Officer Spinelli looks like he might be reconsidering not taking us in. It’s obvious he thinks we’re off our rockers. I know James is trying to help him, but it might make things worse.
“This is straight from a FEMA guy high up. You might want to leave tonight,” James says.
Spinelli’s eyes don’t change expression. “I’ll take that under advisement. Godspeed.” He lifts the arm on the lane and waves us through.
“I thought for sure he’d listen to me,” James says, disappointed.
I turn back and see the arm hasn’t come back down. A few cars have pulled into the lane and he waves them through. Then he rushes out of his booth to a police cruiser parked on the side of the highway.
“He is,” I say. “Look.” I hope he gets his family out in time.
19
Nelly was right: I don’t think I’ve ever gone this fast on the Staten Island Expressway. I cross my fingers as we turn onto the road that leads to the Goethals Bridge.
“We’ve got a roadblock,” Nelly says.
Two cop cars block the road, surrounded by police barriers. A cop rises up from behind them and limps toward us, dragging his right leg. Nelly takes his foot off the brake, but the figure raises its arms and waves. The leg of his uniform is shredded. He leans against Nelly’s door and pants.
“We were attacked by some guys,” he gasps. “One bit me, but I shot him right in the head. I radioed for backup, but it hasn’t come yet. My partner’s dead and I can’t drive with my leg.” He points back at the cars.
“National Guard was here, but they were called away to some disturbance. You can’t go through.” He has a mustache that bobs up and down as he talks. “Curfew. Plus, I need medical help. You gotta take me to the hospital.”
They must be telling the cops the same thing they’re telling everyone. He doesn’t know his bite is a death sentence.
“We can’t,” Nelly says. “We have to go to Jersey. We’ll take you that way.”
“You can’t go that way. I just told you that. Stay here, I’ve got to get my stuff.” He limps back to his cruiser.
James turns to Nelly. “Just go, dude.”
I pull the revolver out of my bag and hold it on my lap. Maybe I could use it on someone who isn’t already dead, if I know he’ll be dead soon. Dead, and trying to eat me.
“Hang on,” Nelly says.
He knocks the traffic cones out of the way and an orange striped barrier hits the van with a clunk and flies off into the grass. The cop waves his arms and yells. He gets smaller and smaller as we race across the bridge. I feel sorry for him; he has no idea why we abandoned him.
James turns to me, on the bench seat behind him. “He didn’t even know there’s no cure. What. The. Fuck?”
Peter’s been silent the whole trip, but now he speaks up from behind me. “If they told you that you were fighting a losing battle and that they were about to lock you and your family on an island of infection, how many cops do you think would stay on the job?”
“True.” James leans back in his seat. “Do you think that’s it? Just that roadblock?”
“That’d be pretty hard to believe,” Peter replies. “But who knows? Everyone in the know may have left already. I wouldn’t have flown back to New York, had I known. I would have hopped on one of those choppers with a senator and be cooling my heels somewhere in Montana right now, perfectly safe.”
I can feel his eyes boring into the back of my neck. That makes two of us that wish he was in Montana. He’s taking the breakup well.
“Well, since they can’t spare the manpower to stop the infected eating people on the street, I’m betting they don’t have the time to stop people who are driving along minding their own business,” Nelly says. “That cop said the Guard was called away. It must have been pretty important for them to leave a major roadblock.”
My shoulders come down a centimeter on the other side of the Goethals, and I loosen my grip on the pistol. I’ve been waiting for an explosion to rip up the roadbed underneath us. There are few cars on the Turnpike, but that wouldn’t be surprising this late on a normal night. A convoy of Army trucks passes us southbound. Maybe they’re heading for the bridge. Maybe they’re setting up the explosives.
“We’ve got about twenty miles until the Palisades Parkway,” James says.
The only sounds are Penny and Ana’s sniffles. There’s nothing I can say to make it better. Maria’s all they’ve got left besides each other, and I know exactly how that feels.
The van slows as we come up on the George Washington Bridge. The highway beyond our exit is blocked. When we make our way down the ramp, we’re stopped at the intersection.
What looks like a kid in an Army uniform shines a light into the car. “Sir, the bridge to New York is closed. Where are you headed?”
“We know, we’re heading to the Palisades,” Nelly replies.
“Sir, that road is closed. All civilians need to go home and stay there. A curfew is in effect in New Jersey.”
“Well, seeing as how we’re from New York, we need to go somewhere else. We don’t have anywhere to go in the area. We’re heading upstate to our house.”
The soldier nods. “Sir, we have temporary quarters for anyone traveling through. Make a left, head up that road about a mile, and you’ll see big tents and an office building. All persons without valid local identification are required to go there until morning.”
Swell, I think. They’re forcing us into a government corral. Now I sound just like my dad and his friend John, our closest neighbor up at the house.
“C’mon,” Nelly argues. “We do have a place to go. We’re trying to get there right now. I’m sure y’all could use the room to house someone who doesn’t have somewhere to go.”
“Sir, those are my orders.” He motions to an older man who’s been talking on the radio. “These folks say they’re heading upstate. They don’t want to head to the temporary quarters.”
