by Tara Brown
“Wait. Could this be nanobots?” Louis asks, tilting his head.
“Maybe.” Mitch shrugs. “I mean, the way the zombies rewire like that, right before they go crazy, Jeff and I saw it. It could be tiny robots. And the government would be the ones who lost control of that for sure.”
“That’s insane.” I scoff and raise an eyebrow at Jeff. But he doesn’t offer back the same. They’re winning him over. He’s drinking the Kool-Aid. “You guys, nanobots aren’t even real!” I step back, completely lost on how they are letting their minds get so polluted with conspiracy theories.
“That would explain the blood that moves on its own,” Jeff says, his gaze darting to Mitch. “You and I both saw that too.”
Blood that moves on its own?
It’s the second time I have heard that sentence.
“Trevor,” Mitch’s excitement is gone and terror flashes in his eyes as he nods.
“The blood moves on its own?” Louis squints in confusion.
“It does. It seeps from the undead and lands in a puddle and then slinks along like a horror movie,” Jeff adds, his stare also dramatic.
“My mom said that when I spoke to her. Blood that moves on its own. Exactly that,” I admit.
“Holy shit.” Louis steps back, holding a dish towel. “What if it really is nanobots?”
“That would explain the reset they all go through. The bots are taking over, rewiring the brain so they’re in command. It would explain the biting. Transfer from spit to blood. And it would explain how the government knows the exact day this is going to end.”
“Preinstalled computer programming that would wipe them out, based on a preset expiry date,” Louis whispers.
“Exactly,” Jeff agrees and I am lost.
“What? How is this possible?”
They ignore me and continue.
“Like when they all froze on the dock. When we got onto the boat, they didn’t push each other and fall into the ocean, not like zombies would,” Jeff says.
“And they stand still, going almost dormant until they’re stimulated by sound,” Mitch adds.
“And they aren’t staying with the bodies they bite. It’s like the virus knows to infect as many as possible. They bite and move on.” Louis is fully there, fully absorbed in Mitch’s theories. But the worst part, I’m starting to see they could be correct.
“The mist,” I recall suddenly. “The mist on the beaches on the East Coast.”
Everyone gives me a confused look.
“I saw it on YouTube. It was a video. It was Atlantic City I think. Everyone was at the pier; the zombies were running like crazy. And then these drones came and sprayed mist and it got really thick, really fast, and the zombies froze. Like I mean, they froze into a position and when they fell, they didn’t budge even slightly. Like mannequins.”
Louis scowls. “Why didn’t you tell me you saw this?”
“I don’t know.” I almost laugh at the absurd question, but we’re talking about tiny robots and a government-planned apocalypse. “All the running and screaming and peeing and people dying?” I say it like he should know better than to ask.
“Right,” he concedes but clearly a trickle of disappointment lingers.
“That’s it then!” Mitch is back to near hysterics. “It’s nanobots. And the government.” He runs his dish hands over his jeans and points at the house. “We need to stay here for the whole seven days. As far as I can tell, we’re on day three. Four more days and they all die. Then we leave and go home and try to find our families and hope for good things.” He sounds happy to have a plan and answers, even though they’re mostly speculation.
“Agreed.” Louis sounds better too.
Jeff presses his lips together.
“You can come with us, if you don’t think your family made it,” I offer.
“Thanks.” He smiles but it’s faked for us. He’s worried about something, and I can’t guess what it is. “I’m sure at least some of them are all right.”
He doesn’t convince me of this.
We go back to washing dishes and joking about the view and the mansion and how it’s not the worst way to spend some time. It’s like a vacation. Roughing it rich-people style.
But it’s all jokes to cover the fact we are scared.
And now that we have something resembling an answer to how this could happen, I’m more worried. Nanobots aren’t something I understand. Not enough to judge how likely it is this will end in four days.
When we’re done cleaning up, the misty rain starts again. I stare out at the sea until the sun is completely gone and the last strip of light has faded. It’s bedtime. Everyone else has dispersed to their places, the safe spots they’ve claimed as their own.
Mitch walks me to my room.
“Where’s Bev?” he asks when we arrive at the doorway of the massive room, revealing an empty bed.
“She said she was sleeping with Cynthia and Naira. They got one of the rooms and they’re sleeping all three of them in a bed. I don’t really know any of them well.” I lower my voice, “I think, like a lot of us, they’re finding comfort in their closeness.”
“Which leaves you feeling vulnerable and alone?” he says it as a question but it feels like an observation.
“I guess so,” I confess. “But a lot of the kids are sleeping in massive groups.”
“Yeah, Louis and Jeff and I are sharing a room. Taking turns sleeping on the sofa that’s in there. It’s my night.” He lifts his dark eyebrows as though this isn’t the most exciting news.
“Well, if you want”—I point at the bed behind me as my voice cracks, suggesting my discomfort with what I’m about to say—“you can sleep in here. It’s honestly just me and we have separate duvets. Bev wasn’t one for snuggling,” I kid but the reality is I would love to have another person in here. Safety in numbers is real. Even if he told me he likes me. And always has.
