Reckoning in an Undead Age

by A. M. Geever

  “I haven’t been at P-Land that long…two or three months,” Alec said. He paused, then a slow, sly smile spread across his face. “They are a bit airy fairy.”

  That smile—slow and sly—transformed Alec from gorgeous to stunning. It was the kind of smile that made you feel like you were the only person in the room worth being with. The kind of smile that had women tripping into his bed as easily as her dog had sprawled at his feet, tummy exposed for a good rub.

  “Well, get ready for LO,” Rich said. “When Rocco gets a bee in his bonnet, it’s practically impossible to change his mind.”

  “It’ll be one less mouth for them to feed,” Miranda said. “That ought to make Daphne a little happier.”

  “Daphne?” Alec asked. “You know her?”

  “No,” Miranda said, shaking her head. “I went to the meeting with the P-Land Council, to keep Rocco from being a bigger ass than he was. She was pissed when he gave them a hard time about sending us here…brought up the crops P-Land lost when the sound defenses failed. She was not understanding about needing to eat being our priority. We never said we were completely halting our part of getting vaccine supplies, or leaving it totally in P-Land’s lap, but she acted like we were. She was really bitchy about it.”

  Alec’s brow wrinkled, and his lips pursed in a frown. “That’s hardly fair of her, from what you and Rich have told me. Daphne can be a little…black and white.”

  “Friend of yours?” Rich said.

  He hesitated, then said, “You could say that.”

  Ah, Miranda thought, the Scotsman was a player. It fit, with that smile of his. Aloud, she said, “Girlfriend?”

  Alec’s eyes met hers, sizing her up. “No,” he finally said. “We’ve had some fun together, but nothing like that.”

  Miranda laughed. “I have a feeling she has a different answer to that question."

  Alec looked at her for a moment, then shrugged, unwilling to commit himself.

  “Besides having the best wife in the world, that right there is why I’m glad I’m married,” Rich said. He stretched his arms over his head with a groan. “You want me to take first watch, Miranda?”

  She shook her head. “I can’t sleep yet. You guys go to bed. I’ll wake you up in a couple hours.”

  She wondered, idly, if Alec was going to say he’d stay up a bit longer. That slow, sly smile, and the way his eyes twinkled with an easy confidence, made her think he might. Which would be flattering if she were interested, but she was done with men who said one thing and did another. She’d never let anyone hurt her like Mario had, and she’d never let herself want anything like she’d wanted their baby. She was done with that—permanently.

  “I’ll get some kip as well,” Alec said, surprising her. “And my apologies again for being an arse when you arrived.”

  4

  “Someone’s with them.”

  Tessa didn’t sound alarmed, but Mario could hear the undercurrent of tension in her voice. He hurried to the porch, suppressing a cough and pretending his lungs didn’t hurt when in point of fact they hurt like a bitch. He stepped through the door, squinting as he raised his hand to shade his eyes. Doug and Skye were several blocks away along I Street. Tessa was right; they weren’t alone.

  Between she and Doug, Skye held the hand of a small child with a halo of dark hair. Doug carried some kind of square container in his right hand. His left clasped the hand of another child, bigger than the first, with shorter dark hair cut closer to his head. Both children were black. Even from this distance, Mario could see that they were dirty and tired. The one holding Doug’s hand stumbled every few steps.

  “This complicates things,” Mario said.

  Tessa said, “How do you figure that?”

  “I take it you’ve never traveled with small children.”

  “No,” she answered. “Their parents might be nearby.”

  When Doug and Skye and their charges reached the far end of the block, they walked out to meet them. The box Doug carried was a pet carrier. A pet… This just gets better and better, Mario thought.

  “Hey guys,” Skye said when they were close enough to greet Mario and Tessa without needing to raise their voices.

  “See you found something there,” Mario answered.

  Doug smiled. “Sure did.” When he, Skye, and the children stopped in front of them, he said, “Meet Silas and his sister Violet.” He lifted the carrier in his hand a little. “And Mister Bun Bun.” He directed his next comment to the children. “These are the friends we told you about, Mario and Tessa.”

