Until the End of the World (Book 3): All the Stars in the Sky (30 page)

“You first.”

“No. What if she stops—” I may reverse jinx in my head, but saying it out loud is too real.

“We’ll take turns.” He must see something in my face because he says, “You know I’ll watch her just as carefully.”

I trust Peter with my life and even more so with Bits’s, but I can’t relinquish control over this situation. “You sleep. I’ll wake you.”

“No,” Peter says. “Because I know you won’t.”

“She wants to look at the stars. That’s not so much to ask—just to want to see the fucking stars, is it?” Peter shakes his head, candlelight reflecting in his damp eyes. I’m torturing him the way I’m torturing myself. “I’m sorry.”

“She’ll be all right,” Peter says.

“Promise?” I shouldn’t ask, but I want so desperately for it to be true.

“Promise.”

Peter sits at the head of the bed and pulls me to him, arms around my waist. We watch Bits, my hand resting lightly on her chest. Neither of us suggests sleep. His chest rises when Bits’s does, as though he’s taken on the role of breathing for her. I’m doing it too, and I’m light-headed, which could mean she isn’t getting enough oxygen. We sit until the basement windows are gray with morning light and I no longer think it’s my imagination that her breathing is less labored.

The pounding starts just after dawn. Peter runs upstairs and returns a few terrifying minutes later. “Something fell,” he whispers. “They should stop soon.”

Bits croaks, “Cassie?”

I cover her mouth, although I’ve never been happier to hear someone say my name. “Shh, they’re outside.”

“Water?” she whispers. I hold the bottle to her mouth and she drinks, watching me with round eyes.

“Are you hungry?” I ask. She opens her mouth but thinks better of it and nods.

“Feeling better, Freckles?” Peter asks.

She nods again and her cracked lips rise. I want to shout my thanks, but I kiss her and go upstairs, where everyone’s listening to the havoc outside. I mime a spoon to the mouth and whisper, “Her fever’s gone.”

I’m flashed sixteen silent but huge smiles, of which Hank’s is the largest. I squeeze his shoulder and open the can of chicken noodle soup Penny’s pointed out. It sits on the counter next to macaroni and cheese noodles soaking in a pot of cold water. I add water to some of the soup to create an unappetizing mixture of clumps of congealed broth and noodles.

Back in the basement Bits is propped up, a tiny shadow with even darker shadows under her eyes. She takes a sip off the spoon I hold and grimaces. It may not be delicious, but the smell of the soup has reminded me of how hungry I am—hungry enough to want cold, not fully uncondensed soup. Peter relights the candle and holds the bowl over the flame until it’s a little warmer than ice. She finishes the bowl and is asleep in seconds. It’s a healing sleep, though, not the restless one of the past days. Peter and I watch her breathe, this time in relief.

***

By nighttime, I’m starving. Two boxes of macaroni and cheese spread between nineteen people is little more than a tease. And macaroni soaked in cold water with powdered cheese on top is a chewy, disgusting tease. Baby formula has begun to seem appealing.

The Lexers are still outside. We’ve lived in silence for so long that part of me wants to shout just to be sure I still can. I’ve strained my eyes reading a crime thriller and taken Barnaby for his walk to one of the bedrooms, where he guiltily pooped on the floor. I didn’t dare tell him he was a good boy, just gave him lots of quiet love when he was finished.

Before dark, the pounding starts again. I hear glass shatter and run upstairs to find it was a garage door window, but it would take a lot more agility than Lexers possess to get through those high windows. Bits is asleep, still coughing but bouncing back quickly. Nelly sits with me and Peter now that Adam’s asleep. He’s not afraid of catching whatever it is Bits has; he says he’s immune to everything. And barring that infection last year, I’ve never seen him so much as sniffle. The only good thing—and I mean only good thing—about the pounding is that we can speak quietly in the basement where our voices are muffled. Nelly deals himself in on solitaire while Peter sits with his chin in his hand and a far-off look on his face.

“Whatcha thinking about?” I ask.

“Food,” Peter says. “And how much I want some.”

Nelly groans. “Could we not talk about food?”

“Okay,” I say. “Let’s talk about other things we want.”

“What could you possibly want besides food?” Peter asks.

“A pair of comfy pajamas and—”

“Like those ugly pajama pants you always wore?” Nelly asks, and slaps one card over another. “Those were sexy.”

“The blue ones?” Peter asks.

“God, they were hideous,” Nelly says.

