Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (15 page)

Darkness has fallen by the time we sit in the living area of the family barrack. Kyle strokes Nicole’s tiny pigtails while he runs down the inventory of what we brought today. Whitefield has supplies for now, but a patrol will be necessary soon. Nicole’s eyes flutter and her lips move on her thumb while she sleeps. She was glued to her dad’s side all day, and I happen to know she kicked her thumb-sucking habit a few months ago. Even the littlest ones, who’ve been kept from the worst of it, know enough to be scared. Kyle’s all she has; she did have a mother, and Kyle a wife, but when they returned home from preschool to head to the base, she’d been on the lawn eating their dog.

After we’ve made plans to patrol, we spread out our sleeping bags on command’s carpeted floor. The green pin remains stuck in Idaho. I’m almost glad it’s still there because I can’t imagine having to tell Adrian’s mom that we’ve lost him forever.

I slip out once my roommates’ breathing becomes regular, nod at the people who man the radio and walk into the night. The dim lights guide me to the spot where Adrian proposed. Sometimes I wonder if I should have kept the ring, but I don’t want it without him. The star ring on my right hand means more to me than that little diamond because I like to think it led me back to him.

The roar of Zeke’s motorcycle draws near. He parks it by his dental office, which means he’ll pass where I stand. I’m blinded by his headlight before the engine sputters off. His boots thud as he nears, and then I’m in his solid arms.

“I thought that was you, sugar. Jesus, I’m so sorry. So sorry. How’s my girl?”

I cry softly at first, and then I’m sobbing and my nose is running and I gasp for air. Zeke holds me until it’s become hitching breaths and looks down at me with such concern that I want to reassure him that I’m okay.

I attempt a smile. “That was more than you bargained for, I’ll bet.”

His laugh bounces off the buildings. “Girl, my mama would’ve loved you. C’mon, let’s go shoot the shit in my office.”

Zeke’s office is built into the last remaining storehouse. He’s scavenged enough dental equipment to make it a full service establishment. It even smells like the dentist’s office. I recline in the exam chair while he putters around.

“Have you been flossing, sugar?” he asks. I love when he calls me sugar, especially since it comes out like
sugah
.

“Zeke, you are first and foremost a dentist. Yes, I’ve been flossing. And, before you ask, I still make Bits floss, too.”

“You’re one of my only flossers. I couldn’t stand it if you stopped.”

He asks me every time I see him. When he found out that I’m slightly neurotic about tooth care, he was over the moon.

“So, why would your mom have liked me?”

He sits in his rolling chair and puts his feet on his desk. I close my eyes to listen. “She admired spunk. She could find something to laugh about, no matter what, even after Daddy died. She was such a smart-ass. I remember, one time, I must’ve been nine…”

I’m listening, but his voice gets fainter and fainter, until it fades away entirely.

I wake up under a blanket in the chair. It looks like early morning, judging by the gray light that shines through the window and onto where Zeke’s head rests on his desk. The chair squeaks when I swing my legs over the side.

He leans back with a groan. “Glad you got some sleep.”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep in the middle of your story. I haven’t slept much.”

“I’ve put many a woman to sleep with my long-winded stories. I’m used to it.”

“That’s not possible,” I say. “Not someone as rugged and interesting as you.” The way Zeke and I tease each other comes so naturally that I feel close to normal, until I remember it’s the start of another day. I sink to the edge of the chair.

“How ‘bout some breakfast?” Zeke asks, and pretends he doesn’t notice. “But first, we brush our teeth.”

Penny finally agreed to switch rooms after I’d spent another week in the tent. I kept the painting, his phone and his knife. Some of his things went back to general supplies, and Penny helped me store the rest in the attic. I sat on the bed and watched her do most of the work while I cried. We had it down to a science—I held her hair back while she puked, and she handed me handkerchiefs when the old one was too sodden to do any good.

But I haven’t cried for two days straight. It’d been almost three weeks of tears, and I was tired of it. I’m sure everyone else was, too. There have been no more pods, only small groups of Lexers that hit the fence several times a day. I do guard almost every night, and I’m no longer afraid to walk the fence line alone. The Lexers don’t scare me, and when I stab one in the eye the satisfaction is immense. Every ounce of hate drives my spike into a brain—but at least instead of wallowing in my misery, I’m putting it to good use.

