All Our Tomorrows (26 page)

“Computers. Medicine.”

That’s better, I think.

“Milkshakes!”

“Milkshakes?” David replies somewhat incredulous at my comment. Such a notion must seem absurd to him standing here with hundreds of zombies growling outside.

I nod. To my mind, if they have milkshakes, they have everything. What else is there? I say, “If we can get her there, they can help.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” David says, pointing at the street in front of the building. Thousands of zombies have crammed into the street, lining the footpath, filling every available space on the road. I’ve never seen so many zombies. They’re a grunge rockstar crowd minus the band.

“Where did they come from?” I ask as we walk forward to the front of the building. Zombies continue to run in from both directions, pouring out of the old mall and coming down along the broad avenue beside us. In a matter of minutes, the street has gone from desolate to being packed shoulder to shoulder. Abandoned cars line the road, but the aging concrete is hidden beneath a sea of ravenous zombies.

“There are so many,” I say, my heart sinking.

“Thirty six rounds,” David says, standing beside me. “Less seven fired out there. Less three more for us. Leaves twenty six. We can take twenty six of these bastards with us, but no more.”

A rhythmic pounding echoes through the floor.

“Steel fire door,” David says, responding to the look of concern on my face. “They’re in the stairwell. I thought they’d given up.”

“How are we going to get out of here?” I ask.

“We’re not,” David says. He’s so matter of fact, it’s scary. He knows no amount of wishful thinking is going to save us.

“There must be something we can do,” I say, looking around. “What else do you have? Any more weapons? Food? Water?”

David hands me a water canteen, saying, “Less than a gallon, then it’s just a matter of time.

“There’s an alley at the back, but the retaining wall on the other side is easily thirty feet high. We could use the alley to form a bottleneck and negate their numbers, but they’ll still be ten to twenty abreast. If we can reach the wall, we could climb over, but Jane...”

I nod, sipping at the water. The water is cool, soothing my raw throat and lifting my spirits.

David could have left her already, but he hasn’t. He could still. But he won’t. He’s telling me I can go. But I won’t. Not without both of them.

I rub at the floor-to-ceiling glass window, looking at thousands of arms reaching for us from the street. The constant banging on the door behind us is unnerving. Although it’s a steel door, it seems as though the lock or hinges will give way at any moment.

David sits on the edge of a desk. He’s in no rush to go anywhere. I sit opposite him, lifting myself up onto the desktop and feeling my boots hanging freely from my feet.

I want to tell him about Ferguson. I want to tell him how heroic his father was, but I can’t bring myself to tell David his dad is dead. My heart breaks. I can’t do this to him. I can’t crush the life out of him as well. It’s best he thinks his father is still out there somewhere. He must know Ferguson would never abandon him. He’s probably waiting for Ferguson to lead the marauders over the hill and come to the rescue.

Out of nowhere, David becomes all chirpy and says, “Oh, Haze. I almost forgot. Happy Birthday!”

“Birthday?” I ask, screwing up my face. I’m stunned.

“It’s your birthday, right?” he says, smiling. “Jane told me. She said she wanted to get back to spend the day with you. It was all she could talk about.”

Although I note that mentioning Jane while seeing her near death is a bit of a downer for him.

“I guess it is,” I say, mentally trying to keep track of days and dates. I’m not even sure which day of the week it is.

“So it’s Wednesday?” I ask, wanting confirmation. David nods. “I guess that means I’m seventeen.”

David smiles, but doesn’t say anything else. He has a big cheesy grin on his face. I’m tempted to think all my friends are about to jump out from behind the overturned tables and crushed filing cabinets, yelling, “SURPRISE!!!”

“So,” David asks. “What are you going to do for your birthday? Other than get eaten?”

We both burst out laughing.

We have to laugh.

Laughter is defiant.

Life laughs at death.

“I wish I could take a picture of this,” David says, gesturing toward the mass of zombies outside. “Look at all your friends. They’re all here to wish you a Happy Birthday.”

“The cameras!” I say, feeling a rush of adrenaline at the sudden mental connection.

“Cameras?” David asks with a confused look on his face.

I’m about to explode with excitement. “The scientists. They saw us. All of us. They saw the cars we rolled down the hill.”

