Until We End (11 page)

It'd finally gotten too dark to see anything else, so I threw the new clothes on and crawled into Brooks' bed, feeling a vicious satisfaction. Voices murmured on the other side of the curtain, too soft for me to understand.

I curled into a ball on my side and shut my eyes, dreading tomorrow and missing home more than ever.

When I woke, I knew instinctively not to move. I cracked my eyelids a tiny bit and saw that the warehouse was nearly pitch-dark. A tiny rustling came from the curtains. The scrape of the rings against metal piping. Soft footsteps crept toward the bed. My throat went tight with fear.

I held my breath and clenched my fists. I'd be ready if someone attacked me.

Instead, all I heard was the crinkling of plastic and something small dropped onto the bed beside me. Then the footsteps started walking away.

I opened my eyes a little wider, straining against the darkness. There was only enough light for me to see Brooks' back. After he pulled the curtain shut behind him, I turned over to see what he'd left on the bed.

It was a candy bar. Milk chocolate with caramel.

I couldn't help feeling awkward the next morning. Brooks didn't know that I saw him leave the chocolate bar, but I still couldn't meet his eye. He seemed happy to ignore me from his armchair, too.

“We'll take the bikes into town,” Lu said as she sat on the vomit green couch.

My head snapped up. “We're going back into town? Why?”

Lu and Jackson exchanged a glance. “We need more information on the army's sweeps.”

“I thought you'd found out everything you needed to know. The cameras are why the military's been more active. That's why they caught me.”

“That's not all we need to know,” Lu said as if that closed the matter.

“And I have to go with you.”

“Yes,” Jackson said.

Lonnie stood from where he'd been sitting on the floor and stretched. “You'll love the bikes, Janie. They're so much fun!”

For some reason, when they said bikes I thought bicycles. Not the case. When we walked outside, I saw what they'd meant by
bikes.
Four slim motorcycles with tires made for off-roading were leaning against the raised concrete platform that surrounded the warehouse.

“Dirt bikes,” Lonnie said brightly.

“Great.”

Hang on. I counted the bikes again. Four. “Who am I riding with?” I turned to face Lonnie with a hopeful expression. “You?”

He cringed. “Sorry, Janie. I can barely keep
myself
on a bike, much less anyone else.”

Brooks strode to one of the bikes, a navy blue one, and our eyes met. I blinked and was transported to two days before, in my truck. Breathing him in, with his lips on my skin.

I think he was there with me.

He broke the stare with a smile. “Hop on, sweetheart.”

“Um, no.”

“You could ride with Jackson.”

Jackson revved his engine on cue.

No thank you. He'd probably crash the bike hoping it'd kill me. I clenched the straps of my ever-present backpack and walked up beside Brooks.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked.

“I'm not sure... you know... how to get on.” My face was probably fire hydrant red. But there wasn't much room on the bike and if I was going to ride with him, then I'd have to get up close —
really
close — and personal.

I raised my eyes to his. In the sunlight, his white-blond hair seemed to glow and his eyes turned gold. “Swing your leg over,” he said, “and straddle the bike.”

Sweet Jesus. How did he make that sound so suggestive? Maybe I could get through it with minimal contact. I tugged the hem of my butchered t-shirt down, shuffled closer, and swung my leg over like he told me, but I was trying so hard not to touch him I lost my balance. Brooks' hand on my rib steadied me. His touch sent an electric shock through me, making my breath catch.

“Wrap your arms around my waist,” he said. “And don't let go.” He turned around before I had the chance to look at his face.

I slid my arms around his waist. The bike was so small that I had to lean my cheek against his shoulder blade. It was impossible not to feel the muscles of his abdomen through his shirt's thin fabric, impossible not smell him.

“Oh yeah,” he said over his shoulder, “nice outfit.”

The trip into town on the bikes was one of the most harrowing experiences of my life. The brigade hopped sidewalks and sped down narrow alleys, driving at a breakneck speed. Even Lonnie kept up, though he didn't pop wheelies like Jackson. I'd told Brooks that if he tried that crap, I'd shoot him. He laughed at me.

