Henry closes the trunk and makes sure the twine holding the boxes to the roof is tight. He takes a deep breath.
“So,” he says. “I guess this is goodbye.”
Hank and Corrine look out the car windows with what they must think are brave faces. But they look scared, with hollows under their huge eyes.
“No,” I say. “It’s see you soon.”
His eyes are warm as he gives a brisk nod and gets in the car. We’re following them out to the base of the campground. I ride shotgun while Nelly drives. Right now the ability to shoot a gun accurately trumps the fact that you get a little squished in the back, so Peter and James sit with Ana and Penny. No one sits behind the cage; no one wants to be trapped back there. At the fork in the road we pull alongside their car.
Dottie rolls down her window and gives us a bright smile. “Take care of yourselves.”
“You too,” Nelly says. “See you soon.”
We drive in silence. The ranger booth at the bridge is unmanned. The parking lot outside the welcome center has a few cars in it, but otherwise it’s empty.
“We need gas, right?” Peter speaks up. “Why don’t we siphon some out of these cars? It doesn’t seem like we’re going to get gas at a station.”
Nelly pulls into the lot. I wish we’d thought to have Henry fill up here. I hope they don’t have to stop anywhere too dangerous. James and Peter get to work prying open the gas tank covers while Nelly makes sure nothing lurks around the building. Penny and I walk to the road and watch the muddy Hudson River race under the bridge.
“What’s that ahead?” Penny asks, after a while.
A figure limps across the roadway at the far end of the bridge. I rest a hand on my holster. At the rate it’s going it’ll be ten minutes before it reaches us, but panic wells up just the same.
Penny’s voice is strangled. “Um, guys? One’s coming our way.”
Two more Lexers come into view and follow the first.
“Make that three,” I say. I pull my pistol out. They’re too far to risk a shot, but I want to be ready.
“We’re good,” James says. “Let’s get out of here.”
Nelly turns onto the bridge and drives on the left side of the road, as far away as he can get from the infected. They watch us go past and reverse direction to follow.
At the other end James points at a few Lexers stumbling their way to the bridge. “They must be coming from Peekskill, about five miles south. Good thing we’re going north.”
42
We have about one hundred-sixty miles of backtracking on winding roads to traverse before we near the house. We’ll be lucky if we get there in five hours. As we start down the first of our dirt roads, I sigh. Nelly glances at me.
“Brian and Jordan,” I explain. “Why did they do it? Wouldn’t you want to be sure all was lost before you offed yourself?”
“Of course I would want to go down fighting. But not everyone’s as strong us, Cass,” he says.
I think Nelly’s made a mistake by lumping us together. He doesn’t take shit from anyone. I can’t even break up with someone without taking three months to build up the nerve. But I can’t bring that up with Peter here, even if the endless stream of Safe Zone locations on the radio might drown it out.
“How about after my parents died?” I argue. “I went crackers after that. I wasn’t exactly a pillar of strength.”
“Okay, but how could you not go a little crackers, darlin’? Besides, everyone’s entitled to one crack-up in their life.”
“Yeah? Are you going to have yours anytime soon?”
“Already did, the summer before senior year, when I came out. It was either tell my family who I really was or die. And I mean really die, I wanted to die. I was ready to be ostracized, as long as I could stop pretending.
“One night I was in bed and I couldn’t stop thinking about my dad’s guns downstairs. How easy it would be to curl up with one and pull the trigger.”
He watches the road calmly, but his hands tighten on the steering wheel. He’s never told me about the gun.
“I didn’t know you were that bad.” I want to cry for the kid who contemplated dying. I get a glimpse of how empty my life would be if I didn’t have Nelly and touch his hand.
“I was. But I also knew I could survive anything, as long as I didn’t pretend to be something I wasn’t. So I didn’t get the gun, and I told everyone. Anyway, previous crack-up notwithstanding, you are strong. You would never take the easy way out like that, because it wouldn’t be the easy way.”