  “Violet is six, and Silas is eight,” Skye said.

  “Eight and a half,” Silas corrected.

  Mario smiled. Half years were important at that age. It was something he’d forgotten until he became a parent. Silas leaned into Doug. His big brown eyes regarded Mario and Tessa warily, as if he expected them to bite. His hair was filthy. The dirt both lighter and darker than his mahogany skin made his face resemble desert camo print fatigues. Violet was much smaller than her brother. She might be six if what the children had told Doug and Skye was accurate, but she looked younger. Silas was also small for his age, so perhaps it was a family trait. Violet smiled, a wide, happy grin that lit up her face. Her features were birdlike, her nose straight and narrow where her brother’s was broad, lips thin where Silas’ were generous.

  Tessa crouched in front of Violet. The girl let go of Skye’s hand and threw her arms around Tessa’s neck.

  “Oh,” Tessa said, surprise in her voice.

  Silas darted over and yanked his sister away. “She’s a stranger, Violet,” he scolded, putting himself between Violet and Tessa. “Strangers are dangerous.”

  Violet pulled away from her brother and scampered over to the pet carrier. “Mister Bun Bun is my bunny,” she said.

  “You can show him to me later,” Tessa said, straightening up.

  “It’s okay, Silas,” Doug said, touching the boy’s shoulder. “Mario and Tessa are friends. They’ll help and protect you, just like me and Skye.”

  Silas looked up at Doug, eyes still wary, but with a sliver of wanting to believe him.

  “Let’s get them fed and cleaned up,” Skye said to Doug. She motioned to Silas. “He’s dead on his feet.”

  “Where are we going?” Silas asked, his voice pinched with anxiety.

  “To that house right there,” Doug said, pointing. “It’s the one I told you about.”

  “Is it safe?”

  “Yes,” Doug said firmly. “It’s safe.”

  Silas’ whole body sagged. It had obviously been a long time since the boy had felt safe. Mario followed Tessa, lagging behind Skye and Doug and their small charges. If their parents were gone, of course they’d take these children with them. The duty was so obvious that the decision made itself. Having them along would complicate the rest of the trip. The nagging impatience over their detour and delay blossomed into a deep reluctance that rippled through Mario’s body. It settled in his heart like a heavy stone that pulled him down, tethering him to an obligation he wanted no part of.

  Three tubs worth of heated water later, heads shaved due to lice because they had no medicines to treat it, infested clothing and hair burned, small bodies scrubbed clean, and bellies—human and rabbit—filled to brimming with food, Silas, Violet, and Mister Bun Bun were out cold on a mattress pulled into the living room. Silas had been unwilling to be away from Skye or Doug, and since the adults needed to eat and confer, moving the mattress was the best option. Doug and Skye had the foresight to get more clothes for the children on the way back. Otherwise, they’d be stark naked or in adult-sized shirts. Their shoes had been salvageable and were good enough for now.

  Getting Silas and Violet settled in and fed took a good three hours. They considered taking them to the yacht, since it had hot running water, but Silas’ trepidation when Doug tried to coax him into the rowboat had quickly escalated to an almost full-blown panic attack. Mario looked around the table where he and t
he others were finishing up the same dinner that he’d made for the kids. Yawns rippled around the table, and he realized the children were not the only ones tuckered out by the day’s events.

  “Thank you for cooking dinner, Mario,” Skye said, her voice low.

  “Thank you for doing bath and barber duty,” Mario replied. “You too, Doug. It’s a big job when it’s just everyday dirt, never mind how dirty those two were.”

  “Yeah,” Doug said, looking over to the small, sleeping forms. “I feel bad about shaving their heads. They look even more vulnerable now.”

  Mario said, “It’s the rabbit that clinches it.”

  Tessa pushed her plate aside. “Remember the good old days, when you just went to the pharmacy and picked up the lice-killing shampoo?” When everyone looked at her, her face began to pinken. “Oh. Well… Head lice is actually very common among small kids.” Looking somewhat desperate to change the subject, she said to Doug, “What were you able to find out about them?”

