by Cross, Amy
“Oh, they're all -”
I stop myself just in time. I've told this Victoria girl enough already, and I really don't feel like sharing my entire history. Besides, I already know that going out to California would probably be a very good idea. It's just that I need to deal with a few things here in New York first.
“I'll think about it,” I say finally, as I take a step back.
“The train leaves at sunrise tomorrow,” she replies. “You've got until then to decide.”
“I promise I'll think about it,” I tell her. “Thanks. You've been very helpful.”
“I hope I see you at the recruiment desk tomorrow, Thomas!” she calls after me as I walk away. “This could be the best decision you ever made in your life!”
Thomas
“Hey, have you seen Elizabeth? Elizabeth Marter? About my age, kinda limps a lot?”
The man mumbles something as he pushes past me, and I guess that means a 'no'.
“Excuse me,” I say, turning to see that another man is coming out of the building, “but do you know Elizabeth Marter? Have you seen her today? I'm trying to find her.”
“No idea who you mean,” he replies as he hurries off in another direction.
This is hopeless. I know Elizabeth's supposed to be working in this set of buildings, so someone must be able to help me. It's not even as if the work groups are that large. In my group, everyone knows everyone by now, yet somehow here I'm not finding anyone who knows anything about Elizabeth. I'm starting to wonder how that can even be possible. It's almost as if she's trying to hide herself away.
“Hey,” I say as a woman emerges from a different door, “do you know Elizabeth Marter?”
She stops and furrows her brow.
“I know she's around here somewhere,” I continue. “I haven't seen her in weeks, even though I've been looking. It's really important that I find her, and it's urgent too. I don't have much time.”
“Elizabeth?” She furrows her brow. “No, I don't think I know anyone by that name. Sorry.”
I sigh as she walks away. This whole situation is ridiculous, and I can't shake the fear that maybe something bad has happened to Elizabeth. Ever since Toad's death, she's seemed to have gone inward, and I know deep down she still thinks there's a chance he survived. The last time I saw her, she seemed even more vague and quiet than usual, to the extent that I remember thinking that I shouldn't have left her alone. Now I'm starting to think that my concerns were totally right.
Figuring that I can't give up just yet, I start making my way into the building.
***
“Do you know Elizabeth Marter? Have you seen her?”
“Never heard of her,” the guy says as he wanders past me, heading across the foyer of the ruined building. “Sorry.”
Sighing, I realize that this is starting to feel hopeless. Is it possible that Elizabeth was moved on to another part of the city? If that's the case, I don't know how I'll ever find her. Then again, if I go to one of the work stations, I might be able to get someone to slip me the information I need. It's been so long since I last saw Elizabeth, and I really need to talk to her before I make my final decision about heading to California.
Figuring that the work station is my best bet, I head back toward the door.
“Did you just ask about Elizabeth Marter?”
Startled, I turn and see that a thin man has emerged from one of the nearby doors.
“Do you know her?” I ask.
He hesitates.
“Sure,” he says finally, before forcing a smile that looks a little sickly and weak. “I mean, of course. Elizabeth's a friend of mine.”
“Where is she?”
“And who are you?”
“A friend.”
“What's your name?”
“Thomas. Thomas Edgewater. She might have mentioned me.”
He stares at me for a moment, as if he's a little skeptical.
“No,” he says after a few seconds, sounding a little cautious. “She's never mentioned a Thomas Edgewater.”
“Okay, whatever,” I reply, “I need to see her. It's important.”
I wait, but he doesn't say anything.
“Is she here?” I ask.
“Right now?” He pauses yet again. “No. No, she's not.”
“Then where is she?”
“Out.”
“Out where?”
“Just out.”
“Can you just -”
“I don't know who you are,” he says, interrupting me, “so you'll understand if I'm a little reluctant to just give out her information to some random stranger who wanders in off the street. These are dangerous times, even if the zombies are gone. I'm sure you heard about the girl who was found murdered just a few blocks from here last week.”
“I did, but -”
“And there was another girl who got killed a few blocks on from there,” he adds.
“Sure, but -”
“And one last night, too.”
“I didn't hear about that,” I tell him.
“I think they're keeping it quiet for now,” he replies. “The thing is, people are starting to talk and panic, and that's never good.” He steps closer. “From what I hear,” he continues, lowering his voice, “the security guys are starting to worry that there's a serial killer on the loose.”
“A serial killer?” I stare at him for a moment. “In post-apocalyptic New York?”
“I didn't say it was my theory,” he points out. “Still, I'm sure you can understand that I want to make sure my friend Elizabeth isn't his next victim.”
“Do I look like a serial killer?” I ask.
“I wouldn't know.”
“Would a serial killer go around asking for his victims before he killed them?” I continue with a sigh. “That doesn't even make sense. Where's Elizabeth?”
He pauses, and then he shrugs.
