by Seth Fishman
I expect him to pause again, but he doesn’t. He’s all in.
“Through the pool!” Jo says, and she’s right. It’s a way out that will take us far from where Blake Sutton is. I put my finger to my lips and shoo her forward. We go single file, crouched, moving quickly, trying to keep our sneakers flat against the tile to avoid squeaks.
Soon we’re at the small glassed corridor that connects to the gym, then to the pool, a sort of indoor/outdoor walkway, the most dangerous part of our trip, as it’s where we are most likely to be seen. We peer through the window, fogging up the glass with our breath, but can’t see anyone. What we can make out are spotlights, moving across the school, along the walls.
“That makes getting caught easier,” Brayden jokes. I nudge him quiet, and we move on, staying low, into the gym, where the smell of sweat and wood immediately hits me. The pool is connected through the locker rooms, and we’re about to go through the girls’ locker room when I get an idea. “You guys go through the boys’ and see if the equipment room is open. Get some ski-team gear, something warm. Anything we might need for being out in the cold at night.”
“Where are you going?” Jo asks, her pale face almost blue in the dark.
“We shouldn’t split up,” Brayden adds. His brown eyes are intent, trying to figure out my plan, but I need to be alone in the girls’ locker room, so I shake my head.
“Just trust me,” I say, and then add, “Grab some hand warmers too, while you’re there.” Jo looks confused, probably just still in general shock at seeing her dad transformed and dead, but complies, and the two are off to the other side of the gym, their bodies flinching at each occasional squeak along the hardwood floors.
• • •
Good thing I often get dressed alone, so I’m used to it being so quiet. It’s weird, though, like my locker combination should be different. But no, 18–31–17 still works. Click. I wince, pull open the squeaking door, and then wince again. Naked is not how I’d like to be found by anyone who might come inside. I strip out of my layers—though, after considering the logistics, I leave my underwear on. Against the cold air, my mind screams, hurry up hurry up hurry up. Of course I have a swimsuit in my room, but not one like this, and I pull on my full-body suit, two legs, up to my waist. Jo and Brayden are probably digging through the equipment room, finding weapons. I feel like I can almost hear them, whispering.
But suddenly I do hear a sound, like plastic on plastic and the gush of heavy breathing. I immediately cover my exposed breasts and try to turn my head, but a muffled voice shouts out, “Stop moving.”
My throat’s so tight I can barely breathe, and my body’s so cold it’s starting to shake. Perfect timing to be as helpless as I’ve ever felt. Halfway naked, I don’t think I can move my hands to defend myself even if I wanted to.
“What are you doing here?” the voice asks. There’s a click, and suddenly I’m bathed in light, even more self-conscious.
These men, they’re soldiers. Brayden’s right: they’re supposed to help us. I take a deep breath and say, “I’m a student here. I was just getting some things I need for my dorm. I . . . what’s happening?”
I peek over my shoulder and see him, this large white suit with a gun trained on me. A flashlight is affixed to the barrel, blinding me from any details.
“Did you see anything?” the soldier asks.
“What do you mean?”
“Did you see anyone sick?” he replies, his voice echoing around the locker room.
It’s an odd thing, wallowing in this type of fear. I feel as if my senses sharpen. I notice my dry teeth, the tightness of my skin, the pulse of my heart in my fingertips. I’m all alone. “I saw the teachers, yes, but . . .” I try again. “Just let me put some clothes on.”
“Don’t move!” he commands again, moving closer. “You have to come with me.”
“But what is this?” I ask, all my questions bursting forth. “Why is everyone dying? Who are you?”
He doesn’t answer, but grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door. His plastic glove bites hard into my skin, and I try to fight down the panic that’s growing in me. I don’t know if he’s helping or hurting. I don’t know what to believe.
There’s a squeak and then the loud thud of a body and helmet hitting the tile. I turn, see Brayden twirling a baseball bat in his hands, calm as can be. His eyes are so intense they appear to smolder. I’m agog watching him, feeling my body heat up instantly, life returning to my limbs in a jet of boy crush and hero worship.
