by Tara Brown
“So, uh, which side do you sleep on?” he asks and it’s weird.
“I don’t know. I’ve been sleeping on the left. Bev likes the right.” I think my answer is weird too. Maybe it isn’t but I’m so tense I swear I feel him in the air around me.
“Okay.” He moves and shuffles and I’m not sure if he’s taking clothes off or not. I hurry around to my side of the bed and grab my pajamas from under the pillow. They’re not mine but they’ve become mine. He’s on the bed in his duvet when I pull my shirt off, catching yet another scent of barbecue. My skin prickles knowing I’m naked in the room with him, even though its dark and I’m about to put a tank top on.
When I get out and undo my jeans, the noise of the zipper seems like a scream in the night compared to the silence. Did he hear it? Does that make me more uncomfortable or am I hovering at a constant level of discomfort?
I struggle out of the pants and into the shorts I stole from the little boy who lived here. And then as if someone is chasing me, I hurry into the duvet, wrapping myself like a burrito and rolling on my side. I’m trying not to breathe heavy, but it’s hard and the silence is killing me.
“Crazy about the nanobots, huh?” he says softly.
“Totally,” I agree but don’t completely understand how we’re stuck in this horror movie.
“Well, night,” he whispers.
“Night,” I whisper back as if I’m completely chill and this is normal, and I don’t have feelings matching his, although I suspect I do. Nanobots or not, I think I have feelings for him.
These are the most awkward moments of my life. I couldn’t even guess how many of them there are. Possibly a million but probably four, before I start to calm down.
I close my eyes, ignoring my pounding heart, and relax into the sound of him doing the same. It’s nice to hear someone else breathing. I don’t feel so lonely. I realize then and there, with him I haven’t felt lonely yet.
Chapter 8
Day Five
The smell of Mitch in the room has become a thing. He has claimed the dankness in the air and it’s working with him to infiltrate my nose. Even sleeping I know he’s next to me, filling the air around me with the scent of safety and maybe home.
It’s not just deodorant and whatever that manly face cream is he’s stolen from the master bedroom. He also smells like sitting on the deck in the misty weather on the West Coast and drinking something called Mike’s Hard Lemonade, though it tastes nothing like lemons. And lying awake in the dark listening to him breathe and pondering whether he’s asleep or not. He smells like something I’ve never quite smelled before. And the timing couldn’t be worse.
He’s invaded my whole mind. Taking up residence with his smile and the way his eyes dart to mine and hold my stare when we talk of what will happen after this. It’s the way he’s made this feel bearable—even better than that—he’s become the distraction I didn’t know I needed.
Of course we can’t stay here. We can’t pause the world and live in this bubble we have carved out, created from someone else’s life. But the last couple of days have been a wild escape from whatever has happened to the world. And all I can do is hope my family is okay. Beyond that, I’m helpless. And somehow, he helps me forget it.
He hasn’t repeated his feelings, and I haven’t brought them up, though they haven’t left the forefront of my brain since it happened. I also haven’t told him about my feelings. Maybe because I’m not sure what they are.
Or maybe it’s the lingering fear of the nanobot apocalypse.
I stir, waking fully and stretching, realizing he’s gone. His scent is left behind, with the indent on the pillow on his side of the bed, as far away from me as it can possibly get. Every night he has been the perfect gentleman. And I like that too.
I get up and pull on clothes. Some are mine, some belong to the little boy who hasn’t come back to claim his things, and others are random. I don’t know who they belong to.
Making my way to the living room, I notice a difference. It’s been a slow building one. A tension coming in slowly like the fog does here.
Vanessa’s tone is not the nicest and Jack looks like maybe he hasn’t been sleeping, and there’s a chance they’re fighting over the last bagel.
“You don’t even like banana bread!” she snaps, leaning in dangerously.
“I don’t know why we can’t share it. You get half and I get half.” Jack pushes his filmy glasses up the bridge of his nose, something I’m starting to think is a nervous habit.
“Because I want the whole thing!”
“Enough!” Jeff shouts, storming into the kitchen and snatching the bagel from the counter. He stuffs the whole thing in his mouth while he’s getting angry at them, shouting and pointing fingers, but he’s completely lost it, so I can’t understand a single thing he says.
Vanessa certainly does. She turns on her heel and storms out, screaming, “I hate it here! And I hate all of you!”
Jack’s face is red and his eyes are focused on the crumbs falling from Jeff’s still chewing mouth.
Jeff also turns and stalks out onto the deck. I follow him and get a cup of coffee, sitting far from everyone. I savor the flavor of it, just in case. It might end up being the last one.
The power of the outdoor kitchen could be on its last legs. We haven’t figured out how to tell if the propane tank is empty or not. When we arrived, Jeff touched it and said it was cold around the middle of the tank, but he doesn’t know how fast we’re burning it using it all the time.
Louis comes outside and sees me. He turns and hurries over, glimpsing back once.
“Hey,” I offer politely although I’m not a morning person.
“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” I ask, already annoyed.
“We’re running out of food.”
