by A. M. Geever
Walter’s reticence faded, and he wandered a little, exploring the activity rooms.
“Can we go swimming, Dad?” Violet said.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s clear the plates first.” He looked to Miranda. “See you in a bit.”
“Don’t let them drown,” she said.
Mario gave her peck on the cheek. “I’ll keep them alive. I promise.”
After they left, Miranda and Kendall went to the garden dome. The humid air, smelling of earth and plants, felt like an old friend.
“They look good,” Miranda said, after making a circuit to inspect the plants. “But they always do.”
“They’re better than the last crop,” Kendall said. He walked to the electronic equipment by the potting table. A moment later, “Like as the Hart” filled the air.
“I love this one,” Miranda sighed.
“I know.”
He sat beside her on a bench. They lapsed into silence for a while, just listening. Miranda remembered the first time she’d heard this song, how it had stopped her in her tracks, and gave her that first glimpse of who Kendall really was.
“Have you been sick a lot this time?” he asked her.
“The first few months. Now I just want this kid out.”
“Is Mario having an easier time?”
“Yes, thank God. I’d have shown up on your doorstep a long time ago if I had to go through that again.”
She’d never forget the color draining from Mario’s face when she’d told him she was pregnant with Walter. Then the denial… She couldn’t be, she shouldn’t be, he wasn’t willing to risk losing her again. He’d been a nervous wreck the whole time. Any disagreement, anything even approaching a spat, had seemed to him like a harbinger of the end.
“If it wasn’t for Doug and Alec, I think I would’ve killed him. They kept him busy, let him talk. He’s a completely different guy this time.”
“It was traumatic for him, too,” Kendall said.
She’d fled to the bunker for a few weeks to get a break from Mario’s hysteria when she was pregnant with Walter. She’d told Kendall all of it: Jeremiah and losing that first pregnancy, and everything falling apart. Relief spread through her that it was better this time.
“Any chance you’ll come with us today?” Miranda said. “Just for a visit?”
Kendall gave her a lopsided grin, but the owl blink betrayed him. He shook his head. “No. But I stood in the open door.”
For a second, she couldn’t even speak.
“The blast door?” she finally said. He nodded. She could only look at him, stunned. This was a new development since her last visit, one she’d almost despaired of. “That’s amazing, Kendall.”
He shrugged. “I thought about what you said. How the sound defenses are almost to the Rockies. How there haven’t been any zombies here for almost two years. I’m not sure the mountains will ever be secure…that’ll take decades.” He pursed his lips, eyes narrowing as he thought. “But zombies aren’t much for hard climbing. Apart from the interstate, there probably aren’t that many, considering the square acreage.”
Miranda tried to absorb what he’d told her. He’d stood in the open door. He’d actually done it. She almost couldn’t believe it, but Kendall didn’t lie.
Quietly, he said, “I’m trying. I’m just not ready yet.”
Her throat felt tight, and her eyes prickled with tears she couldn’t set free, not in front of him. Guilt churned inside her, making her lunch feel like a rock in her stomach. Her nana’s voice echoed in her head: never stop a child singing. Five years…five fucking years, but he’d stood in the open blast door. She smiled at him sidelong, hope that he’d get there springing to life.
She slipped her hand in his. “You will be.”
* * *
The drive home was uneventful. Walter and Violet fell asleep, which meant they’d be up well past bedtime. Conversation with Mario petered out as they enjoyed the weather and tired of having to shout to be heard over the wind. The buzz of the Jeep’s tires on the drawbridge pulled Miranda from her reverie of everything and nothing. She checked her watch.
“Oh, wow,” she said, stretching her arms over her head. “It’s almost dinnertime.”
As they eased to a halt in the parking lot, Alec waved to them.
“Uncle Alec, wait!” Violet shouted, jumping from the back seat. “Has Misty had her kittens?”
“Violet!” Miranda and Mario both said, but she landed true and ran across the parking lot.
“I’m going to tie her into the damn seat,” Mario said, looking rattled. “She’s going to jump out before we stop next time.”
“I’ll bring her to dinner,” Alec called to them, Violet’s hand in his. “See you in a few.”
Miranda shook off the momentary heart attack Violet had almost given her. “You’re the one who suggested she start climbing with Skye. Now she’s fearless.”
“Do you know why he’s walking around with that shit-eating grin?” Mario asked her. “He’s been grinning like an idiot the last week.”
“Oh!” Miranda said, excitement hitting her anew. “Emily’s expecting, she told me this morning. I meant to tell you, but I forgot with getting ready to go see Kendall.”
“Yeah?” Mario said, his eyebrows rising.
“Yeah.”
