Razor Girl

by Marianne Mancusi

  Molly shook her head. “I actually went by there myself this morning,” she admitted. “No answer.”

  “I called Mount Holyoke. All of the hospitals in the area, actually. None of them have even heard of her,” Chris said. He shuffled from foot to foot. “I’m worried. I mean, what do you think happened to her? You said those men were from the government, but…I don’t know.”

  Molly swallowed the fears she herself had been fighting. She’d decided not to tell her father about the incident the other day, as she didn’t want to raise his hackles. She knew how he could be about the feds. And she’d felt so odd that day after she’d left Chris that she hadn’t wanted to think about anything involving it. If anything weird started happening, she’d tell her dad—or that’s what she’d told herself. But nothing weird had happened. The brown-suited men had not reappeared.

  “I don’t mean to be harsh, but…maybe she just died. It sucks, but sometimes that happens,” she said. Not everything was a conspiracy.

  “Yeah.” Chris raked a hand through his curly blond hair. “I thought that too at first. Then I did some more digging, went to some unauthorized Web forums and…”

  “And?”

  “She’s not the only one who’s been taken away in a brown van with that seal. I found almost a dozen similar stories from around the country. And then there are a few international cases, too. It doesn’t make much sense, but the descriptions all seem so similar, and…”

  Molly’s mouth went dry. “Are you serious?”

  Chris nodded. “Yeah. I think something’s going on.”

  Molly fought with herself for a moment. At last she said, “I should ask my dad. He’s up on all this. It’s his thing. Conspiracy theories. If anyone would know, it’d be him. I should have mentioned it the other day but…I’ll ask him after school.”

  Chris nodded. “Good idea. I’ll come with you.”

  At his self-invitation, Molly narrowed her eyes. She couldn’t help but feel a moment of suspicion. “Are you telling me the truth? You’re really only interested in Mrs. McCormick here, right?”

  “You mean, did I make all this up for an invite to your house?”

  Molly shrugged, not sure what she meant.

  “Don’t flatter yourself,” he snapped. “I just want to know what’s going on. If your dad’s the one who’d know, I want to talk to him.”

  “Fine,” Molly said, resigning herself to the plan. She knew Drew wouldn’t approve of her new friend, but she supposed this visit was for a good cause. Who could object to two teenagers looking into their neighbor’s disappearance?

  Suddenly a new fear crossed her mind. “Um,” she said. “About my dad. I warn you, he’s a little…intense.”

  Chris laughed. “That’s okay. So am I.”

  The bell rang and Chris darted off. Molly hurried down the hall, too, only to find the door to her class swing shut in her face. Great. She’d made a joke to Erin but their teacher, Mrs. Adams, didn’t tolerate any latecomers, and this was her own third tardy in three months. She considered pushing the door open and braving the teacher’s wrath, but then she thought better of it. A happier solution would be to head to the nurse’s office, feign being sick, and get a pass.

  On the way, she decided to swing by the cafeteria to grab a snack; she liked having food while she was thinking, and she wanted to think about Mrs. McCormick—and about Chris and her dad. She could only swing by without penalty because, unlike the old days, which she saw in all the old movies, everything here was automated. Lunch ladies had been phased out. Her school cafeteria was all machines, and it would be empty right now. Insert ID, press button, remove food. Fast and easy. She wondered if the old food tasted better.

  As she entered the caf, her eyes fell on two figures at the far side of the vending area. The pair were curled into an embrace. Molly quickly looked away, not wanting to spy. Then, curious, she took another peek.

  Her stomach dropped like it was on a roller coaster sim, and her world spun off its axis. Drew. Here was her super-popular boyfriend and the trashy president of the student council, Brenda Booker. They were sucking face. God knows what else they’d done. Brenda had gotten her LTF back when she was fourteen years old and was legendary for her STD-free exploits.

  A mixture of self-disgust and righteous rage filled Molly. Erin had been right; Drew had decided she wasn’t worth waiting for. All that stuff he’d said about love and loyalty—even if it had been when they were making up, after he’d been pressuring her on and off for the past few months—it was all bullshit. He was just like every other horny guy in her high school, looking for one thing and one thing alone.

