Dearly, Departed

by Lia Habel

  I knew that was wise advice. I even took a few steps more with my family, craned back though my head was. But then I realized that Michael’s carriage wasn’t moving. He was caught in the torrent of people.

  I couldn’t just abandon him.

  “He doesn’t know where we’re going! I’m going to go get him!” I said, tearing my hands free. “Go to the church! Get in the vault!”

  “There is no way I am leaving you behind!” my mother said, crying anew.

  “Just go! If I don’t come, get in!” I shrugged off one of my packs and handed it to my father. I hugged both my parents, or as much of them as I could reach. “I’ll come. I swear, I’ll make it! Just go!”

  I heard them shouting my name as I dove into the crowd. I ignored it and fought my way through the ocean of people as I had before. When I got near the carriage, I caught the fancy eagle-shaped hood ornament in my hands and used it to pull my way through. The driver’s door opened and I ducked underneath, pushing myself along the ground for a moment.

  “Miss Roe!” Michael said as I stood up. He looked relieved. He was dressed in only his trousers and a shirt and jacket. He looked rather like a dashing explorer. He swept his eyes over me and asked, shocked, “What on earth are you wearing?”

  Despite the horrific situation we were in, I flushed. Michael Allister was looking at my legs. “Where’re Lord and Lady Allister? And Mrs. Ortega?” I asked, trying to keep my cool.

  He indicated that I should get in, drawing his legs out to make room for me to scoot by. “They started for the North. I didn’t go with them. I came to find you, but you weren’t at home. Here, get in, we’ll drive to the other side of town. Are your mother and father coming?”

  I shook my head. “They’re on foot and still moving. You’re not going to get anywhere in this thing, Mr. Allister.”

  He shut off the engine and took a moment to compose his thoughts. “Do you think we can get to the other side of the city on foot?” he asked, sounding doubtful.

  “Possibly,” I said. “But we weren’t aiming for the other side of the city. What’s there anyway, the port? We were going to the Cathedral of Our Mother.” He gave me a dubious look. “The bank vaults. Kind of hard for the infected to chew through solid metal.”

  Michael grabbed the bag he’d brought with him. “All right, I guess it’s worth a try.”

  It was a stupid thing to feel giddy about—especially now. But I extended my hand toward him. “The crowd will try to pull us apart. We have to stay together.”

  Michael nodded, and wrapped his fingers around mine. His skin was hot.

  If I was going to die, I might as well die happy.

  He shut the carriage door and we let the tide carry us forward. I tried to find my family in the crowd, but they were too far ahead of us. “Why didn’t you go with your parents?” I shouted at Michael.

  “Because I knew they were all right!” he shouted back, fixing his eyes on me. “I wasn’t so sure about you! I couldn’t call on you after your arrest. All I could do was vouch for you.”

  I blinked. “You vouched for me?” New Victorians charged with crimes could get out of paying bail or remaining imprisoned if they had someone powerful and aristocratic enough to speak on their behalf.

  “Yes! Didn’t your parents tell you? I met them at the courthouse the day your counsel summoned them.”

  I shook my head, and committed a note to memory: If parents survive, kill them.

  There was a mob outside the cathedral. Apparently, my idea wasn’t as original as I’d hoped. The priests were outside, yelling at the crowd, trying to get everyone to calm down, or line up, or some combination of the two. I shook my hand free of Michael’s and ran up to Father Rodriguez, the priest I knew best. “Father! Have you seen my family?”

  He looked at me, his eyes alight with a terrible energy, and pointed to the doors. I repeated this for Michael, and he and I attempted to squeeze inside through the line as people screamed at us and tried to physically shove us out again. Michael elbowed one particularly frantic man in the face after the man grabbed my waist, yelling at him, “The young lady has family already within!” The man let go, and Michael pushed me inside.

  “I don’t know which vault they’re in, though,” I told him. “As long as they’re in one or the other, that’s all I care about.”

  “Right. There’s one in the basement, yes? You go check that one, I’ll check the one behind the altar.”