“That’s great,” he said. “I know they’ve been trying for a while. Must be something in the water. Everywhere I look lately there’s another pregnant woman.”
“Yeah, no,” Miranda said, climbing out of the Jeep. “It’s not the water, honey.”
Mario carried Walter as they walked through the Big Woods to the housing plan. There were so many people these days, enough that some she knew only to see them. They stopped at the townhouse so Walter could use the potty, and her too, then walked through the spit of trees to the grounds of the Boy’s Home. Delilah didn’t race ahead, but trotted beside them. Just like when she’d been expecting Walter, Delilah kept her human close. The first stars appeared as the sky morphed from dark pink to shades of purple. People approached the dining hall from all directions.
“Doug knows to save us a space, right?” Mario said.
“He will. Or the kids will.”
Mario looked at her sidelong. “I’m glad you and Violet made up from your spat last week about her wanting to wear makeup.”
“Even though I’m not her real mom.”
Mario chuckled. “She’s gonna be a handful in a few years.”
Miranda grimaced. She didn’t even want to think of the mischief Violet would get up to as a teenager; Anthony and Michael were bad enough. The idea of adding a rebellious Violet into the mix made her a little nauseous. Violet and Maureen were still little girls; she’d almost be happy if they stayed that way forever.
Ahead, Alec and Emily walked hand in hand, Violet and Anthony trailing them. Mario said, “Mind if I go ahead to congratulate them?”
“Of course not.”
He picked up his pace enough that even with Walter in his arms, he caught them as they reached the door. The dining hall windows were beginning to glow as twilight deepened. Amidst kisses, hugs, and handshakes, Mario followed Alec and Emily inside, walking with them to the table they all shared. He put Walter in a chair beside Skye, who was nursing the baby. Matthew raced around the end of the table, his silvery-blond hair flashing, before Doug scooped him up.
When she saw Noelle, who was going into the building by the side door with Victor and Gemma, she waved.
That kid’s gonna weigh ten pounds… She’s bigger than me and I’m due first, Miranda thought.
She stopped on the path, watching them all. Her eyebrows knitted together when she didn’t see him, but then Father Walter approached their table from the direction of the bathrooms. A warmth spread through her, the feeling light and joyful. The West Coast was safe enough that Father Walter had come to visit. She remembered them talking about it, the day they’d left San Jose. She’d thought it just one of those t
hings you said to get through painful farewells, not something that might come true, but it had.
The dining hall doors opened, and Mario walked up the path to meet her. “You coming, sweetheart?” he said.
“I was just watching you all through the window.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Are you okay? You’ve been quiet since we went to visit Kendall.”
“I’m fine,” she said on a sigh. “It’s just…my life feels so big, with you and the kids and everyone else. Father Walter is visiting, for Pete’s sake. Kendall’s life is still so small. He’s not alone anymore, but he’s stuck.”
She didn’t bother to say she still felt responsible. Mario would only tell her to quit beating up on herself because it wouldn’t change anything. That all she could do was support and encourage Kendall. And he was right, but the last time Kendall had gone outside was the day Rich was killed. She’d blamed him for it, told him it was his fault. Maybe it was Rich being killed that had done the real damage, but it didn’t feel that way.
Mario nodded, sympathy in his eyes. “He stood in the open door. That’s a big deal.” He brushed her hair behind her ear, his touch matching the softness in his voice. “You’ve never given up on him. He’ll get there.”
The rush of affection for him that hit her like a wave nearly knocked her over. “We all need someone who never gives up on us.”
“It’s like I said… Only a fool would give up on you.” Mario pulled her to him, his arms around her strong and familiar. His lips brushed hers, the lightest caress of a kiss. His dark eyes were serious. “I love you, if that helps.”
“It does,” she said, warming under the glow that was all for her. The easy affection they shared always made her heart swell. “I love you, too. You know that, right?”
“I do.”
“Tucci! Mario!” Rocco’s voice shouted. He stood in the open door of the dining hall, glaring at them. “For the love of all that’s holy, will you get a move on? I wanna introduce Father Walter!” Then he disappeared back through the door.
Miranda groaned. “He’s making an announcement? Father Walter will hate that.”
“Yeah, well… You know how Rocco is,” Mario said. His voice became high and animated. “The priest has come to dinner! It’s a big deal for the family!”
“Oh my God,” she said, covering her mouth as a laugh chuffed in her throat. “That’s so true.”
Another voice from the dining hall doors called out to them, but this one sounded desperate.
“Can you please come inside?” Sean ran his hand through his red hair. “Rocco is going to have a heart attack if he can’t introduce Father Walter soon, and I won’t be able to live with him if he keeps carrying on like this. Murdering your spouse isn’t great for a marriage, but I’m thinking about it.”
