“So, what do you want to be when you grow up?” he asked. His smile was disarming. And although it’s the second question everyone asks when they make small talk in college, he gave the impression he really wanted to know.
“Well, if you mean what am I majoring in? I started out thinking of art. But that’s not going to line up a decent job, so I switched to sociology with an art minor.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. I knew what he wasn’t saying and conceded to his unmade point. “Yes, I know sociology’s not much better.” I smiled. “But I’m not planning to work on Wall Street. I have to study something I love or what’s the point? I’m thinking I’ll work in a non-profit somewhere.”
He nodded. “What kind of art do you make?”
“Mostly I paint.” I felt too shy to talk about it and changed the subject. “So, how about you? What’s your major?”
“Engineering.”
“Now that’s a grown-up degree,” I teased. He was so friendly I could feel myself relaxing. “So what do you plan on doing with it? Building bridges and making tons of money?”
He grinned. When he shook his head his hair fell into his eyes, and he pushed it out of the way. “Not exactly, I’m majoring in environmental engineering. I want to create things that might be used for food production and soil conservation.”
I shook my head. “Ah, a do-gooder!”
“Hey, don’t worry. I won’t start lecturing you on what you’re doing to ruin our planet or anything.” He held his hands up and the dimple showed.
“I’m just kidding. So you want to be off grid? Zero waste?” I asked.
“Exactly.” He looked at me like I had caught his attention and my face grew hot under his scrutiny. “I spent this summer volunteering on a project and learned enough to put in a solar hot water system for my mom. Next I’d like to completely solarize her house.”
I nodded and drank some beer so he wouldn’t notice how pink my cheeks were.
“I’d like to create a farm that generates its own food, power, maybe biodiesel—” He stopped abruptly. “Sorry, sometimes I start to talk about this stuff and can’t stop.” He waved his hand in front of my eyes. “Are they glazed over yet?”
“No, it’s like talking to my dad.” I lowered my cup. My face had finally cooled down. “My parents are putting in solar at their house upstate. Their plan is to be entirely off the grid by retirement and raise most of their food themselves. I like to talk about it with my dad, until it gets too technical and I can hear the gears in my brain grinding.”
I made a whirring noise that didn’t sound at all like gears, but he laughed. “I wish I could pick your dad’s brain sometime. I’d like to see what he’s done.”
“You could, you know. If you’re serious. He’s desperate to talk about it. My mom and I just nod and smile and wander off when he gets going. Now that my brother’s away at school, he’s slowly dying inside from lack of interest in his plans.”
Adrian nodded like it was something he would consider. I had to say this for the lovers of solar electrical systems: they sure were a committed bunch. I recognized the dreamy-eyed look on Adrian’s face.
“So how do you know Nel?” I asked. I wondered if they were serious or not.
“We were in a class together last spring and just hit it off. He’s a great guy.”
“He seems like it.”
Right then Nelly appeared with a plate of burgers. “So, what’d I miss? I think you may have missed your roommate puking in the bushes and heading home, Cassie.”
I stood up. “Maybe I should go after her.” I didn’t want to. Holding her hair back in the communal bathroom was not high on my list of things to do.
Nelly waved a hand. “Some other girl was with her. Bethany? Tiffany? Someone, anyway. She’s fine!” He sat on the floor and patted my spot on the couch. “Sit. Eat.”
So I did. My eyes wandered over to Adrian constantly. A few times I caught him looking at me and whenever our eyes met my stomach jolted. I told myself to get a grip. That maybe he was cute and nice, but he wasn’t interested in me. He wasn’t even interested in girls.
I always felt like the girl whose name people forgot. Usually the guys who ended up interested in me were the ones I’d known for a while. The ones I could talk to without being self-conscious. I was fine with it by that point; I didn’t mind being a person who inspired love and loyalty over time. But it usually meant that I was overlooked, at least at first. And with Adrian I knew I would have minded that.
