Night Resurrected (26 page)

strand falling loose over her shoulder,

and she was flipping through a rack of

dresses. “Spare me that image, please.

My stomach’s a little weak lately.” Her

smile could only be described as

sweetly sly.

“Oh yes I am doing it to you,” Flo

said. “Your brows are out of control,

Zoë dear. They’re practically spiders. A

well-arched brow makes all the

difference,” she said, turning to lecture

Remy. “It’s the foundation of elegance.”

“She read that in a magazine,”

whispered Jade.

“Where did you get all of these

gorgeous clothes?” Remy asked Flo,

looking at rows and racks of dresses.

She’d never seen anything like most of

them—the glittery fabric, the fur, the

feathers, the impracticality of it all.

The older woman smiled, showing a

juicy dimple on one cheek. “My mother

was one of the survivors of the Change,

and she worked here as a showgirl when

this city was Las Vegas. The glitz, the

glitter, the glam, she used to say. The

way she explained it, she raided as many

of the wardrobes as she could—I have

no idea why, when people were trying to

survive. I guess it was her way of

holding on. Maybe she thought they

would be important for history’s sake.

Anyway, she saved a lot of these things.

I’ve made some. And remade others.

Collected even more from scavengers.

It’s sort of an obsession.” She grinned

wider.

“Obsession’s

a

freaking

understatement,” Zoë muttered.

“So tell us about Selena,” Sage said.

She turned, holding a bright blue dress

with a flowing skirt. “How’s this, Flo?”

“You always wear those long, loose

skirts,” Jade said, lifting her head a little

to look. “Why don’t you try something

different? Something short? Let Simon

get a look at your legs for once.”

Sage smiled slyly, which gave her

innocent face a layer of something

naughty. “Simon gets plenty of chance to

look at my legs, trust me. And I like this

style. It’s the color I’m wondering about.

Flo?”

“I approve,” replied the older

woman. “But Jade’s right—you could try

something a little shorter. What do you

think about this, Zoë?” She held up a

small piece of black material that

sparkled. “It’ll be great with your skin

tone.”

“What the hell is that?” Zoë

approached

cautiously,

but

with

curiosity in her face. “Don’t tell me it’s

a frigging
skirt
.”

“No, it’s a tube top. It goes around

here.” Flo demonstrated on her own

torso. “You could wear it with that

white jacket and black skir— Oh, all

right—
pants
,” she added with a sigh.

“Although a long skirt would look

better.”

A knock on the door interrupted

whatever argument Zoë might have been

about to make. “You all decent?” a

female voice called.

“Come in,” Flo called. “The more the

merrier!”

One look at her face told Remy the

motherly woman meant it. She was in

her element with a roomful of females

who needed her.

At the invitation, two more women

came in. One was very tall—probably at

least six feet—with long, streaky blond-

brown hair and a rich caramel-golden

tan. She had such a beautiful smile it

took Remy a moment to notice that she

walked with a pronounced limp. “Hey,

all. This looks like fun.
Whoa.
Is Zoë

holding a
skirt
?”

“Over my dead-ass body. It’s called

a tube top. Which
you
wouldn’t be able

to wear because you’ve got an
assload

more boob than I do.”

“I don’t know, Zoë. That baby’s

giving you a lot more curve than you had

before,” teased the tall woman. “Even

Fence noticed.”

“Aw, fuck that. When
doesn’t
Fence

notice a woman?”

“When he’s looking at Ana,” Sage

said, unraveling the towel from her hair.

“Damn straight,” agreed Zoë.

“Welcome to the zoo, Ana,” Jade

said with a grin. “And welcome to you,

whoever you are. I hope you came ready

for Flo to take you under her wing.” This

last was said to the second young

woman, who was looking around the

room with the same sort of trepidation

that was on Zoë’s face.

“This is Cat,” said Ana. “She and her

father arrived from Glenway just in time

for Survivors Day. Her sister is my

friend Yvonne.” There were quick

introductions of the rest of the women,

including Remy to Ana.

This was good. Now she knew who

Ana was. Hopefully, she’d be able to

find time to talk with her sometime

tonight and see what she knew—if

anything—about the crystal.

“Cat doesn’t have anything to wear,”

Ana explained.

“I didn’t realize this Survivors Day

thing was such a big deal,” interjected

the newcomer. She had dark brown hair

that curled in tousled waves around her

face and jaw. Her eyes were the color of

coffee beans and she had a smattering of

youthful freckles across her nose. Even

so, she looked as if she were in her

twenties.

“It is a big deal,” Sage said. “There’s

an official Thanksgiving celebration in

memory and gratitude for the people

who managed to live a year after the

Change; sort of like the one Americans

used to celebrate in November. That

happens in June and has been celebrated

ever since the first year after the

devastation. But a while back, Vaughn—

Mayor Rogan, I mean—thought it would

make sense to honor the people who

actually survived the Change. Some of

them are still alive. They did so much to

rebuild our world by planning and

saving all sorts of things. Without them,

we wouldn’t have a lot of the things we

have today—things like black pepper

and strawberries. Information about

solar panels. And a whole lot of other

basic things.”