When not on guard, I stare at the pages of books without reading, I talk to Bits without listening and I lie awake at night, staring. It’s only in the morning, when I hear people starting their day, that I’m able to sleep for a few hours. It’s noisier on this end of the farm, in amongst the cabins and large tents, but I like our little cabin. The bedroom I share with Bits is big enough for a single bed, a cot and a dresser. The walls are wood, with a window and a row of hooks where we hang our coats when we’re not too lazy. Adrian’s painting, Bits’s drawings and her paper flowers on the windowsill make it cozy and warm instead of spare.

I’ve just drifted off after guard when Bits hops into bed with me. “Cassie! Are you asleep?”

I crack open an eye. She’s so close her freckles are blurry. “Yes. I am asleep.”

She giggles. “Will you do art class today? Please? We’re so bored. Penny’s all like—” I laugh when she makes a face and clutches her stomach, “and we need to finish our portraits.”

I feel guilty for putting it off and think of Frida Kahlo’s portrait with Diego Rivera on her forehead. Mine would have Adrian, larger than life. “Yeah. I’ll be there in a while.”

She gets dressed and skips into the main room. Peter, who’s also a flosser, makes sure she brushes her teeth before they leave for breakfast. Once they’re gone, it’s too quiet to sleep. I stare at the wall and try not to think about how I now sleep in a twin bed. Instead, I think about patrol in two days. I used to fear it, but now I crave the escape. Sometimes, when I walk the fence at night, I imagine leaving. I would disappear through a gate for an indeterminate length of time and return as a normal person. But I’d probably return as a zombie.

***

I made it through art class and sit at dinner, picking at my spaghetti. People glance at The Girl Whose Fiancé Has Died, but my eyes are dry.

“We’re going to Montpelier?” I ask Dan, who’s taken to sitting at our table.

He sucks up a strand of spaghetti. “Yup. Toby mapped it out.”

“Who’s going?”

“You, me, Caleb, Toby, Ana and Peter.”

“I can’t wait,” Ana says.

“Me, neither,” I say.

Peter breathes through his nose and sets down his fork. Penny stiffens but doesn’t have enough energy to scold us. She goes back to her ginger lemonade. I make a mental note to find more of both ingredients.

“Shawn’s checked the vehicles?” John asks. Dan answers in the affirmative, and John levels his gaze at me. I swear he can hear what I’m thinking when he looks at me that way. “Just be careful.”

I nod solemnly, although I’ve come to the conclusion that being careful is overrated. Adrian was careful, so was I. Bad shit happens anyway. Being careful might extend the amount of time until it finally gets you, but it’s going to get you no matter what.

“Then we’re going to Whitefield next week, right?” Nelly asks.

“Yeah,” I say. “We’ll bring them what we’ve found.”

That will be another three days out of here. We need to head to the Quebec Safe Zone at some point, too. And then Whitefield will need more supplies.

“Anything you want, Bits?” Peter asks.

“No, thanks,” Bits answers, and concentrates on twirling her fork in her spaghetti. She doesn’t want us to go. I know she’s afraid, but she doesn’t appreciate that this is what keeps her safe. Just imagine how afraid she’d be without a fence and friends and plenty of food to eat.

The ride to Montpelier is over an hour, but we take a longer route in order to avoid Morristown. Most of the gas and food were cleaned out of there late last fall, but there were a good number of Lexers due to the treatment area the government set up. Thankfully, Vermont wasn’t very populated, except for the city of Burlington and its surrounding areas. We don’t know how many Lexers are in Burlington or what the roads are like; no one ventured that far last summer. Gas is running low, however, and without Will’s patrols to supply us through the summer, we might find out about Burlington soon. We have enough diesel to have begun work on the trench that’s being dug around the farm, but probably not enough for the whole job.

We usually take two vehicles on patrol. It gives us more room for supplies, and a spare vehicle if one breaks down. I try not to rewrite history, but I can’t help but think that if we’d all come back from Whitefield together Adrian would be sitting next to me now.

Peter and Ana sit in the front of the pickup while we follow Dan and the others. Peter refused to let Ana drive, much to my relief and her chagrin. It’s warm for mid-May, and the sweet spring air flows in the open windows. The grass is green, and the overgrown fields are a tangle of brown stalks that were bent double under the snow’s weight. I wonder how long it will take before it’s reclaimed by forest. A hundred or more years ago, much of Vermont was cleared for farmland, and the woods are still crisscrossed with rock walls the farmers built around what were once open fields. One day it will be rock walls, houses and cars in the middle of forest.