“Well, I have to work in the morning, library work-study,” I said, after we’d talked for hours. It was the kind of conversation where you have so much to say that you despair of ever getting it all out, even if you’re awake until dawn. I didn’t want to break the spell and go home, but it was late. The rest of the party was passed out or making out at that point. “I might be able to drag myself out of bed if I go to sleep now.”
“No walking home alone, darlin’,” Nelly said. “Let me walk you.”
I didn’t want to make him walk me home along the safe, tree-lined streets. “Thanks, but I’m fine. I grew up in Brooklyn, remember?”
“Let’s walk together,” Adrian offered. “Our dorms are right near each other.”
“Okay, thanks,” I said. “Nelly—” I realized I’d called him Nelly, the beer having loosened my tongue, and blushed. I’d already concocted a nickname for him but hadn’t meant to use it.
“I like Nelly!” Nelly exclaimed. “Like Nellie Oleson on Little House on the Prairie.”
“I used to pretend I was Laura!” I said. “When I practiced my pioneer skills.” Adrian smiled at me. “Anyway, Nelly, it was really nice to meet you. Maybe I’ll see you around?”
Nelly grinned and swallowed me in a hug. “Oh, you won’t get away from me, Half-pint. Let’s all meet for lunch tomorrow.”
“I’d like that,” I said, and beamed at him.
I moved away to give them a moment of privacy, and with a last wave at Nelly we set off. We walked to campus while Adrian told me about his mother, who’d raised him and his sister with lots of love but hardly any money. He was smart, funny, liked his mom and was environmentally conscious. I sighed.
Adrian poked my arm. “Why the long sigh?”
“Oh, nothing,” I replied, watching my feet.
He pulled my arm through his. “C’mon. Tell me.”
I made my lips a line and shook my head. Then I decided that if I told him it might be funny and also stop my crush in its tracks.
I sighed dramatically and elbowed him. “It’s just depressing. No guys are ever interested in the same stuff I am. Even my dad would love you.” Adrian stopped walking and looked stupefied.
“You know,” I stammered, “because you’re gay.” Now I really felt like an ass. If only I’d kept my mouth shut.
“I’m not gay.”
I thought I saw a tiny smile on his face but couldn’t keep eye contact long enough to be sure.
“What?” I’d heard but needed a moment to think.
“Am I giving off a vibe or something? I was trying to give off a vibe that I wanted to go on a date with you.”
I hardly listened to what he was saying because I was wondering if I could turn and run. The chance that I could avoid him on campus for the next two years was slim, however. Plus, I could only run a block before I got a stitch in my side and he still had my arm. I’d told him that I liked him and that my dad would like him.
The beer and food were mutinying in my stomach. “I just thought, because of Nelly, and you said you two hit it off…”
“I don’t care about that. I do care about the date thing, though.”
I stared at him blankly. He looked so relaxed, while everything inside me was buzzing and jumping.
“You know, the thing about wanting to go out with you?”
“Oh.” I was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question, so I made a joke. “Okay. But maybe we could save meeting my dad for the second date.”
His grin was huge, and I smiled back, relieved that maybe I hadn’t made a complete fool of myself. I was still mortified, but underneath was a warm flicker of excitement. It hadn’t been my imagination; there was something there. Somehow we got to my dorm without my dying of embarrassment.
“Here’s my stop,” I said, as he released my arm. “Thanks for walking me.”
I bit my lip and glanced at him, hoping he’d say something about seeing me again.
“My pleasure. So, I’ll see you tomorrow at lunch and we’ll make plans?”
“Okay.”
We smiled shyly at each other until I realized I should probably go inside. I started up the steps to the door and tripped. I hoped he was gone, but when I turned around he was still there. It looked like he was suppressing a smile. I tried to act flippant, but I wondered how many gaffes I could pull off in one night. This was going to be a record.
“Go ahead, laugh. I trip about ten times a day. Or knock something over. Or clobber someone by accident,” I said.
