Night Resurrected

by Joss Ware

  Zoë took one look at Flo and covered her own head. “I don’t care what Quent says, you are not doing anything to my fucking hair!” Blue-black wisps stuck out from between her fingers.

  “I’m not going to touch your hair,” Flo said mildly. “Don’t want to try anything that might hurt the baby, you know. Skin and hair absorb things, you know.”

  “Seriously?” Zoë’s eyes popped wide. “You mean the kid means I’m safe from all that shit you’re putting on them?” She cupped her stomach, her face a study in sudden bliss.

  Baby? Ah. Now some of the comments she’d heard between Elliott and Wyatt back in Yellow Mountain made sense. Zoë was pregnant. Remy looked at her and frowned. She couldn’t be too far along—the woman looked slender and fit except for the slightest rounding of her belly.

  A baby. Wonder what that would be like.

  She’d not given it much thought before. How could she? With the life she had, moving around, running and hiding all the time, it was an impossibility.

  Remy didn’t know if she’d want to have a baby, even if she could. Even if she found someone to have one with. It was a dangerous world. A bleak one, at times. Would she want to bring a child into a place like this?

  A little shiver surprised her. Thank God Ian had always been very careful when they had sex. The last thing she would have needed was to be pregnant with his baby.

  God. Or Seattle’s. Remy felt weak. She stopped that horrifying thought abruptly, pausing only to give thanks it hadn’t come to pass.

  Flo was smiling. “I have something in mind for you, Zoë. Not a dress. But who is this?” She turned to Remy.

  “A friend of Wyatt’s and Theo’s,” Sage said in her smooth, modulated voice. “Her name is Remy and she’s just arrived. Jade and I brought her along so she could freshen up.”

  “Yeah,” Zoë said. “Feel free to torture the shit out of her with all the crap you were going to do to me and leave me the hell alone.”

  Remy looked around the spacious, well-lit room, which had a collection of mismatched mirrors lining one wall and a row of cupboards on another. A variety of chairs and tables littered the area, pieces of clothing hung everywhere on hooks and hangers, and beyond, she could see a bathroom with a large tub and shower. There was also a curious item that looked like a large metal helmet on a stand. She’d seen one in the Legally Blonde DVD. It went over one’s head, for a purpose she wasn’t altogether certain about.

  “Just a little lip gloss, some nail polish—and definitely something other than those ratty pants,” Flo said to Zoë.

  “No damned way am I wearing any ass-crap dress,” she warned. “Those assholes in Mecca had me all suited up in a skintight dress and shoes that just about fucking killed me. And I told Quent he was going to have to remember that, ’cause there is no way it’s ever going to happen again.”

  Mecca? Remy looked at Zoë. What had she been doing at the island headquarters of the Strangers? She opened her mouth to ask, but then the short, fluffy whirlwind that was Flo descended upon her.

  “I’ve never seen anyone with eyes as amazing as yours, dearie,” the older woman said, taking her by the chin so she could get a better look. “Like Elizabeth Taylor’s, but a touch bluer. And your lashes! So long and dark, you don’t even need mascara. A little eyeliner would be good . . . and what are we going to do with your hair . . . some fancy updo would be good.”

  “Yeah, try the pink on her,” Zoë suggested. “She’s one brave-ass chick. She’s the one who threw the snake at Wyatt.”

  “And lived to tell about it?” Flo looked at Remy consideringly. And then hummed in a way that made her nervous. “Interesting.”

  “Now who’s the traitor?” Remy said, suddenly worried that Flo might actually turn her hair pink.

  Jade laughed. “Looks like Zoë might have met her match here, hey, Flo?”

  “No, no pink for this young lady,” the older woman muttered, as if she hadn’t heard any of their conversation. Her fingers—adorned with too many rings to count—tapped her chin. “And something red to wear. That’ll give them—no, no, wait. White. You’re going to wear white, dearie. With your eyes and your hair, and you’ve got the perfect dusky-peachy-rose skin to offset the white . . . Oh, this is going to be fun!”

  Remy was relieved that Flo didn’t make a big deal about her bruises and cut, although obviously she noticed them as she continued her rapturous commentary. Nevertheless, she looked at Sage and Jade. “Are you sure about this?”