It took me two years to admit I made a mistake with Adrian. I’m terrified of confrontation. For instance, I haven’t asked Ana why she’s pissed at me because I’m afraid it will open up a can of worms, and I like my cans shut tight.
I know that’s not exactly what he means. I used to be strong, before my world went up in smoke. It was one of the things I liked best about myself, and I hate how weak I’ve become. I’ve spent the past years just surviving, and I hardly deserve a merit badge for that.
I cross my arms and look out the window at the budding trees. “Well, I don’t see anyone else in this car downing a bottle of pills, so why does that make me so special?”
Nelly sighs. “You could argue a cat out of its fur, you know that?”
I smile. “What’s that, another one of your Texan expressions?”
“Nah, I just made it up. You like?” he says and laughs when I roll my eyes.
He must believe what he’s saying. Well, he’s right about one thing: I’m not going down easily.
43
Three hours later the radio still broadcasts the same-old, the New York State road atlas looks dog-eared and we’re only about halfway there.
“All right,” James, now in the passenger seat, says in a weary voice, “County Road seven thousand three hundred forty-two is the next left.”
Every road has a name like County Road 42 or Albany-Jingletown Post Road. They’re ridged and potholed, and our top speed is forty miles per hour. I’m thankful we haven’t hit any problems thus far, but it’s cramped with four people in the back seat, especially since no one, including me, smells very good. But we’re alive. I know it’s ridiculous to focus on the fact that my right butt cheek is numb when the world is ending.
I vacillate between a combination of worry-terror that makes my chest tighten and feeling bitchy about little things, like how stuffy the car is and how guys think sitting with three feet of empty space between their knees is a basic human right, even when three girls have their knees glued shut in the same row.
It’s a while before I realize that I’m not just grouchy. I don’t feel well. Every time we hit a curve I close my eyes to take away the sloshing in my stomach, but it makes it worse. I lean my head on the cool window glass.
Penny turns to me. “What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know,” I say between bouts of nausea. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”
“Nels, you’d better stop the car. Cass’s going to puke,” she says.
He pulls over on a wide shoulder. The cool air hits and my nausea recedes a little. I lean against the truck and close my eyes, glad the world has stopped its jolting. That’s when the stomach cramps hit.
“Pack.” I gasp, doubled over from the knife twisting in my intestines. They look at me blankly. “Toilet paper.”
Penny rushes to the back and grabs the roll. I stumble into the woods. When I return ten minutes later everyone stands outside the truck.
James suddenly stubs out his cigarette. “I kind of feel nauseous too.”
“Need the TP?” I ask weakly. “It was tons of fun out there. I wouldn’t want you to miss out.”
He gives me a wan smile and perches on the front seat, head hanging in his hands. My legs are shaky, and I plop down on the ground, breathing hard. The nausea creeps back.
“I haven’t felt right all day,” Peter says with a frown. “Did we eat something weird?”
“Everything was pack
aged,” Penny replies. “I guess it could have been something, though. We filtered all the water, so it’s not that.”
Ana and Peter exchange a quick look.
“What?” Penny demands. “What’s the matter?”
It dawns on her at the same time as I remember Penny giving them water duty a day ago. We even showed them how to use the filter properly. Ana looks at Penny meekly.
“You didn’t filter the water? Don’t even tell me you didn’t use the filter, Ana,” Penny says, her voice rising.
“We didn’t think it would be a big deal. The water looked clean. And it was taking so long,” Ana replies. She crosses her arms like she’s explained it to everyone’s satisfaction.
“That’s why they’re called microbes, Ana. They’re microscopic. And what else did you have to do that day? Shopping? I can’t believe you guys.”
She shakes her head in disgust at them, arms akimbo. I look up at their faces and it makes me dizzy.
“I’m sorry,” Peter says, but he looks more annoyed than sorry. “If I had known, I wouldn’t have done it.”
