Peter waves his hand for me to eat. I don’t feel hungry, but once I take a sip of soup I can’t stop. I want to hook up a soup I.V. and dump in a gallon, even if it is canned and probably expired. I slurp it down without a spoon, chewing like a cow, and hand him the bowl for more.
I’m on my third bowl, which Peter has insisted be only broth, when Nelly walks through the front door. “There she is! How are you, Half-pint?” He kisses my cheek and perches on the coffee table bursting with disturbing good humor.
“I’m okay,” I say cautiously. Now that my bowl’s empty, I finally take in the boxes that are stacked in the kitchenette and peek out from the loft. “What’s with all the boxes?”
Peter coughs into his fist. Nelly leans forward and cracks his knuckles with glee. “It’s your share.”
“My share of what?”
“The candy, tea, coffee, and hmm, let’s see,” he rustles in the bag he’s set on the floor, pulls out a can of soda and pops the top, “Pepsi.”
Oh, no. I hadn’t forgotten—the memory is clear as day—but I hadn’t yet remembered demanding all of that. Frank and my gun and Tara and Philip. I cover my face and whisper through my hands, “I said they weren’t really Canadian.”
They roar with laughter. Peter claps Nelly’s back when he chokes on his Pepsi, and I pull the blanket over my head. “I can’t ever leave this cabin. You guys will bring me stuff, right?”
“You are in dire need of a bath.” Nelly yanks the blanket down, enjoying every second of my mortification. “And we all have to work. So, no.”
Peter was right. I should’ve stayed here, if only so I didn’t make a complete idiot of myself. At the time it had seemed so logical. “I had one lung! And lots of medicine. I didn’t really want all this stuff, I was pissed off. Oh my God, everyone must hate me.”
“Well, they might, but we all love you,” Nelly says. “Our cabins are all full of this crap. Glory and Bernie said it was the least they could do, since we didn’t have to come back at all after what happened.”
I moan. Nelly pats my head. “There’s plenty of junk in circulation right now. We emptied out that place and there was even more than they thought. We’re set.”
“We have to give most of it back.” I won’t give away the espresso for Peter or Christmas candy for the kids, but this is overkill.
“Peter said you’d say that. I say we keep it. We didn’t take it all even though we could’ve.”
“You can keep your Pepsi.”
He finishes his drink and belches. “Don’t worry, I will. Two cans a week. I’m good for two years. Thanks for being crazy, by the way.”
I smile despite myself. “Merry Christmas.”
Now that the torture portion of the afternoon is over, Nelly sits on the couch and drapes an arm around my shoulder. “Penny will take you to the baths later. If you’re up for it.”
“I am so up for it. Can I see Bits?” I want to hear Bits and Hank’s goofy arguments. I want to see the relief of their faces after weeks of strain and worry.
“She’s in school,” Peter says. “But we’ll get her when you go to the baths.”
“Geez, those two can talk,” Nelly says. “Adam and I have a cabin with a loft, and they spend all night yapping up there. They might not want to come back, as long as I come over here every day and get them candy.”
It hurts to laugh, but I’m overjoyed to be sitting with two of my most favorite people in the world. I pray this was the last time we’ll have to run, but as long as I have them it’ll be all right wherever we end up. The happiness dampens when I remember Mikayla and Ben, and I say their names aloud.
“We buried them,” Peter says. “There’s a graveyard outside of town. They buried Frank and his son there, too.”
I blink, afraid of what crying will do to my breathing capacity.
“Tara and Patricia told everyone what Frank did,” Nelly says. “No one hates you. They’re kind of scared of you, actually.”
I make a face, glad to be thinking of something besides Mikayla. “Yeah, I’m real scary.”
“You certainly look scary.” Nelly lumbers off the couch. “I’ll tell Penny you’ve joined the ranks of the living. And then I’ve got work.”
“What kind of work?”
“James is running solar and hydroelectric power or some shit. I just do what he tells me.”
“Have fun. Hate you.”
He tickles under my chin. “Hate you, darlin’. I’m glad you’re better.”