“Well, that had to happen at some point. Twenty people eating three meals a day.” I sip the coffee and try not to let this stress me out. We can find more food.
“We decided we’re leaving this house tomorrow.”
That ruins my coffee. “Tomorrow? How? To go where?”
“We’re just about to leave. Some of us, five—are going. We wanna find some SUVs with full tanks of gas and bring them back here to this neighborhood. And tomorrow, when the sun comes up, we’re out.” Louis doesn’t sound excited.
“Do you want me to come?” I ask, praying the answer is no. I really don’t want to go out there.
“No. You’re not fast enough.”
“I was fast when we ran to the boat.”
“You froze up on the bus and you can’t drive.” The way he says it almost makes me smile.
“I can kinda drive.” I don't know why I’m defending myself. I think we both know I can’t. I’ve failed my driver’s test three times and the last time the lady testing me cried and begged me to stop the car.
“Anyway, Bev, Jeff, me, Mitch, and Vanessa are going. We’re the fastest or most experienced drivers.”
“Mitch?”
“Yeah.” He glances down. “If we don’t make it back—”
The coffee sours in my cheeks. “Dude—”
“No, hear me out!” He sits next to me and lowers his voice, “If we don’t make it back, you have to get the rest of these guys out. So you need a plan. Someone to drive and no more democracy. If we don’t make it back, it’s time for dictators. You get them to Boulder.”
“Why me?” I gulp. That really ruins the coffee. “I’m not a dictator. At all.”
“You’re the smartest. You aren’t the fastest and you can’t drive for shit, but I have no doubt you’re the smartest person here. Well, you and Jack. You guys will have to think your way out of this. Find rides. Get old maps. Figure it out.” His eyes dart around at the people mulling about. “Everyone here is going to listen, they want to live.”
“Wait, old maps?” My heart races at just imagining that. “I can’t read old maps.”
“If you don’t want to try to get to Bould
er, or shit’s too far gone, the other option is going to the next mansion over.” He nods his head toward the trees where a roofline is just visible. “Jeff says if you go along the water, there are tons of them. Waterfront mansions.”
“I don’t want to think about this.” I shake my head, trying to block his words.
“You have to. If we don’t come back and you can’t get out of the city, go back down those wooden steps to the ocean and follow the train tracks to get to the next house. Just keep living until you can figure your way out.” He lowers his voice even more, “But don’t let it become anarchy here.” His eyes dart to the doorway. “You can’t separate or fight, you’ll die.”
“Is that why you’re taking Vanessa?” I ask.
“She’s a fast runner too,” he offers, revealing the truth with the smirk he doesn’t bother fighting.
“I think you should wait two more days and see if they die. It’s the seventh day in two days. The zombies could be dead and we could all leave together.” My stomach hurts at just the thought of them going out.
“What if that transmission was wrong? What if that was just some kids playing? What if—”
“But you agree with the nanobots!” I point out. “He can’t be that wrong. We saw it.”
“What if he’s wrong and this isn’t ending, ever? We can’t worry about what that guy says. We need to focus on the big stuff.” He lowers his voice again, “We’re out of food, Tan. As of now. There is nothing left. And we have burned through the fuel to cook with. We’ve been sponge bathing with boiled water. Without fuel we can’t do that anymore. We have no medical supplies. I guarantee other people are creating strongholds with supplies. We need to do the same. We need to get on the road and find somewhere new to go.” He sounds desperate but maybe he’s scared too.
“When are you leaving?”
“Now,” he mutters as Mitch comes outside wearing the same hesitant expression.
“Hey,” Mitch says when he gets to where we are. “You tell her?” he asks Louis.
“Yeah.” Louis gets up, giving me one last intense stare. “We’ll be back this afternoon, don’t worry.” He walks away and it’s more dramatic than I expected from him.
“I don't know how to read an old map.” I give Mitch a confused look.
“Jeff said it’s easy to find your way out of here. You have the waterfront on the left and you turn right on Sixteenth Ave. Drive until you come to the Fraser Highway. Take that until you get to the Trans-Canada. Drive East on the Trans-Canada. Don't worry about any of the other roads. From there, the signs will get you home.”
“I think you should stay.” I don't know if I’m being selfish or not.
“I’ll be back.” Mitch’s voice is firm and he means it so fiercely that I believe him. He takes my hands in his, creating a weird spark of warmth and connection, and squeezes. “But if we get stuck somewhere or can’t make it back here, leave me a note telling me where you’re going next. Like Hansel and Gretel, okay?” He cracks a grin and something comes over me. I lift my hands to his neck and pull him down, pressing my lips to his. The kiss isn’t even a kiss, it’s more two faces smooshing together.
Then I whisper against his lips, “Please come back.”
He nods and kisses me differently, softer. “I will.”
But it’s a lie.
A lie he doesn't know he’s telling me.
Chapter 9
Day Six
My fingers tremble as I close the door to the mansion and give Jack one more uncertain glance. He nods once, also visibly brimming with uncertainty. Though we had a small conversation as a group to come to a decision, it still doesn’t feel like we chose the right option.