  “No,” hissed Zoë urgently. “Don’t let her touch you! Escape while you still have time!”

  Sage giggled and flapped a hand at her friend. “I’m going to get in the shower. Flo has the best showers here,” she added, looking at Remy. “That’s because she’s—wink, wink—friends with Ana’s dad, George. And he can figure out pretty much anything.”

  At the same time, Jade rolled her eyes at Zoë and said, “Don’t worry, Remy. You just have to let Flo do her thing. She’s what they used to call a cosmetologist, and she’s got quite a collection of old Vogue and Elle magazines, most of them courtesy of Theo and his travels. She experiments with making all her own cosmetics right here—lipstick, mascara, hair dye, everything. And when she gets her hands on a new person, she can go a little crazy.” Jade gave her a sidelong look. “I promise, she’ll make you look so hot even Wyatt won’t be able to keep his eyes off you. Or—better yet—his hands.”

  Remy’s face went warm and she shook her head. “I could care less what Wyatt thinks.” But her heart gave a little bump at the mental image of his strong, tanned hands on her bare skin. Then she reminded herself she was pissed at the man for taking her crystal.

  “Holy fucking crap, don’t tell me you’re banging Ian?” Zoë demanded.

  “Um . . .” Remy’s cheeks threatened to get even warmer, but she managed to stave off the blush. “No. Hell no.”

  “It’s not that it wouldn’t be a hella good jump in the sack,” Zoë continued. “I even considered it once. But I don’t trust that man anymore than a hair ball.” She prowled the room like a caged tiger, but Remy noticed she made no effort to escape the so-called torture even when she came near the door.

  Minutes later Remy was ushered into a shower stall next to the one Sage was using. Both had real running water that ran not warm but hot. The redhead was right—it was heaven.

  If she’d wanted privacy, Remy was bound to be disappointed, but at least there was a curtain hiding her from view. Still, the conversations bounced around with an occasional outburst from Zoë. Sage passed Remy a bar of pale pink soap over the top of the divider. It smelled unbelievably good and looked like it had tiny pieces of flowers and leaves in it.

  “I don’t think I’ve ever smelled so good in my life,” Remy confessed as she stepped out, wrapped in a towel. “Or felt so relaxed and clean. Hot running water is such a luxury. We didn’t even have it in Yellow Mountain; it got warm, but that’s it.”

  “Oh, that’s right! You were in Yellow Mountain with Theo and Selena,” Sage said. Her blue eyes danced and her freckled, peachy skin was flushed from the shower. “You have to tell us all about Selena. We haven’t met her yet, and—”

  “And Sage wants to make sure she’s good enough for her old flame Theo,” Jade put in. She had curlers in her hair and was sitting in a chair with her head tilted back. Flo was painting something bright and pink around her eyebrows. As Remy watched curiously, Flo dabbed a white cloth over the pink gunk and then ripped it away.

  Jade didn’t even flinch, but Zoë shrieked. “Holy mother assload of crap! I told you! She’s a freaking, ass-kicking sadist! You are not doing that to me, Flo. Over my cold, dead, zombie-meat body!”

  “Ugh,” Sage said. Her hair was in a towel, with only one bright coppery strand falling loose over her shoulder, and she was flipping through a rack of dresses. “Spare me that image, please. My stomach’s a little weak lately.” Her smile could only be described as sweetly sly.

  “Oh yes I am doin
g it to you,” Flo said. “Your brows are out of control, Zoë dear. They’re practically spiders. A well-arched brow makes all the difference,” she said, turning to lecture Remy. “It’s the foundation of elegance.”

  “She read that in a magazine,” whispered Jade.

  “Where did you get all of these gorgeous clothes?” Remy asked Flo, looking at rows and racks of dresses. She’d never seen anything like most of them—the glittery fabric, the fur, the feathers, the impracticality of it all.

  The older woman smiled, showing a juicy dimple on one cheek. “My mother was one of the survivors of the Change, and she worked here as a showgirl when this city was Las Vegas. The glitz, the glitter, the glam, she used to say. The way she explained it, she raided as many of the wardrobes as she could—I have no idea why, when people were trying to survive. I guess it was her way of holding on. Maybe she thought they would be important for history’s sake. Anyway, she saved a lot of these things. I’ve made some. And remade others. Collected even more from scavengers. It’s sort of an obsession.” She grinned wider.