Cool air circulates when he closes the door behind him. I tuck my blanket around me. “It’s already freezing out there.”
“It snowed the other day,” Peter says. “It didn’t stick, though.”
“So I should be happy my lung collapsed and I didn’t have to go outside.”
Peter doesn’t crack a smile at my joke. “You were really sick, much worse than Bits. They had to stick a needle in your chest to draw out the air.”
“Aha! That would be why I feel like someone punctured my chest with a needle.” I run my fingers along a tender spot on the side of my ribs. I can feel my ribs. I need more soup.
Peter chews his cheek. He does that when he’s upset, and obviously he’s too upset to enjoy my witty remarks. I pat the couch until he sits next to me. He closes his eyes and his chest hitches.
“Hey, everything’s fine,” I say. “We’re all right.”
He cries in the quiet way I’ve only seen a few times. He held it together the whole way here—after he’d lost Ana, while he sliced men’s throats, when he feared losing Bits and, I guess, me. He’s one of the most resilient people I’ve ever known, but this is a lot to come back from in a matter of weeks. Still, for all of that, it’s not much of a cry.
He wipes his face and shrugs. “Sorry.”
“If we have to start apologizing for crying I’m going to be writing apology notes for the rest of my life.”
“True.”
I jab him with a finger and rest my head on his chest. I’ve gotten used to being this close, to sleeping in the same bed as him. What would’ve been weird even a month ago feels normal and safe.
“You suck at crying, anyway,” I say. “Five tears and you’re done? I could’ve stretched that out for twenty minutes, at least.”
His chest jumps with his laugh. “I’ll try harder next time. You can have some more soup if you want.”
I would like more, but I don’t want to move. “Not yet.”
“Just tell me when and I’ll get it for you,” he mumbles. His breaths deepen, arms twitching in sleep. I rub his shoulder when he mumbles in a way that sounds distressed. I’ll watch over him for once. God knows he’s done it enough for me.
57
I’m winded and freezing by the time we arrive at the bathhouse, even though I have on a parka that’s more suitable for arctic exploration than the high thirties. Penny hasn’t told me what to expect, only that it’s a surprise. On the way to the rectangular wooden building, she’d waved at a million people and several of them stopped to talk. There was Glory, who warned me to take it easy, an older hippie with dreadlocks who repeatedly said right on, a harried mother, two little children clinging to her sides, who asked Penny if she’d want in on the babysitting co-op when the time came, and a young guy asking for James’s whereabouts. It was a relief to find they didn’t seem to hate me and none of them were scared—exaggeration is Nelly’s favorite sport. I would breathe a little easier except for the fact that I can’t breathe all that well.
Penny leads me into a small room with a sign-in desk. Apparently, I have a towel coin, once known as a silver half-dollar, which Penny hands to the lady at the desk along with hers in exchange for two towels. We undress in a changing room full of wooden cubbies and wisps of fog that drift past every so often. Bits races in, followed by Jamie, Margaret, Liz and Jasmine. I have to sit on a bench when we hug, but it’s the best hug I’ve had in a long while.
“Hank wanted to come, but since he has to go to the boys’
side he had to stay at school,” Bits says. She looks down at the floor. “Sorry I got you sick.”
I pinch her cheek. “It’s not your fault. It’s the germs’ fault.”
“Stupid germs,” she says, to which I agree wholeheartedly.
I hug the others, complimenting Margaret when I see her hair has lost its auburn ends to become a flattering shoulder-length brown. She shrugs but gives me an extra squeeze.
The next room is warmer, with showerheads spaced between partitions and pump handles instead of faucet knobs. “This is like the YMCA,” I say. “Or summer camp. How is this a surprise?”
“The water’s kind of on the cool side,” Penny says, ignoring me, “so be prepared.”
I take my towel off the hook and wrap it around me. “Pneumonia, remember? No way.”
“It’s worth it afterwards,” Jamie says. “Just do it fast.” She grabs shampoo and conditioner from a wooden rack and puts them on the ledge between two showerheads.
