This World We Live In (The Last Survivors, Book 3) (9 page)

I was just finishing the tissue packet when Syl rode over. We were south of our meeting spot, but she must have looked around for me, and since I was on Howel Bridge Road when I fel , I couldn't have been too hard to locate.

"You're a mess," she said, helping me up.

"I rode into a pothole," I said.

Syl nodded and straightened up my bike. "Which wil be easier?" she asked. "Riding or walking?"

Either way, it was going to be a mile uphil . "How about letting me die here?" I asked.

"Laura would never forgive me," Syl said. "Do you need a few more minutes?"

What I needed was a completely different life. "I'l try walking," I said. "I'm feeling too wobbly for the bike."

"Al right," Syl said. She grabbed the handlebars of her bike with her right hand and the handlebars of mine with her left, and began pul ing them behind her, while I hobbled by her side.

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"You'l be al right," she said after a few of the most agonizing yards I've ever walked. "You couldn't make it this far if anything was broken."

Just because I knew it was true didn't make me any happier to hear it.

"I remember once, months ago," Syl said. "Right after the air got bad. The band I was with--"

"You were with a band?" I asked.

"Not that kind of band," Syl said. "When you're on the road, you find bands of people to travel with. By foot, by bike, even by truck."

"There are trucks?" I said. I couldn't remember the last time I saw a truck.

"Of course there are," Syl said. "How do you think food gets to Howel ? And they're always bringing supplies to the safe towns. They're not supposed to give people lifts, but sometimes they do."

"Were you with a band of people when you met Matt?" I asked.

"Just one other person," Syl said. "We'd split off because he wanted to try fishing in the Delaware.

Anyway, this happened last summer. We were in South Carolina, I think. There were a half dozen of us, and we saw a man lying on the side of the road.

You could tel right away his leg was broken, and he was screaming in pain."

"Did you do anything?" I asked.

"There was nothing we could do," Syl said. "Even if we'd set his leg, we couldn't carry him with us. If you can't keep up with a band, you get left behind.

People died al the time, but mostly when they were dying, they were quiet or moaning. This guy must have broken his leg right before we saw him. He was going to lie there on the side of

was going to lie there on the side of

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the road for days before he died. He knew it. We al knew it. Eventual y he'd pass out, but until then he was going to scream because he was in agony and because he knew he was going to die."

"And you left him there?" I asked.

"One of the guys I was with said we should put him down," Syl said. "Maybe someone else did. We didn't stick around to find out."

"Did you ever tel Matt that story?" I asked.

"No," Syl said. "I haven't thought about it in months. It was the way your bike was overturned that made me think of it. One of the guys I was with took the bike and rode off. If you had a bike, you didn't stay with people who were walking."

"Would I have gotten left behind?" I asked. "I mean, after a fal like I took just now. If I couldn't keep up with everyone else?"

"Oh yeah," Syl said. "Sure. But you would have found another group in a day or so. There were always groups of people to grab on to."

I hated the story of the guy with the broken leg, but I kind of liked the image of al these groups wandering around together. When you've shared a room with the same three people for months, fresh faces sound appealing.

We walked in silence for a while, and I fantasized about a group of good-looking guys and me. It's a good thing I have a permanently gray complexion or else Syl might have noticed how hard I was blushing.

Mom wasn't too happy when she saw how I looked, but she found some peroxide and cleaned my palms and knees. Suddenly, I was six years old again and had fal en off my bike.

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She was glad for the books, though, and Syl appreciated the blue jeans. Jon didn't say anything about the air freshener, so maybe ocean breeze isn't his favorite.

May 28

The worst night I can remember in ages.

I've been having nightmares for a couple of weeks now, ever since I got lost. Horrible dreams about the mound of bodies. A lot of times I see us in the mound, or I think I'm with Mom and then I look around and there's the mound and I have to climb on top of it to find her.

Twice I had dreams that I was in Mrs. Nesbitt's house after she died, and I'm looking around for things and wherever I turn, there she is. Both times I woke up thinking Mrs. Nesbitt was stil alive, and I had to remind myself that she was dead and I had gone through her house, with her body lying on her bed, and that I had believed at the time it was okay to do that.