“I don’t really blame her. We all smell like barbecue and sadness.” He cracks a smile but his heart isn’t in it.
“I think I smell like pears.” I sniff my shirt but he’s right. It’s barbecued salmon and missing the smell of my mom in my laundry.
“If you’re serious, I’d love to.” It’s his turn for his voice to crack as he brushes his hands through his dark hair and tries to be cool. “The couch is miserable for anyone over five eight. Even Louis is struggling with it.”
“Awesome.” I smile but I don’t move. Maybe I don’t know how to walk into this room with him. I was all bravado and casualness before it came time to actually walk into the room with him. Now I’m sweating and digging my fingernails into the tips of my thumb.
“Cool.” Mitch also doesn’t move.
“What are you guys doing?” Louis asks, making us both jump as we spin to find him with a towel around his waist.
“Nothing!” we say too insistently at the same moment.
“Okay.” Louis cocks an eyebrow.
“I just told Mitch if he wants to share a room with me, that’s cool. Since I’m in here alone. No biggie. Ya know?” It doesn’t sound cool. I’m not cool. Nothing about this is cool. Why can’t I be cool? I have to stop thinking cool.
“Yeah, she just asked.” Mitch’s voice is tense with what I’m assuming is him trying to pretend he’s joking. “Because of the sofa. No one wants to sleep on it. My back last time, wow. It was aching.”
“Sweet.” Louis pauses, staring at us. Neither of us speaks, likely because we’re both afraid of what might come out. “Well, night.”
“Night!” We both walk over the threshold of the door and Mitch closes it, leaving us in the dark of the large space, huddled in the corner of the entryway. He’s leaning against the door, staring at me. I can’t see him very well at all, but he is there. I take a step back, not sure about how to just do this. Which is making me think there must be more to my feelings for him. Maybe they don’t match his, but they’re there.
“So, uh, which side do you sleep on?” he a
sks and it’s weird.
“I don’t know. I’ve been sleeping on the left. Bev likes the right.” I think my answer is weird too. Maybe it isn’t but I’m so tense I swear I feel him in the air around me.
“Okay.” He moves and shuffles and I’m not sure if he’s taking clothes off or not. I hurry around to my side of the bed and grab my pajamas from under the pillow. They’re not mine but they’ve become mine. He’s on the bed in his duvet when I pull my shirt off, catching yet another scent of barbecue. My skin prickles knowing I’m naked in the room with him, even though its dark and I’m about to put a tank top on.
When I get out and undo my jeans, the noise of the zipper seems like a scream in the night compared to the silence. Did he hear it? Does that make me more uncomfortable or am I hovering at a constant level of discomfort?
I struggle out of the pants and into the shorts I stole from the little boy who lived here. And then as if someone is chasing me, I hurry into the duvet, wrapping myself like a burrito and rolling on my side. I’m trying not to breathe heavy, but it’s hard and the silence is killing me.
“Crazy about the nanobots, huh?” he says softly.
“Totally,” I agree but don’t completely understand how we’re stuck in this horror movie.
“Well, night,” he whispers.
“Night,” I whisper back as if I’m completely chill and this is normal, and I don’t have feelings matching his, although I suspect I do. Nanobots or not, I think I have feelings for him.
These are the most awkward moments of my life. I couldn’t even guess how many of them there are. Possibly a million but probably four, before I start to calm down.
I close my eyes, ignoring my pounding heart, and relax into the sound of him doing the same. It’s nice to hear someone else breathing. I don’t feel so lonely. I realize then and there, with him I haven’t felt lonely yet.
8
Day Five
The smell of Mitch in the room has become a thing. He has claimed the dankness in the air and it’s working with him to infiltrate my nose. Even sleeping I know he’s next to me, filling the air around me with the scent of safety and maybe home.
It’s not just deodorant and whatever that manly face cream is he’s stolen from the master bedroom. He also smells like sitting on the deck in the misty weather on the West Coast and drinking something called Mike’s Hard Lemonade, though it tastes nothing like lemons. And lying awake in the dark listening to him breathe and pondering whether he’s asleep or not. He smells like something I’ve never quite smelled before. And the timing couldn’t be worse.
He’s invaded my whole mind. Taking up residence with his smile and the way his eyes dart to mine and hold my stare when we talk of what will happen after this. It’s the way he’s made this feel bearable—even better than that—he’s become the distraction I didn’t know I needed.
Of course we can’t stay here. We can’t pause the world and live in this bubble we have carved out, created from someone else’s life. But the last couple of days have been a wild escape from whatever has happened to the world. And all I can do is hope my family is okay. Beyond that, I’m helpless. And somehow, he helps me forget it.
He hasn’t repeated his feelings, and I haven’t brought them up, though they haven’t left the forefront of my brain since it happened. I also haven’t told him about my feelings. Maybe because I’m not sure what they are.
Or maybe it’s the lingering fear of the nanobot apocalypse.
I stir, waking fully and stretching, realizing he’s gone. His scent is left behind, with the indent on the pillow on his side of the bed, as far away from me as it can possibly get. Every night he has been the perfect gentleman. And I like that too.