  “Obsession’s a freaking understatement,” Zoë muttered.

  “So tell us about Selena,” Sage said. She turned, holding a bright blue dress with a flowing skirt. “How’s this, Flo?”

  “You always wear those long, loose skirts,” Jade said, lifting her head a little to look. “Why don’t you try something different? Something short? Let Simon get a look at your legs for once.”

  Sage smiled slyly, which gave her innocent face a layer of something naughty. “Simon gets plenty of chance to look at my legs, trust me. And I like this style. It’s the color I’m wondering about. Flo?”

  “I approve,” replied the older woman. “But Jade’s right—you could try something a little shorter. What do you think about this, Zoë?” She held up a small piece of black material that sparkled. “It’ll be great with your skin tone.”

  “What the hell is that?” Zoë approached cautiously, but with curiosity in her face. “Don’t tell me it’s a frigging skirt.”

  “No, it’s a tube top. It goes around here.” Flo demonstrated on her own torso. “You could wear it with that white jacket and black skir— Oh, all right—pants,” she added with a sigh. “Although a long skirt would look better.”

  A knock on the door interrupted whatever argument Zoë might have been about to make. “You all decent?” a female voice called.

  “Come in,” Flo called. “The more the merrier!”

  One look at her face told Remy the motherly woman meant it. She was in her element with a roomful of females who needed her.

  At the invitation, two more women came in. One was very tall—probably at least six feet—with long, streaky blond-brown hair and a rich caramel-golden tan. She had such a beautiful smile it took Remy a moment to notice that she walked with a pronounced limp. “Hey, all. This looks like fun. Whoa. Is Zoë holding a skirt?”

  “Over my dead-ass body. It’s called a tube top. Which you wouldn’t be able to wear because you’ve got an assload more boob than I do.”

  “I don’t know, Zoë. That baby’s giving you a lot more curve than you had before,” teased the tall woman. “Even Fence noticed.”

  “Aw, fuck that. When doesn’t Fence notice a woman?”

  “When he’s looking at Ana,” Sage said, unraveling the towel from her hair.

  “Damn straight,” agreed Zoë.

  “Welcome to the zoo, Ana,” Jade said with a grin. “And welcome to you, whoever you are. I hope you came ready for Flo to take you under her wing.” This last was said to the second young woman, who was looking around the room with the same sort of trepidation that was on Zoë’s face.

  “This is Cat,” said Ana. “She and her father arrived from Glenway just in time for Survivors Day. Her sister is my friend Yvonne.” There were quick introductions of the rest of the women, including Remy to Ana.

  This was good. Now she knew who Ana was. Hopefully, she’d be able to find time to talk with her sometime tonight and see what she knew—if anything—about the crystal.

  “Cat doesn’t have anything to wear,” Ana explained.

  “I didn’t realize this Survivors Day thing was such a big deal,” interjected the newcomer. She had dark brown hair that curled in tousled waves around her face and jaw. Her eyes were the color of coffee beans and she had a smattering of youthful freckles across her nose. Even so, she looked as if she were in her twenties.

  “It is a big deal,” Sage said. “There’s an official Thanksgiving celebration in memory and gratitude for the people who managed to live a year after the Change; sort of like the one Americans used to celebrate in November. That happens in June and has been celebrated ever since the first year after the devastation. But a while back, Vaughn—Mayor Rogan, I mean—thought it would make sense to honor the people who actually survived the Change. Some of them are still alive. They did so much to rebuild our world by planning and saving all sorts of things. Without them, we wouldn’t have a lot of the things we have today—things like black pepper and strawberries. Information about solar panels. And a whole lot of other basic things.”

  “Besides that, it’s a great reason to have a big party,” Jade said with a laugh. “And the only thing we’re missing, I think, is a bottle of wine.”

  “Well, funny you should mention that,” said Ana, setting a bottle on the table. It was filled with pale yellow liquid. “Yvonne’s husband Pete sent a few bottles of the mead he makes. And trust me when I tell you—it’s wonderful.”

