Until the End of the World (Book 1) (34 page)

“Just a couple more things,” I say.

I throw some shampoo and soap in Nelly’s bag. We go through it like crazy, even with not showering as much as we used to. I grab every box of condoms I can find. Nelly raises an eyebrow.

“I thought we’d start being friends with benefits,” I say. His bandana puffs out when he laughs. “They’re for Penny, dummy.”

“At least someone’s getting lucky.”

“Seriously.”

Ana looks disappointed when we leave without a single undead altercation. We’re loading the stuff when we hear the drone of a motorcycle coming up fast. John turns the key in the ignition and we ready our weapons. There’s no time to leave.

The motorcycle turns into the lot, followed by an RV. The motorcyclist waves his hand in the air for the RV to stop and pulls up within shouting distance. He’s a big guy in black leather, with long gray hair, but he looks friendly enough.

“Hi there,” he yells. “Name’s Zeke. You mind if I come closer?” He opens his jacket to show us a holster. “I’ve got one weapon holstered. Sorry, I won’t take it off, though.”

John nods his assent and holsters his gun but indicates we should keep ours out. Zeke heaves himself off the bike and lumbers over. Up close he looks to be in his fifties.

“You’re the first live people we’ve seen in days,” he says with a smile. “Mighty glad to see you, too.”

We introduce ourselves. Zeke tells us that he’s come all the way from Kentucky. “We’re headed to Whitefield, New Hampshire. You’ve heard of the Safe Zone there? We figured we’d throw in our lot with them.”

“You’re a long way from Kentucky,” John says.

“Tell me about it. Had to give a wide berth to all the major cities. New Jersey was a complete and total nightmare.”

“So nothing’s really changed,” I say with a grin, before I can stop myself.

Zeke stares at me, and for a moment I’m afraid I’ve insulted him with my joke. But he throws his head back, showing a set of perfect white teeth, and laughs until his cheeks are red and drenched with tears.

“Oh, man, I needed a good laugh,” Zeke says, as he blots his face with a bandana.

John insists Zeke’s companions get out and stretch their legs. At Zeke’s word they spill out of the RV like clowns out of a tiny car. There’s a family with two kids, three sisters, two sets of married couples and assorted single people. We exchange brief stories.

“We barely made it out,” says the mother of the family. “We almost lost my husband, but Zeke came by and helped us.”

Every story involves Zeke, and I watch him with growing fascination. The man has picked up these assorted people and is leading them to safety. He’s like the anti-Neil. We tell them about Neil and what to expect inside the store but that there’s plenty.

“Thanks. We’ve run up against some murderous folks, too. So, do you have plans to head to a Safe Zone?” Zeke asks.

“We’re pretty well set up here,” John says. “But we have plans to go if necessary.”

Zeke strokes his chin and nods. “Right now y’all are pretty lucky. No Eaters here. But we’ve noticed they’re forming into huge groups. We’ve been calling them pods. Like a group of whales? They don’t seem to pay each other any mind, but they stick together. Also, they seem to be on the move. Maybe looking for more of us, now that the cities are mainly empty.”

Ana’s face is desperate. “Do you know anything about New York City? Brooklyn in particular?”

Zeke shakes his head. “Sorry, I don’t, except there’s one group broadcasting out of the city. But keep your eye out for those pods forming up. Figured we’d be safest among a lot of people up north, especially once it gets cold.”

“Zeke, what did you do before all of this?” I ask. “Were you military or something?”

“Nah. Name’s not even Zeke. They started calling me Zeke for Zombie Killer, as a joke. Z.K., get it? Martin George, D.D.S., at your service.”

“You’re a dentist?”

He laughs his big laugh again. “Yup, so if you get a toothache, you’ll know who to look for.”

We wish them luck and watch them head into Wal-Mart before we leave. I wonder if we should have asked them to stay with us, but where would we put them all? John must be thinking the same thing.

“I do wish we had more people,” he says. “Maybe we should talk seriously about moving to a Safe Zone before winter. But traveling to it’s going to be dangerous, and I hate to chance that, unless we’re forced to.”

“I like where we are,” Ana says. “I might want to try out these weapons, but I haven’t lost my mind.”

“Can I talk to you?” Peter asks.

