Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (9 page)

Adrian sits next to me, and I hand him the first box, which he rips open like a little kid on Christmas morning. He holds his iPhone in the air. “My phone?”

I nod and give him the bigger box. He pulls out the charger that James made. It has a USB port and a solar panel that flips open, but it folds down to be carried in a backpack.

“Sweetie, I can’t. I love it, but I—”

I make a shushing noise and thrust his card into his hand. The glitter on the front drifts to his jeans as he reads the inside aloud, “We, the people of Kingdom Come Farm, insist you charge your phone and listen to music whenever you want. Love, everyone.” He looks up with a furrowed brow. “Did you make everyone here sign this?”

“Every single person. Even Penny’s baby signed it.” I point to the tiny baby foot in the corner. “And I didn’t have to make them. They wanted to, I swear. Turn it on.”

When the home screen appears, I press the music app, and then all his music is there, in his hand.

“So, what are you going to play first?” I ask.

“I—” he says. My heart falls when he grips his phone silently and presses his lips together. It’s not going to work, even with the card. I mentally line up all the arguments I prepared. But then he gives his biggest smile—the one with teeth and dimple and shining eyes. “Wow.”

I bounce up and down on the bed. “You’ll use it?”

“Yeah, I’ll use it.”

“And please don’t feel guilty. Everyone really, truly wants you to have it and James said that panel wouldn’t work in the system anyway and it was the thing you named in
I Miss
—”

He covers my mouth with his hand. “Okay, okay. Thank you, I love it. It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

“Play something already!”

He scrolls through his millions of songs and chews his lip. Adrian lives for music the way I live for books, and he’s looking for that first perfect song.

“Here,” he says. He touches the screen, and “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” begins.

“Good choice.”

“It’s for you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” I start to argue, but he silences me with a shake of his head. “You are the kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out. Don’t ever think I don’t know how lucky I am.”

For once, I decide to take the compliment. It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.

Art class is over when Ana arrives at the school. The self-portraits are coming along nicely. The kids put away their sketches and line up at the door like good little robots, but you can still see their excitement. They love Ana, partly because she gets them out of the cabin and partly because she’s so enthusiastic about being their PE teacher.

Today she’s set up boards to jump over and scramble under while she has them run. She made up a game that the kids named Dodge Tag, but which we privately call Zombie Tag. In this game almost everybody’s “it,” and the few who aren’t have to escape them. It may be called PE, but it’s not just for fun; they’re learning to evade, although they don’t know it. They have no idea that Ana’s obstacle courses give them stamina and the crazy ball games improve their reflexes.

We try to protect them from the worst of it, but they all know how to aim and fire a gun. They also know how to use a knife, and everyone knows where to stab it. But mostly, we make sure they know how to run. We want them fast and tireless. If they didn’t have such short legs, they’d probably be faster than me.

“Okay,” Ana says as they file out the door. “Get on your teams and get ready. You’re not getting dinner unless you win.”

She winks at me when they giggle. I follow them into the sunlight and talk to Ana while the first team finishes. Ashley stands next to us and crosses her arms.

“I don’t see why I can’t do patrol,” she says. “I’m sixteen. I don’t know why I have to sit in school with all the little kids.”

“It’s
because
you’re sixteen,” Ana says. “You should be learning, not spiking zombies.”

“You could use me. I’m trapped in there all day, and I hate it.”

“If you do patrol, you have to do poop day and all the other gross jobs, too,” I say. “I’d rather be in school. And every teenager hates being trapped in school all day. It’s part of being a teenager.”

She isn’t convinced, though, and she narrows her eyes. “That’s when school was normal. There’s not even anyone to hang out with.” She makes that teenage noise in the back of her throat. “I hate my life!”

“How about I talk to Maureen and Nancy about letting you do guard every once in a while?” Ana asks.

“Really? Oh my God. Thank you, Ana!”

Ashley rushes off to join her team, and I turn to Ana. “They’re never going to let her do it.”

“I know. But it’ll be their fault, and she’ll love us and hate them.”

“You’re diabolical. I’m so glad you’re on my side.”

Ana grins and calls the kids over. “All right, now we’re going to go for a run. Cass, want to come?”