We were halfway down Washington when a sudden movement up the road caught my eye. A flash of white and the glare of reflected metal resolved into a group of four guys, strangers, coming out of a nearby office building.

The brigade brought our bikes squealing to a stop.

“Hop off,” Brooks ordered.

My heart, still racing from the drive, somehow beat even faster. “Who are they?”

“Get off the bike, Cora.”

I swung my leg over the bike clumsily and stumbled a few feet. Brooks got off and dropped the kickstand before walking toward where Lu, Jackson and Lonnie were already standing in front of the group of strangers.

I froze on the spot, my knees locking against my legs, but Brooks kept walking.

The leader of the new group crossed his arms. He was holding a gun. I hoped it wasn't loaded; his posture was too careless to be carrying a loaded firearm. Dad would disapprove. The other three in the guy's crew stood behind him, their feet wide apart and arms crossed, mimicking their leader's posture. One swung a long, heavy chain and the other two held knives.

I wanted nothing more than to duck and run for cover, but Brooks and the others didn't seem afraid. I pushed the air from my lungs and jogged to catch up with them.

The guy with the gun was talking. “What's the deal? Strolling around my street packing that much heat, y'all must be looking for a fight.”

“No, Romeo,” Lu said.
Romeo?
Get real! He had to be six feet tall and two hundred and fifty pounds of solid muscle. With a gun in his hand and three guys at his back, he looked anything but Shakespearean.

But hadn't I heard his name before? What had Jackson asked when I arrived at the warehouse…

Is she one of Romeo's?

One of Romeo's
what?

“We're looking to exchange information,” Lu said.

Romeo's eyes wandered over to where I was standing half-hidden behind Brooks, and he tipped his chin in my direction. “Who's that?”

Lu looked at me and waited for me to introduce myself, so I rolled my shoulders back and straightened my spine. I refused to look like an injured gazelle to the pack of hyenas.

I marched straight up to
Romeo
and said, “Cora. Nice to meet you.”

He cracked one of the widest smiles I'd ever seen, teeth pure white. “Very nice to meet you too, Cora,” he said, voice dropping to a husky murmur. So
that's
where Romeo got his name. “I know everybody in the city these days, but I don't think I've seen you around before.” His voice lilted at the end, inviting me to answer, even though it wasn't a question.

“I haven't been around, I guess,” I said, a little uneasy.

“And why's that?” he asked.

“I don't get out much.”

Lu stepped forward and put a hand on my shoulder, but there was nothing comforting in the gesture. It just felt condescending, like I was her property. I sidestepped out of her reach and found Brooks standing not too far away from me.

“Cora came to us a few days ago,” she said. “She hadn't left home since the virus hit. Nine months.”

“Where'd she live?” Romeo asked.

“The suburbs.”

“The ‘burbs?” Romeo scoffed. “No way, man. The ‘burbs been cleaned out for months.”

“We thought so, too. But that's not the exceptional part of the story...” Lu let the last word trail off, like she wanted Romeo on the edge of his seat. Kind of hard to accomplish with Lu's monotonous drone, but I guess it had the desired effect.

“Well, what happened?” Romeo asked.

“First, I need to know some things,” Lu said.

“Like what?”

“We need information on any army deserters you've noticed recently.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. That was very different from what they asked Charlie yesterday.

Romeo looked up and down the street. His crew hadn't moved since we'd shown up, and I got the impression that they wouldn't unless Romeo gave the go-ahead. But the guy with the chain was wrapping it around his fist, staring at Lonnie... and Lonnie was staring right back. I hoped there wouldn't be trouble. A slow smile spread across Lonnie's face.

“Why don't we get out of the street,” Romeo said, his grin unwavering, “then we can talk.”

Romeo and his crew turned toward the twelve-story glass office building they'd come out of. A huge sign in front of the building named it Cannon Tower. The sunlight reflecting off its panels nearly blinded me when I looked up, but squinting past the glare, I saw a shadow the size of a small person in one of the second-story windows.

