He removes the knife on his belt and kneels in front of me. “Do you want to talk?” I bite my lip and shake my head, then lean forward to kiss him, but he pulls back. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t want to talk,” I say. “Do you?”
I grab a fistful of his shirt and pull him closer, giving him no time to respond to my question. His mouth is hesitant at first. I don’t ask why because I don’t want to know, and after a minute he doesn’t seem to care.
I pull the sleeping bag up to my chin and turn on my side to face Dan. “So, how are the cabins coming?”
Dan’s drawn up the plans and is in charge of building the long cabins that will replace the outfitter tents. The tents kept people warm during last winter, for what we hoped would be the only winter. But now that we know we have years to go, the tenants need a modicum of privacy.
Dan’s head is propped on his hand, and his other traces circles on my stomach. “They’re fine. I wish I could say I was excited, but it’s basically framing things out and telling people where to put nails. Nothing like what I used to do.”
“So, what’d you used to do?” I ask. There’s so much I don’t know about him. “How did you become a carpenter in the first place?”
“My dad. I used to help him in his shop. He’d get these wood deliveries where they’d dump a whole bunch of wood out front. I’d help him stack the pieces by type and size. They were rough and dull, but he’d run his hands along them like they were already beautiful things. Like he could see what they were before he even started. And one day I realized I could see it, too.”
I know what he means. Sometimes a blank canvas looks like that; I just have to fill in the spaces with what I can already see. “So what kind of things did you make?”
“We made furniture, boxes, bowls, whatever we saw in the wood. We sold at a lot of galleries. My favorite things were these carved boxes I made. We were more woodworkers than carpenters, but we filled in the quieter periods with general carpentry. My dad could do anything.”
His voice is soft and eyes faraway. I run my fingers along his tightened jaw. He kisses my fingers and holds them there. It feels more intimate than what we’ve just done and a nervous clatter starts up in my stomach.
“I’d love to see one of those little boxes—I love boxes,” I say, in order to cut through what’s quickly becoming a moment I can’t handle. “My mom used to build stuff, more utilitarian things like shelves and bookcases, but they were always pretty. The one time I tried to build a table, it looked like a baby deer. She laughed her ass off.”
Dan snorts. “How can a table look like a deer?”
“You know, all spindly legs and wobbly? Like Bambi.”
“You see things differently, you know. I guess that’s why you were a painter—are a painter.”
“I was a painter. Then, after my parents died, I stopped. I started again last summer.”
“So what’d you paint?”
“Whatever struck me. It could be a landscape, or the kids I worked with in Brooklyn, or something beautiful, or something so ugly that I wanted to show its beauty. And the kids and I did murals in the neighborhood.”
“Maybe you should do a mural here. In the restaurant or something.”
“I was thinking that. I have it all planned out—unicorns and a rainbow, with mountains in the background.” His smile becomes forced, and I shake with laughter. “I’m kidding! I like unicorns as much as the next girl, but really?”
“I thought you were serious, Dingbat,” he says, and gives an exaggerated wipe of his forehead.
“Well, you would’ve figured it out when I got to the part about the robot battle in the background, right?”
“I’d like to think so, but you are kind of strange.” He laughs when I push his chest. “So, were you good?”
“Some stuff I was really proud of, but some stuff I hated. I guess other people thought so.”
“So they wanted your paintings?”
“Yeah.”
Dan runs his fingers up my side. “Maybe you’ll paint me something one day. That corner of the tent is kind of bare.”
“Maybe you’ll make me a box to put my treasures in. We can trade.”
I’m already thinking of what I could paint for him. Not what I want to paint, which is the ambulance on a dark night, siren lights illuminating the cables of a bridge. Bold strokes, blurry and murky and bright at the same time. I think I could convey the fear, the rush, the terror he must have felt as he sped out of Boston and left everyone behind. I won’t paint him that, but maybe I’ll paint it for myself one day. Future generations—if there are future generations—will want to know what happened. They’ll want to see, just like we want to see what came before us.