I step next to her with a sigh, then crank the pump and wash myself as fast as possible in the lukewarm water that falls. I give a few cursory swipes with a razor, but I don’t have enough stamina to finish the job. When my hair is clean I wait, shivering in my towel.
Jamie stands beside me. “Jaz, don’t forget the conditioner,” she says to Jasmine. She turns to me. “I swear her hair was matted this morning.”
“Are you two sharing a room?”
“Yeah. We’re in the big cabin with Kyle and Nicki, Margaret, Zeke and Liz. I kind of checked with everyone to see if anyone minded if I take care of her.” She gnaws on her lip. “Is that cool?”
“She’s all yours. I have more than enough kids.”
She pushes me with a laugh. “Thanks.”
“Next stop,” Penny says cheerfully.
I grumble while I follow her into a foggy room, suspecting she’s trying to finish me off until I see the two large, rectangular wooden tubs that sit against opposite walls, each with its own stovepipe that rises through the roof. I climb into the water and sink to a bench. My parents always wanted a wood-fired hot tub, and now I know it’s every bit as marvelous as they’d said.
“So, now what do you think?” Penny asks. “You can take unlimited lukewarm showers, pretty much, but you can sign up for two baths a week. Or drop in and see if anything’s open.”
“This is heaven.” The steam makes me cough, but it’s worth it. It’s even worth a cool shower. “What’s it like here?”
Everyone seems at home after only a few days. Days I wish I hadn’t spent passed out because I feel as if I’m late to the party and might never fit in.
“It’s so great.” Bits wiggles her toes above the water. “There are lots of kids. Jaz, Hank and I are making comics to sell. We’re going to trade them for stuff. And our teacher, Joe, is funny. Adam’s teaching the older kids math. Ash and Nat are in his class. There’s a girl named Peony. Isn’t that a funny name? But I like it. We’re putting on a play. It’s like The Wizard of Oz but different, and I’m helping with the set.”
I blink at the torrent of information and listen to more before she finally fizzles out. “Was I out for a month? How did so much happen?” I ask, and she giggles. “I’m glad you like it here.”
Margaret squints through the steam with a small smile. “You will, too. Don’t worry.” A few days here seems to have done wonders for her. Or maybe it was the journey here.
Jamie has been playing Safe Zone nurse again, as well as doing guard and taking care of Jasmine. She tells me that they have a ranking system—First Guard, Second Guard and Third Guard. First Guard does patrol along with the usual guard duties.
“We’re all on First Guard,” Liz says. “No test needed. We told Bernie that you probably wanted to do guard and kitchen when you’re better.” She leans her head against the tub’s edge and sighs. “Guard’s cool, but there’s no action. The Lexers to the north are frozen and we’ve only had a few at the fence.”
“That’s fine with me,” I say. “I’ve had enough action to last me a lifetime.”
People enter for the other tub, Tara and Patricia among them. I flash a quick smile instead of sinking under the water the way I’d like. Tara comes to the edge of our tub, her auburn hair piled on her head. “Cassie, you’re up. That’s great! Philip and I have been waiting to visit you.”
“Sorry if I was, um, a little…” I’m not sure what I was. Crazy? Weird? Out of my flipping mind?
“You and Peter saved me and Philip. With a collapsed lung, no less. No worries! We owe you a ton of beers when you’re up to it.”
She walks to her tub, leaving Patricia standing with her arms behind her back and eyes on the wall. “Sorry I was…not very nice.”
I get the feeling Patricia doesn’t like to apologize for anything, so this is probably a huge deal. “That’s okay.”
She raises a slim shoulder. “No, it’s not. I was looking for Corey the whole time, and when I saw him I…sort of lost it. He was a good friend. I’m usually better than that when we’re outside. I’m on First Guard.”
She’s more concerned I might think she can’t fight zombies than I might dislike her, which reminds me of Ana. They might’ve been friends, which would’ve been very interesting for the rest of us.
“I could tell,” I say. “Before that, I mean.”
“I like your tomahawk, by the way. Oh, and thanks for helping me out with…Corey.”