The man, who’s not much more than a kid, says, “You have to go while the curfew’s in effect. Besides, roads are only for official vehicles right now. You won’t get far.” He runs his hand over his crew cut and smiles apologetically. “Sorry I can’t help you out. We’re getting a lot of sick around here. They’re not taking any chances. Turn left and head down. Can’t miss it.”
Nelly sighs and puts the van into drive.
20
A few tents surround a two-story, suburban office building. The road beyond is blockaded with Road Closed signs. An older soldier with a beard flags us into a parking lot and then gruffly demands the keys to the van. We all gape at him.
“Our keys?” James asks. “Are you nuts?”
“I give you a tag, I give your van a tag, and you give me the keys. You get the keys back when you leave,” he says, like we’ve somehow missed the point.
“You’re basically taking our vehicle away,” James argues. “You can’t just demand our property.”
The big man sighs, like he’s heard this from every driver of every car in the lot. “Listen, the keys are hanging in that tent right there.” He points to a tent at the lot entrance. “We need them in case we have to move things around. Think of it as the U.S. Army running a valet service.”
Nelly reluctantly hands over the keys. The soldier nods his thanks and points us in the direction of the building. Four soldiers stand at the entrance. Thankfully, they don’t demand to search our bags.
“Do you know when we’ll be able to leave?” Peter asks one. He’s got on his Important Voice, but the soldier only shrugs and motions for us to follow him inside.
The lobby narrows to a carpeted hallway lined with doors. We’re led through one, into a large unfinished space. A dozen people sleep under army-issue blankets in cots against one wall. Chairs are grouped in the front of the room.
I swing off my pack and sit down. People eat at the folding tables that fill the back. A woman at one holds a little curly-haired boy on her lap. Next to her a kindergarten-aged girl
swings her legs and chatters away while she eats a plate of cookies. For her, at least so far, this is an adventure that involves unlimited cookies, and that’s all she needs to know. The woman smiles fondly at her. Above the table she seems calm, but on the floor her feet are restless. Underneath the glare of the fluorescents I can see her cheeks wobble with the effort of keeping that smile on, of not giving into the panic.
Against the far wall stand a few more tables loaded down with food. My stomach growls loudly enough to turn Nelly’s head in the chair next to me.
The soldier who brought us here motions at the tables. “There’s plenty of food. Someone will fill you in soon.”
21
“Do you have another cigarette?” I ask James. “I’m sorry I’m grubbing. It’s not like you can just run to the store or something.”
We stand outside the building, having just feasted on bagels and cold cut platters. There were fruit baskets, which was pretty surreal, like we were at some corporate symposium on our lunch break.
“I grabbed what was left of my carton at the office,” he replies, and hands me one with his lighter. “I’ve got plenty.”
I light it and sigh. I could get used to this again.
“I’ll take one, too,” Nelly says. He looks like the Marlboro Man with the butt hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
“How long has it been?” James asks.
“Five years,” Nelly says. He sinks back against the building as he exhales and closes his eyes. “How can they still be this good after so long?”
“Isn’t it evil?” I ask, as the smoke hits my lungs.
“And awesome,” James responds, clearly having none of the guilt Nelly and I have.
My laugh is cut short by Peter, who comes out of the front door of the building and makes a beeline for us. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” he asks me, with a look of distaste at the cigarette.
I’m thankful I have it. If it doesn’t keep me calm while talking to Peter, I can always put it out in his eye.
We walk away a bit, and when he stops I stop and wait for him to speak.
He shakes his head. “I can’t believe you’re smoking.”
“Is that what you wanted to say? Because, yes, I think I can have a cigarette right now without feeling too guilty about it.”
“Whatever, Cassie. That’s not what I wanted to say.” His dark eyes flash and his lips thin. “I think I’ll go my own way now. Thanks for helping me leave the city, but I’ll figure it out from here.”
I know it has to be hard being here with my friends, but it’s just like him to pick on me about smoking because he’s annoyed. Maybe he wants me to beg him to stay. Not happening.
“Fine,” I say. “Good luck.”
He looks at me coldly and shrugs. “You, too.”
He turns on his heel. Now I feel guilty. Someone has to be the mature one here; we’re both acting like babies.
“Peter.” He turns around, but his face gives nothing away. I take a deep drag and crush out what’s left of my cigarette on the side of the building. “Come on, this is silly. You can’t go off by yourself. Just because we…well, we can still be friends, no?”
He shrugs. I am not going to beg him.
“So, we’ll all stick together for now?” I ask.
“We’ll see how it goes, but I don’t think so. I’m sure I’ll be safe here until I can get back to the city.”
He holds his head high and waves his hand back at the building. He might just as easily be telling me he’ll be staying at the Plaza until the decorator’s finished with his apartment. I watch him walk away, amazed at how easily he believes this new reality conforms to any of the old rules. Nelly and James look at me curiously as I make my way back to them and carefully relight my crushed-out cigarette.
“What was that about?” asks Nelly.
“I broke up with Peter at the house, before we left.”
“Really?” Nelly asks. They’re both trying not to smile. “Great timing, as usual.”