  Doug yawned, which set off another chain reaction around the table. “It seems their settlement was overrun a few weeks ago at least. Silas couldn’t tell us where it was or how long ago. They’ve been on their own a while. You saw how scrawny they are.”

  Mario nodded. The possibility that the children might be slight of frame had proved false as soon as their clothes were removed for their baths. He winced at the memory of their too skinny arms and prominent ribs.

  “Were they alone the whole time?” he asked.

  Skye shook her head. “No. There were zombies at the apartments. Silas hasn’t mentioned any adults, but Violet said the one in the apartment next to where they were staying was their mother. She locked herself in the apartment next door to the one we found them in. She told them to get far away, but they stayed.”

  Mario shook his head, imagining Silas and Violet huddled in the apartment next to the one occupied by their undead mother.

  “Jesus,” Tessa muttered. “Have they seen many zombies in the area?”

  “Not too many since they got farther away from their settlement,” Doug answered. “But Silas did mention there were more from ‘down the street.’ We think he meant south. We ran into…what, three or four on the streets?” he said, looking to Skye for confirmation. “We were able to avoid them. There were a few at the hospital, but nothing we couldn’t handle.”

  “You two shouldn’t have gone to a hospital alone,” Mario said.

  Doug shrugged off his warning. “It paid off. I can’t believe how much medicine was still there. Besides,” he said, grinning mischievously at Skye. “Skye is such a badass when she’s killing zombies.”

  Skye rolled her eyes. Doug moved his chair closer to hers and pecked her on the cheek. She was good for Doug, and not just because they were so crazy about one another. She wasn’t fazed by Doug’s adrenaline junkie ways. Skye had been one of the top women rock climbers in the world. Judging risk was something she had more experience with than the average person when the world changed. Doug wasn’t an idiot. He rarely did anything outright stupid, but if he thought something could work, he pushed the edge when others wouldn’t. But he’d become more cautious since they’d gotten together. People who didn’t know him might not be able to tell, but Mario could.

  All that aside, there was something special about Skye that worked with Doug. Their dynamic was different from the girlfriends that Mario had seen him with back in the day. They didn’t need to tell the other to rein it in. There hadn’t been too many opportunities for Mario to witness this, but Skye didn’t have the air of fretful anxiety that had enveloped his previous girlfriends, especially if he shared a story about his latest forays beyond the walls. Mario wasn’t throwing stones; that same fretful anxiety had surrounded him like a shroud in the early days of his and Miranda’s relationship. With Doug and Skye, if anyone worried it was Doug, but so far he was doing all right.

  Misery welled up in his chest at the thought of Miranda. He worked so hard to not think about her. It was more difficult to do now. Before they’d departed, he’d stuck to the Institute as much as he could, avoiding LO entirely, and kept himself busy. Sixteen-hour-days-falling-on-his-face busy. But once they left Portland—

  He still didn’t understand how everything had fallen apart so quickly. Why she’d shut him out like she had, nor why she’d been so angry with him. Losing the baby hadn’t been his fault but she’d acted like it was. If she’d given him the slightest hint, the barest sliver, of what was eating her up inside, then maybe he wouldn’t feel so baffled, but she never did. She just got more angry and remote, less there, until he lashed out at her as angrily as she lashed out at him.

  Part of him was certain that if she’d just given him something, some reason or explanation, he could have figured it out. That was what he did; he figured shit out. He banged on problems until he found solutions. The problem-solver in him refused to believe he couldn't have fixed things with Miranda if she’d only cared enough to give him a hint.

  What a fucking mess, he thought, trying to push it aside. He forced himself to pay attention to the conversation around him, to claw his way out of the mire of pain and longing that was always waiting for the opportunity to suck him under.

  “I don’t think so,” Skye was saying. Doug had leaned back in his chair. His arm was draped loosely around her shoulders. “Neither of them mentioned a dad. If there was anyone else, they’re not around anymore.”