“It’s a deal,” he says. “So, tell me something else I don’t know about you.”
“You know everything, I’m sure.” I remember Shelby’s comment. “Everyone here knows everything.”
I roll onto my back and look at the mesh of the tent’s roof. Dan turns off the lantern and moves next to me. “I took off the rain fly so we could see the stars. The Perseid meteor shower starts every year in mid-July. It hasn’t peaked yet, but if you watch long enough you’ll see them.”
I stare at the sky until a tiny trail of white zings through the stars, followed by another.
“Make a wish,” he says, but I don’t answer. His hand finds mine and squeezes. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing.” I wanted this to be uncomplicated and secret, but it’s not. Nothing here ever is. I haven’t even told Penny. She and I may have cleared the air, but I’m still nervous about her reaction.
The mattress bounces when he faces me, but I continue to watch the sky. Two more meteors shoot past. “What about us?” he asks. “What we’re doing.”
“We’re hanging out. Right?”
“Well, how do you feel about it?”
I tear my eyes away from the stars. I can only see his silhouette. “I don’t know. I guess...I have fun with you?”
I wait for him to press me further, praying fervently that he won’t. He switches the lantern on and shrugs. “I’m having fun, too. You’re okay with that?”
“That’s all I want,” I say. “Really.”
I don’t know what Dan is like with any of the other girls he’s been with. I certainly can’t ask, but I assume he must be as nice to them as he is to me. Otherwise they’d hate him, and none of them do. I don’t want there to be any confusion, though. He leans forward and kisses me slowly. My body responds, although my heart is silent.
59
The fifty Lexers that fell in the trench last night have to be finished off, which is like shooting fish in a barrel. I stand ten feet from the edge. I’m not taking any chances—all I’d need to do is trip and then I’d be dinner. The trench is five feet deep; deep enough that they can’t escape, but not deep enough to keep their hands and heads below ground level. To get close enough with something short is to get within arm’s reach, which is why I have my trusty crossbow.
A long spike would do, but even though my arms are strong, driving things through bone isn’t easy. And when it gets stuck, it can take tremendous effort to get it out again. This is easier, and we can retrieve the bolts when we’re done. I’d go as far as to say it’s fun, if you don’t think about it too much. It’s become an impromptu target practice out here today. I pull back the cocking string, unclick the safety and line up the sight on the eye socket of one with long auburn hair. I’d bet her eyes were green once, but now they’re a yellow-gray rimmed with black-edged eyelids. Her arms are stretched out, filthy fingers making troughs in the dirt beside the trench. The bolt twangs and hits her square in the eye.
“Nice,” Ana says.
“Thanks,” I say. I hand the crossbow to Peter. “Take a shot. They’re great. We used them at the quar—Day Which Shall Not Be Named.”
Peter laughs and smacks Ana on the backside. She punches him in the arm. “It’s okay to talk about it.
She’s not doing it again. Are you?”
“I promised,” Ana says. “Except in certain emergency situations. On an as-needed basis.”
“Which must first pass my approval,” Peter says. Ana sucks her teeth and glares. “I’m kidding.”
“Would you shoot the damn crossbow already?” a familiar voice says.
I spin around. Nelly stands behind us, arms crossed and mouth curved. I scream in joy and run to him. “What are you doing here?”
For once, Nelly doesn’t act blasé. He lifts me in the air and spins me around. “I missed you, Half-pint.”
My scream has caused our trench zombies to lose their minds. It’s impossible to hear over the din. Ana and Peter unload their crossbows into the Lexers and hug Nelly when they’re done, but they don’t seem surprised. We walk back to the side gate and lock it behind us. The newly formed Body Removal duty will clear the bodies and clean the bolts. I’m not looking forward to my next shift on that crew.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming?” I ask.