“So they have cameras and spacesuits?” he says, waving his hand up and down at my torn, bloodstained suit.

“Yes. They wear these. The zombies leave them alone. Zee can’t smell them when they suit up.”

David listens. He’s smart. He might look like a dumb jock, but he’s not.

“They have a car,” I say.

“Do they have an army?”

“No.”

“How many?”

I feel embarrassed to reply, saying, “Five. Counting Steve.”

“Steve?” David’s face lights up. It’s crazy. I just assumed he knew. He has no idea. “Steve’s alive?”

“Yes. Yes. He’s hobbling,” I say. “But he’s doing fine.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

David smiles, shaking his head. I can sense the relief he feels just having me here. He’s been trapped on this floor for almost two days now. He must have lost hope, thinking he’d never see anyone human again. And suddenly, here I am. And now I’m telling him his best friend is alive.

“You know what we used to call him, right?”

“No,” I say, not aware the boys had a nickname for Steve, but I’m guessing it’s not entirely complimentary given Steve’s not the most muscle bound guy in the commune. Being of Asian American descent, Steve’s scrawny by comparison with David.

“Shark bait!”

I laugh.

David laughs as well.

“Not enough meat on those scrawny bones,” I say fondly.

“Haha. No. There’s not … Damn. Steve. He made it! That’s good. I like that.”

There’s resignation in his voice, relief that someone will make it out of this alive even though we won’t.

“So this car?” David asks. “Is it like a Hummer or something? A big nasty four-by-four with a grunty V12 engine? Big, fat, off-road tires? Bull bars? Armor plating? Tell me it’s got a goddamn Gatling gun mounted on the roof.”

Somewhat diplomatically, I wait for him to finish, knowing my response is going to take him by surprise.

“It’s an electric sports car.”

“What?”

“With no doors!”

We both burst out laughing again. If we weren’t laughing, we’d be crying. Oh, how I’ve missed David and Jane. It’s good to see him smiling.

This is the end. As much as I want to fight—there’s nothing we can do. It’s just a matter of time, and time is on Zee’s side. We both know it.

“The cameras,” I say, my mind grasping at straws, resurrecting a thought from moments ago. “Steve can see us.”

“Are you serious?” David asks. “Like right now? In here?”

“No,” I reply, looking along the street. I can’t make out any cameras on the side of the mall, but I know they’re there. Jackson, or was it Ajeet? One of them said there was another camera further down this street in the other direction. A traffic camera. I see it over by the freeway off-ramp.

“There!”

David follows my gaze, looking where I’m pointing.

A traffic camera sits on a tall pole facing the intersection.

“And he can see us from there?” David asks.

“Yes,” I reply. “Although he probably doesn’t know we’re in here. He probably thinks I’m dead.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” David says. He jogs over by Jane and picks up a baseball bat. The tip has broken off, but it’s still useful as a club.

“Nathan!” I cry.

“Yep. Found him up in that office.”

David walks up to one of the windows and swings the bat with all his might, striking the glass roughly in the center. Thousands of tiny shards of glass explode outward, showering the zombies below the building in a hail of safety glass. Large sections of the window still hang in place, so David methodically knocks them out of the window frame, sending glass crashing into the zombie horde.

The zombies react as one, howling and screaming, crying out in rage. Seeing us, they surge toward the building, crushing each other, their arms outstretched above them. It’s as though they think they can reach us if they can just stretch a little further.

David holds onto the aluminum frame and leans out of the window, waving with the baseball bat. I wave too, hoping Steve can see us. I don’t know why, but it fills us both with joy to know he’s escaped and that he can see us. There’s nothing he can do for us. Nothing anyone could do for us with thousands of zombies clamoring for our blood, but it feels good to be seen.

David asks, “Can he respond in some way? You know, wiggle the camera or something?”

“I don’t know. I don’t think so. Most of this stuff is so old it barely works, but he’ll be looking. I know he will.”

I’m glad Steve knows I’m still alive. There’s something satisfying about cheating death. That death will never be cheated is lost on me in the moment, and I feel as though I’ll live forever.

“Wait a minute,” I say, getting excited. “We can talk to him!”