  She tried to take a step back, to flee the scene, but her legs felt like they were stuck in mud to the knees. She tripped over a chair and crashed to the ground.

  Swift. Real swift.

  They hadn’t noticed her before, but they did now. Drew and Brenda looked over, startled. Molly scrambled to her feet, her face burning. She would never say it to her dad, but now would be a great time for the end of the world to commence.

  “I-I thought you had English class this period,” Drew stammered.

  Anger at him overcame her embarrassment. “Is that all you can say?” she demanded. “I catch you making out with the school slut in the middle of the school cafeteria, and all you can say is that I should be in class? Since when did you become hall monitor?”

  Drew didn’t even have the good grace to look sheepish. He whispered something to Brenda, who nodded, giggled, gave Molly a dirty look and took off. Molly glared at her back, wishing she could shoot daggers out of her eyes. Then she turned back to her cheating boyfriend.

  “How could you?” she demanded, feeling tears well up in her eyes. “I thought…I thought you loved me.” God, it sounded so lame and stupid when she said it aloud, and she’d known the relationship had problems, but…well, it didn’t matter. Everything you knew went right out the window when you were in the situation. “I thought…Oh, never mind.”

  “I do love you,” Drew said, walking over to her. He took her hand in his. She yanked it away. “I love you so much, baby.”

  “I see,” Molly said through clenched teeth. “You have a weird way of showing it.” She squeezed her hands into fists and forced herself to stay calm. “You love me, but, let me guess—you want to be with someone who has their CC. You’re tired of waiting.”

  “We’ve talked about this,” Drew said. “I mean, everyone and her mother has one. You’re one of the last hold-outs in your entire class. I’m even willing to do it illegally for you, Molls. That’s how much I love you. But if you won’t say yes to that…how much can you love me?”

  So there it was. Erin was right. It all came down to sex. That’s how her peers saw things. Lame. So utterly lame.

  “I’m not going to break the law,” she protested.

  “No, you won’t, will you?’ Cause you’re too afraid of your crazy daddy and what he might do if you live a little. You’re trapped in a cage, Molly,” he told her. “Living half a life. All because some Armageddon nut who should be locked up keeps telling you that the end of the world is near.” He shook his head. “Well, let me tell you something: when the end of the world comes, I’m going to have lived my life. How about you? You still going to be waiting around with Daddy?”

  Molly snapped. Her fist found Drew’s nose in a millisecond. There came the sound of crushing bone and a scream of pain. Her boyfriend’s perfect proboscis—the one that his parents had paid, well, through the nose for—was now a shapeless, bloody mess.

  “Don’t talk about my father like that,” she said, lowering her bloodied hand. Then she turned and stormed out of the cafeteria, leaving Drew bawling like a baby and shouting for the nurse.

  As she left the cafeteria, she fought the urge to spit.

  CHAPTER NINE

  As Chase and Molly traversed the Wal-Mart parking lot, they wove through abandoned cars and shopping carts, many of which still contained plastic bags stuf
fed with decomposing goods. The car windows were mostly broken, and shattered glass on the asphalt caught the failing sunlight, sparkling like a field of scattered diamonds. Molly fingered the object in her pocket and wondered if she should show it to Chase. Would he even remember giving it to her? It was a lifetime ago, after all. And he’d changed. He wasn’t that boy anymore. She had to remember.

  She withdrew her hand from her pocket and took a look around, shivering at the sight of the barren landscape. Everything was so still, so dead. What had it been like for these people whose rag-clad skeletons now stretched before her, littering the parking lot? One moment they were blissful, happy-go-lucky Wal-Mart shoppers, ready to enjoy an hour or so of discount commerce, the next they were collapsing where they stood, their lungs seizing up, their hearts failing—and those were the lucky ones. What went through their minds as they fell to the hard, cold pavement? Had they pled for some kind of last-minute divine intervention? At what moment had they resigned themselves to the fact that none would come?