  With that arranged, I ran down to the basement. There was already a crowd gathered on the stairs, and I had to fight my way through them. “Roe!” I screamed. “Roe!” No one replied, although many people were doing the same thing. Some were weighed down with supplies; others were empty-handed.

  “Roe!” I finally reached the bottom floor. The basement was a damp, water-stained place, with a low ceiling and a singular smell that decades of industrial cleaner had never been able to eradicate—a combination of stale coffee, acrid ink, and cheap air freshener. The smell of Sunday school. Large pieces of furniture ate up usable space and crippled the flow of traffic. There was no room for anyone to do more than stand.

  Then I heard my father’s voice. “Pamela!”

  I turned in a circle, trying to hear the direction it was coming from. It took me a few moments to realize it came from the open vault just a few yards off. My joy was so deep at seeing him safely within that I indulged in a little cry.

  My father started pushing his way through the crowd toward me. I shook my head. “Stay there! We’ll come to you!” I called out.

  But before I could think about fighting through the mob or going to find Michael, my cell phone rang—its familiar little “Princess Kitten, what adventures will you have today?” jingle.

  Yes, I still like Princess Kitten.

  I fumbled through my belongings and found my phone—a pay-as-you-go model designed to look like a curled-up cat, made of molded pink plastic. I flicked it open. Missed call, unknown number. Missed call? I hadn’t even had a chance to answer it. There were no bars down there; maybe it had come in while I was on the stairs.

  Ordinarily I would have brushed this off, but given the catastrophe at hand, I wondered if someone was trying to get in contact with me because they were in trouble. Only a few friends and family members had my number. Maybe one of them was on someone else’s phone.

  I studied the plastic kitten in my hand again, my stomach in knots. It was a long shot. It was stupid. I wasn’t a heroine. I was a baker’s daughter.

  My father still yelling for me, I turned and ran back up the stairs.

  Sure enough, before I even reached the top my phone started to serenade me. Bracing myself against the wall, the frightened horde still pressing by me, I answered it. “Hello?”

  “Hlll?” someone said. The signal was weak, the voice garbled. “Akkt eeo mmmrrt?”

  “What?” I shouted. “I can’t hear you! Who is this? Are you in danger?”

  “Pakkmma?” the voice tried again.

  Suddenly, I felt as if my entire body had dropped a foot or so and rubber-band-rebounded into itself, my skin crackling. It was her. I could tell. How could I not recognize her voice?

  Beyond the fuzz was Nora.

  I screamed her name, only to hear the call drop with a click. Before I could cry or slap the wall or even try to redial, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I pointed to the phone before I knew who it was, blind with terror and ecstasy. “It’s her! It’s her!”

  “Who?” Michael was standing beside me, shielding me with his body.

  “Nora!”

  He regarded me steadily for a few moments before saying, “I really think you need to get into the vault, Miss Roe. I’d feel better if I knew you were safe. Give me the phone.” He extended his hand.

  I almost did it. I looked into Michael’s beautiful eyes and saw someone willing to take up my burden for me. I could be with my family, I could help them weather through—

  “No, no, no!” someone shrieked from bel
ow. Another familiar, distant voice.

  Dad.

  I ran back down the stairs, Michael falling in behind me. They were closing the vault door. I bullied my way through the crowd, kicking and crushing toes, trying to get into a position where I could see within. “Dad!” I yelled. “Nora needs me!” I held up the phone, hoping that he’d see it and understand.

  “Pamela, get in here!” he shouted back, as he fought to stay in front of the people in the vault and beyond the reach of the grasping, many-armed, octopuslike mob trying to get inside. Isambard was beside him, pale and wide-eyed.

  “Miss Roe, go!” Michael argued.

  “I love you!” I replied, shaking my head.

  Dad realized I wasn’t coming, and his hands slowly fell to his sides. He watched me as I stepped back, away from him, his eyes stormy with emotion. I turned then, because I didn’t have the heart to watch the vault door shutting out the sight of him—especially because he’d called for me, waited for me.

  He still loved me. He still wanted me with him. He still thought I was worth saving.