“Okay, we’ll be right there,” Miranda said.
“Rocco is a nut,” Mario said. Then he added, a glint of mischief sparkling in his eyes, “But we should join the others. I’m perished with the hunger.”
She smiled, as she always did, when Mario borrowed the sayings that only Father Walter used. As she laced her fingers with his, a deep wellspring of hope filled her heart—for Mario, and the family they had knitted together to include more people than she’d ever have imagined. For the friends and community they were part of, and her hope that Kendall would feel safe enough to leave the bunker someday soon. For this world, which she had once thought so hostile and cruel. It almost puzzled her that for so long she hadn’t been able to see that while those things could be true, it was also filled with wonder.
She held the feeling close, its warmth expanding in her chest. Mario pulled the door open, and the noisy bustle and wonderful aroma of dinnertime spilled out around them. She caught the door in her hand, but he didn’t let go.
“I’m pregnant, not feeble. I can hold a door.”
“You’re the boss,” Mario said, but the sparkle in his eye told her that he’d held the door on purpose, just to get her goat. He patted her round belly. “Brace yourself, kid.”
“Brat,” she said, swatting at him, but he ducked just out of reach and grinned at her, unrepentant.
Miranda paused on the threshold, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, before she gave up the ghost and laughed. She held the door long enough for Delilah to scoot by, and followed him inside.
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Acknowledgments
Huge and humble thanks, and deepest gratitude, to my readers. I’m still amazed that people read my books. When I hear someone say they loved the book, it seriously blows my mind (it’s also way better than the people who give them one star, lol). My readers, and getting to know them through the emails they send and interactions we have on social media, is what makes me want to keep telling stories and get them out into the world.
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Thanks to my family, whose support and love means everything, especially during this pandemic year.
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Beta Readers:
Sarah Lyons Fleming, Lauren Millar, Rachel Bouwkamp Meyers, Rhonna Woodie, & Roseann Powell, for pointing out all the gaps, inconsistencies, and opportunities I didn’t see that made the story better. You gals make me look good.
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Editing:
Arianne “Tex” Thompson, Developmental Editor Extraordinaire. I could gush forever, but suffice to say, this trilogy would have sucked without you, Tex. Thank you!
Kimberly at Kimberly Dawn Editing, who fixed all the crap to make the story shine.
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Creatives:
Molly Phipps of We Got You Covered Book Design for the kick ass covers.
Anti-Flag, for being so generous with the use of your lyrics in The Undead Age. See you in Vegas in September—live music again, finally!
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Very Special Thanks:
My super cool cousin, Kenny Koda, whose can-do, Semper Fi spirit helped the gang get through California alive (mostly) and your advice about which wineries might just survive the zombie apocalypse. And for that wine you sent…such good wine!
Amy Karavlan, for sharing her expertise and methods for helping kids deal with anxiety.
Clay Morgan, who answered my post in a Facebook helicopter group. Clay ran me through the ins and outs so I could write about fixing and piloting a helicopter, and then he sent me sketches, diagrams, pictures, and gently suggested that I didn’t need the helicopter that can pull a destroyer (not making that up, those Sea Dragons…wow!). Luckily, he knew which helicopter I needed from his time flying in the United States Coast Guard. Thank you so much, Clay!!! And thanks for keeping people safe from pirates.
Arthur Crivella, for your generous loan of Na-Wak-Wa Lodge, not just for the re-writing, but for the next phase of The Undead Age!
Mel Walker & Sylvester Barzey, for your much needed and valued advice.
Lindsey Pogue, thank you for talking me off the ledge. I owe you, girl. Whew!
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And as always, my Three Favorite Pieces. My dad Eamon, who lifts my heart out of my shoes (he’s part pookie, which helps!). My husband Drew, who I’m still married to as we begin to emerge from this COVID-19 pandemic year (and counting), which I’m pretty freaking proud of…we even still like each other! And Justin, who wears many hats: rocker, activist, animal sucker, seasoned artist who shows this newbie artist how it’s done, and (in my humble opinion) the most important hat of all: coolest little brother in the world.
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— May 19, 2021
About the Author
A.M. Geever lives in her hometown of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. An avid reader of science fiction and fantasy from an early age, the only job she ever wanted—besides being a writer—was to be a Star Fleet Officer
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The idea of becoming a zombie because her car runs out of gas gets her to the gas station when she would rather not bother, and when not dreaming up disaster survival tales, she spends most of her time with her family and fur babies, and loves to travel to exotic locales.
For more information, check out her website, www.amgeever.com