I get up and pull on clothes. Some are mine, some belong to the little boy who hasn’t come back to claim his things, and others are random. I don’t know who they belong to.
Making my way to the living room, I notice a difference. It’s been a slow building one. A tension coming in slowly like the fog does here.
Vanessa’s tone is not the nicest and Jack looks like maybe he hasn’t been sleeping, and there’s a chance they’re fighting over the last bagel.
“You don’t even like banana bread!” she snaps, leaning in dangerously.
“I don’t know why we can’t share it. You get half and I get half.” Jack pushes his filmy glasses up the bridge of his nose, something I’m starting to think is a nervous habit.
“Because I want the whole thing!”
“Enough!” Jeff shouts, storming into the kitchen and snatching the bagel from the counter. He stuffs the whole thing in his mouth while he’s getting angry at them, shouting and pointing fingers, but he’s completely lost it, so I can’t understand a single thing he says.
Vanessa certainly does. She turns on her heel and storms out, screaming, “I hate it here! And I hate all of you!”
Jack’s face is red and his eyes are focused on the crumbs falling from Jeff’s still chewing mouth.
Jeff also turns and stalks out onto the deck. I follow him and get a cup of coffee, sitting far from everyone. I savor the flavor of it, just in case. It might end up being the last one.
The power of the outdoor kitchen could be on its last legs. We haven’t figured out how to tell if the propane tank is empty or not. When we arrived, Jeff touched it and said it was cold around the middle of the tank, but he doesn’t know how fast we’re burning it using it all the time.
Louis comes outside and sees me. He turns and hurries over, glimpsing back once.
“Hey,” I offer politely although I’m not a morning person.
“Did you hear?”
“Hear what?” I ask, already annoyed.
“We’re running out of food.”
“Well, that had to happen at some point. Twenty people eating three meals a day.” I sip the coffee and try not to let this stress me out. We can find more food.
“We decided we’re leaving this house tomorrow.”
That ruins my coffee. “Tomorrow? How? To go where?”
“We’re just about to leave. Some of us, five—are going. We wanna find some SUVs with full tanks of gas and bring them back here to this neighborhood. And tomorrow, when the sun comes up, we’re out.” Louis doesn’t sound excited.
“Do you want me to come?” I ask, praying the answer is no. I really don’t want to go out there.
“No. You’re not fast enough.”
“I was fast when we ran to the boat.”
“You froze up on the bus and you can’t drive.” The way he says it almost makes me smile.
“I can kinda drive.” I don't know why I’m defending myself. I think we both know I can’t. I’ve failed my driver’s test three times and the last time the lady testing me cried and begged me to stop the car.
“Anyway, Bev, Jeff, me, Mitch, and Vanessa are going. We’re the fastest or most experienced drivers.”
“Mitch?”
“Yeah.” He glances down. “If we don’t make it back—”
The coffee sours in my cheeks. “Dude—”
“No, hear me out!” He sits next to me and lowers his voice, “If we don’t make it back, you have to get the rest of these guys out. So you need a plan. Someone to drive and no more democracy. If we don’t make it back, it’s time for dictators. You get them to Boulder.”
“Why me?” I gulp. That really ruins the coffee. “I’m not a dictator. At all.”
“You’re the smartest. You aren’t the fastest and you can’t drive for shit, but I have no doubt you’re the smartest person here. Well, you and Jack. You guys will have to think your way out of this. Find rides. Get old maps. Figure it out.” His eyes dart around at the people mulling about. “Everyone here is going to listen, they want to live.”
“Wait, old maps?” My heart races at just imagining that. “I can’t read old maps.”
“If you don’t want to try to get to Boulder, or shit’s too far gone, the other option is going to the next mansio
n over.” He nods his head toward the trees where a roofline is just visible. “Jeff says if you go along the water, there are tons of them. Waterfront mansions.”
“I don’t want to think about this.” I shake my head, trying to block his words.
“You have to. If we don’t come back and you can’t get out of the city, go back down those wooden steps to the ocean and follow the train tracks to get to the next house. Just keep living until you can figure your way out.” He lowers his voice even more, “But don’t let it become anarchy here.” His eyes dart to the doorway. “You can’t separate or fight, you’ll die.”
“Is that why you’re taking Vanessa?” I ask.
“She’s a fast runner too,” he offers, revealing the truth with the smirk he doesn’t bother fighting.
“I think you should wait two more days and see if they die. It’s the seventh day in two days. The zombies could be dead and we could all leave together.” My stomach hurts at just the thought of them going out.
“What if that transmission was wrong? What if that was just some kids playing? What if—”
“But you agree with the nanobots!” I point out. “He can’t be that wrong. We saw it.”
“What if he’s wrong and this isn’t ending, ever? We can’t worry about what that guy says. We need to focus on the big stuff.” He lowers his voice again, “We’re out of food, Tan. As of now. There is nothing left. And we have burned through the fuel to cook with. We’ve been sponge bathing with boiled water. Without fuel we can’t do that anymore. We have no medical supplies. I guarantee other people are creating strongholds with supplies. We need to do the same. We need to get on the road and find somewhere new to go.” He sounds desperate but maybe he’s scared too.