One dream I had was so much like a horror movie, it was almost funny. Mrs. Nesbitt and I were playing tennis (which is a funny thought right there), and I looked up at the stands and everyone watching the match was dead. Nobody I knew, though. They al looked like ghouls.

I don't know if I've been in a bad mood because of the nightmares or if I'm having the nightmares because I'm in a bad mood. Probably both. I know I haven't been sleeping wel , and that hasn't helped.

But last night I had nightmare after nightmare. I don't know if I ever woke up. It felt like one dream led directly to another. In one I was going through someone's house and I opened a closet door and piles of corpses fel out. Then I was in the same house and I opened a different door and the 90

dead people were al people I knew. Then I saw Mom sitting in a rocking chair, and she said, "Don't look at me like I'm dead," only she was dead.

But then I had the worst dream--maybe the worst dream I've had in my life. I was walking to school and everything was normal, the way it had been.

The sun was shining, and I remember how happy I felt seeing the sun again. I wasn't sure if everything was back to normal or if none of the bad things had ever happened. It didn't matter. The sun was shining, and I was walking to school. The closer I got to town, the more people I saw. Everybody was happy, so I realized the sun had returned. We were al celebrating because we could see the sun again.

Then I heard someone screaming, and I looked down at a man, his leg twisted horribly. I knew right away it was the man with the broken leg Syl had told me about. It was like I wasn't asleep anymore because I thought, Oh, that's the guy Syl mentioned.

Then I thought the man was Dad, which was when the dream turned into a nightmare. But I realized it wasn't anyone I knew, and I remember thinking, Okay, this isn't going to be another nightmare after al .

I felt like I was awake and this was al truly happening.

Everyone who was walking stopped, and some of the people came back. There must have been ten or fifteen of us standing around the guy, who kept screaming. Someone said, "Shut up already," and kicked the man in his leg.

Then other people started kicking him, and--this is the worst part--I started kicking him, too. I thought, If I don't join in, they'l kick me. But part of me enjoyed it, because I was okay and this guy, who somehow represented everything that had been awful for the past year, was lying there helpless.

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The more we kicked, the louder he screamed, and the more excited I got.

In my sleep I thought, This dream is going to turn and I'm going to be the person lying on the ground, but that never happened. I guess I woke up before it could. I know I was shaking when I woke up. My body hurts al over from the fal , but I swear my leg hurt even more, like it ached from kicking.

A month ago I was dreaming about Baby Rachel.

Dreams I thought were scary.

For the first time ever I hoped there was no Baby Rachel. I don't know what happened to Dad and Lisa, if the baby was ever born. It must be so hard now to have a baby. Lisa could have miscarried or had a stil born baby. Horrible though that is, it might be for the better.

I tiptoed out of the sunroom and through the kitchen to the bathroom. It smel s of fish and bedpans and ocean breeze air freshener. I curled up on the cold tile floor, and I rocked back and forth, glad it made my body ache even more, like I deserved the punishment for what I'd been thinking.

I hate my dreams. I hate Matt for bringing Syl into our lives, and I hate Syl for giving me her nightmares. I hate this world we live in.

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June

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***

Chapter 8 June 1

The doorbel rang.

Mom and I sat there, frozen by the sound. Syl was upstairs napping. Matt and Jon were chopping firewood.

The doorbel rang again.

Mom gestured for me to stay absolutely stil .

"Laura? Laura? Are you in there? It's me, Lisa!"

"Oh my God," Mom said. "Lisa?" She raced to the back door and opened it. "Lisa? Is that real y you?"

Lisa was crying. "Please," she said. "Please let me in."

"Of course," Mom said, and gathered Dad's wife in her arms. "Oh, Lisa. I'm sorry. I'm in a state of shock."

"Where's Dad?" I asked. "Is he here? Is he al right?"

"Yes, yes, he's out front with the baby," Lisa said.

"Everyone's outside. Hal thought it would be safer if I came first, that it wouldn't frighten you as much if you heard a woman's voice."

At least I think that's what she said, because before she was halfway through, I had run through the house, passing Syl on the stairway, and flung the front door open. There he was: my father, stil alive, home where I could hold him and never let him go.