I back away slowly. Ana made me run with her all winter and stab things in ice-cold barns. I gave in because I didn’t want to get out of practice, but there’s no way I’m running now that we have Lexers to kill. Not unless I’m being chased.

“Shucks,” I say, and snap my fingers. “I’ve got dinner shift. See you later, everyone.”

***

I stand behind where Adrian splits wood under the cover of the trees behind the barns. Summer may be coming, but we need wood for the kitchen year-round, and it takes a lot of wood to keep everyone warm in the winter. Cords of firewood are under the barns’ eaves in tarp-covered stacks, with more waiting in piles to join them. I take a moment to admire the way Adrian’s t-shirt sticks to his back. He wasn’t a slouch in the muscle department to begin with, but now with the farm work we have to do by hand—it’s one of the silver linings in a very dark, zombie-shaped cloud. Barnaby sits by his side and squeezes his eyes shut every time the axe falls, due to the fact that with every third strike a wood chip smacks him on his head.

Adrian looks down and nudges him with a boot. “C’mon, Barn. Move it.”

Barnaby gives him a doggy grin and stands his ground. Adrian pats him on the head and then pushes him, but Barnaby leans into his hand and pants happily. He’s not budging.

“Well,” Adrian says, “if you’re not going to move, then I can’t be held responsible for what transpires.”

Adrian positions both hands on the axe and swings. I wait for a lull and call out his name, but he doesn’t turn; he must be wearing his ever-present earbuds. When he stops to swig water, I sneak up and pull the old fourth-grade trick of pushing the back of his knee with mine. He spins around in surprise and pulls out his headphones

“If I were a zombie, I would’ve bit you,” I say.

Adrian laughs. “Art class over?”

“Yep. I’m on guard tonight, and I’m filling in for Penny at dinner, so I wanted to give you a goodnight kiss.”

He grabs my hand and makes loud kissing noises up and down my arm. “But how will I sleep without you, sweet cheeks?”

“Snuggle with Barnaby.”

Barnaby wags his tail and looks receptive to the idea. He arrived last fall with his name tag still on, otherwise we would have named him something halfway normal. It said he’d lived down south, near Manchester. How such a clueless animal found his way to us, I’ll never know, but he immediately decided that Adrian was his Person.

“You will, won’t you?” Adrian asks him, and kneels down for dog kisses.

“Maybe I don’t want that goodnight kiss after all. God only knows what’s been in there today.”

“Old Barn and I have an understanding. He’s even learned a trick.”

He stands and points his finger at the ground. “Sit, Barnaby.” Barnaby looks at Adrian’s finger and remains on all fours.

“He did it earlier. Sit, Barn. Sit!” Barnaby continues to watch him blankly.

“Great trick,” I say.

“Stand, Barn. Stand up.” Barnaby wags his tail, and Adrian gives his head a pat. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

“You’re a dog whisperer. The likes of which have never been seen.”

“I know.”

The light filters through the branches and casts highlights on Adrian’s cheekbones. His eyes are green against the brown tree trunks, and his smile is so broad that I want to freeze the image.

“Let me see your phone,” I say. “I’m taking a picture, so be good.”

He pulls it from his pocket. Usually, he balks at having his picture taken by himself, but he keeps smiling until I’ve finished.

“Perfect,” I say. “We should take more pictures, now that we can.”

I decide to behave when he turns it on me and then move around so we’re both in a shot. He drags his tongue up my cheek as he presses the shutter.

“Yuck!” I yell, and scrub my cheek with my hand. “I don’t want your germs on me!”

“That’s not what you said the other night.”

I push him. “One more. A nice one this time.”

Dan comes around the barn and when he sees what we’re doing he insists on taking the shot. He hands it back and picks up an axe.

“Hey, Dan,” I say, and point it his way. “That’s a keeper. I’m definitely putting you two in the Hunks of Kingdom Come Calendar.”

They laugh, and I turn to Adrian for a kiss. “I’ve got to go. Goodnight, my little puppy dog.”

I wave goodbye, and as I walk away I hear Dan ask, “Can I call you puppy dog?”

“Absolutely,” Adrian answers. “If you want to be banished for life.”

I tip my head to watch the stars in the night sky down at the first gate. The thin, white streak of a meteor moves across the sky and fades away.

“I just saw a shooting star,” I say. “Everyone make a wish.”

