Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (3 page)

“How is it that anyone wants you, of all people, on patrol?” asks a wry voice.

I turn to where Nelly leans against one of the cabins with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Why are you following me?”

“I saw the windmill arms and had to get a closer look.”

He mimics my arms with a look of desperation. I laugh so hard that my foot slips again. Nelly grabs my elbow and sighs, but his blue eyes twinkle.

“Thanks,” I say. “And I’m glad you find me so entertaining.”

“Me too, darlin’.”

Nelly’s unruly blond hair sticks up all over the place, and his cheeks are pink from working outside with the livestock. His left arm never entirely recovered from that bad infection last year, so he doesn’t do patrol unless we’re short of people. He argues that it’s fine and that he’s right-handed. Truthfully, Nelly’s always been broad and strong, so his weakened arm is probably still stronger than most, but I like it this way. It gives me one less person to worry about.

“Want to come to the house with me?” I ask. “I have to change.”

“Sure. I’ll flush the toilet for fun.”

Those who don’t live in the farmhouse make do with the composting outhouses. And unless they’re in one of the tents lucky enough to have its own composting toilet, they have to brave the cold to use them. Nelly lives in one of the men’s tents, along with John. The cabins were given to families and couples. Being the boss’s girlfriend has its perks, besides the obvious one of being in love with him.

“So, did you see Penny?” Nelly asks.

I know he’s under orders not to ruin the surprise. “How crazy is it that she’s pregnant?”

I’m staggered that Penny, my best friend since the age of ten, is having a baby. We’d planned—when we were twelve and still sure we could order up the life we wanted—to have kids together, so they’d be best friends, too. That’s not happening, but some of that hazy future has just arrived with a bang.

“Yup, it’s crazy all right,” Nelly says. “What did you think happens when you have unprotected sex?”

He’s happy, though; I can see it by the way he tightens his lips so as not to smile. “Oh, stop! Can’t you just be excited?”

“Oh, my God, I’m so psyched!”

“You’re an ass. I know you’re happy.”

He pats my hand and grunts, which is as close as I’m getting to agreement.

The restaurant clangs with the sounds of dinner, and my stomach growls at the drifting aroma of marinara sauce. I haven’t eaten since breakfast. Killing the infected kills my appetite as well, but now I’m ravenous. I’d sneak in and grab something, but people avoid you when you’re wearing your Lexer gear. There’s no way they’d let me in.

We take off our boots in the sunroom. The white farmhouse has a porch that spans the front and old windows that let in tons of cold air, although they’re lovely to look at. I poke around in the kitchen pantry, but someone’s eaten the cookies I stuck in there. The bread is gone, too. I’d hoard food in my room if it weren’t for mice.

“Scavengers ate my cookies!”

“I’ll bet anything that scavenger’s name was Bits,” Nelly says.

He throws himself onto the couch in the living room and puts his feet up on the coffee table. “I’ll be watching the game,” he says, picking up an imaginary remote control and aiming it at an imaginary television.

“I’ll make you and the guys some sandwiches when I’m changed, honey.”

I climb the stairs to the bathroom, where I wash up and bundle my jeans for the laundry. Adrian’s already been back to our room: his gloves and leather jacket hang on their hooks, with his spotless boots underneath. The room was his, but I’ve added my own touches since last summer—namely in last night’s pajamas thrown over the desk chair, the teetering stack of books, the papers where I’ve scribbled lists or notes or doodles and the art supplies that I find impossible to keep organized.

There’s also the addition of a twin bed in the corner, where Bits sleeps when she’s not with Peter. Peter and I joke that we have split custody, and she comes and goes as she pleases. Adrian hadn’t expected to become a father-like figure to a now eight year-old girl, but he loves Bits dearly.

Bits was orphaned by Bornavirus LX, although her parents died at the hands of men who weren’t infected. Her father died in an explosion at the school where they’d taken refuge from the Lexers. Her mother wasn’t so lucky—a group of men fed her to the infected while Bits watched. I don’t often think of Neil, the leader of those men, and how his head exploded out the back when I shot him, because it’s never exactly pleasant. Except for the fact that he’s dead. That is kind of pleasant.

