Arcadium

by Sarah Gray

  Chapter 11

  MY WATCH ALARM goes off at six AM. I haven’t used it in so long, I’d almost forgotten what it sounded like.

  Liss stirs, eventually she rolls over and blinks at me.

  “Go back to sleep,” I say. “I’ve just got some things to do.”

  “You won’t be far?” she says, closing her eyes.

  “I never am.”

  She rolls over and snuggles into the blankets. I take the cans out of my backpack and leave them on the floor.

  When I step out onto the balcony Kean is leaning on the railing, watching the red sunrise over the city skyline. He looks over. “Want me to carry your bag?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Get your own backpack.”

  Kean gives me a half smile. “Maybe I will. And maybe I’ll get matching Doc Martens too.”

  I shoulder my bag, forcing my crease of a smile away. “You couldn’t pull off this look.”

  “Not like you two.” Kean straightens. “So, how’s this going to work?”

  “We’re going to climb down that tree.”

  Kean climbs over the railing and jumps the small gap to my balcony. I only pause for a second before manoeuvring myself down the tree. It’s only the first floor, not much of a drop, but Liss is always in the back of my mind.

  When I’m on the ground I wait for Kean. It’s weird; I don’t really feel paranoid like I normally do at ground level. Usually my imagination is dreaming up infected people to jump out at me, but it’s pretty quiet in my head.

  “I hope you know the way,” Kean says, dusting off his hands.

  “This is my side of town. Follow me.”

  We’re not far. It’s maybe a five-minute walk straight down the middle of the Dandenong Road. We stay quiet, walking along in near dead silence so we don’t get noticed. The highway curves around and a gigantic pale peach building comes into view.

  “Whoa,” Kean says under his breath.

  The car parks are huge and mostly deserted; it’s like a graveyard for roads.

  “There’ll be creepies in there for sure,” Kean says as we cross over the edge of the car park, moving toward the back entrance.

  “Aren’t they everywhere?”

  Kean does a slow three-sixty spin, checking the area. “How are we going to get in?”

  I point. “The doors probably.”

  Kean arches an eyebrow. “Looks dark.”

  “We’ll stick to the top floor, it’s got skylights.”

  He nods.

  The automatic doors are stuck shut but the push door next to it is unlocked. This whole entrance is pretty much a wall of glass, doors included, so we can see straight in.

  I go through first. It’s so quiet in the huge cavern of space, I can almost hear the air shifting from our presence, like we’re spoons stirring a coffee.

  Kean looks up and around as he closes the door quietly.

  We’re already on the top level. Soft morning light drifts in from the glass ceiling. It’s a bit shadowy and grey, but still easy enough to see.

  There’s a patch of blood on the pale marbled tiles, with clear footprints leading out of it, growing weaker and weaker along the floor until they disappear altogether.

  “That’s ominous,” Kean whispers.

  We round the corner and see the full extent of damage. Shops have been broken into; merchandise is scattered over a carpet of broken glass. Handprints of blood mar the gold railing, but no bodies anywhere.

  “Man, some craziness must have gone down here,” Kean says, keeping his voice low.

  In the unsettling mess I begin to wonder if this is a smart idea. It feels really important though, so I trust my gut instinct and push on.

  “This way.” I move through a clear path and look into each of the dark shop’s windows. Kean walks behind me.

  There are clothing stores, shoe shops, a Darrel Lea chocolate shop that’s been gutted. And then I see the bookstore.

  The security roller door is down but it doesn’t matter. The front window’s been smashed in.

  I step through, the glass crunching and squealing under my feet. It’s dark in here, away from the reach of the skylight. Kean stands at my shoulder.

  “They would have heard us already if there were any creepies in here.” He wanders to the front counter. “Besides I doubt their appetite extends to reading.”

  I double check in both directions. Inside the shop it’s eerily quiet. Kean is looking at the little things on the counter. I step over a stack of fallen books and search for the travel section.

  “Florence…” Kean whispers.

  “What?” I whisper, glancing over the shelves.

  “What are we looking for?”

  “I’ve found it.”

  I touch the wall of books, running my fingers over the spines. I have to squint and lean in to read the names in the half dark.

  Suddenly a light blasts me from the side and I swear my heart just about explodes.

  Kean lowers the beam. “Display book-light,” he says with an apologetic smile.

  I shake my head and pull out a Chinese language guide from the shelf. Kean hovers the light over it and I flick through the pages.

  “That’s going to be great,” he says, “if you want to ask him where the nearest train station is or how to order coffee.”

  “Mmm.” He’s right. It’s not great. It’s more for tourists that are actually in China.

  “Try the language section. Like a Chinese-English dictionary.”

  I squint over at him through the bright light. “I thought you were just the brawn.”

  Kean aims the light away. “What can I say? I’m misunderstood.”