My head shoots up so fast it hits Flora in the side and she gives a
baa
of protest. I stop milking and spin around. Peter leans against the wall, hands in his pockets.

My own hands tremble and I clasp them together. “Okay.”

“Can we try to be friends?”

I remember asking him the same thing not too long ago. “I thought you didn’t want to be friends.”

His face is expressionless, but his eyes are full of some emotion I can’t read. “Well, I would like to be now. We have to live together. I’m trying really hard, Cassie.”

He sounds irritated that I don’t appreciate his effort.

“Only you would have to
try
to be nice, Peter. So you’ve spent the past month being an active participant here, but that doesn’t erase how you’ve treated me or what you’ve said.”

“Can I apologize? You know, I think Adrian—”

I can’t believe he’s bringing up Adrian. I stand so fast I knock over the milking stool. “Don’t even say another word, Peter. I already know what you think. You made it very clear and, actually, it’s none of your fucking business.” I know my face is bright red, and it’s all I can do not to scream. I blink back tears. I will not cry in front of him. He shifts uncomfortably against the wall. “And you don’t
offer
to apologize. Or
ask
to apologize. If you’re really sorry, you just apologize.”

His face is red now, too. Whether it’s because he’s angry or embarrassed, I don’t know and don’t care.

“Can I start over?” he asks.

“You can do whatever you want, Peter. With absolutely no repercussions. I’m pretty sure that’s been established.” It may be unfair, but I say it anyway. His face falls for a second and then tightens back into its normal expression. I grab the milk bucket and stomp to the house.

Nelly brings me another tray of dried peas. I pour them into a jar and use the pump to remove any excess air. James cuts green beans and Penny loads them into jars for the canner. No sooner have we caught up than Bits comes in with another bowl.

“Peter says there’s tons more up high where he can reach,” she says.

“Goody,” Penny mutters.

Her hair is stuck to her temples with sweat. It’s a hot day and every window is open, but the breeze is non-existent. Add all the running burners, and the kitchen is an oven.

“Thanks, Bits,” I say, and take the bowl.

Bits grabs a few beans and munches on them like she’s been doing all day.

“Hey, Bits, you’d better not eat too many.”

She looks worried and her chewing slows. “Why?”

I try not to smile. “Too many fresh green beans can turn you green. I guess you didn’t know that.”

She considers what I’ve said and watches me carefully. “Cassie, I know you’re kidding!”

We grin at each other. “My mom almost got me with that one when I was little. I think you figured it out faster than me, though.”

She bites the tops off another handful, like she’s daring them to try to turn her green, and skips out the door with a wave of her hand. We’ve been reading the Little House books, and she’s thrilled to be doing the same things as Laura. She’s been bugging us to get a pig so we can butcher it in the fall and build a smokehouse. John told her he’d see what he could do.

“I’m freakin’ dying,” Penny says. She lifts her hair and fans her neck. “How did your parents do this all summer?”

“You just picture all the jars lined up on a shelf in the winter and it cools you down,” I say. She looks dubious. “Okay. You sweat your ass off, but it’s worth it anyway.”

“Plus, we really have to do it,” James says. “We’re going to need food.” He chops the latest installment of beans and whistles.

“Have you
ever
been angry, James?” I ask. I wish I could take a pinch of him and sprinkle it on myself.

He looks confused. “Sure.”

He catches Penny’s head shake out of the corner of his eye and puts his hands on her waist. “I don’t get angry at you because you’re perfect.”

Penny blushes. I make a face, even though I think it’s cute. “Yeah, yeah, young love,” I say. “Seriously, even when you’re angry you only seem half angry.”

He shrugs. “I just don’t get all worked up about stuff. I never have. Life’s too short, especially now.”

I know he’s right. I tell myself that over and over again, hoping it will sink in.

John actually found a skinny, neglected pig for Bits. She’s named him Bert, and she tries to clear the table before we’ve eaten the food on our plates so he can have it. I’m not quite sure how the whole butchering in the fall thing is going to go. I have a feeling we’ve acquired a pet pig.

Bits is so good-natured she seems impossible to spoil. When I see the photograph of Bits and her mother, I try not to imagine her tied up, screaming. Or forcing herself not to scream, desperate for extra seconds before the infected reach her. I wonder if it was that much worse because she knew she was leaving Bits unprotected. I hope she can see us and her heart is at peace. I hope she can hear me when I promise her we’ll do the best we can.

