Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (33 page)

Bits shoves a bite in her mouth and grins. “Mm, Gus!”

“Bits, on the other hand, has absolutely no problem with it,” Peter says.

I take a bite; Gus really is tasty. Dan leans back with his bowl in his hand, completely at ease. He drops a piece of ham for Barnaby, who gobbles it up, and then feeds Sparky one.

“So, do you like dogs or cats better?” Bits asks Dan.

“Both. I like cats because they’re easy, but they have personality. I like dogs because they’re goofy and loyal.”

“Barn’s really goofy,” Bits says, and rubs Barn’s back with her foot. “But we love him anyway. What’s your favorite color?”

“Green.”

“What’s the worst thing that ever happened to you? Besides zombies.”

Dan looks at me. “You weren’t kidding. Um, when my aunt died.”

“Best thing?”

“When I was seven and my brother broke my collarbone while we were wrestling.”

“What?” Bits asks, mouth open. “How could that be the best thing?”

“I was in Little League, which meant I had games and practice on the weekends. I liked playing, but my brother got to stay home and watch cartoons.”

“Why didn’t he have to play?” Bits asks.

“Because Mike was older. He’d already played for a few years. Anyway, on the same weekend as what was going to be the biggest Little League game of the year, my dad got invited to Fenway Park before it opened. That’s the Red Sox stadium.”

“I know,” Bits says. “My dad loved the Red Sox.”

“I knew I liked you,” Dan says, and Bits grins. “Well, I got to go instead of Mike because he’d broken my collarbone and I didn’t have the game. It was first thing in the morning. I got to stand on the field. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen in my life. I got to touch the Green Monster.”

Bits and Peter nod like they have any idea what he’s talking about. It sounds vaguely indecent to me. I ask, “What the heck is the Green Monster and why did you want to touch it?”

“The scoreboard,” Dan says. “It’s a huge wooden board, painted green. It’s still changed by hand. It’s amazing. It was one of the best days of my life.”

I shake my head. “The scoreboard has a name? Who gives a scoreboard a name? I’ll never understand sports.”

“How many years of watching the Super Bowl did it take for you to realize they didn’t always start in the middle?” Peter asks. He was never much of a sports watcher, but he laughed at me the whole night when I finally figured that out.

“Twenty-eight,” I say proudly. “And that’s because I see the Super Bowl as a food and drink event with annoying noise playing in the background.”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Dan says, and eyes my second helping of pasta. Like he should talk: he’s on bowl three. “So that’s why it was the best thing. I also got to choose which cartoons we watched that whole spring. All I had to do was pretend to be upset about missing baseball.”

Bits leans across the table with shifty eyes. “That was kind of sneaky.”

“I know,” Dan says with conspiratorial wink.

Bits sighs, probably because she would give anything for some Saturday morning cartoons, of anyone’s choosing. So would I. We eat by the light of the lantern while Bits interrogates him more. He asks her a million questions, and only after she’s run through every one of her likes and dislikes does he stand.

“I should go,” he says. “It’s been a long day.”

Bits hangs around Dan’s neck until Peter tickles her off. I follow Dan into the night and stand on the bottom step. “You have a not-so-secret admirer.”

“She reminds me of you, you know,” Dan says. “Down to the freckles.”

“I wish I still had face freckles. They’re pretty much gone, except for the gazillion on the rest of me.”

“You’re perfect.”

My stomach churns at the affection in his voice. I’m so far from perfect it’s not funny. “Please don’t say stuff like that. It’s not true, first of all, and it makes me feel weird.”

“Isn’t that what you once said? That the other person should be perfect for you?” I focus my gaze on the neighboring cabin, and he turns my chin back his way. “Sorry. I won’t say it again. Okay?”

“Okay.”

The smile that’s probably won more women than I can count spreads across his face. “But I’m gonna wear you down one of these days.”

I turn to the door to hide my own smile. “Goodnight, Danny.”

“Goodnight, Dingbat.”

His footsteps crunch toward his tent. I wouldn’t mind being worn down by Dan and almost dared him to try. I don’t think it’s possible, but he’d be my first choice.

The sound of the air horn makes me jump, even though I knew it was coming. I leave my crate of zucchini in the garden and walk toward the school. There’s another burst, and then another. Three bursts means move straight to your assigned bug out vehicle. Do not pass go, do not collect two hundred dollars.