Brayden kicks at the soldier’s foot, then, satisfied, he looks up at me and blushes. “You okay?” he asks, his voice soft and caring.
“You just hit a soldier? What were you thinking?”
He frowns, his lips thin and his forehead wrinkled. “I was thinking he was trying to take you somewhere you didn’t want to go while you were naked.”
I turn, deathly embarrassed at my bare chest, and pull the suit into place, trying hard to ignore that he just saw me topless. Fully clothed, I stand up and take the still body in. We’re in trouble now.
“I didn’t know you’d actually be changing in here, otherwise I’d have n-n-never . . .” He stutters, thinking about what he’s saying. “I would never—”
“See me naked?” I offer helpfully.
“No. I mean, not that. I mean, maybe . . . but I’d never—”
“Barge in and knock a soldier unconscious?”
He nods his head thankfully, but I can see him checking me out. It’s a weird thing, to be cognizant of his eyes roving my body, making me feel for the first time in a long time like I don’t need to hurry out of the pool and to my towel. I find it odd to recognize the difference between Brayden’s look and, say, Rob’s innocuous gaze. If Brayden hadn’t walked in on me naked by accident, would he have ever bothered to do so on purpose?
I look down at the soldier and realize how different his body is from the dead we just saw, how animate and sensible. Limbs angled the right way, the suit rising slowly with each breath.
“He’s fine,” Brayden reassures me. “He’ll wake up crying, but he deserves it.”
“Yeah, and he’ll be happy to come with all his buddies and their guns to find us in the dorms.” I’m scaring myself, growing more terrified by this quarantine by the second, but am somehow equally exhilarated. Maybe it’s being in the locker room, but my body is as bouncy and eager as at a swim meet. Brayden laid someone out for me, and it’s hard not to stare. I wonder if he has a soccer bod like Jo says Todd has—all six-pack and legs. I take a second, gather myself, trying to think of his face as merely two eyes and a mouth. We have more pressing matters in the world.
“Thank you,” I squeak.
He comes close, picks up my jacket from the ground and slips it over my shoulders. “Not sure why you were in here changing, Mia, but you need to stay warm, okay?”
I nod mutely, the warmth of his breath on me. Is it weird that I’m surprised at how minty it smells? He reaches up slowly with both hands and places them tenderly on the back of my neck, his palms just under my jaw. I close my eyes and lean forward, but instead of his lips brushing mine, they land softly upon my forehead and linger, pressing against me gently. I’m pleased by how good it feels, and as he pulls away, he hovers his lips near my forehead and kisses my eyebrow the same way. I don’t know what to do with my hands, so I put them against his coat, but even with the thick padding of his jacket, I can feel his body. He moves his hands to my hips, and they rest there like miniature fires, burning through my suit.
He leans back, leaving me swaying, absolutely dazed. I can hear Jo coming, whispering, “Guys? Where are you?” but I don’t move. I can’t. I can only stare into his eyes.
“Mia,” he says, almost inaudible.
“Yeah?” I reply, a breath.
“I like you.”
I giggle, I can’t help it. �
�You do?”
He nods seriously, then traces the ridge of the crook in my nose. “I even like this.”
He looks proud, excited, happy. Jo rounds the corner and sees us, standing over a body, our faces smiling, not fifteen minutes after finding her father dead. I feel an immediate, awful guilt wash over me and hurry to get on the rest of my clothes.
“What happened?” Jo asks, her arms full of supplies. She looks steady, purposeful, her face more flushed and her thin brows bent over her eyes. I’m not sure, at this very moment, that she can realistically process what she walked in on.
“We have to go,” I say, searching the floor for my clothes.
Jo bends to hand me my goggles, which had fallen from my locker. She’s slow about it, sidestepping Brayden, who is making a show of checking the soldier again. I look at her, her grief-stricken face. She smiles. Not a big one, not an I’m happy one. But she glances at Brayden and smiles for me. And that makes her the best friend in the world.