“Oh, be quiet. I just couldn’t take him anymore. He’s saying he’s going to go his own way from here. And now I feel guilty about that, so I asked him to stay with us, and he said that he’d have to check his calendar.”
A soldier with a friendly snub-nosed face strolls up. “Everything okay over here?” We nod. “I’m Sergeant Grafton.”
We introduce ourselves.
“When do you think we’ll be able to head upstate?” Nelly asks.
Grafton contemplates the question. His round face and pink cheeks remind me of a grownup version of the little boy on his mama’s lap inside.
“Probably in the morning. We’re not hearing anything but bad news, so I can’t make any promises. In fact, there’s an armory over in Teaneck where the two majors went for a briefing. We’ve lost contact. We sent out a team to find them.” He looks like he thinks he’s said too much and puts his hands out in a calming gesture. “Now, we can hold the building if we have to. Until help comes.”
If help comes is left unsaid. But I know we all thought it.
He gazes into the distance. “We don’t know if they were overrun by Lexers, but lack of radio communication is troubling.”
“Lexers?” asks James.
“Yeah, you know, like the LX in Bornavirus LX? The Army is unofficially calling them Lexers.”
“Can you tell us how many they think are infected?” I ask. “They aren’t releasing new numbers.”
The Sergeant snorts and anger passes over his features. “That’s been a bone of contention around here. They were trying to keep us from contacting family, so we couldn’t spread the word. That lasted ten minutes.” He blows air from his nose. “They think that ten to fifteen percent of New York City will be infected by dawn. The major cities in the Midwest are at sixty percent. The rest are hiding out in their homes.
“I shouldn’t be telling you this, but right now they’re focusing on the smaller places, the ones that don’t have a lot of infected. Hoping they can build up Safe Zones and leave the cities until they can clear them of Lexers. I don’t see any point in keeping the information from civilians.”
He shrugs, but the look on his face says he knows more than he’s telling us. He’s warning us that this isn’t under control, without saying as much. He has no idea we already know.
“It’s the best plan they’ve got so far. Now, look around here.” He points to the building. “Not much in terms of defense, but we do have the Palisades right at our back, so there are no worries about defending in four directions. Fences are going up as we speak.”
“Palisades. You mean the Parkway is right behind us?” I ask. It’s useful information.
Grafton hooks a thumb at the trees behind the tent. “Yeah, head back, maybe a thousand feet, eight foot fence, you’ll be at the Parkway.”
James nods quickly and tries to look disinterested.
Grafton’s radio squawks. “I gotta go.”
22
We’re back in the waiting room. Peter sits in a separate grouping of chairs, but Ana’s followed him and they talk quietly. I’m too tired and tense to do anything but sit here. Nelly sifts through the supplies in his pack. He finds a deck of cards in a side pocket and holds them up to me. Dad believed that boredom could kill you, too.
“Eh?” he asks.
I could use something to take my mind off of things.
“Sure,” I say. “Spit?” Nelly and I have an ongoing battle in that game.
He pulls the cards out of the box just as Grafton enters the room and raises his voice. “We have word that there may be infected heading this way. Please stay where you are and keep your belongings nearby in case we have to evacuate.”
The woman with the kids chooses the cot farthest from the windows and door. She covers them with a blanket and cradles them to her.
We grab our packs and sling them onto our shoulders. In the frenzy no one notices when we leave the room and head to the lobby. Humvees and jeeps are parked around the p
erimeter of the parking area out front, just inside the newly-erected fence. They’re circling the wagons.
Bright lights, the kind you see on nighttime construction sites, are set facing out. About thirty soldiers take up positions outside. A soldier in the lobby tries to herd us back down the hall. I’m not too keen on heading to where I can’t see what’s going on. Neither is Nelly, and we follow as he ducks into the first door in the hallway.
The soldier leans in. “We need you to head to the back,” he orders.
Nelly turns around after nodding approvingly that the windows face the parking lot. “Grafton said it was okay. Go ask.” He’s betting he won’t do it.
The soldier backs down. “Okay.”
Five soldiers file in and take position at the windows. We’re in the waiting room of a mortgage company. There are stuffed chairs upholstered in that ugly pattern favored for its ability to mask any stain. One of the soldiers switches off the lamps on the scattered tables.
The lights outside provide more than enough to see by. We huddle at the back of the room. I sit on the floor, backpack in front of me, hands under my thighs.
Nelly sits next to me. “Take your gun out, just in case.”
I pull it out. It gives my hand something to do. The others sit behind us on chairs. Penny murmurs to James.
James leans forward. “Penny doesn’t think she can use her gun. Should I give it to Peter?”
Nelly twists his head back. “Pete,” he calls softly. I’m surprised he followed us down here, but I’m glad too.
Peter tears his gaze away from the windows. “Yeah?”
“Can you shoot a gun?” Nelly mimes shooting a pistol.
“Um, I never have. How hard can it be?”
“Well, shooting is easy. Aiming’s the hard part,” Nelly says with a grim smile.
Peter’s eyes narrow, but Nelly wasn’t making fun of him and he knows it. “I wouldn’t mind having it. Any pointers?”
Until the End of the World Box Set Page 8