The kids pour out of the school with Penny herding behind. She has a list in her hand and reminds everyone where they’re to go. They chatter, but when I raise my eyebrows they quiet down. I take Bits’s hand and head for the VW bus. Peter, Ana, Penny, James and Maureen join us. We only need John and we’re all accounted for. It’s a lot of people to cram in the bus, but we refuse to separate; too much can go wrong out there. Shawn souped up the VW’s engine this winter, and it zooms up and down hills like a dream. Or at least better than it did.

I wave at where Hank and Henry stand near the large school bus. The bus holds half the farm and enough diesel to get them far into Canada is strapped to the roof in metal cans. Josephine stands beside Henry with her hand clamped on Jasmine’s shoulder. Jasmine winces and pats her mother’s hip, but, if anything, it makes Josephine more anxious.

Dan leans against the ambulance with Mike, Rohan and three others. All of the vehicles have been stocked with a week’s worth of supplies and sharp weapons. Some have guns, but most of us wear ours, now that it’s summer. Our packs are small; otherwise, we’d have no room for passengers.

The last stragglers meet up with their vehicles. John checks his watch and calls out, “Ten minutes, not bad. But three bursts is serious. You might not have ten minutes in a real emergency. Remember, I’ll always announce a drill beforehand. If you hear those three bursts, and there’s been no announcement, it’s not a drill.”

Heads move up and down. The sun filters through the trees that border the lot, and birds call to each other. It’s so peaceful, unlike what it would be if this was for real.

“Okay,” John says. “Good job, everyone.”

People walk away from their assigned vehicle, the somber mood replaced by laughter. Barnaby and Gwen, another dog, sit on the gravel, tongues lolling. There’s no way Barnaby can fit in the VW with us, so he’s been assigned to the small school bus. I’m glad—I want Barn to make it, but I’d prefer he shed and slobber somewhere else.

“What about Sparky?” Bits asks. “I have to get her.”

“No, Bits,” Peter says. “You come straight here. If it’s two bursts, you still come straight here and one of us will find her.”

Her eyes fill immediately. “But we can’t leave her here! She’ll die!”

“Bits, this is very important,” I say, and take her shoulders. “I’ll get Sparky, okay? You get to the VW. That’s your only job, understand?”

“Promise you’ll save her?”

I can’t promise that, but I don’t mind lying this once if it’ll get her here. “Promise. Now back to school, Bitsy.”

I shrug at my vehicle partners after she’s left. “You know there’s a good chance she’ll go after Sparky anyway, right?”

Peter watches her skip up the steps of the school cabin. “She doesn’t want anyone to die, including that cat. I’ll get Bits. You get Sparky, but only if you can.”

“And I’ll drive,” Ana says. She takes in everyone’s horrified expressions and sighs. “Kidding. Relax, people.”

***

There haven’t been any more giant pods like the last, but dozens of Lexers fall in the trench every day. We’ve taken to leaving them until there are enough to warrant a trip down the road.

“Let’s take them to the new field,” John says, while we load the trailers with the latest bodies. “The holes are dug. We’ll use it until they’re full and then find another one.”

The field to which we move the corpses is devoid of grass and dotted with deep holes. We used to burn the bodies when a hole was full, but it takes a lot of fuel to get a hot enough fire going. Otherwise we end up with barbecued Lexer and no space to burn the next group. Now, with so many Lexers, it doesn’t make sense. We just make sure they’re far enough away not to contaminate anything useful.

We drag and toss them into the deep holes. I can usually distract myself from what I’m touching, but I gag when the meat of a particularly mossy one’s arm slips off the bone and remains in my grip.

“That’s disgusting,” Jamie says from the corpse next to mine.

I gingerly grab the wrist bones and pull. The woman slides to the ground, and her shirt falls open. The moss has eaten a gaping hole in her belly that’s filled with writhing maggot-type bugs. I gag again, but it’s good news, no matter how disgusting. I’ve never seen a single insect on a Lexer.

“Look,” I say. “Something’s living in her.”

By the looks on everyone’s faces you’d think we were staring at a newborn baby or something miraculous. But it is miraculous, if you think about it—it could mean the birth of a world without zombies.