“How?”

I undo the chin strap on my Snoopy Cap, pulling it from my head. A small cable dangles from the back of the cap.

“This. There’s a microphone and earpieces—headphones.”

I rush over to my backpack, adding, “We just need power. If I can reconnect the life-support unit, we can talk to him.”

There are a variety of plugs and hoses on the back of the life-support pack, but none that look even vaguely familiar, and I remember Elizabeth plugging something in behind my neck. With my hand reaching back over my head, I feel a small plug under the collar ring. It’s a similar shape and size to the plug on the cap. I clip the two ends together. There’s about half a foot of thin, loose cable, so I gently pull the cap around to where I can see the two plugs and ensure they’re locked.

“Okay,” I mumble to myself, looking at the mess of cables and wires coming from the life-support system. “Something has to power this thing.”

One by one, I hook up the cables I so desperately wanted to tear from my suit not more than five minutes ago. David watches me intently. I guess he thinks I know what I’m doing. I don’t, but one of the umbilical-like cords causes the tiny LED lights on my wrist controls to glow.

Power.

“Hello?” I ask, holding the earpiece up and speaking into the microphone. “Is there anyone out there? Can anyone hear me?”

There’s no response.

“Steve? Elizabeth? Ajeet? Anyone?”

David watches me with intense concentration. It’s not possible for him to hear anything, so he’s looking for the faintest sign of contact in my facial expressions.

“Hello?” I ask, not sure if I’m talking to myself.

The radio crackles.

“Haze?”

“STEVE!” I cry out, almost jumping for joy.

David sits next to me on the edge of the desk. I turn the cap inside out so he can hold his ear against one of the tiny speakers.

“Oh, Steve,” I say, not sure what to say next. I hadn’t thought this through beyond simply making contact. Just hearing his voice is enough for me. “Steve. David’s here.”

“David?”

“Yes,” I say, turning the microphone to one side so it sits near David’s lips.

“Hey, buddy,” David says. He’s grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“And Jane?” Steve asks.

“She’s here,” David replies.

“She needs help. She needs medicine,” I say, feeling the desperation of the moment.

“Did you retrieve any of the tablets?” Steve asks, which is uncharacteristic of him. I expected more concern for Jane, but I understand the importance of these tablets to the scientists around him. I wonder if they’re whispering in his ear.

“Yes,” I say. “David has a box of them.”

Steve says, “We need those tablets.”

“I know.”

The radio crackles.

“Hazel, listen. Are you there?” Steve asks.

“Yes. I’m here.”

“This is important,” he says. And for a moment I’m confused. I get that the tablets are important, but I sense that’s not what Steve’s talking about. We’re surrounded by thousands of zombies. Everything’s important. One missed detail and we’re dead.

Steve speaks methodically, articulating his words so nothing is lost over the radio waves.

“Jackson. He’s here with me, but his mic’s broken. He figured it out.”

“Figured what out?” I ask.

“We saw you,” Steve says. He’s breathing heavily. His mouth must be close to a microphone.

“On the traffic cam?” I ask. “When we broke the window?”

“No,” Steve replies. “I mean, yes. We saw you climb on the roof to escape. We saw when you broke the window. You waved, but that’s not what Jackson saw... It’s you, Haze.”

“Me?” I ask.

“They’re after you.”

“Oh,” I say, laughing. “I think I’ve figured that one out by now.”

“No,” Steve replies, and I can hear the frustration in his voice. He’s trying to explain something without scaring or upsetting me. “We watched the video from the hallway, while you and I were moving through the ducts. Remember?”

“Yes,” I say.

“The zombies. They were reaching for you.”

There’s something about the way he says, “you,” that makes my blood run cold.

“They weren’t reaching for us. They were after you. Just you.”

David and I look at each other, listening intently to what Steve’s describing.

“Not all of them. And this is important. Jackson says it’s important.”

I can hear the muted, muffled sounds of someone talking in the background to Steve.

“He says roughly half of them were after you.”

“I don’t understand?” I say.

“Remember the old ones,” Steve says, panting between breaths. At a guess, he’s on the move. “I saw them, remember? Back when my dad had us camped with the National Guard. The old ones were directing the herd.