  “I’ll get some glasses,” said Flo, bustling over to one of her cabinets. “Zoë, you’re next. Take Jade’s place, please.”

  “Okay, Remy, now back to Selena. Give us the dirt,” Jade said, shoving Zoë into the chair she’d just vacated.

  “Selena is a very special person,” Remy said, hiding a grin at Zoë’s terrified expression. “She’s got a special gift for helping people—as they’re dying, but also when they have something . . . terrible . . . happen. And she does this thing with the zombies that . . . helps them.” She glanced at Zoë and decided not to go into detail.

  From Wyatt and Theo, she knew that Zoë had a much different approach to handling the zombies than Selena did. “There’s something peaceful about her. She really helped me, uh, get through a difficult time. But,” she added, “Selena’s not a pushover. She and Theo are really happy together. He helps her stay strong with her gift—which can be really difficult. And he’s completely nuts about her.”

  “I’m so glad,” Sage said, sincerity in her voice and demeanor. “He’s a very special guy. A good friend. He used to bring me books all the time when he was out—”

  “Holy mother of the world, where did you get this?” Zoë’s exclamation had everyone turning to look. She was miraculously out of the chair and holding up Remy’s new bra. “This is beyond hella awesome.”

  Remy grinned. “I scavenged it. We found an old truck trailer and there was a lot of stuff in it. I found a bunch of other things—panties and tank tops. But I had to leave them behind in the zombie attack. And there was this one pair of panties . . . at least, I think they were panties. It was black, and nothing but a triangle in front, and a string—er—up the back. You know what I mean?”

  “A thong,” Flo said, handing Remy a glass of the mead.

  “It has a fucking string?” Zoë repeated, taking her own glass—which was only about a third full. “Up the back? You’re supposed to have a string up your ass-crack? How in the hell can that be comfortable?”

  They all laughed, and for the first time she could remember, Remy realized she was having a good time with other women. This must be what it’s like to have sisters. Or best friends.

  How had she missed this much of life?

  Chapter 13

  Wyatt had completely forgotten about Survivors Day.

  Just what I do not need.

  Hoping to avoid people, he’d come into Envy through the back way, using the secret tunnel Theo and Lou Waxni
cki had designed half a century earlier when the protective wall was being built around the city. The old, cracked Wendy’s sign marked the entrance from the exterior, and the route included passage through an old railroad car and a massive metal culvert. It came out on the far west side of the enclosed part of the settlement, an area that was abandoned by all but rats, stray cats, and more than a few ugly snakes.

  Hidden beneath and inside the barrier built of rubble, the throughway was known only to a limited number of people. As Lou Waxnicki had told Wyatt and his friends: You always have to have a back door, whether you’re writing code or building a fortress.

  You never knew when you were going to need a way out . . . or a way in.

  Now, back in the inhabited part of the city, Wyatt stalked grimly through the structure that had once been the Vegas resort New York–New York. The building was the place where most of the residents of Envy lived, using the hotel rooms as small living spaces. Of course few of them were outfitted with kitchens, so meals were generally taken at one of the two community restaurants run by the City of Envy and staffed by the residents of the settlement. Everyone took a turn on KP, or somehow supported the co-op by growing or raising food, or contributing other resources like keeping the appliances working, the solar panels in shape, and the water flowing. There were a few small, private kitchens, he’d learned, but most people liked and preferred the community setting. It was like Cheers on steroids.

  Every single day.

  Unfortunately for Wyatt, this meant if he wanted to eat, he’d have to brave the frivolity and celebration below. And he had been traveling rapidly and efficiently for two days, hardly stopping to eat or sleep, so he was hungry and tired.

  Once he’d assured himself Remy was safe—although whether being with Ian Marck could really be considered safe was a good question—he stopped following them. The tender scene he’d witnessed between Remy and Ian, when Ian eased her up against the Humvee and reached up to stroke her cheek, was an early indication. But just to be sure, he tracked them a little farther, easy to do while in the trees and following the very slow progress of the vehicle. It was the passionate kiss in the creek that had convinced Wyatt he didn’t need to keep watch any longer, and at that point he took himself off to find a horse.