Nelly sent a message yesterday saying he needed to talk during John’s radio shift. I stand next to John and pick up the handset at the sound of his voice. “Hey, Nels.”

“How goes it, Half-pint?”

“It goes good. How about you?”

“I have some news.” He pauses for a full minute. I’m about to shriek at him to tell me already, when his voice comes again. “So, do you want to hear it?”

“Nelly, stop messing with me!” I yell into the radio. John chuckles at my look of exasperation.

“We’re moving back in October.”

I jump up and down with a squeal. Nelly can’t hear me, but John sticks a finger in his ear like I broke his eardrum.

“Adam found someone to take over the school,” Nelly says. “You guys are going to need a teacher anyway, with Penny having the baby.”

“Oh, that’s cool.” I say in a bored voice and wink at John.

The radio is silent. I can almost see Nelly’s expression of bewilderment. “You’re fucking with me, aren’t you?”

I press the button. “Yes.”

“And on our precious radio time, too.”

“You started it.”

He laughs. “So, less than two months.”

“Two months,” I repeat. “I can’t freaking wait!”

“That’s better. I almost changed my mind for a minute.”

“Don’t you dare. I’ll come get you myself if you try.”

“Don’t worry, we’re coming,” he says. “Come hell or high water. I have to go, they need the radio. I just wanted to let you know. Hate you.”

“Hate you back,” I say. “Bye.”

I hang up the handset and turn to John. “Well, that’s good news,” he says.

“It’s the best news.”

I leave to tell Penny, who was looking for an excuse to let the kids do whatever they wanted for the rest of the afternoon. We decided to run school all summer to keep the kids away from the fences, but it’s more like summer camp.

“I was worried about the kids. I mean, I knew between everyone here they wouldn’t end up dumb, but still,” she says with a grin. “What if she’s colicky or something? I couldn’t teach with her screaming all day.”

We all refer to the baby as a girl. They haven’t even picked out a boy’s name.

“If she’s colicky you’ll hand her off to me. That’s the nice thing about commune living—there are plenty of arms.”

“Maureen’s practically salivating at the thought,” Penny says. “Her daughter had just had her first grandchild last spring. She’d only seen her once.”

“You’ll be lucky if you get to hold her an hour out of every day.”

“You can have nights.”

“Thanks a lot.” I pat her belly. I’m allowed to pat at will, unlike the rest of the farm who have to ask first. “She can stay with me anytime because she’s going to be a perfect angel. Right, Maria?”

“That’s the first time anyone’s called her Maria out loud.” Penny looks down, but not before I see her lips tremble, and I touch her arm in apology. “It’s okay. I just wish my mom were here. I’m scared, especially for when this kid wants to come out. I don’t even want to think about that part. You know she’s going to have to come out, right?”

I wince and then laugh at the terror on her face. “I know. But I’ll be with you the whole time.”

“Promise?”

Now that’s one I intend to keep. “Promise.”

The morning of my thirtieth birthday is hot even before the sun’s up. I lie in bed and stare at the ceiling. I’ve been dreading this day. A twin bed, alone, is definitely not where I saw things going, but the ache in my chest is no longer suffocating. It’s more of a gentle ache most days, something I never thought I’d get to, especially not in so short a time. I guess Peter was right when he said we move on more quickly than we used to, and I’ve made a decision to embrace thirty instead of feeling guilty. Birthdays used to come whether you wanted them or not. These days you have to work for them, and I’m going to enjoy the fruits of my labor—Adrian’s labor.

I head to breakfast, where I make pancakes and receive birthday greetings. The first few are hard, but it gets easier. By the end of breakfast shift I’m more than ready for my fourth decade.

Dan enters the restaurant, paper bag in hand, while I’m finishing the cleaning. “Happy birthday, Dingbat. How’s it going so far?”

“Thanks. It’s good. And when I’m done here, I get to do nothing for the rest of the day.”

“Lucky. I’m on my way to guard, but I wanted to give you something.”

He hands me the paper sack. I want to tell him that he shouldn’t have, but he’s practically glowing with excitement. I pull out a wooden box, no more than four inches long. The dark wood has been so finely sanded and shellacked that it gleams like polished stone in the window light. A border of itty bitty stars runs around the lid, and in the center is a constellation I recognize.