Bits still believes in fairies. At first I thought it strange, but we live in a world with zombies, so maybe fairies aren’t so farfetched. We planted a fairy garden and we lie in wait for them in the grass. We haven’t caught one yet, although once I watched Peter surreptitiously sprinkle glitter over the plants so she would find it in the morning.

Peter tries to be civil to me, even though, at best, I pretend he doesn’t exist. At worst, I’m bitchy and short-tempered with him. It seems like no sooner do I think something mean than it comes out of my mouth. I’m not proud of it at all, but I can’t seem to stop.

I’m on a ladder in the barn, nailing the loose boards. It’s looking like a real barn these days, with hay and bags of feed stacked up for winter. Bert snores in his pen, Flora and Fauna hop around and the chickens cluck softly. It even smells like a barn, in a good way.

I turn to say something to Nelly, who’s mucking out the goat stall, and the ladder wobbles. “Shit!” I yell.

I grab the wall to steady myself as Peter appears. He grips the base of the ladder and looks up at me. “The ground’s uneven here. I’ll hold it while you finish up.”

I don’t want his help. I don’t want to owe him anything, not even a
thank you
. I whack a nail and shake my head. “I’m fine.”

“I don’t want you to fall,” he says.

I don’t know why he can’t just leave me alone. “Peter! I. Don’t. Want. Your. Help. Leave me alone.”

Peter’s shoulders stiffen. He lets go and leaves the barn quietly, although he gives the door a good slam. I give the nail another whack and try not to feel guilty. The ladder steadies again, and I look down at Nelly’s stern face. I know that look.

“What?” I ask.

“Remember how you used to tell me that Peter was a nice guy underneath all that bullshit?” I nod and look away. “Well, you were right. Hey, can you believe I’m admitting you were right?”

He’s joking to soften the fact that he’s reprimanding me, but I still feel heat creep up my neck.

“He’s doing everything he can to show he’s sorry, Cass. He took me aside to apologize for having been a jerk, even before all this went down. You have to see how much he loves Bits, how good he is with her? He has risen to the occasion. It just took him a little longer and one big mistake.”

I nod again, but I’m so ashamed I can’t look at him.

“You’ve never held grudges. So why now? You need to forgive him for what he’s said and done. You’ve said your share at this point, too. And stop holding him responsible for the things he’s not responsible for.

“You don’t know what Adrian’s thinking. Neither do I. Neither does Peter, for that matter. And there’s no way to know right now. So stop acting like you know, first of all, and stop taking it out on other people. We all have our own shit we’re going through. Adrian’s alive, be thankful for that.”

I think of Eric and what I would give to know his fate. Of everybody else’s families and how desperate we are for news of them. I once said that knowing Adrian was alive was enough, and it was true then. I’ve gotten so mixed up.

“You’re being mean, Cassie, and you aren’t a mean person. Give Peter a chance to prove he’s changed, okay?”

He reaches his hand up. I grab it but keep my eyes on the dust motes swirling in a patch of sunlight. He squeezes once. “Love you, Cass. I’ll leave you alone.”

I watch him leave and rest my head on the ladder rungs. Nelly’s right. I’ve denied Peter the one thing I want most for myself: forgiveness. Instead of understanding it might have been impossible for him to be the person I expected him to be, I’ve been punishing him, nursing hurts and grudges and holding it against him. Which is exactly what I fear Adrian has done. That he can’t forgive me for having been weak and lost. I haven’t been able to forgive myself, so I didn’t think Peter deserved it either.

It’s time to let it go. To accept that whatever is, is. To embrace and enjoy what I do have. Because I know that right now, in comparison to the rest of the world, it’s an awful lot.

I wait until Peter’s alone on the front steps carving away at a small stick and force myself over to where he sits.

“Taking up whittling?” I ask, and try to smile.

He drops the stick and raises his hand in the air. “I don’t know, maybe. Does that meet with your approval?”

His voice is exasperated, on the defensive. I fight the urge to storm off. I haven’t said a nice word to him in a month, so why should he know that I plan to now?