  They all fell silent, and Mario could feel sleep’s strong pull on everyone. Tessa slid her arm along the table and rested her head on the triangle of her bent elbow. Her eyelids drooped, shaping the blue irises of her eyes to half discs. Skye’s eyes were drooping, too. One of them had to stay up for the first watch, and it was looking to Mario like he would be doing the honors.

  “I guess this sets us back a few days,” he said.

  Doug yawned again. “Another two days, I think. Maybe we stretch it to four, to let them rest and see if we can find anyone they might know.”

  “Has anyone considered they might be bait for a trap?”

  Mario’s question was met with crumpled brows and disbelieving eyes.

  “You haven’t seen how deserted it is out there,” Doug scoffed. “You need to quit reading the thrillers on the yacht. Maybe try a romance.”

  Mario saw the flinch as Doug realized what he’d said. He waved it away, giving Doug an indulgent shake of his head.

  Doug said, “Looks like we’re all aunties and uncles for the foreseeable future. At least we’ve got a pro right here.”

  Mario made himself smile, but it felt like a lie on his lips. He’d done his best to be a good father, better than his own dad, anyway, which hadn’t been hard. That bar was so low he could have stumbled over it blackout drunk. He hadn’t known what he was doing half the time, had winged it as he went, but Emily said she felt the same way and she was a natural. They hadn’t been the best husband and wife to one another, and Mario knew that a lot—most—of that was on him, but he and Emily had parented well together. They’d played to each other’s strengths, balanced out the weaknesses. Even with the… Mario didn’t know what to call it, had always resisted giving it a name. The episode? The mistake? Or as Doug had suggested, the manipulation? Even with that, Emily was a wonderful mother. Her confidence that he was a good father had given him the confidence to believe it, too.

  But that was before he left his children behind. Before Tadpole. Before he knew that there were still new ways for his heart to break. Mario didn’t want anyone looking to him as an expert. He didn’t want the responsibility, because he didn’t want to be the culpable party when it all fell apart.

  “You’re all falling on your faces,” Mario said. “I’ll take first watch.”

  “See,” Doug said. “He’s already staying up all night with the kiddos. We’re gonna be fine.”

  5

  Miranda’s stomach growled, so loud that Rich’s head cocked.

  “You or me?” he asked.

>   “Definitely me,” she said. “I’m so freaking hungry.”

  Rich nodded. “Just knowing how tight we are on food makes me hungry. I know the scavenging parties have already started but…”

  His voice trailed away, and Miranda understood why. There was lots of food in the world that was still good, expiration dates notwithstanding, but it wasn’t nearby. Miranda and her friends planned to pick up what they could on their way back but they were only four people, and on foot, until they reached the bridge. The scouting they’d do for future trips would be their most beneficial contribution to the food effort this time.

  Despite all this, their spirits were high. They’d spent another three very quiet days at Nanitch Lodge. Miranda and Rich led parts of the horde on a merry chase farther up the mountain before giving them the slip and sneaking back to the lodge. They could have just walked through the horde the day after they arrived and pulled ahead of them, but then they’d have an entourage. Even if it was miles behind them, there was no telling what attention a parade of zombies might attract. About a third of the original horde was still around when they left, and they’d outpaced them quickly.

  Phineas sidled up to Miranda and slung his arm around her shoulders. He grinned at her, his teeth flashing bright against his dark skin. “Just say the word, Miranda. I’ll be happy to take your mind off being hungry for food.”

  Miranda laughed and nudged into him. “You’re incorrigible.”

  “We both know the truth, babe,” Phineas replied, his grin widening. He gave her shoulder a squeeze, then released her. “I don’t know why you keep fighting it.”

  “He’s gonna wear you down one day,” Rich said.

  “Don’t encourage him,” Miranda said, giving Rich a good-natured glare. She said to Alec, “I saved his life once, and he’s been a lovesick puppy ever since.”

  “He doesn’t look like a puppy to me. I’d say Phineas is more of a strapping young lad looking to prove his worth.”