  But out there, somewhere, Nora might need me. I might be her only hope.

  Somebody smacked into me. As the roar around us grew deafening, people crying out for the door to stay open, begging to be squeezed in, I turned back and saw Isambard hanging onto my waistcoat. “I’m coming with you!”

  “You idiot! Why didn’t you stay in there?” I screamed.

  He didn’t answer, but fixed his frightened eyes on mine. I gripped his hand as painfully as I could manage and pulled him with me through the crowd. Michael’s jaw dropped when he saw Issy, and he reached out and grabbed his collar. “You moron. Were you inside?”

  “Yeah,” Isambard said, darkly. “But you guys can’t be the only brave ones.”

  “Boy, I am going to feed you to the infected myself,” Michael growled. I think he almost made my brother cry. Good.

  I turned and began fighting my way up the stairs again, phone held out in front of me. It kept singing the Princess Kitten song, but every time I tried to answer the call, the signal cut out.

  “Head for the roof!” Michael shouted when we reached the main hall of the church. I sprinted up the grand staircase, toward the second floor. The church was still packed, and on our way through we heard the death cry of the denied as they shut the other vault.

  Fighting for air, my leg muscles burning, I climbed. The boys lost steam and fell behind, but I kept going. The calls were relentless, and I held the phone up in the air as if I could physically catch one with it, like a falling snowflake. I chased the signal through the second-floor offices of the clergy, up onto the third floor, and out the topmost exit.

  When I finally got onto the roof of the cathedral, the phone rang again.

  I hit the button and held it up to my ear. “Hello?”

  “Pamela?”

  The sound of her voice stopped me cold. I clutched the phone to my ear with both hands, as if to drag her closer. “Nora?” I whispered.

  “Bloody hell,” I heard Michael say. He and Isambard had joined me and were catching their breath near the edge of the roof. “Miss Roe, come look at this.”

  “Pamela, are you all right? Have you been bitten or anything? Are you still alive? Pamma, please say something, oh, thank you, thank you …”

  As Nora spoke, I slowly moved closer to the side of the building. Michael and Issy were staring at the street. The part of the city we were in was built in a large circle, with a monument in the middle.

  The dead were spilling in, a gray and roaring wave. All the way down George Street I could see them massed, a never-ending river of hungering corpses.

  “I’m alive, Nora,” I said, my voice very tiny. “But probably not for long.”

  “Pam? Pam, what’s wrong?”

  Nora was scrubbing at her face with the heel of her hand, erasing the latest batch of tears. I wanted to help but knew that I was in the doghouse, big-time. Or should be. I wasn’t sure.

  Renfield looked at me. “Is Miss Pamela the friend?”

  “Yeah.” I hooked my fingers into the useless little pockets on the front of my waistcoat.

  “What?” Nora’s eyes widened. She gestured for our attention. “Renfield, is there a way to rig this so we can all hear her?”

  “Ah, yes, of course.” Ren seemed relieved to be given a task, and he tapped away at his keyboard. “Take off the headset.” He pulled the wire.

  “Hello?” A girl’s voice echoed through the speakers mounted on the sides of the computer. It was a little deeper than Nora’s, more mature.

  “Can you hear me?” Nora asked.

  “Yes. Oh, Nora … I’m going to save all the gushing and ‘Ithoughtyoumightbedeads’ for later, all right? Because …” There were other voices in the background, male voices.

  “Tell us what’s going on.” Nora set her lips together in concentration.

  “All right.” The girl on the other end inhaled, then let it out. “I’m on top of the Cathedral of Our Mother with Michael Allister and my brother. My parents are in one of the vaults inside. They told us that the people who attacked the EF the night you disappeared released some kind of biological weapon or something, so it was quarantined, and they sent in troops, but … I think some of the troops are down there, in fact. The disease spread and … and Lord Ayles has it, too, he’s like a skeleton …”

  “What about the EF?” Nora asked, trying to get Pam back on track.