I shake my head to banish the image and look out the windows. The ring of mountains that surrounds us is still white with snow, their peaks bristly with the branches of barren trees. The mountains of the Northeast aren’t huge, but they’re tall enough to offer some semblance of protection and a feeling of security. Sometimes I feel like nothing can touch us here, with our fences and weapons, but I know it’s not true. It’s dangerous to think that way. I sigh and pull on my shoes.

I watch people eat their spaghetti and meatballs and entertain the idea of grabbing a plate out from under one of them. I’ve reached a new level of hunger since breakfast, but I’m very aware that I don’t know what real hunger is. There must be people out there who are starving, who died of starvation over the winter, while I’ve had three, or at least two, squares a day.

A dinner roll floats over my shoulder and jiggles in the air. I turn to find Adrian attached to the other end and take a bite. “That is so good,” I moan through a mouth full of the yeasty bread I kneaded this morning.

“You were practically drooling. I thought I should feed you before you did something you’d regret.” Adrian always notices things like that, and not just with me. That’s why everyone loves him.

“I was so hungry,” I say, and rip off another bite. “Thanks.”

“Are you ever not hungry?” Nelly asks. “Seriously, it’s flabbergasting.”

“I like food. Would you rather I have that Body Dysmorphic Disorder thingy? I have a healthy approach to food.”

“Yeah,” Adrian says, “any food you approach, you eat.”

Nelly laughs. Sometimes when we’re all together it’s like having two big brothers.

“I can’t help that I grew up eating good food and appreciate it.”

“A lot,” Nelly adds, and turns to Adrian. “So, did you hear the news?”

“Penny?” Adrian asks. His eyes widen when I nod. “Wow.”

Bits races in the door, with Penny, James, Peter and Ana in tow. I offer her the last bite of roll and lift her petite body in the air. At times, because of her size and nightmares, I forget she’s eight. She’s grown up a lot this winter, but she still has a paralyzing fear of Lexers, and I’m worried about the summer that will assuredly bring more.

“How was school, Bitsy?” I ask.

“Penny’s pregnant!” she says into my ear. It was supposed to be a whisper, but her enthusiasm makes it more of a yell.

I kiss her freckled cheek. “I know. But I think she wants to keep it a secret for now.”

“It’s a lost cause,” Penny says with a shrug. “When I was leaving the infirmary, I dropped the test and at least four people saw it. Everyone has to suspect by now.”

Sure enough, people glance at her quickly and look away smiling. It’s impossible to keep a secret while living in such close quarters, and their suspicions are not laid to rest by Adrian’s congratulatory hug.

She pats her stomach ostentatiously. “Might as well give them something to talk about.”

John and Maureen enter the big door just after we’ve sat with our food. They’re often together, and I think it’s only a matter of time before something romantic develops. It might have already—John is the only person who could keep it from the other one hundred people here.

They sit in the seats we’ve saved for them, and John bows his head for a silent grace before digging in. His salt-and-pepper beard is whiter than last fall, and he’s filled out more due to all the farm work. If Adrian’s the manager of the farm, John’s the foreman, and he runs a tight ship.

Maureen has a brown bob, laugh lines, and round cheeks that get plumper when she smiles at the other tables. She and John are surrogate grandparents to the fifteen kids who live here. Sixteen, if you include Penny, and I don’t think she’ll be the last. We have little to no contraception left; it’s one of the first things we need to find when the snow melts. Maureen taught us how to chart our monthly cycles, but if Penny the straight-A student is any indication, it’s not foolproof.

“Cassie, I know I said I was staying with you tonight, but can I stay at Peter’s again?” Bits asks, spaghetti dangling from her lips.

“Suck up that worm, baby bird,” I say. She slurps it up and licks the sauce off her lips. “Sure, as long as it’s okay with them.”

Peter nods. “Sure. Any reason why?”

“Well, when will I be able to feel the baby move?”

“It’ll be months, Bits,” Penny says with a laugh.

Bits frowns but then shrugs and swings her feet that don’t hit the floor. “Aren’t you supposed to read to babies? I could read to it if you want.”

“I bet it’d love that.”

“
Her
,” Ana says. She twirls pasta on her fork. “Not
it
.”

“You’re going to be disappointed if it’s a boy,” Penny says.

“She’s not, so I won’t.” Ana swings a leg up onto Peter’s lap, completely confident in her prediction. This baby wouldn’t dare be a boy now.