  As she stared at a car that looked vaguely familiar—was it the Smart Nissan of one of her teachers?—a lump formed in her throat that she struggled to swallow down. She was supposed to be tough now, after all. Her father had trained her for this: to be strong, to not let overwhelming emotion wash her away. So there were some dead people here. So it went. After all, she was a razor girl. Like Molly Millions. And Molly Millions didn’t cry.

  She faltered, unable to go on. Her dad would be ashamed.

  Suddenly a strong grip found her shoulder, spinning her around. Chase cupped her chin in his hand. His fingers were warm—and when had he grown so big? He forced her face to look at him, and she suddenly remembered the kaleidoscopes that were his eyes. Those greens and yellows and blues. That sympathetic gaze.

  “Are you okay?” he asked. She realized she was trembling. How embarrassing. The last thing she wanted was for him to see her weak.

  “I’m fine,” she retorted, shaking her head to free herself of his hand. He gripped her chin tighter, running a finger along her jaw. That touch sparked an ache deep inside—one she found she couldn’t will away. Like everything else in this world.

  “Sure you are,” he said, giving a nod. “That’s why you’re white as a sheet.”

  She slumped her shoulders and sighed. “Okay, fine. It’s…a lot to take in. I admit it.”

  “Duh,” he said, bitter amusement in his voice. “When we first got back, after being in the mountains for so long, we couldn’t believe it.” He let go of her chin and she felt a weird emptiness inside, then scolded herself for feeling it. Whatever had been between them, it was long over. The sooner she recognized that, the better. “I threw up like three times when I saw the first bodies.”

  “I did, too,” she admitted. “Outside my house, I saw…a child.” She shuddered.

  “You get used to it after a while,” he said, staring around the parking lot. “I know that probably sounds crazy, but trust me, it’ll happen. One day you’ll be out and about—hunting for food or whatever—and something will strike you as funny. You’ll start laughing just like you would have before.” He turned back to her, his face earnest if sad. “You’ll be standing there alone, smack-dab in this mass graveyard we call Earth, surrounded by cannibalistic zombies and cackling like a loon.” He smiled for a moment, a cocky grin she never remembered him having before, then grimaced. “It’s that moment you realize life goes on. And it really does. Until you bite it.”

  She exhaled, not sure what to say. She wanted to believe him, but at the moment she couldn’t imagine ever laughing again or treating this reality with such nonchalance. It was all too grim. “If you say so, dude,” she finally replied, choosing bravado over sincerity, mostly because she was too frightened to show anything else.

  “It’s okay, don’t believe me,” he said with a smirk. “I wouldn’t believe myself either.” He ushered her through the parking lot. “Now, come on, let’s get inside before we lose all the light.”

  They walked up to what had once served as the front of the store. The normal glass-windowed entrance was boarded up with large sheets of metal, roughly fused together with a combination of bolts and solder.

  “The Others aren’t too shy about jumping through glass windows,” Chase explained, gesturing to the makeshift barriers. “Hell, it’s practically an Olympic sport for them. But they can’t see for shit and aren’t too smart, so the metal here keeps them out. Tank rigged it up a couple years back, and so far we’ve managed to keep a low profile. We’ve killed those who’ve come around so…well, we think they assume the place is abandoned.”

  He gave a cursory glance around the parking lot, Molly assumed checking for zombies, then went to a door cut out of the metal plates. He opened its lock with a key that hung on a silver chain around his neck. Beyond was a smashed-in glass door.

  “Careful,” he said as he motioned for Molly to step inside. “Don’t cut yourself. A single scratch could be lethal these days.”

  She hadn’t thought of that. With no physicians, an untreated infection could be as dangerous as a zombie. Stepping through, she took care to avoid any sharp metal edges or glass shards.

  Chase entered, locking the metal door behind them. “Here we are,” he said, ushering her forward. “Home sweet home.”