“I wanted to surprise you,” Nelly says. “We need fuel at Whitefield, and when we heard y’all were going on a run we thought we’d join. We brought the tank truck to load up and fill your tanks before going out again.”
I hop up and down in excitement. Peter and Ana look as happy as I do. We’re all back together again, which is the way it should be.
“You’ll stay at our cabin, right?” I ask. “We can squish in my bed. Or Bits can sleep with me, or Ana and Peter.”
“I thought I’d have your bed all to myself, since I hear you’re sleeping elsewhere these days,” Nelly says with a smirk. “And here I thought you were immune to his charms.”
I cover my face with my hands. I know he’s so been looking forward to this conversation. He probably spent the past hour working on his opening line. “Please,” I beg. “Please don’t torture me. I can’t take it.”
“I can’t pass up this opportunity, Cass,” he says sadly. “I wish I cou—”
“I saved your life! You owe me. This is all I want in return.”
He turns his face to the clouds and shakes his head slowly. “No. I’d rather die than not be able to bother you about this.”
“I can’t believe you!”
He wraps his arm around my shoulders and drags me toward the cabin. “Now, come and tell me all about it. I suppose I know what base you’ve gotten to—” I kick him, hard, and he laughs, “but I’m gonna need more than that.”
I look to Peter and Ana for help. Ana looks at her watch and says, “I’m late for the garden.” She flashes Nelly a grin tinged with evil. “Every detail. Later. She doesn’t talk to anyone.”
Peter edges away, but I grab his arm. “You have nothing to do. I know you don’t. You aren’t leaving me alone with him.”
Peter stops struggling. “Okay, but I reserve the right to cover my ears.”
“You won’t have to,” I say, and stick my tongue out at Nelly.
Nelly’s been grilling me, in between my annoying him about Adam, but all I’ll say is that I sleep in Dan’s tent. Nelly sits beside me on the loveseat, my feet in his lap, and curls his lip.
“That’s it?” he asks. “That’s all you’re giving me?”
“It’s nothing, I swear. We’re just hanging out. It’s been a few weeks, so it’ll end soon. It’s almost over. Of course, I was hoping that would happen before the rest of the world knew.”
“So you don’t like like him? To use your first-grade terminology.”
I shake my head. “He asked me how I felt about us, and I said we were friends and I was cool with it. The end.”
Peter’s been leaning back in a table chair, head against the wall. But now the chair legs hit the floor, and he and Nelly exchange a glance. “Darlin’,” Nelly says. “Dan asked you how you felt about things?”
I roll my eyes, but I remember the way Dan seemed different last night and take a sip of water to moisten my mouth. “Stop. You’re making it out to be a bigger deal than it was.”
Nelly looks unconvinced. I turn to Peter. “Did you put this in his head? Dan likes everyone. You both know that.”
“I didn’t say a word,” Peter replies. “Not a syllable.”
“You need to—” Nelly begins. He drops the subject and holds out his arms when Bits runs through the door with Penny. “There’s my most favorite kid in the world.”
“Nelly!” Bits throws herself on the couch and kisses him all over.
“Did you know that none of the kids at Whitefield are as smart as you?” Nelly asks. He puts a hand up to his mouth and whispers, “They’re all pretty dumb, actually.”
“They are not!” Bits giggles. “Want to see my comic book so far? I’m a zombie hunter. Come!”
She drags him to our room. Penny gives him a big kiss and parks herself next to me with her hands on her belly.
“So, when were you going to tell me?” she asks. I throw my head back and sigh. “I’ll forgive you this once. But don’t ever think you can not tell me something like this again.”
“This is ridiculous. I’ll just sleep in Peter and Ana’s bed. You’ll rub my eyebrows until I’m asleep, right?” Peter chuckles. “You think I’m kidding.”
“Are you mad?” I ask Penny. I have my best friend back, and I don’t want to lose her again.
“For what?”
“For not telling you about Dan. For anything. I don’t know, pick something.”