Dan stops at our table with a plate loaded with spaghetti and a mound of meatballs. “Hungry?” Adrian asks him.

“Just a little. You’re going to Whitefield in the next couple of days, right? I was wondering if you could bring a letter there for me.”

“Sure. Just drop it off at the house.”

“Love letter?” Nelly asks. Dan smiles but says nothing.

“A girl in every port,” I say. “How do you find the time?”

“Granted,” Nelly says to me, “there are ninety-nine point nine percent less girls than there used to be, but still.”

Dan eats a meatball and chews slowly while we tease him. He swallows and points his fork at us. “Chicken coop plans, people.”

“Well, we were right about it being for chicks,” Nelly says.

Dan laughs and moves to his table, where he commences eating with a gusto that may rival mine. The talk turns to Whitefield, the Safe Zone in New Hampshire. The 157th Refueling Wing of the Air National Guard evacuated to the tiny airport last year. We help them with their farm in trade for fuel, but it isn’t all about barter. They’re our closest neighbors, and we help each other out the way neighbors should, even if we are eighty miles apart.

“I want to get that moss there,” Adrian says. He explains what we found today, and the faces at the table turn hopeful when they realize what it could mean.

“Are you going?” Nelly asks me.

“Yep. I’m sure you’re going.”

I wink at him, and he shrugs. “I have to. They need help with the cow inseminations.”

Adam lives in Whitefield. Nelly’s never been serious about anyone he’s dated and, true to form, refuses to admit he likes Adam. He dodges my inquiries by saying that he doesn’t have much choice, since Adam’s the last gay man on Earth. But I know they would have hit it off even if the world hadn’t ended, and I’m pretty sure Nelly’s in love.

“Right,” I say. “What do you know about cow inseminations that they can’t read in a book? For instance, are cows more likely to get pregnant in the winter or summer?”

“Summer.” It’s obvious he’s guessing. He grew up with cattle on his parents’ farm, but unlike his brothers, he never had much interest in them.

“Ha!” I yell. “Winter!”

“I had a fifty-fifty chance.” Nelly narrows his eyes at me. “What the hell do
you
know about cow inseminations?”

“That’s the only thing. I heard someone say it one day. So, are you coming to Whitefield, or do you want me to bring a love letter for you?”

“I’m coming,” he mumbles.

I pinch his rosy cheek, glad I’m not the only one around here who blushes.

I read on the bed while Adrian organizes himself for the morning. His jeans and shirt are draped over a hanger and he’s set out his hunting knife and the random things—a lighter, little pliers and a spool of wire—that he always carries in his pockets. It’s hard to not feel lazy when you live with someone so neat. I look at my various piles and try to feel inspired, but I’m dead inside when it comes to organization.

When Adrian’s done, he sits on the edge of the bed and squeezes my ankle. “We always said we’d have a baby sometime around now.”

I toss my book to the side. “The idea of a baby is nice. The reality is very different.”

“I know. We’ll have one someday. A little pink baby with freckles, like you.”

“Only someone who hasn’t spent their whole lives burning and peeling and getting sun poisoning would wish that on a child.”

“I like your pinkness.” His hand travels up my leg and under my shirt. When it gets higher, he asks, “What’s going on here?”

I kneel and pull my shirt over my head. This lacy purple bra—which still had the tags on, because wearing a dead person’s sexy underwear just feels weird—cost me four laundry shifts and assorted other favors, but Adrian’s face makes it worth it.

His hands move under the straps. “I like it.”

“You were supposed to. You should see the matching underwear.”

“Yes, I should,” he says. I strip off my pants, and he runs a finger down my stomach and hooks it in the top of the purple lace. “You’re so hot.”

I stick out my tongue and cross my eyes, and he tickles my side. “Especially when you do that. Any guy here would love to be with you. You know who has a crush—”

“Could we not discuss the legions of apparently invisible men who are dying to get in my pants? There’s only one person I want in my pants.”

Adrian isn’t the jealous type. It was a little weird when Peter showed up at the gate last fall, but it was worse for us than for Adrian. He was over it in days, while Peter and I tiptoed around for weeks and tried not to look too friendly. The lack of jealousy would almost be offensive if it wasn’t because he knows he has nothing to worry about.