We roll through Albany at a snail’s pace while I write down the addresses of houses with large propane tanks for future use. A few raggedy Lexers hit the two-lane road after we pass, but they give up once we’re a good distance away. A Lexer completely covered in black moss crawls along the shoulder before falling in a heap and going motionless.

“Ew.” Ana screws up her face. “Did you see that one?”

It was gross, but it also looked like it was dying. It gives me hope that something besides us is after them; we only have to hold out long enough for it to happen. It’s something to look forward to, but a world without Lexers will still be a world without Adrian.

***

The Walmart is outside of Montpelier, in an enclosed strip mall with a brick façade. Ana points at the Bath and Body Works sign with a squeal that makes Peter jam his foot on the brake.

“Christ, could you not scream like that?” Peter asks, but his voice is light.

“There’s a Claire’s, too! Earrings!” Ana yells. “J.C.Penney!”

“You wouldn’t have been caught dead in J.C. Penney a year ago,” I tease.

She does a ridiculous dance in the passenger seat. “Beggars can’t be choosers. Woo! I’m getting me some spangled jeans! Did you ever think you’d hear me say that?”

Dan backs up the van and leans out. “Everything okay?” I can’t stop laughing, and Dan grins at Ana’s antics.

“She’s a little excited at the thought of lotion and sparkly things,” I say.

“We are only going to Walmart,” Peter says. “You can get earrings and cheap denim there, if you must.”

“But, Da-ad,” I whine, “can’t you just drop us off and come back in an hour?”

Everyone laughs, including Peter, but he shakes his head and says, “I repeat, we are only going to Walmart.”

I don’t care what we do. It feels so good to be out here, to have laughed, that I’ll go anywhere they want. The parking lot has only a few cars, which might mean the mall is close to empty. We park the trucks outside the entrance and scan the parking lot, while Toby and Dan peer through the glass.

“Okay,” Toby says. “These doors go into the mall corridor, and then it’s another fifteen feet to Walmart’s doors. We’re gonna need one person in the lot and one in the hall.”

That leaves four inside the store. We really should have more people, but we didn’t know this would be an issue.

“I’ll stay in the hall,” I say. “Just get some ginger and lemonade for Penny. And cat food and flea stuff, if you can.” Peter and Ana nod; they like the idea of a flea-ridden Sparky crawling around the cabin about as much as I do.

“I’ll stay outside,” Dan says, and hands a piece of paper to Toby. “Here’s the list. Pharmacy and food are most important. Although it doesn’t look like one of the stores with a lot of food.”

Toby peruses the list and cackles. “Ah, I see why the pharmacy is first.”

Ana giggles when she reads it over his shoulder.
Condoms
, she mouths at me. I roll my eyes, I figured as much.

“It’s not
my
list, you moron,” Dan says, but it’s a cheerful insult. “It’s everyone’s. And by pharmacy, I meant actual medicine.”

“Sure you did,” Caleb says, and hops away when Dan’s boot connects with his butt.

“Maybe we could look around for zombies?” Peter asks. “This is a great time, but I’d like to finish here and get back.”

Ana steps on Peter’s boot. “You’re such a killjoy.”

“Let’s check out the hall,” Dan says.

Walmart is at the end of the long corridor, and we can see halfway to the other end before our view is obstructed by indoor trees that have died from lack of water. Bags, boxes, clothes and shoes lay in heaps on the floor, along with bodies that were either killed or froze to death. Some of the stores’ gates are up, but there’s no way of seeing who or what’s inside unless we check it out. The fact that it smells more musty and damp than anything else is a good sign—there can’t be too many zombies close by or it would stink a lot worse. Maybe living people won this battle and then cleared out to find warmth for the winter.

Toby tears the list and hands half to Ana. Peter and Caleb fit radio earpieces in their ears, while Dan wears the third. “Fifteen minutes,” Dan says.

The Walmart is pitch black inside, and I’m happy to be staying out here where light floods through the glass. Peter flicks on his headlamp and walks ten feet into the store, machete drawn. “Clear so far.”