He shook his head, amused. “Goodnight, Cassie,” he said in a soft voice.
The way he looked at me, like I was something special, something worth staring at, made my legs wobbly. I waved and managed to walk in the door, not into the door, and headed to my room.
Nelly lifts the bin lid and takes a deep whiff. “Ah, I love the smell of gun oil.” He probably does, too.
“So what’s in there, you good ol’ boy?” asks Penny. “Not that it will mean anything to me.”
Nelly sets the long bin on the ping pong table. He opens the cases and pulls out two revolvers, one nine millimeter and a shotgun. They’re clean and shiny. They look like my dad might have packed them up yesterday. Boxes of ammunition come next. Nelly stacks them according to size.
“There’s nothing worse than an unloaded gun,” he says.
He deftly loads the proper ammunition into its respective gun. I help him. The revolver feels heavy and weird in my hands. I haven’t held one in over three years.
Penny backs away. “Jeepers.” My dad taught her to shoot a rifle, but she’s afraid of pistols. “Didn’t your dad know it’s illegal to have guns in the city?”
“Sure,” I say with a grin. “That’s why most of them are still up at the house.”
Penny shakes her head and Nelly laughs.
12
We finish up downstairs, for now. The cabin is only a four-hour drive, but if my dad were here he’d say not to count on that. We need to have enough supplies with us in case it takes days. In case we have to walk. I’m not a light packer, and left to my own devices I’d bring everything. James might be good at helping with it; he has an ordered way of thinking. So does Peter.
Peter. He’s here, and it seems he’s coming with us. I can’t keep this up much longer. Every minute I spend still officially dating him feels like a lie. I head upstairs. James is intent on my computer. A giggle comes from the kitchen.
“Yeah, no one goes there anymore. And—” Ana stops talking and looks up.
I smile brightly. Peter smiles back. Ana looks at my cat sweatshirt with something akin to horror. I’m planning to put it back in my BOB to keep it safe but didn’t want to take it off yet.
“So, we’ve had a look in the basement, and we have backpacks for everyone. Peter, you have clothes here.” He nods. “You’re going to have to pack things that you can walk in, just in case. Like jeans.” I give Ana a pointed look.
Peter looks at me like I’m a silly little girl. It’s maddening. “So, we’re really leaving?”
“Well, Maria said we should. Ana, it’s your mother. She’s not one to blow something out of proportion.” I stop short of telling him he’s welcome to stay in New York if it’s too much of a hassle.
Ana clearly doesn’t want to agree, but she does. “It’s true. My mom is the most practical person you’ve ever met. We should probably listen to her.”
The unstated implication is that Cassie is not. She’s spot on with that one; I’m not going to argue. Peter smiles and holds out his hands. I take one, even though I don’t want to.
“No, Cassie’s not the most practical, but she is the prettiest,” he says.
Ana smiles at him, but after he turns to me she rolls her eyes. His skin, even in my terrible kitchen light, is gorgeous. But all that aristocratic perfection is boring when there’s nothing behind it.
“Thanks,” I reply, although it’s not true. Ana could beat me in a beauty contest any day. Personality is another story. “Time to pack.”
I pull on his hand. It’s smooth but strong. He does things like faux mountain climbing and running, but only in climate-controlled environments. The one time I cajoled him into walking around Prospect Park with me, he bitched about the mosquitoes the whole time.
I’ve thrown some of my stuff on his shelf in my closet. Peter tsks at me as he pulls his clothes out from under mine and places them on the bed. Then he closes my door and turns to me with a smile. I bury my head in the closet and mumble something about boots to keep him at bay, but he comes up behind me and kisses my neck. I stiffen just a little, although what I really want to do is swat his hands away.
I bonk my head on the closet rod as I turn. “Peter, we have a lot to do.”
He smiles and gently pats my temple. “And no time for a kiss? Come on, I haven’t seen you in a few days.”