• • •
We have to sneak back across campus. There aren’t many soldiers, and we know our way around the school, but they’re there, standing near our dorm, guarding the entrance. This is what a quarantine is all about, right? No one in, no one out. I wonder why they waited so long to get on campus in the first place. But now we’ve no choice. If we’re caught, we might be held long enough for the soldier we knocked out to wake up and then we’d be in serious trouble.
Our room is on the third floor, so no climbing in the window, but there are two side entrances and one basement entrance, and there appear to be only three soldiers assigned to guard the entire area, making rounds, wandering the grounds near the doors. We wait until they turn the corner and then we take off; I have my magnetic key-swipe in hand. The snow gives way under our feet, slowing us down, and for a moment, I’m terrified we’ll be caught, but we make it to the doorway. I swipe the card, and there’s a loud beep before the green light flashes, then the click of the bolt retracting. Hurry, I think, and we pull the heavy door toward us. A soldier appears at the building’s edge and starts speed-walking our way. We slam the door shut, hearing his body bang against the door right after.
“We told you!” he shouts, his voice muffled through suit and door. “Stay inside!” Then he kicks the door. I let out a sigh of relief. He must have thought we were trying to get out, not in.
We all share a dazed look.
“And now we have to sneak back out there?” Jo asks.
I shrug. “It’s the only way.”
“Okay,” Brayden says, hefting the baseball bat he felled the soldier with. “I’ll get to my room and meet you at yours in ten minutes. Ready to go by then?”
“Definitely,” I reply, trying to sound confident. His gaze lingers. His body doesn’t want to move, and I see it fighting to stay. It’s the cutest thing ever, watching him want me. But finally he turns down a hallway and disappears, and we jump up the stairs to ours.
I’m not surprised to find Rob in our room, standing by the window, biting his nails. He whirls around at our entrance, his usually indifferent face etched with concern. He’s in a blue sweatshirt with the hood pulled up, spikes of his black hair peeking out in disarray.
“Where were you?” he asks, angry and jealous and concerned all at once. He takes a look at Jo and his face softens, knowing intuitively what we found. He’s always been a sensitive one. “Oh, man. Shoot.” He goes right for her and gives her a hard hug that her arms don’t return for a second—and then they do, desperately, and suddenly she’s crying. I can’t help it; I join them, and for a moment, what might be the only moment in a long while, we mourn her father.
“How’d you know?” she asks, sniffling, pulling back to look at Rob.
“I could see it on your face,” he replies in a whisper.
I’d like to go on hugging my friends for longer, but we don’t have time. “Rob,” I say, taking charge, pulling them both back to me, “we have to leave campus . . . now.”
He nods to the bed where a backpack is already waiting. Again, Mr. Astute.
“But we can’t leave,” Jo says, her eyes out the window. She’s hugging herself and rocking gently on her feet. “It has to be a virus, right? What if we’ve got it now, by being there? We weren’t wearing suits.” She turns back to us. “What if we spread it by leaving?”
“We’re not going to see anyone,” I say, shaking my head.
“You don’t know that,” she replies. “And what if we infect your dad?”
I shove down the image of him folded in wrinkles and coughing up blood. “We won’t, Jo. He’ll know what to do. He told us to come.”
She rubs her face with her hand, her purple sparkling nail polish at odds with how we’re all feeling. “Whatever, Mia. He’s your dad. You decide if you want to infect him.”
I’m stung by her words, but try to let them go, considering what she’s just gone through. Rob’s pretending not to watch the exchange. He’s putting on his deep brown North Face jacket and fiddling with the zipper. When we don’t say anything for a while, he glances at me.
“I’ve been on the roof with some of the others,” he says. “It’s true, they’ve got us fully wrapped in soldiers.”
I frown and go to the window, peer out toward the gates and see an armored vehicle parked there, spotlights set high, shining across the walls. “Where are they the thinnest?” I ask, though I already have a strong hunch about this. It’s integral to the plan.
He bites the inside of his cheek. “At the lake.”
And why wouldn’t they be? Jo and I share a look. The lake makes up a section of the eastern border of the school. It’s more of a frozen pond, really, but big enough to hold crew practice in and to ice-skate on for fun.
“How many?”