Their arguing voices get distant. The sun is so bright. I want to close my eyes and lie down right here. Another wave of nausea hits. I try to scramble away, but I throw up violently on someone’s shoes. I curl up on the soft dirt and hard pebbles of the road and groan.
44
I hear the sounds of tents being erected. They moved me somewhere, but I couldn’t open my eyes without vomiting. I squint and see a flash of grass in a clearing before it all starts rotating. This time I throw up all over my hands while I crawl toward the woods. Penny crouches next to me with a drink of water and fans the back of my neck. I hope it’s new water.
“Oh, God,” I moan. I sink down in my own vomit as my stomach cramps. I know it’s disgusting, but I can’t even care. “I have to go to the bathroom.”
The bathroom. Funny. What I would give for a bathroom right about now. Even the vault toilet at the campground would be better.
“Let me help you,” Penny says.
I stumble on her until we find a spot in the trees, then she wraps me in a sleeping bag and puts me in a tent. I want to ask where we are and if it’s safe, but instead I drift into a feverish sleep.
I’m sick again and again until I feel I might actually wish I were dead. I hear moaning during the night and have dreams that the infected are after me. I can’t run, so I hide and hope they’ll go past. In the dream Penny tries to get me to drink, but I knock the water out of her hand, because I know that’s how they got infected. Finally, twisted and sweaty in my sleeping bag, I wake to the chirping of birds. Penny sleeps next to me. On her other side is a long lump. James.
Penny sits up with a worried frown. “What do you need? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” My voice is dry and raspy. “Water.”
She hands me a bottle. I drink and wait for the stomach lurch, but it seems okay. I’m so thirsty I want it all, but I take careful sips instead.
“Did I sleep all night?” My head is still a little spinny and I lie back down.
“You slept all night, twice.” Penny looks me over carefully but must think I look okay, because her face relaxes.
“Really? I lost a day?”
She nods. “Not just you. James and Peter got sick, too. Nelly’s hit yesterday, but he’s not as bad, and Ana and I are fine. We’ve been taking care of you all.”
The last conversation I heard comes back to me. “It was the water?”
I can’t believe Ana and Peter didn’t filter it. I told them how important it was. But I think they only filled our containers. If they made the Washingtons sick and they had to stop somewhere to recuperate, they could be dead right now. We could have been dead right now, camping out here. Wherever here is.
“It seems most likely. Ana finally told me that they filtered some of it. I guess that was before it got too boring.” She makes a face. “So maybe I was lucky enough to get uncontaminated water. We washed all the containers as best we could and refilled them with filtered water. Ana knows how to use that filter now, you can bet on that.”
She looks triumphant, like a mother who has taught her naughty kid a lesson.
I laugh. “Thanks for taking care of me, chica.”
She smiles. “Of course. Even though you were a pain in the ass and kept trying to knock any drinks I gave you away. You kept saying it would make us moan, too. I was worried about you.”
“I was having crazy dreams. Sorry I was so annoying. Sounds like it must have been fun.” Penny shrugs and smiles. I motion to the lump that is James. “How is he?”
“About the same as you. Peter, too. It hit them later, so I figure by tonight they’ll be feeling better. If you’re feeling better, that is.”
I nod. “I might actually be a little hungry. Not much, but a little.”
“Let me see what I can find that you can stomach.” She unzips the tent, then stops and turns to me with an evil grin. “Oh, you’ll like this. Remember when you threw up the first time? Well, you puked on Peter’s shoes. He was so pissed. It was great. All he could talk about, until he got sick, was how terrible they smelled even though he scrubbed them.”
Peter’s shoes cost hundreds of dollars. I’m feeling even better now than I did a minute ago. It’s amazing how a little morale boost can improve your health.
I smile and close my eyes. “Good. I hope they smell forever.”
45
Three days of people puking has done nothing to improve the aroma in the truck. A bar of soap and limited cold water don’t really cut it when you’ve lain in your own vomit. We’ve been camping in a clearing down a dirt track. Penny says she and Ana heard some cars go by on the main road. A couple of times they heard distant gunshots and what she thought were explosions.