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means that you seem nice enough,” he replies, “so I've got an idea.” He takes a notebook and a pen from his pocket and hands them to me. “Write her a note. Next time I see her, which should be later today, I'll pass it on to her.”
“I'd rather see her face-to-face.”
“I know, but you're going to have to make do with a note.”
“Or I could wait around here.”
“You don't even know that this is her specific building,” he points out. “When I said she lives here, I could have meant anywhere in this entire habitation block.”
I open my mouth to tell him that he's crazy, but at the last minute I realize that this guys seems to be enjoying winding me up. Sighing, I take the notebook and set it against the wall, and then I start scribbling a note:
Elizabeth,
I need to talk to you. I'm thinking of going to California, but I won't leave until I've seen you. If you want to come, we could see what's out there together. If you don't want to come, I at least want to see you before I go. I want to make sure that you're okay. I'll be at building 88 on the new maps, and I'll be there all night tonight. Please come and see me.
Thomas.
I read the note over, worried in case it sounds too desperate, and then I hand it back to the guy.
“Wonderful,” he says, as he conspiciously looks down and reads what I've written. “I'll be sure to give it to her.”
“Tell her I need to see her tonight,” I reply. “She'll understand that it's important.”
“I'll pass the note on,” he says, “and she can decide for herself.”
I pause for a moment, not feeling as if this guy's quite on the level.
“What's your name?” I ask finally.
“My name?” He hesitates, as if he's considering not telling me. After a couple of seconds, however, he steps forward and holds a hand out toward me. “Julius. Julius Wade.”
“Please make sure she gets the note,” I reply as I briefly shake his hand. “It's urgent.”
“She'll get the note,” he
says, with a faint smile. “You have my word. What she does after that... Well, that's up to her, isn't it?”
Thomas
There's someone down there. Down in the street, far below where I'm standing.
I watch as the tiny figure scrurries across the empty street, and the man – or woman, or kid, it's impossible to tell from up here – quicky disappears around the corner.
Gone.
“Hey, Tommy boy!”
Startled, I turn and see that Beans has wandered into the room. He has his hands in his pockets, as usual, and there's a faint smile on his lips. He also has, once again, some bean juice on the front of his shirt. I swear, that guy only ever eats cans of beans, and he always manages to end up with juice stains on his clothes. Hence the nickname he's been given in our work crew.
“Anything interesting out there?” he asks.
“I was just watching the world,” I reply. “It's my lunch break, I'm allowed to be -”
“I know, I know,” he says, interrupting me as he comes over and stops to look out the window. After a moment, however, he quickly steps back. “I don't know how you can stand so close to the edge. I get freaked out, just being up here.”
“I cleaned out all the odd-numbered rooms on this floor,” I explain. “There wasn't really anything useful, other than the obvious stuff. Some wood and metal. Lots of pictures. And we have more cutlery than we're ever gonna need.”
“You gonna do the even numbers after?”
I nod.
“This building's been a total bust,” he points out. “I'm starting to think maybe someone got here before us. I know there were some organized scavengers in this part of town a few weeks ago. I was told they didn't spend long here, but I'd bet anything that they were actually right up here on the high floors. I'm telling you, Tommy, there are people out there who made out pretty good from what happened. Then again, that's what always happens, isn't it? No matter how bad things get, someone somewhere's gonna find a way to -”
“I'm leaving,” I say suddenly, cutting him off.
He stares at me for a moment, clearly caught off-guard.
“There's another train heading out west,” I continue, figuring that now's as good a time as any to let him know. After all, he's in charge of our work crew, so he'll need time to adjust. “This time I'm going to be on it. It's been a while since I arrived in New York, and I just think it's time to move on. There was an announcement yesterday, they want people for a journey to California to help out with the reconstruction there. I almost went last time, and now I think I'd be more use there than here.”
“Is that right?” He sighs. “Well, that's a shock, Thomas. You're one of the better people I've had for a while.”
“I also need to find my sister,” I continue. “We're allowed one break each in the journey. I'm going to take mine and go home, back to my family's farm, and see if she's there. If she's not, I'm going to continue to California and search for her there. I've got a plan all thought through in my head, and it'll work. If she's still out there somewhere, I mean. If she's alive, I will find her.”
“No luck searching for her through the bureau?”
“The bureau admit that they don't have everyone registered.”
“That's very true.”
“So she might be out there,” I continue. “I've delayed going to find her so many times, but now things are getting back to normal and -”
“Woah there!” he says, rushing forward and quickly tapping the remains of an old wooden table near the wall. “Touch wood. Let's not say things like that just yet, okay? We're not out of the woods, not by a long shot.”
“Fine,” I reply, “but either way, I need to go and look for her. You understand, don't you?”
He pauses.
“I'll miss you, man,” he says with a sigh.
“Don't you have anyone to go looking for?” I ask.