  “They broke out. Everyone inside must have gotten sick, and they broke out. They’re all in the streets down there. I mean, we are watching them come into the city. There’re hundreds of them! How many people lived in the EF?”

  “Three hundred families or so?” Nora looked to me then, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say next. “So … with the troops … could be at least a thousand.”

  “A thousand,” I echoed, just because it needed to be said a few times.

  A thousand. Bloody hell.

  “And I killed one, Nora.” Pam’s voice was growing a bit shrill. “I killed one! I stabbed it in the head with a parasol.”

  Even Nora couldn’t find words for this revelation. Renfield was the first to comment. “I can’t tell if that’s the most inspiring thing I’ve ever heard or the most horrifying.”

  “Yeah, I’m with you,” I agreed. Chalk one up to ingenuity.

  “Who are you?” Pamela asked. “Nora, who are you with?”

  Nora’s eyes found mine again. She said, “We’ll be right back, Pam. Stay on the line.”

  “What? Don’t you dare!”

  “Miss Roe? Again, give me the phone,” a male voice said. Whoever he was, he didn’t sound happy.

  Nora gestured to Ren, who got the idea and paused the call. “Okay, what do I tell her?”

  I stood up and untwisted my fingers from my pockets. “What do you mean? Tell her whatever you need to.”

  Nora seemed uncertain. “But … your secret …”

  She was concerned about giving away our secret? My brain followed this demonstration of loyalty to the cause to its illogical conclusion.

  “You don’t hate me?” I blurted. Classy.

  Nora shook her head. “No. Far from it. You did what you thought was right.” She stabbed a finger at my chest, reaching over Ren to do so. “I’m going to beat you within an inch of your unlife later, but I don’t hate you.”

  Dancing would have been inappropriate. I bore my weight onto the balls of my feet to keep them from moving, and snapped an arm out. “Turn it back on, Ren.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said, tone sarcastic as he clicked the button.

  “Hello? Hello?” Pam was saying.

  “We’re here,” I told her.

  “Okay. So, you … who are you with? How did you know about the biting? Are you watching this? Because the former PM, whatever the heck’s happened to him, he got on and told us about the … zombies? Is that what he called them? He said they were dead!”

  Nora lean
ed against the desk. “Well, I’m with people who … fight the evil dead. They saved me.”

  “What?”

  Nora looked at us. “Here, want to talk?” she said to me, and to her friend said, “Say hi.”

  The voice on the other end was slow in doing so, so I spoke up. “Hi.”

  Renfield followed suit. “Good evening, miss.”

  “You … you fight these things? Where are you, then?”

  “Who are you talking to?” the male voice in the background asked again. He was growing angrier, I could hear it.

  “We’re south of you,” I said. I snuck a glance at Ren. Despite the seriousness of the situation, I could tell that both he and I were finding the same shard of humor in it. “But right now we’re going to concentrate on moving north and getting you out.”

  “You are? Mr. Allister, Issy … seriously, you are?”

  Nora stood up taller. “Yes. We are.” She reached out and laid a hand on one of the speakers, as if she could feel her friend’s warmth through it. “Oh, Pam, I’m so glad you’re safe. We’re coming, okay? Just stay on the roof until we can get to you.”

  “They’re going to come get us! Yes! Okay, yes, we’ll be here. Oh, trust us, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “We’ll be there as soon as we can. Keep your phone on.”

  “All right! Oh, Nora, it was worth leaving my parents behind just to hear your voice.”

  I motioned for Renfield to cut the call, keeping a careful eye on Nora. She gripped her hands into her skirt and settled her shoulders back. Having already failed her spectacularly two times, I was determined not to do it again.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” I pulled my dress uniform jacket off. “I’m going to make it up to you.”

  “How?” Nora asked. I was relieved to hear no hint of defeat in her voice, only honest curiosity.

  I tossed the jacket over my shoulder. “By telling a whole hell of a lot of other people.”

  Just then a clarion call seemed to well up from the very floor. Nora stood up straight, looking about instinctively for the source of it before realizing it was some sort of siren.

  Renfield’s head shot in my direction. “Muster?”