“Sure.” I hide my amusement that the last part was added as an afterthought. But it’s not that big of a deal. That’s what we do, and why having people you trust is so important. I’ve saved people, and I’ve been saved plenty.
“If you ever want to practice or whatever, that’d be cool. I run every morning if you want to come. When you’re feeling better.”
“I might,” I say out loud while thinking I might never.
Penny waits until Patricia’s in her tub facing the other way before she shakes her head. “How do they find you?” she whispers. “You’re like the crazy person den mother.”
“It’s a gift,” I say. “You know how cats flock to people who don’t like them? The ones who love exercise always find me.”
“They know you’re a sucker,” Liz says. I splash her.
“You mean lollipop,” Bits says to Liz. “Oh, Cassie, I wanted to ask if there are any lollipops at the cabin. Nelly said he couldn’t find them and we ate all of his.”
“Why don’t you come look? Rich says you and Hank should sleep at Nelly’s for a while longer in case there are germs lingering, but you can visit. There’s a lot of candy to sort through.”
Bits licks her lips. “I love you.”
“Are you talking to me or the candy?”
“Both,” she says, and dunks herself before I can splash her.
58
I’m on my fourth day in the cabin. Rich says he let me out for a bath as a morale boost, which might have been a nice way of saying I stank, but now I’m back on bed rest. I’m allowed visitors, though, and there’s been a steady stream of people who must be so bored they stop by to hang out. I’ve met almost everyone, and I’ve sent them all home with something from the boxes. That’s probably why they visit.
There’s a knock at the door and Peter opens it on Terry, who lugs in a big box and sets it on the floor next to the couch. “There’s more, but I picked the stuff that looked the newest.”
I don’t try to contain my excitement as I pick through the art supplies. The tubes of paint are like old friends and the brushes are the highest quality—the kind I would splurge on when I had the money. “Thank you so much. I love it all.”
“No problem.”
As much as I’m tired of sitting on the couch, I don’t yet have the energy to do much else. The painting of Holly will have to wait or it’ll be terrible. I point at the boxes that still litter the room. I made Nelly hide most of the coffee at his house, and now I only need to find a stovetop espresso maker for Peter’s Christmas present to be complete.
“Will you take this stuff back already?”
“I hear you keep giving it away. You could trade for it.”
“I’m a terrible capitalist.” I think of Dan saying those very words, and I laugh when Terry does. “They’ll stop coming once I’m out of the good stuff.”
“You’d be surprised. People here love to visit, especially when the dark and snow set in. Well, I should go.” He puts his hands in his pockets but doesn’t move. “Did Patricia apologize?”
“She did,” I say, and grin when I remember how foreign the whole process seemed to her. “Why, did you make her?”
“Sometimes she has a little difficulty with…feelings. I didn’t make her, though. Anyway, she wants to be friends, but she’d never ask.”
He tugs at his dark ponytail and keeps his eyes on a moose painting, which I’ve just renamed Painting Project Number Two. I think he wants everyone to like Patricia as much as he does, and I’m beginning to think he might like like her a whole lot.
“Of course,” I say, and pray this doesn’t mean I have to take up running.
“I’m sorry about Frank. I just wanted you to know we all don’t feel the way he did.”
“I know. No hard feelings.”
“All right, good. Feel better and get some rest.”
Peter closes the door behind him. I keep telling Peter to go do something, but he’s a worse mother hen than Penny. He crushes a few empty boxes and says, “Terry’s a nice guy.”
“He seems it. He has a thing for Patricia.”
“How do you know?”
“You know I know these things. That’s going to be a tough one, but I think I can make it happen.”
“You’re already trying to pair people off and you’ve only left the cabin once,” Peter says.
“People like to be paired off, and I like to pair them. It’s win-win. I’ll live vicariously through them.”
“What do you mean?”
I was trying to keep the conversation light, but I’ve blown it. “Just that I’m not looking…I don’t want to lose—”
I break off at his grimace. In the past days, all the loss has hit him full on. Blindsided him, really. Maybe he thought he’d already mourned enough for one lifetime, but it seems there’s always more to mourn.
Until the End of the World Box Set Page 108