“You know, it’s not really a star,” Nelly says.

“Yes, Mr. Spoilsport, I know it’s not really a star. Forget it—I’m not sharing my wish with you.”

Peter laughs from his chair. The three of us pulled night duty tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day.

“So, Peter, Ana hasn’t been asking to do patrol constantly,” I say. “Did you talk some sense into her, or what?”

“I wish. It’s the garden,” Peter says. “She’s too busy bossing Adrian and Ben around. She’s driving them crazy.”

May is days away, and although the last frost date this north isn’t until the end of May, it’s time for the cool season vegetables to go in. We still have potatoes left in the root cellar, but I want a big spinach salad and carrots in the worst way.

“Adrian can handle it,” I say. “Remember, he knew her for years. He likes that she’s into the garden now. And she grilled him on it all winter, so she does it his way, mostly. Ben, on the other hand, might be losing his mind.”

I was out there today, and watched Ana stand Ben down about whether the carrots should be sown closer together. Finally, just to get rid of her, Ben let her plant some of them her way to see if it worked better.

Footsteps crunch on the road behind us. It could be our hot drink delivery; sometimes someone takes pity on us and sends us food and drink.

“It’s Dan.” He appears in the lamplight and sits in an empty camping chair. “What’s up?”

“You on tonight?” Nelly asks.

“Nah, I was bored.”

“You were
bored
?” I ask. “Bored enough to come to the gate and
work
? That’s really, really bored. Stupefyingly bored.”

Dan chuffs out a laugh and shrugs. “Well, I wanted to get out of there.”

“Out of where?”

“The tents.”

“Why?” I ask. Dan shakes his head and looks at the ground.

“Cass, can’t you tell when a guy doesn’t want to talk about something?” Nelly asks.

“Of course I can. I just don’t care.” Dan snorts, and I put my palms together and beg. “C’mon. Tell us!”

“It’ll never leave this table?” Dan asks. We nod solemnly. I like to know what’s going on here, but I don’t spread it around. “Well, Meghan and I have been hanging out a lot.”

“What does that mean?” I rest my chin in my hand and furrow my brow. “This ‘hanging out’ that you speak of? Are you guys playing Parcheesi or something?” Nelly snickers.

“Parcheesi,” Dan says. “We’re definitely playing Parcheesi.”

“So, do you like her?” I ask.

“Yeah,” he says, but he stretches it out, so it’s more like
Yee-aaah
. “She’s a really nice girl.”

The three of us groan. Dan raises his shoulders. “What?”

“That’s the Dan Death Knell of relationships,” Nelly says. “That’s what you say about everyone you date, right before you break up with them.”

“It usually lasts three to five weeks,” I say. “Then you’re done.”

“What number is Meghan?” Nelly asks me.

“I don’t know. Four, maybe?”

“What the hell, do you guys keep track?” Dan asks. Nelly and I nod; we’re not ashamed of what we do for entertainment around here. The lines around Dan’s eyes deepen. “So I’m that predictable?”

“Yup,” Nelly says. “You could set your watch by it.”

We fall into a comfortable silence and watch the sky. That’s pretty much all we do out here, interspersed by small moments of craziness when we have to kill things that were once people. We still haven’t had any refugees.

“There’s no one keeping track of the sky anymore,” I say. “You know, like what star has burned out, or where the asteroids are or anything.”

“Maybe we should do that,” Nelly says, “instead of keeping track of Dan’s love life.”

Dan punches Nelly’s shoulder and says, “My dad would be, if he were here. He knew all the constellations. He’d quiz all us kids whenever we went camping.”

“I’ve always wanted to learn the constellations,” Peter says.

“Me, too,” I say. “Show us some.”

Dan leans back and points out the Big Dipper, then shows us how to follow it to the Little Dipper and the North Star.

“I thought the North Star was brighter,” Nelly says.

“It’s brighter than most of the stars around it, but it’s not very bright. See those stars that make a W? That’s Cassiopeia. She was beautiful, but so vain that she was punished and sent to the sky where she’d hang upside down for half the year.”

“Those Greeks really knew how to punish folks,” I say. “They were so creative.”

“I’d say a world full of zombies is a pretty creative punishment,” Nelly says, and looks at his watch. “Time to walk the fence. I’ll go east.”