I give him a kiss that’s more than a peck but definitely not a real kiss. I smile and hope it isn’t as fake looking as it feels. “Okay, now, there’s a lot to do.”
I can’t decipher the look he gives me, but it’s not a happy one. “Fine.”
I let my breath out, relieved, and find clothes for myself.
13
Peter helps to organize the basement, even though you can tell by the set of his face he thinks it’s ludicrous. We have food and water and water filters. Compasses, duct tape, knives, flashlights, a radio, a tiny stove with fuel, two light tents, and other things for backpacking. Peter’s made a list and checks things off once they’re packed. Whether or not he thinks we’re being ridiculous, he’s being diligent. He’s like a toddler; you have to give him a job or else he’ll pout and annoy you.
“We’ll have to get the van soon,” I say. “Get it loaded and ready to go.”
“I don’t know,” Penny says, as she zips up her pack. “I’d feel like we were stealing. Maybe we should cab it to the airport and rent a car.”
“Julio said I could use the van. Like if I went to Ikea or something,” I assure her. “We’ll be back with it when work starts. Given the circumstances, he’ll be happy we used it.”
“Julio won’t mind at all, Pen,” Nelly says.
With urgency James calls to us from upstairs, where he’s mapping out routes on my computer. “I guess you guys can’t hear down there. Come here.”
The noises grow louder as we climb the stairs. James has opened the street-facing windows in my bedroom. We peer past the decorative wrought iron that covers the glass, but my street is empty. It’s coming from up the block.
“Let the looting begin,” Penny says, over the sound of breaking glass. “Let’s go up on the roof and walk to the avenue.”
We pick our way along the attached brownstones to the end of my block and stand at the ledge.
Broken glass from the storefront windows glitters in the streetlights. Dozens of people cheer as they hand things out to their partners in crime. One guy dances along with his radio as he fills every inch of his car with plunder.
More figures head this way. At first I think they’re more looters, but they don’t show any interest in the stores. They begin to scuffle with the looters a few blocks down. It must be a group of infected.
“Holy shit,” James says, coming to the same realization.
They make their way toward the looters below, who don’t hear the screams that we can barely make out over the din. Finally, a teenager notices the infected, and his face slackens as they arrive. The sounds of rioting fad
e under the shrieks of fear. He grabs a friend by the back of his shirt and points.
Some manage to run. Those who don’t notice, or don’t know what the infected are like, or who think they have time to grab one or two last things, find themselves surrounded. The infected fall on them with their hands and teeth. Hoarse screams rise up and are abruptly cut off.
“Jesus. Get their heads,” James mutters next to me.
It’s a massacre. Blood splatters to the street as bodies are ripped open. A few escape after being bitten. I hope they don’t go home to their families and infect them, but I’m sure that’s where they’ll go. That’s where everyone goes when they’re hurt.
Peter leans heavily on the ledge, looking pale. Maybe now he understands.
It doesn’t take long until bodies litter the street. Some of the infected wander around like they’ve lost track of what they were doing, while others eat. Some sway in an invisible wind. The only sounds are the awful noises that rise from deep in their throats. I’m certain I can smell the tang of blood all the way up here. I put my cold hand to my forehead and close my eyes.
“All the noise attracted them,” James says. “They heard the yelling. Look at them.” We scan the group below. I don’t know what I’m supposed to see besides all those bodies and all that blood. He gestures to the street. “Look at what they’re wearing.”
Over half of them wear hospital gowns, the kind they give you when you check in. But they don’t let you leave wearing them, at least not while they’re able to stop you. Penny lets out a gasp.
“Oh, shit,” I say. My heart sinks as low as the street beneath us.
14
Penny paces the hall with her phone. We sit in the living room, the news and James’s clicking on my keyboard the only sounds. When my home phone rings, I jump for it.
“Thank God, Cassie,” Maria says. “I’ve been trying you for an hour.”
Until the End of the World Box Set Page 6