“Me?” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sure. I used to run a website, selling old video game consoles. When everything went wrong, I just so happened to be in New York at a convention.” He pauses. “So yeah, I've got a wife and three kids, and my parents, and two brothers and a sister and lots of friends, all back in Nevada.”
“Have you tried to find them?”
“I checked with the bureau. No sign.”
“Then why don't you -”
“They're dead.”
“You don't know that.”
“I know that only about 10% of the population survived,” he replies. “If that. I know the odds. Hope's a killer, Tommy, and one day I decided to just accept the inevitable. If I go back to Nevada, the most I'll discover is how they died, and I don't think I wanna do that.”
“But even if only 10% survived,” I point out, “the odds are that at least one or two of your family members might have made it.”
He shakes his head.
“It's true!” I tell him.
“This all feels like a fresh start,” he says. “I just can't handle the pain of finding out the truth. You can judge me for that, but it's how I feel.” He turns to leave, but then he hesitates. “And if they happen to have survived? If they're out there? Then they'll be getting on with their lives, and I figure they'll be just fine without me. That's just the way the world is now.”
With that, he turns and saunters out of the room.
“That doesn't make a whole lot of sense,” I mutter, struggling to understand exactly why Beans doesn't go to search for his family. I get what he told me, but at the same time I don't see how he can hold back. There's obviously something he wasn't telling me.
All I know is that I'm not like him.
Maybe I'm fooling myself, but I'm absolutely convinced that Martha is out there somewhere. I know everyone else is gone, but I'll never accept that Martha's dead, not without seeing proof. I need to know the truth, even if it turns out to be painful.
Which I guess means that I've made my decision. I really am going to take that train tomorrow. I just hope I can persuade Elizabeth to come with me.
Thomas
“She's actually doing very well,” Lana says as we stand in the doorway, watching the children play. “Obviously she's got issues, but that's true of all of them. Kids can be surprisingly resilient.”
I watch as Polly and another girl run past in the distance, hurrying from one side of the courtyard to another. Every time I come to check how Polly's doing, I'm surprised by how normal she seems. When Elizabeth and I first met her, she was a weird, silent kid. Hell, I feel bad for thinking this, but she was pretty creepy. Then she went through a lot with the death of her father, but somehow she seems to have pulled through. Frankly, the whole thing seems like a miracle.
“Do you want to talk to her this time?” Lana asks.
I turn to her.
“Uh, no,” I say, “I don't think -”
“Every time you visit,” she replies, cutting me off, “you say you'll talk to her next time. It's always next time. You obviously care about her.”
“I don't really know her that well.”
“She asks after you.”
“Really?”
“You and someone named Elizabeth. But you're the only one who ever shows up.”
“What do...”
I pause for a moment.
“Elizabeth hasn't been to see her?” I ask cautiously, surprised by the news.
She shakes her head.
“Not even once?”
“Not even once,” she replies.
“Does she at least come to ask how she's doing?”
“She's never been here,” Lana explains. “I don't even know who she is, really, except that Polly asks after her. From what I understand, you and Elizabeth are the ones who brought Polly to the city. And you were there when her father died?”
“Kind of,” I reply, before turning to watch as Polly continues to play. “I assumed Elizabeth came to see her too,” I add finally. “I don't get why she wouldn't.”
***
; “This one's mine,” Polly explains with a smile as she places a tattered old toy bear on the table. “We each got to choose one from the pile. Everyone else wanted the newer ones, but I chose Edward because he looked so old and used.”
“That's cool,” I tell her.
She stands the bear up on its legs and makes it walk across the table.
“It's a zombie bear!” she says excitedly.
As she says that, I notice two other kids playing nearby, pretending to be zombies. There are about thirty children in this makeshift school, and I'm pretty sure that all of them must have lost someone over the past few months. The fact that they're play-acting the whole thing now seems kinda weird, although I guess maybe it's a good sign. Maybe it's a sign that they're processing it all.
“Rarrrgh!” Polly shouts suddenly.
I turn, just as she presses the bear against my face.
“Very funny,” I reply, gently pushing the toy away. “That's a very nice bear, Polly. You're lucky. And I'm really glad that you're talking more now. It's good to see that you play with other kids.” I pause for a moment. “So I wanted to ask you something. Does Elizabeth really never come to see you?”
She glances at me, and I can tell that she's a little upset.
“Have you seen her at all since you started here at the school?”
She stares at me for a moment, and then she shakes her head before looking back down at the bear.
“I don't think Elizabeth likes me,” she says.
“That's not true.”
“If she liked me, she'd come see me. Like you do.” She glances at me again. “You don't usually come and talk to me, but at least you visit. I see you talking to Ms. Simoncelli.”
“Elizabeth likes you a lot,” I reply.
“Then why doesn't she come?”
I try to think of an answer, but I'm not smart or quick enough.