“Can you guys let me have my fantasy here?” I ask. “When it comes to pajama pants, comfort trumps sexy any day. Anyway, I want to get in my
unsexy
pajama pants and watch a movie. You can come if you don’t make fun of my pajamas.”

Peter stretches and cracks his knuckles. “What movie?”

“We’re watching
Groundhog Day
or
The Big Lebowski
. Or a romantic comedy.”

“You’re incapable of watching a movie without eating.”

“So make me some food. What’s it gonna be?” I ask. “We’ll hang out at your place with your big-ass TV.”

Peter’s eyes light up. “I’ll grill steak on the terrace.”

“Stop,” Nelly says.

Peter cooked me a lot of food, steak included, and nothing he ever made was bad. “With those green beans?”

“The sautéed ones?”

I drop my head back in ecstasy. “Yes. And I’ll bake bread because my bread kicks your bread’s ass.”

“True,” Peter says. “I’ll get that Irish butter with the sea salt.”

“Why are you doing this?” Nelly asks. “Really, why?”

Peter watches me with a half-smile. I wink and say, “Popcorn dripping with butter. Gummy worms.”

“You’re pure evil,” Nelly says.

“And Pepsi for you, Nels.” Nelly sighs. “And croissants for breakfast?”

Nelly looks up from his cards, light flickering on his leer. “Oh, are you staying the night?”

Nelly should know better than to allude to things like that, and his grin says he’s getting a kick out of it. I stare at him until he gives me an innocent shrug and continues his game. Thankfully, Peter looks untroubled by Nelly’s remark.

I sink back, stomach growling. “My stomach is eating itself. Nelly’s right. Game over.”

After I’ve yawned twenty times, Nelly stacks his cards. “Are you trying to tell me something? Okay kids, I’m heading to bed.”

Once he’s climbed the stairs and we’re in bed, I ask Peter, “Do you think they’ll ever stop out there?”

“Oh, they’ll stop at some point. Maybe when they freeze and we’re long dead, but they’ll stop.” I elbow him. He reaches across me to rest a hand on Bits. “You’re shivering.”

“I don’t know if you noticed, but it is late autumn in Alaska, which is probably more like early winter everywhere else.”

Peter turns on his side so I can fit into him. After a minute he says, “I’m eating your hair.”

I choose to ignore the fact that my hair must smell vile and say, “Well, it’s better than that macaroni and cheese. Want me to tie it back?”

He twists my hair loosely and tucks it between us, then brushes it back from my temple. “No, it’s fine. Leave it down.”

Peter used to like my hair. He’d curl a wave around his finger and let it pop back into place, tug on it when I walked ahead of him, and stroke it as we fell asleep like he’s doing now. Maybe it’s Nelly’s comment, or the fact that Ana should be here instead of me, that makes me feel a bit guilty for finding his touch so soothing, for wanting Peter close by. I close my eyes and think about how I slept with Nelly almost all of last spring and summer. This is no different. Our past doesn’t mean we can’t take comfort from each other.

“There are fewer Lexers outside,” Peter says in my ear. I wake with a start and headbutt him.

“Jesus!” he whispers, hand to his forehead while Bits giggles quietly.

“Shit, sorry. Have you not learned your lesson about waking me yet?”

“I’m using a pole next time. Kyle wants to scout out the road. I said I’d go, but only if you did. Liz is going.”

“I’ll go,” I say. I don’t see any other choice. We need to eat. We need to get to Talkeetna before it snows. Bits needs warmth and food to recover for good. I turn to her. “How’s my sweetie-pie?”

“Good,” she says. “But the water tastes like spiders.”

Peter raises his hands. “I asked her how that’s possible. It’s old, but other than that it tastes fine to me. Taste it.”

I swish around a sip from my bottle. It’s not terrible, but it definitely has a musty aftertaste. “It tastes like basements and old ladies. I totally see what she means.”

“Of course you do,” Peter says. “Why did I even bother asking?”

I giggle along with Bits and bring her bathroom bucket upstairs to dump in the toilet tank. The two toilets stink, even with the bathroom doors closed. Another reason to get out of here—we’re using pee to flush down what’s in the bowl. I leave as quickly as possible, but there’s no way to feel clean after that experience. I give everyone an update on Bits and find out that today’s menu is just as lacking as the previous.

My stomach growls to the point of nausea when I think of the wafflecake mix and little boxes of Frosted Flakes that sit twenty feet from the door. Penny bustles around like she does when nervous, except that the cute little pregnant lady is lining up sharp knives and guns instead of knitting baby booties.

“Can I see Bits?” Hank whispers.