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"Miranda, Miranda," he said. "I knew this day would come. I never lost hope."

"Oh, Daddy," I said, and the tears streaming down my face were tears of joy for a change. "I don't believe it. I can't. It's too good to be true."

Dad laughed. "It's true al right," he said. He turned to one of the other people he was with, a girl, I noticed, and took a baby from her arms. "Meet Gabriel," he said, handing the baby to me.

I was so stunned the baby's name wasn't Rachel, I almost didn't reach out. Gabriel e's a pretty name, I told myself. It was my fantasy she'd be named Rachel, no one else's.

Dad was beaming. "This is Miranda, your sister and your godmother," he said to the baby. "Miranda, this is your baby brother Gabriel."

I looked down at the baby I was cradling. "It's a boy?" I said.

"He was born right after midnight on Christmas Day," Dad said.

For months now I've dreamed of my little sister, Baby Rachel. A few days ago I was in such despair, I'd hoped she'd never been born. And now I was holding that very baby, only it was a boy and it was screaming.

"He cries a lot," the girl said. "You get used to it."

Lisa and Mom had come to the front door. "Come in, everyone," Mom said. "Syl's gone to get the boys. Please, come in. You can warm up in the sunroom while I make a pot of tea."

Lisa took the baby, Gabriel, from my arms, and for the first time I real y looked at the people Dad was with. They were unloading their backpacks and taking their coats off, so they didn't seem to notice that I was staring at them.

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There were five altogether, if you count Dad and Lisa. Six if you include the baby. Besides Dad, there were two guys: one maybe in his thirties, the other one more my age or Matt's. The girl who'd been holding the baby looked young, close to Jon's age. Everyone's so thin nowadays, and gray and sad, you can't real y tel ages anymore. Except the older guy wasn't thin. He wasn't exactly robust, but he certainly wasn't thin.

We fol owed Mom into the sunroom. "It's so warm in here," the younger guy said.

We had the woodstove going, of course, and one of the electric heaters was on. Mom has it in her head we'l use less firewood that way.

"Please," Mom said. "Make yourselves comfortable. Lisa, is there anything I can do for the baby?"

"He's hungry," she said, and she began to nurse him. The other people--their band, I guessed--acted like this was the most normal thing in the world.

I didn't have to figure out where to look, since Syl, Matt, and Jon burst in. Jon held on to Dad even longer than I had, and then Matt got his turn to hug Dad.

"This is Syl," Matt told them. "My wife."

"Your wife?" Dad said, giving Matt an extra congratulatory hug. "When did that happen?"

"Three weeks ago," Matt said.

"May I kiss the bride?" Dad asked, but he didn't wait for an answer. Instead he gave Syl a hug, which she resisted for a second, but then responded to with a hug and a peck on Dad's cheek.

"Can you believe it?" Dad asked. "My son got married."

"Congratulations," the older of the two men said, and gave Matt his hand to shake. "That's wonderful news. Hal

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talks so much about you, but he never once guessed he had a daughter-in-law."

"Are you from around here, Syl?" Dad asked.

"Did Matt go to school with you?"

"No," Syl said. "We met nearby."

"That's great," Dad said. "Lisa, darling, can you believe it? Matt's married."

"And you had your baby," Matt said.

"A boy," I said. "Gabriel."

"I have a baby brother?" Jon said. "Wow."

Dad laughed. "It's al wow," he said. "Oh, I'm sorry.

There are introductions to make. It's just--wel , I know you understand. Laura, everyone, this is Charlie Rutherford, and Alex and Julie Morales. And in case you haven't figured it out, this is Laura, the mother of my beautiful children Matt, Miranda, and Jon. And now Syl, my unexpected daughter-in-law."

There we were, eleven of us, crowded into the sunroom. If Alex Morales had thought it was warm before, our body heat and the lingering smel of fish now made it almost unbearable.

"It takes a while for the kettle to boil," Mom said.

"Please, everybody, sit down. Miranda, get the mugs, and the tea bags."

I went into the kitchen. The girl, Julie, fol owed me.