I tore my eyes away from the window and followed the group inside Cannon Tower, blinking a few times to let my eyes adjust to the darkness. The old reception area smelled musty and dank and had deep square grooves indenting the carpet where furniture used to be —
probably stolen by looters,
I thought.

Dust floated around our ankles as we walked across the fraying carpet to a bright red fire-exit door. Romeo pulled a key out of his pocket and stuck it the keyhole, pushing the door open to reveal a flight of stairs that must've gone all the way to the roof.

Romeo and his crew led the way. I started preparing myself for the full twelve-story climb because that's just how these things go, everyone loves doing things the hard way, but we stopped on the second-floor landing. Romeo pulled a different key out and opened the door — another red emergency exit — and as soon as it swung open, the stench of unwashed bodies crawled up my nostrils.

I gagged and turned it into a cough.

Romeo and his group filed in without looking back at me, so I don't think they noticed. But Lu snapped her head back and shot me a scathing look that said screamed
shut the hell up
without saying a word. I flipped her off when she turned around.

Past the door was a huge room partitioned into cubicles, and every cubicle was filled with a mishmash of homey things — a mattress or an armchair, a pile of clothes, a stack of pillows — and people. There were people, old and young, everywhere. Peeking out from around the plastic walls with wide eyes, running across the hall, some standing in their cubicle's entryway and outright staring.

It made every muscle in my body tense.

The whole room reeked of stale body odor and ammonia. I could see why. The people were all sharp elbows and gaunt faces, clothes hanging off their bodies like rags. Too skinny. They probably didn't have enough water to drink, let alone wash.

My stomach soured with guilt at the memory of the greenhouse and my stockpile. All of that time stressing about the greenhouse, when compared to these people, I had it made.

This was an apocalyptic slum.

Every cubicle we passed was occupied. Living in compact quarters with so many people had to make the virus unavoidable, inevitable. I made my breathing shallow and stared at the filthy carpet.

“Brooks,” I whispered, leaning toward him, “why are they all here? Together? Isn't it...” I gulped, “dangerous?” And hot. Stinky. Unsanitary.

He didn't turn to face me when he answered. “Most of them lived in the same communities before the virus,” he muttered. “They feel safer staying together.”

A pained groan came from beside me. It came from a woman, dressed only in a stained bra and underwear, crawling on her hands and knees toward us. She held out a skeletal hand and wheezed a word that I couldn't quite catch. Romeo brought up his handgun.

“Back off,” he said, pointing the gun at the woman. She shrank back behind a plastic wall.

“Hey,” I said, burning with indignation for her. “She's starving! They all are. How do these people eat?”

“The same way the rest of us do,” Romeo said as he turned his back on us. “By the grace of God.”

He led us further into the labyrinth of cubicles. I just tried not to look inside, scared of what I'd see. We stopped at a door to what would've been the corner office with a view pre-TEOTWAWKI, and instead of leading us inside, Romeo knocked.

We stood outside the door for a few beats. The rest of Romeo's crew had already dispersed, each ducking inside the cubicle they called home.

When the door finally opened, I had to look down to see who was there. It was a small boy with the beginnings of what would one day be quite an impressive Afro. He was the healthiest-looking person I'd seen in the place, other than Romeo and his crew.

“Hey, Didgy,” Romeo said, reaching down and ruffling the kid's hair. “Can we come in? We could use the privacy.”

The kid, Didgy, didn't say anything. He just stepped back and opened the door wide enough for us to walk in, single-file.

The office was big, with two of its walls floor-to-ceiling windows. We weren't high enough to have much of a view, but it didn't escape my notice that whoever was in the office could see up and down the street for blocks. It was well furnished too — there was a mattress with clean sheets on a sturdy-looking metal frame and a few mismatched chairs situated in front of the windows like a TV.

Didgy walked to the semicircle of chairs and sat on the floor in the middle of them. Jackson, Lu and Romeo took the chairs, and Lonnie sat on the floor next to Didgy, leaving Brooks and me to stand. Lonnie leaned over and whispered something in his ear, and the kid giggled.