“Five,” he replies instantly. Rob’s never wrong about numbers. “One patrolling the school side, four in the woods beyond. Looks like they’d rather steer clear of us.”
“We all have skates?” I ask, worrying more about Brayden than anyone else. It’s practically mandatory for every kid in this area of Colorado to have skates. They nod anyway. Rob says he’ll be right back and runs to get his.
In that moment, our first alone, I check in on Jo. “Are you okay?” I ask lamely. But what else can I do? I’m distracted by the need to get moving, by my own nagging guilt at us being here still, by the new kid who’s packing downstairs. I realize that I’m not the only one with a single parent here. I’m worried about getting to Dad while Jo gets to realize that her mother, Nancy, is at home, oblivious to her husband’s death.
But she doesn’t have any idea of what’s going on in my head. She only sees me asking, sees the concern in my face. She smiles sadly and says something I would never have imagined: “Let’s just get out of here first, then do all the ‘are you okay?’ stuff.” I kiss her hand and then we turn, energized, to pack our things and grab our skates.
There’s a knock on the door, which means it can’t be Rob. I smile and rush to open it, but it’s not Brayden either. Instead, Odessa and Jimmy are there, both with bags, Odessa with a Tumi roller. They hurry inside.
“What are you two doing?” I ask, freaking out, imagining our escape blown.
“After all my late-night parties, you of all people,” Odessa says, sitting on my bed, “know how thin these walls are.” She smiles her innocent smile, but I can tell how worried she is. Her bright red hair is tucked haphazardly in a bun and she’s chewing her lips, gnawing at them.
Jimmy looks even bigger than usual, his heavy down jacket like a comforter wrapped around his shoulders. He has a wool cap on his head and looks like an Inuit. The door opens, and there’s Rob, who peers at them and then—it’s almost funny—his shoulders sag as he accepts their arrival.
“Odessa,” Jo says, zipping up her backpack, “we’re going, you’re not. I’m sorry. That’s too many of us. You�
��ll be fine here.”
Jimmy shakes his head, his jacket rustling loudly. “No way. Not after Devin. Not after all the crazy that’s gone down.”
I feel my hands go moist. I look at Rob. “What happened to Devin?”
But Rob doesn’t answer, his face suddenly haggard, and instead it’s Jimmy again, his eyes out the window. “He’s started to get weird. Something’s happening to him. His voice went all deep, and he started losing hair on his head.”
“It took ten minutes,” Rob says, agreeing with Jimmy in a quiet voice. “I watched it happen.”
“Is he dead?” I ask, fearing the worst.
Rob shakes his head. “No, he just looks like a guy who’s prematurely balding. It’s weird, like he’s suddenly thirty-five years old.” That’s odd, I think. He’s not dead, just aging. He might have been bound to go bald as an adult. I guess since he was younger, he has more time to age?
“We’re not staying here,” Odessa says, looking as earnest as I’ve ever seen. She pulls on a tight red Gore-Tex jacket and a pair of earmuffs that look like headphones. Her freckles pucker in worry. “Mia . . . we just want to go home.”
“Since when has that been the case?” Rob asks. He’s never really liked Odessa.
“What?” she snaps back at him. “You aren’t worried about your parents? I’m not allowed to care about my family?” He looks chastised and ducks his head. She’s staring at me, entreating me to understand.
“What if you’re infected?” Jo barks, angry, unmoved, bringing up the argument we just had, and I can tell she’s unable to bear speaking of someone else’s parents. “What if you give them the virus?”
“What do you mean, virus?” Jimmy asks, his face alarmed.
“What did you see in the school?” Odessa asks at the same time. “Is it true? Are they dead? It’s a virus?” I realize that she looks different, and it takes me a moment to get that she’s not wearing makeup. Wow, it’s been years since I’ve seen that. More important, I understand that she’s not messing around with us. She’s serious, scared and looking for help. I don’t want all of us to fight, and I don’t want to have to explain everything we saw in the school, to keep bringing up Mr. Banner in front of Jo, so I search my closet and pull out an extra Arc’teryx backpack and throw it at Odessa.