Through the window I take one last peek at the note on the table in the front entryway. The note telling them where we’ve gone. Just in case.
Please, God, please, let them find their way back here.
Cynthia slips her fingers into mine and squeezes. I squeeze back and we creep to the gate where Naira and the others are waiting. There are fifteen of us left.
The others are gone.
Ms. Mara.
Trevor.
Jeff.
Louis.
Vanessa.
Bev.
And Mitch.
They’re all gone.
Gone or changed, I don't know. Maybe they’re hiding. God, please let them be hiding.
All I know is yesterday when they left, when we watched them drive away, I had a sinking feeling in my stomach, the one that currently plagues me. And they never came back.
Mitch lied and somewhere inside me I hate him for that.
But I can’t focus on it. I have to stay alive.
We’re hungry, out of food, tired, scared, and feeling more alone than we ever have.
And leaving the wrought iron gate of the compound feels like the stupidest thing anyone could ever do.
But we do it.
The gate creaks open and we slip out one after the other with Jack leading the way. He does the opposite thing I want to do; he goes up the small hill to the left, away from the beach. Away from the stairs. But we voted and this is the path they chose, the majority. They want to go home. They believe this is over tomorrow on the seventh day.
But I’m scared.
And I miss Mitch.
And Louis.
And Bev, who was really nice.
And Jeff, who I didn't know very well but he kept us alive.
Hell, I even miss Vanessa.
Jack leads and I bring up the rear, with everyone else in a line between us. He pauses, we pause. He runs, we run too.
We make it a block this way, listening and watching and worrying. I’ve never been so quiet in all my life. Inside me isn’t quiet, it’s a storm. My chest is pounding, my breath is ragged, and my skin is dripping clammy sweat from the cold humidity of autumn on the Pacific Northwest Coast.
Jack pauses at the top of the hill, looking both ways as if he’s the teacher and we’re the primary school kids following him. His shoulders lift and lower, suggesting his breathing is also a bit heavy. He points to the right and peers back down the line until his eyes meet mine. I follow his finger to the side road where there are two white luxury minivans parked out front of a nice home.
“Who has matching minivans?” I ask myself.
No one answers but I nod at Jack and he hurries that way, his head moving back and forth as he makes sweeping scans of the yards he crosses in front of. The first van is locked but the second is not. He opens the door for everyone surrounding him to climb in.
“Everyone, cram in the van while we check inside and see if we can find the keys,” Naira says as she hurries to the front door of the fancy suburb house. She listens at the door as Jack and I and Cynthia peek in windows. We all make eye contact and nod at one another before she tries the doorknob. It’s locked.
She knocks softly.
No one moves inside.
Through the window I see cereal spilled on the floor and drawers open. The people who lived here must have left in a hurry.
Jack grabs a rock from the garden that’s painted with a daisy on it and has initials of five people. Not enough kids to explain the two minivans. I’m not sure why but that’s weird for me. Maybe because my dad made such a stink about my mom getting a van.
Mason and I loved the van.
I wipe the sweat from my brow and hold my breath as Jack wraps the rock with his jacket and hits the window softly.
It doesn't break, or even crack. It quivers but nothing. He laughs nervously and hits again, this time harder. The glass cracks but it doesn't break. He hits again and again until pieces of glass fall into the house onto the wooden floor. We all pause and listen, but there’s nothing.
We haven’t seen a single person. I’m scared we won’t see any more people. That we’re it. All that’s left.
Jack reaches in and opens the lock and door, stepping in like this is somehow more dangerous than being out on the street.
We all look back at the van crammed to the brim with kids I don't really know. They’re staring at us, each face tight with stress and worry. And as if this were a horror movie, their faces change. Hands move, pointing and waving, eyes widen. Mouths change shape as if they are all screaming in unison. The van is rocking as they hit the windows.
In a sweeping motion we all swing back to stare into the house again, but we see it too late. It’s not in the house. It’s in the side yard and it’s running at top speed from the left side of the house. The whole world slows down.
Screams become those drawn out, dulled roars that happen when you watch something in slow-mo.
The zombie is barely moving.
Cynthia steps inside the house, pushing Jack with her. She slams the door. I’m sure it’s not on purpose, but it’s not how I expected this moment to go.
“Fuck!” Naira screams and grabs my hand and turns, tugging me to the right. We sprint and my legs strain with the exertion I’m putting out, but nothing speeds up.
The zombie, a blonde lady in Lululemon workout clothes and a fancy silver watch, is missing a chunk of her arm where I assume she was bitten. Her skin is grayish and dull and her eyes are bloodshot. She’s so close I smell the rust on her bloody sleeve.
Naira is screaming which is a mistake. She stops when another zombie comes from the house next door. Naira drags me into the side yard under a vine-covered archway and slams the gate shut so hard that as it passes by me the wind from it brushes my arm. The zombies are stuck in front of the gate, bashing their bodies into it, trying to break through.
We hurry for the back door, jumping onto the deck and closing that gate as well. It’s glass and pretty and not likely to be great at keeping out zombies. Naira opens the back door as I keep watch of the yard.