We’re days behind schedule. I’m driving and as jittery as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs, or whatever crazy thing it is that Nelly says. I haven’t had much cause to drive, living in the city with no car the past few years. Plus, my dad always said I drove like an old lady, anyway. I’m about three inches away from the windshield, afraid of what’s around every bend. Nelly, who’s resting in the back, finally opens his eyes and asks me if I want him to drive.
“I’ll drive,” James offers.
He’s perked up in recent hours and sits in the passenger seat. He looks almost skeletal now. Penny offers him a snack every fifteen seconds, pecking around him like a mother hen. I’m pretty sure he likes it.
“I’m fine,” I say, and attempt to unclench one of my hands from the steering wheel.
“Dude, you’ve got the wheel in a kung fu death grip,” James says.
I let out a laugh that’s tinged with hysteria. I offered to drive, since Penny and Ana barely ever drive and everyone else still felt worse than me, but I probably shouldn’t have. At least not in the state I’m in. Maybe it’s being weak from sickness, or because I don’t believe the ride can remain as trouble-free as the last hour has been, or maybe I’m trying for two crack-ups in a lifetime instead of one. I feel like a baby for being scared, but I try to convince myself I have nothing to prove by driving this stupid, stinky car. It’s not like I’ve spent the past days whining and refusing to do what needs to be done, not like some people I could mention.
“Okay, I’ll pull over in a few. Somewhere we can have a pit stop.”
The road wends its way through stands of forests, past farmhouses, fields and run-down houses and trailers. When we started this trip the other day there were signs of life: the occasional person outside or smoke pouring from stovepipes. Today most look empty. I can’t figure out why the occupants would have left somewhere relatively safe for a Safe Zone.
I guess I might consider it too, if we hadn’t already escaped from one and heard about the fall of another. I’m looking for a place to stop, so I’m not prepared when I round a bend and there’s someone standing in the middle of the road.
“Shit!” I slam on the brakes and skid to a s
top two feet away. There are grunts as everyone in the back hits the front seats. “Sorry! You guys okay?”
“Fine, we’re fine,” Penny says, not taking her eyes off the road.
A man stands with his back to us. His hair is greasy cowlicks. He looks normal from the back, but none of us is surprised when he turns and his face is slack. A network of purple capillaries stands out on the gray of his face. They look just like the tiny, twisting lines of the back roads we’re following on the map. He shambles up to the hood and leans forward. His eyes are cloudy, like grimy old marbles.
“Run him over!” Ana screeches.
Her voice carries out the windows. He moans and pulls himself halfway onto the hood, teeth clacking together. I haven’t seen one this still and close in broad daylight. There’s a brown crust in between every tooth, like he hasn’t brushed in a year. I’m pretty sure it’s blood. I can see the bone in one arm, a flash of white in the tangled mess of tissue.
“Cassie,” James says in a calm voice. “You might want to go.”
I snap out of it. There’s a dead person on the hood of the car. His hands scrabble on the shiny black paint as he tries to get purchase, and I’m afraid he’ll fly up and crack the windshield. I lightly press the accelerator, even though I want to gun it.
“Jesus, Cassie, go!” Peter shouts, and the creature on the hood gurgles with frustration, or something like it.
“I don’t want to crack the windshield,” I say, as I speed up. “Hold on to something, everyone.”
I swerve and the Lexer slides off the hood. There’s a terrible thump-bump as we run over some part of him. My breath comes in gasps. We’re going fast now, and I have no intention of stopping, ever. I’m so tightly clenched that my hands and neck hurt. Everyone talks at once, but I’m silent, waiting for the next bump in the road, literally and figuratively.
“Sorry, everyone,” I finally say. “I should have moved faster there.” I feel dumb, like I can’t be trusted to keep everyone safe. My cheeks are hot.
Until the End of the World Box Set Page 15