  We move down the aisle and he shines the light over the books, searching. “Here.”

  I pick out the pocket edition and flip through. The words are tiny. I shake off my backpack, and shove in a few different Chinese-English dictionaries. I hang one strap over my shoulder but leave it unzipped in case I find something else.

  “You read much?” Kean says, sweeping the light behind us.

  A crunch sounds at the window and we both look over. Kean kills the book-light. The silhouette of an infected person stands in the jagged window opening. It steps in, looking around.

  Just my luck.

  Kean grins and then winks at me. “It’s my turn. I’ve got this one,” he whispers.

  I don’t know if his smile is a weird fear response or just him going mad, but it looks really creepy, kind of like the guy from the shining when he’s bashing through the bathroom door.

  I zip up my bag slowly, keeping my eyes on the infected person. The dictionary corners poke against my back and I stand perfectly still in the dark. The infected people can’t see any better than us, so I’m hidden for the moment.

  Suddenly the light flashes in the next isle over. “Here, creepy, creepy,” Kean’s sing-songy voice calls.

  Oh my God. Kean has gone insane. Literally.

  The infected goes straight for the light and sound, kicking through the fallen pile of books. And Kean comes running back around into my isle, light off. “Go!”

  I bolt for the door, sliding through the debris. We burst out into the grey light but Kean stops.

  I spin. He’s doubled over, clutching his stomach.

  Panic seizes my insides but when he looks up, he’s laughing.

  “What are you doing?” I call in the lowest possible voice.

  Kean starts laughing out loud, the sound echoing down the long walkways.

  “Are you insane?”

  “Wait.” He stands up still smiling. “Wait for me. I’m sorry but you should have seen the look on your face. So serious!”

  “This is serious!”

  Kean looks over as the infected person tries to climb out the window. It’s in such a frenzy it slips in all the mess and wriggles back to its feet.

  “Hey there, clumsy.”

  “Kean! Move!”

  “Relax. Look. I’ve got plenty of time. And it’s only one
.” Kean starts walking toward me and he starts popping out a disjointed version of the robot dance. Actually it’s pretty good. He does a Michael Jackson spin with sound effects, and faces toward the infected.

  It’s man. He swings out his arm and growls, but he’s nowhere near Kean.

  I point to the other side of the shops. An infected lady is jerkily walking toward us. “Now it’s two.”

  Kean sees her but doesn’t seem alarmed. He starts doing a shimmy as the man approaches him, jumping back every time the infected guy lunges for him. “Yeah you like that, dontcha. Break it down with me.”

  “Kean!” I practically scream his name.

  He turns around and runs a few leisurely steps. “Alright, serious face. Lets get out of here then.”

  We start running for the exit, the two infected lumber behind, but they won’t catch us. Kean is laughing his head off.

  I’m running but he’s just jogging. I pull back to his speed. We’re going to get out, easily. Sure, there are infected chasing us but soon they’ll hit a glass door and be doomed to live out the rest of their existence trapped in a shopping centre. But me and Kean will burst out into the fresh air. And I kind of get it, I think. He’s laughing in the face of death because he can. Because, why not?

  I leap over a fallen mannequin and Kean grabs my hand. He pulls me along, looking back, smiling. I seriously cannot believe he turned out to be so mad, but at the same time his laughter is infectious, in a good way. I can’t help it. I don’t mean to laugh but it just comes out.

  We tear through the debris, sliding along the tiles, crunching through glass. I kick away a pink top that’s half caught on my boot. When we round the corner Kean skids away, almost taking me down. He’s still gripping my hand and I tug him back up.

  We blast toward the doors, still cackling. He actually gets there first and stops. My hand slips from his and he holds the door open for me. I walk through, taking my time, doing my best snooty-shopping-lady walk and he bursts out laughing again.

  Our laughter fades outside and we cross the silent car park, not even looking back to see if the infected are at the doors.

  To my complete and utter surprise Kean takes my hand again, slotting his fingers between mine. I stare down at out linked hands but I don’t say anything. It’s not technically the first time he’s held my hand. There was that time in the tunnel when we went back for Trouble. But right now we’re not running from anything, we’re not scared or injured or being chased. There’s no real reason for it.

  “You’re insane,” I say, still catching my breath.

  “Nah,” he says. “I just think that you can’t always be scared. They’re pretty slow and lame on their own.”

  “Yeah but in mass…”

  “I get it. In a group, they’re dangerous. But it’s like, I feel a rush facing them, confronting the fear. I feel alive again. Don’t you?”

  “I suppose.”

  He smiles and his green eyes lock onto mine. I look away quickly.

  We cross Dandenong Road in silence. This damned smile keeps threatening to show up on my face and I spend the entire five minutes of the journey back battling to keep it hidden.