop smoking cigarettes? Don't start." Imogen flicked her cigarette away. "So don't start."
"But we'll probably die today."
Imogen looked at her brother, genuinely surprised. "What?"
"Home is ... I don't even know where it is. I can see the whole city but I don't even know where Spring Heights is."
Imogen didn't either, but she pointed anyway. "It's just there."
"Oh." Zack looked where Imogen had pointed for a few seconds, his young face serious, then he spoke again: "We almost died last night—yesterday, I mean. Lots of times. I had ... I had some dreams—"
"Zack."
"And everyone else—"
"Null might be alive. Chris too. And ... and Zed—"
"My ears are burning!"
Imogen looked back, her face blank but her eyes wide, to see Zed hauling a bulky black round thing through the door and onto the roof. Already set beside him was a blue and white chilly bin.
"Get on over and help me with this, little man, you'll be damn sure glad you did!"
Imogen continued to stare as Zack skipped over to help Zed with the chilly bin, and she watched as they worked together to transform the bulky black round thing into a portable gas barbecue.
"That's it, son, just you screw that in tight now, real tight, tight as you can! Heh, good effort." Zed grinned up at Imogen. "Now you tell me this, Sue, and you answer honest. You ever have a barbecue on a roof before?"
It didn't take long for the smell of sizzling meat to fill the air, making Imogen's mouth water.
"Use it or lose it, am I right? Hope y'all brought your appetites with ya! I was plannin' on meeting up with a couple of old buddies after the convention, but you know why that didn't work out. Don't got no butter for the bread, but everything else is good as can be—we got, hell, we got venison steaks and some damn decent hotdogs, we got marinated oriental-style pork strips, we got some de-he-he-licious prawns here, now would you look at the size of that? You ever seen a prawn that big before, son?"
Zack shook his head, eyes wide.
"How about you, Sue?"
"I'm a vegetarian."
"You're a what?"
"Vegetarian. I don't eat meat."
"Well why in the HELL not? Good god, darlin', just when I was starting to like you—well okay then, you tell me, why don't you eat meat?"
"I just ... I ..."
"Uh-huh. Here's what I reckon. I reckon you were indulging yourself. Reckon you were playing some little game, that about right?"
"What? What are you talking about?"
"I'm saying that this here's the end of the god-damn world, and if someone offers you a steak you don't say 'oh, I'm a vegetarian', you say 'thank YOU sir' and you eat the god-damn steak and you hope there's more behind it! Now you tell me this here don't smell good, you TELL me you don't wanna get some of this inside you, you TELL me you're gonna stand there and let all this good food go to waste when you know—yeah, when you know full well that you need every god-damn advantage you can get 'gainst these undead freaks. Food is fuel, darlin', and in the case of all this it's god-damned delicious fuel." Zed looked at Zack. "How about you, little man? You a vegetarian?"
"No sir!"
"Heh. What would you say if I offered you one o' these here steaks?"
"Thank YOU sir! I hope there's more!"
Zed laughed. "God-damn but you're a decent kid—all right then, go ahead, you get first pick."
Zack eyed the meat on display before pointing to the biggest steak. "That one!"
"Good eye, son! Got your bread ready? Okay, THERE you go." Zed grinned as he watched Zack tear hungrily into his steak sandwich. "That good?"
"SO good."
"Now you, Little Miss Vegetarian. You gonna live on candy bars and cigarettes? Or you gonna get some protein in you?"
Imogen puffed out an irritated breath. "Fine."
"Fine? How's about a 'please'? Might be the end of the world but that don't mean manners got to be abandoned."
Imogen's cold glar
e almost put out the grill's flames. "Please give me some of your delicious barbecued corpse."
"Barbecued corpse, that's funny darlin'. You're funny. Got your bread? There you go. Did that one special for you, the deer that steak came from was an asshole."
Imogen paused, the sandwich halfway to her mouth. "You killed this meat?"
"Wasn't meat when I shot it, but yeah. Hunted every bit of this myself, 'cept the hotdogs. Heh, there ain't no animal on earth'd give you anything like those. Even caught the prawns myself. Why, you don't like the idea of a man going out and getting his own food?"
"No, that ... nothing."
"What?"
"Just ... it kind of makes it a little bit more okay."
"You're a damned odd girl, anyone ever tell you that?"
Imogen shook her head and bit into the sandwich, the meat hot and tender and juicy and probably the best thing she'd ever tasted in her life.
"Umph," she said.
"Damn straight." Zed turned down the grill's flame then made himself a sandwich, eating it standing up at the barbecue. "God-damn. God-damn, that makes it all worthwhile, don't it? Everything tastes better when you're way up high, damned if I know the reason. Heh, know what I'm thinking right now? Well, it's more like hoping than thinking. I'm hoping to all hell that when I head back to my cabin I ain't gonna find all my hung meat come back to life, that'd just about ruin my week. Hell!" Zed suddenly started. "You don't think this here zombie virus works on animals, do you? Gonna get back into those hills and find damned zombie pigs running around, holy goodness that'd be a nightmare. Heh, god-damn nightmare. Anyone up for seconds?"
In the end Imogen had two steak sandwiches, about a dozen little sizzling pieces of pork, three enormous prawns and half a hotdog (after the real meat this was something of a let down). Zack struggled just to finish the enormous steak he'd chosen. Zed ate everything else.
"Ain't gonna let it go to waste now," he said, while chomping his way through the last of the hot dogs. "Hate waste."
"Why didn't you cook last night?" Imogen asked. She felt a lot better after eating, if a little bloated.
"Mm, couple of reasons," Zed said, through a mouthful of hotdog. "First, I was pretty tired, didn't want to lug all this up from the truck, didn't want to go through all that, y'know, cooking business. Second, I do like me a breakfast barbecue, gets you set up for the day right, yeah? Third, kind of thought the smell might attract a bunch of deadheads, so we'd wake up with the building surrounded by a thousand zombies all clamouring for some meat. Figure that don't matter so much now that we're moving on out. Speaking of which, we'd better get going—little man, you about done with that?"