“No, I’m not mad. And don’t break it off unless you want to.” She sticks a finger in my face. “But, either way, you have to tell me.”
“I will.” I lean on her shoulder and rub her bump. “How’s little Cass doing?”
She lets out a snort. “Cass?”
“It was worth a shot.”
“If it’s a girl, we were thinking of naming her Maria.”
“I think that’s perfect. Your mom would love that.”
Penny sniffs. “I know.”
60
“I missed you last night,” Dan says. The words are serious, but the creases by his mouth aren’t. He tosses his backpack into a pickup.
“Nelly’s here,” I say.
The creases disappear. “Right. Got it.”
“That’s not what I meant. He’s staying with me, and I want to spend time with him.”
I don’t owe him an explanation, but I don’t want to hurt his feelings. “He knows about—” I wave my hand between us. “It’s not that.”
I shiver when Dan runs his fingers up my bare arm and says, “I missed your cold feet.”
“Well, maybe they’ll be back on you soon.”
“Can’t wait, Dingbat.” The day grows ten degrees warmer when he lifts his hand to my cheek and stares at me without blinking.
“Is that my new nickname or something?” I ask.
“Yep. It fits you, in the best possible way.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or not, but okay.”
“It is. At least the way I mean it.”
I walk past the small tanker truck. It holds about a thousand gallons and if we get that, we’ll be set. Nelly stands beside our pickup and shakes his head. “That doesn’t look like it’s over.”
“Stuff it,” I say.
We make quite a caravan on the way to the outskirts of Burlington. We have the small tank truck, the trailer with fuel drums, and another two pickups with in-bed tanks that hold a hundred gallons of fuel each. We don’t know what to expect. Burlington had a population of 40,000, plus college students, at the time of infection. Even with the winter, that’s a lot of zombies.
I’ve come to regret my decision to ride in one of the pickups with Nelly, who’s been hounding me ever since he put the truck in drive, much to Ana and Peter’s amusement. John drives the tanker with Zeke. Dan, Caleb and Toby are in the trailer truck, and Kyle, Tony and Margaret follow in the last pickup.
“I saw you!” Nelly bangs a hand on the steering wheel for emphasis. “He was not looking
at you like he was ‘having fun.’ And you weren’t much better.”
Heat rises in my cheeks. “What do you want from me?”
“Admit you like him.”
I look out the window at the two-lane road. “I don’t like him that way. I really don’t.”
It’s not entirely true. I do like Dan—he makes me laugh, he’s smart and a nice guy—and that’s as far as it goes or will go during this little escapade. I don’t plan on falling in love with him. With anyone. Dan said he felt the same, but if Nelly and Peter are right I’ll have to end it. I hope they’re wrong because I don’t want it to end just yet. I don’t want it to intensify, either. I’m happy with the status quo.
“Well, what was that look on your face? You should have seen her, y’all. She was all—” He turns and makes his eyes big and melty. Ana giggles. “So what was that?”
If I could throw Nelly out the door without killing him, I would. “It’s…He’s…”
Ana screams. “I knew it! He is good in bed!”
It may be true, but that’s not what I was going to say. I don’t even know what I was going to say, but it definitely wasn’t that, especially with Nelly and Peter in the truck. She wiggles one of my buns and jumps back before my seat belt stops me from smacking her. I always wear my seatbelt. It’s not like they can rush me to the nearest hospital if we crash.
Nelly sobs with laughter. Peter covers his ears jokingly. Maybe I should throw myself out the door.
“So how does he compare to Peter?” Ana asks. “It’s the only way I’ll ever know.”
“Ana!” Peter and I scream at the same time.
I’m roasting in embarrassment, and out of the corner of my eye I see Peter drop his head in his hands. She and Nelly high five, which causes Nelly to swerve to the shoulder before he straightens the truck out. This is why seatbelts are important, especially when your friends are jerks.
Until the End of the World Box Set Page 68