  The normally bright overhead fluorescent lights were, of course, no longer functioning in this superstore, and the darkness was shocking compared to the sun outside. Otherwise, in what light there was, coming from a skylight to the northwest, the place seemed much as she remembered it. The shelves nearby were stacked with discounted electronics, yellow bouncy ball signs declared which products were currently—or in 2030, in this case—on special. A long row of checkouts, manned by silent cashier sentinels, stretched into the distance. In short, it was a barren wasteland of dust-caked commercialism, a vivid reminder of how the world once was.

  Molly sneezed.

  “Maid’s day off,” Chase quipped, beckoning her to follow. “Come on. I think the gang’s in Toys.”

  “Toys?”

  He laughed. “You’ll see.”

  He reached into his bag and pulled out a flashlight, flicking it on. A weak beam did its best to pierce the darkness, but as they walked briskly through the aisles and farther from the skylight, she wondered how Chase could even see. Her own implants compensated, switching to night vision. Thanks, Dad.

  At the back of the store a much brighter light appeared, if localized. As Chase promised, they were nearing the Toys section, and a minute later Molly caught high-pitched giggles accompanied by a loud whirring. They turned the corner and came upon a small circle of children all sprawled out on the floor. The light, she realized, came from a couple of lamps powered by a generator that was producing the whirring noise she’d heard.

  Molly took a closer look. Toys she remembered from her childhood were scattered everywhere: beautiful Barbies with long, flowing hair, dashing Ken dolls with their anatomically correct parts. (She and Erin were scandalized to learn they hadn’t always been manufactured that way, though in some ways Molly thought she’d prefer the old way.) These kids had every toy except the electronic ones, and sim decks, which were likely too expensive to run with limited battery power. Molly had to restrain herself not to scramble down onto the floor and play with the group.

  She did a quick count. Eight children, ranging in apparent ages from six to fourteen. The oldest two, a girl and boy, were arguing in a corner, while the younger ones contented themselves with play. There were boy triplets with shocks of carrot-colored hair and matching pug noses, but what seemed strangest of all was their outfits. In fact, all of the kids were outfitted the same way: a total mish-mash of colors and patterns, not a single one of which matched. Even stranger, the kids all wore makeup—even the boys. Or was it war paint? she wondered, because the swirling cheek and forehead designs appeared almost tribal. The whole thing reminded her of a book her dad had once made her read. The Lord of the Flies. Of course,
Wal-Mart was no jungle, and these kids had no hope of a rescue plane swooping down anytime soon.

  “So they’re all orphans?” she asked Chase, keeping her voice low. “And you brought them all here?”

  A laugh sounded behind Molly, making her jump. “Chase? He would have let them be killed if it was up to him.”

  Molly whirled around to see a good-looking, barrel-chested man approach. He had long dark hair tied back in a ponytail, and a trim beard. He walked up to Chase and Molly and held out his hand. “I’m Tank,” he said. “Chase’s brother.” He looked her up and down. “I wondered where my little brother had gone. Ran off like an idiot. Now I see why.”

  “He always thinks the best of me,” Chase grunted. “Tank, this is Molly. Remember the Andersons? From down the street?”

  Tank gave her a double take. “Molly Anderson?” he repeated. He looked her up and down and whistled. “Damn.”

  “Don’t mind him,” Chase snapped. “He’s a bit desperate. Six years without a chick, you know.”

  “Hey, what about Anna Simmons?” Tank protested. “When we were still at the refugee camp.”

  “Yeah, right. That happened.”

  “If she told you otherwise it was only to keep you from getting all jealous.”

  “As if I’d want that skank.”

  Molly shook her head at the banter. It was kind of nice, in some ways, to be back among humanity, and among humanity that was acting so casual. She’d been away for too long—even if the men were still idiots fixated on sex. “So, you’re the one responsible for all of this?” she asked Tank, gesturing to the kids.

  “Yeah, he is. Tank’s a regular Pied Piper,” Chase spoke up. “I swear, he must have some kind of flute stuffed in his pocket.”

  “Nah, man, I’m just happy to see you.”

  Raising an eyebrow, Chase stared at his brother.

  Tank turned back to Molly. “Yeah, I’m the leader of this here motley crew. When all the adults started dying, I realized someone had to step up to the plate. And I was the oldest.”