“Besides that, it’s a great reason to

have a big party,” Jade said with a

laugh. “And the only thing we’re

missing, I think, is a bottle of wine.”

“Well, funny you should mention

that,” said Ana, setting a bottle on the

table. It was filled with pale yellow

liquid. “Yvonne’s husband Pete sent a

few bottles of the mead he makes. And

trust

me

when

I

tell

you—it’s

wonderful.”

“I’ll get some glasses,” said Flo,

bustling over to one of her cabinets.

“Zoë, you’re next. Take Jade’s place,

please.”

“Okay, Remy, now back to Selena.

Give us the dirt,” Jade said, shoving Zoë

into the chair she’d just vacated.

“Selena is a very special person,”

Remy said, hiding a grin at Zoë’s

terrified expression. “She’s got a special

gift for helping people—as they’re

dying, but also when they have

something . . . terrible . . . happen. And

she does this thing with the zombies that

. . . helps them.” She glanced at Zoë and

decided not to go into detail.

From Wyatt and Theo, she knew that

Zoë had a much different approach to

handling the zombies than Selena did.

“There’s something peaceful about her.

She really helped me, uh, get through a

difficult

time.
But
,”

she

added,

“Selena’s not a pushover. She and Theo

are really happy together. He helps her

stay strong with her gift—which can be

really difficult. And he’s completely nuts

about her.”

“I’m so glad,” Sage said, sincerity in

her voice and demeanor. “He’s a very

special guy. A good friend. He used to

bring me books all the time when he was

out—”

“Holy mother of the world, where

did you get
this
?” Zoë’s exclamation had

everyone turning to look. She was

miraculously out of the chair and holding

up Remy’s new bra. “This is beyond

hella
awesome
.”

Remy grinned. “I scavenged it. We

found an old truck trailer and there was

a lot of stuff in it. I found a bunch of

other things—panties and tank tops. But I

had to leave them behind in the zombie

attack. And there was this one pair of

panties . . . at least, I think they were

panties. It was black, and nothing but a

triangle in front, and a string—er—up

the back. You know what I mean?”

“A thong,” Flo said, handing Remy a

glass of the mead.

“It has a fucking
string
?” Zoë

repeated, taking her own glass—which

was only about a third full. “Up the

back
? You’re supposed to have a string

up your ass-crack? How in the hell can

that be comfortable?”

They all laughed, and for the first

time she could remember, Remy realized

she was having a good time with other

women.
This must be what it’s like to

have sisters. Or best friends.

How had she missed this much of

life?

Chapter 13

W
yatt had completely forgotten about

Survivors Day.

Just what I do
not
need.

Hoping to avoid people, he’d come

into Envy through the back way, using

the secret tunnel Theo and Lou Waxnicki

had designed half a century earlier when

the protective wall was being built

around the city. The old, cracked

Wendy’s sign marked the entrance from

the exterior, and the route included

passage through an old railroad car and

a massive metal culvert. It came out on

the far west side of the enclosed part of

the settlement, an area that was

abandoned by all but rats, stray cats, and

more than a few ugly snakes.

Hidden beneath and inside the barrier

built of rubble, the throughway was

known only to a limited number of

people. As Lou Waxnicki had told Wyatt

and his friends:
You always have to

have a back door, whether you’re

writing code or building a fortress.

You never knew when you were

going to need a way out . . . or a way in.

Now, back in the inhabited part of the

city, Wyatt stalked grimly through the

structure that had once been the Vegas

resort New York–New York. The

building was the place where most of the

residents of Envy lived, using the hotel

rooms as small living spaces. Of course

few of them were outfitted with kitchens,

so meals were generally taken at one of

the two community restaurants run by the

City of Envy and staffed by the residents

of the settlement. Everyone took a turn

on KP, or somehow supported the co-op

by growing or raising food, or

contributing other resources like keeping

the appliances working, the solar panels

in shape, and the water flowing. There

were a few small, private kitchens, he’d

learned, but most people liked and

preferred the community setting. It was

like
Cheers
on steroids.

Every single day.

Unfortunately for Wyatt, this meant if

he wanted to eat, he’d have to brave the

frivolity and celebration below. And he

had

been

traveling

rapidly

and

efficiently for two days, hardly stopping

to eat or sleep, so he was hungry and

tired.

Once he’d assured himself Remy was

safe—although whether being with Ian

Marck could really be considered safe

was a good question—he stopped

following them. The tender scene he’d

witnessed between Remy and Ian, when

Ian eased her up against the Humvee and

reached up to stroke her cheek, was an

early indication. But just to be sure, he

tracked them a little farther, easy to do

while in the trees and following the very

slow progress of the vehicle. It was the

passionate kiss in the creek that had