“I don’t want you getting sick,” I whisper. It’s likely she was most contagious a few days ago, but having to watch another kid struggle to breathe would be more than I can take. “She can’t wait, believe me.” He wraps his arms around my waist. It may be the first real hug he’s ever initiated with me, and I don’t let go until he does.

I peek out the window. The light makes my eyes water after days of semi-darkness. Fifty or so Lexers are scattered around the house, with trees blocking our view of who knows how many on the road. I let the sheet fall and sit on the couch with Kyle. He’d had a befuddled look in his eyes for a while, but his gaze is sharp once again.

“So, what’s the plan?” I ask.

“We’ll go through the woods to that dirt road,” Kyle says. “James says there’s train tracks on the map that go right alongside. Maybe we can get out that way.” He watches Nicki cut pictures from an old catalog with her good arm and rubs his face.

“We’ll get her somewhere safe,” I say. His jaw bulges when he nods. “You’re such a good dad.”

“She’s my light,” he says with a shrug, as if there’s no other way to be. But not every father is like him. Mine was. Peter is. Not everyone is as lucky.

There’s a thump from outside and then what sounds like a door rattling along with zombie noises. “We’ve got to get out of here,” Kyle says. “Or else I’m gonna go
dinky dau
.”

“You’re gonna go what?”

“My dad was in ‘Nam.
Dinky dau
is what they called crazy over there. If I have to hear that sound,” he gestures to the window, “for another twenty-four hours, I’m going to go crazy.”

“I like that,” I say. It even sounds crazy. “I don’t blame you. It’s not as bad in the basement.”

Kyle crosses his arms over his wide chest. “They don’t fucking stop.”

“Well, you know what they say: Ain’t no party like a zombie party, ‘cause a zombie party—”

“Don’t stop,” Kyle finishes. His laugh is quiet, but it still catches Nicki’s attention.

Nicki climbs on his lap. “What’s funny, Daddy?”

“Oh, just something Cassie said, baby.” He returns the kiss she bestows upon him with a smack of his lips.

“Cassie’s funny,” Nicki says.

“Cassie’s
dinky dau
,” Kyle says. I punch him in his rock-hard side, which hurts my knuckles but doesn’t make him flinch.

“
Dinky dau
,” Nicki repeats under her breath. “Cassie’s
Dinky dau
.”

“Thanks,” I say to Kyle.

“If the shoe fits,” he says. I’d punch him again, but I’m going to need my hands later.

***

The clouds threaten rain, which would help to cover our noises in the woods. As long as it’s not snow. We know from last year that snow alone isn’t enough to freeze Lexers—you need days of temperatures where it consistently dips below freezing before they fully succumb. Snow and warmer temperatures will only make driving difficult or impossible.

I put on Ana’s leather pants for warmth and protection, then layer as much as possible without restricting my movement. It’s a delicate balance, which is why I spend half my life freezing my ass off. I give Nelly medication instructions and tell him to take care of Bits.

“Always,” he says, and tweaks her nose. He’d tried to volunteer, but he’s not quiet in the woods the way we are.

I hug Bits. “Be back soon, honey. Love you.”

Bits nods and tightens her lips. I want to stay, but I’m sure-footed in the woods, if nowhere else. If the Lexers discover we’re here, their moans will call back any who’ve left.

“Love you,” Bits says.

“More than all the poop in the toilet?” I ask.

Peter heaves a sigh. But you’ve got to play to your audience, and my audience is amused by potty words. It sends her into a coughing spell, but she’s smiling. I wanted that to be the last thing I saw.

“There’s a whole lot of it,” Nelly says. “If you’re good, I’ll take you up to see it later.”

“Gross,” she chokes out.

Peter says goodbye without being vulgar and we head upstairs to a side window close to the trees. Kyle cuts the screen rather than pop it out and attract attention. Liz does a quick check before saying, “Lexers to our left down the driveway. Stay low and head straight.”

Liz drops to the crunchy grass and hurries into the trees. Kyle soundlessly follows, more agile than one would think. I check for any new threats before I meet them at the base of a tree. The leaves on the forest floor would be crunchy but for a recent rain that’s made them a softer covering of mulch.

Peter moves to my side, takes my arm and moves his finger between us. I nod that I’ll stay close. I roll my feet as we inch through the trees. Short, fast moves are sometimes better because they mimic animals, but animals don’t hang around with zombies, so we use slow shuffles, although it’s hard to go slow when your body is yearning to run. And although I’m worn-out and ravenous from the past couple of days, that’s exactly what my feet want to do.