Razor Girl

by Marianne Mancusi

  How odd it was, thinking about the repercussions of choices you made. What would have happened if she had gone with Chris and the gang instead of into the shelter? They might have had a chance romantically, but would she have survived? Trey and Chris had left with a bunch of other students. Molly hadn’t seen any of them here.

  Chase returned with the ball, checked it to her. She bounced it back. He dribbled toward the hoop. She stayed in front of him, anticipating his path. He stopped just under the backboard, lifted his hands to shoot…She knocked the ball from his hands, sending it bouncing away.

  “I’m starting to remember,” she said.

  “Guess I should stop taking it easy on you then.”

  They played for probably a good half-hour, the lead always changing. Chase’s jump shot had really improved, Molly noticed, and she was impressed that he played well though there was little light. Throughout the game, they traded verbal jabs. For a brief period there was no apocalypse, no betrayal; they were just two friends playing one-on-one.

  Until they heard the scream.

  Molly and Chase looked at one another. Chase’s face was white as a ghost under the sheen of sweat. Molly was sure she looked similar. He dropped the ball and started toward the door. “Come on,” he said.

  Molly didn’t need a second invitation.

  Chase darted down the aisle, not looking back to see if Molly was following. His heart pounded and adrenaline pulsed through his veins. On the way through the Sporting Goods section he used his flashlight to find a golf club—not exactly the perfect weapon, but it was the best thing in reach.

  Another scream. Oh God, what was happening?

  He could feel Molly behind him, her footsteps echoing his. They swung around a corner and burst into the Toys section. What once had been an oasis of children’s laughter and games was now a horror show. The lights were tipped over. Toys were strewn everywhere. The children were all running and screaming.

  At first Chase couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. Then his eyes fell upon the monster: Spud. Or, more accurately, what had once been Spud.

  No, this was no longer his goofy, geeky friend. In Spud’s place stood a horrifying monster with red eyes, razor-sharp teeth and bleeding, pus-filled sores. His clothing was shredded—it must have torn in the metamorphosis—and only scraps still clung to his body. A Rolex dangled from his wrist—the one Spud and Chase had stolen from Neiman Marcus one day when they were bored. Spud was one of them now. An Other. And somehow he’d gotten out of his cage. The cage Chase was supposed to be guarding instead of playing basketball with Molly.

  There was only a moment to hesitate, to mourn the loss of yet another friend, because Chase knew what was coming next, what had already begun. His friend was now a destroyer and needed to be destroyed. There was no alternative.

  He sprang into action, swinging his golf club at the creature with as much force as he could muster. The nine iron struck Spud’s head with a sickening thud, sending the zombie sprawling. But that wasn’t going to stop him. Spud righted himself quickly and charged forward, bellowing an inhuman cry. He grabbed the club from Chase’s hand and snapped it in two.

  Oh shit.

  Chase leapt backwards to avoid the creature’s arms, his eyes darting around and searching for another weapon. Luckily for him, Spud didn’t pursue him. Instead, his old friend turned and went for Darla, who was cowering nearby. Chase screamed in rage, hoping to distract it.

  Suddenly Molly was there, right in between Spud and the little girl. Blades shot from her fingertips with an elegant violence that took Chase’s breath away. Without pause she engaged, striking Spud in the chest. Chase’s former friend screamed as blood soaked what remained of his Gothic Robots from Hell concert T-shirt.

  Molly wasn’t finished. Her foot found Spud’s groin, and the Other keeled forward. Chase felt a moment of relief that the monsters weren’t true Hollywood zombies and still felt pain. Molly didn’t pause; she took the opportunity to grab Spud’s head and twist, snapping the neck. Spud fell to the ground, dead. Really dead. Chase let out a sigh of relief, forcing himself to forget that the creature she’d just killed was one of his best friends, trying to focus on the fact that Darla was safe and unharmed.

  Molly leaned over and vomited. Chase didn’t blame her. He was pretty sick to his stomach as well. Seeing one’s friend morphed into a monster and trying to chomp little children could do that to a guy. He forced himself to look away from the mayhem, remembering all the stupid pranks he and Spud had pulled back in the refugee camp.

  Stupid old Spud. Stupid, stupid Spud. He felt bile rise in his throat and forced it back down.

  “Chase, Chase!” Red cried, appearing out of nowhere. The little boy tugged at his pant leg.

  “What is it, Red?” When Chase looked down, he saw that the child’s normally brave face was stained from tears.

  “Tank. You gotta help Tank.”

  Chase’s heart leapt into his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked. In the chaos, he hadn’t processed that his brother was missing.

  “Spud hurt him,” Red said, yanking at his hand.

  Chase left Molly where she was puking and let the boy lead the way down an aisle, fear slamming his heart against his chest. A moment later his eyes fell on his brother lying motionless in an ocean of blood. Chase flew to Tank’s side, on his knees, peering into his brother’s face. Tank’s eyes fluttered open. He was alive. Thank God.

  “He got me,” Tank said, his voice strangely gurgling. “He killed Rocky and then came after me.”

  Chase glanced over and saw Rocky’s body a little ways off in the darkness. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and a lump clogging his throat. His best friend and his only brother. “God,” he said. “How bad?” At least Tank was immune to the infection. He’d be okay. He had to be okay.

  “Chase, I need you to promise me you’ll look after the kids.”

  Chase struggled to understand. “What? What are you talking about?” he asked, the lump in his throat now threatening to choke him. “You’re going to be fine. We can stitch you up. Get you some antibiotics and—”

  Tank reached out and brushed a lock of hair from his eye. “Chase, I don’t have much time. I need you to promise me. I’m not kidding.”

  Chase squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. This couldn’t be happening. First Tara, now Tank. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. And, once again, it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so distracted he could have done something.

  “You’re going to be fine!” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “What hurts? We’ll fix it!” His hands roved his brother’s body, seeking out injuries. It was then that he saw the wound in Tank’s lower back and side. It had been concealed by the way he was lying, but it was grievous. Chase felt the gorge rise in his throat and leaned over to let it out.

  “Chase, focus!” Tank commanded, his voice weak but determined. His skin was very white. “The kids need you. I need you to promise me you’ll look after them. You’re all they have now.”

  “But…I can’t!” Chase cried, his life flashing before his eyes. “I’m not like you. I can’t take care of them. I can barely take care of myself. Look what happened to Tara! I couldn’t save her!”

  “No, you couldn’t save Tara. But you can save these children. Do it for Tara. And for me.”

  “But I’m not like you. I can’t lead them,” Chase said.

  His brother’s face twisted in a combination of anger and hurt. “Grow the fuck up, man,” he growled. “There’s no one else.”

  Chase paused, anguished. Then he swallowed. “I promise,” he said. “God, Tank, what will I do?”

  “You’ll manage.” Tank’s eyes rolled up in his head for a moment, then he drew a deep breath and forced himself to look at Chase. “You’re stronger than you think. You’re not a fuck up—or you don’t have to be. I have faith in you. And I love you, man.”

  “I…I love you, too.”

  But he’d sa
id it too late. His brother’s eyes were closed, and Tank’s final breath had just escaped in a long, torturous wheeze. He was dead.

  Chase threw back his head and screamed.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Chris followed Molly down the stairs.

  “Dad, this is Chris. Chris, this is my dad,” Molly called as they entered the basement. Her father was sitting in a lab off to one side, working on some kind of metal gizmo. He set the device down, came out of the workshop and shut and locked the door behind him. Off limits to tourists, Chris guessed.

  “Ian Anderson.” Molly’s dad introduced himself, putting out a hand. The guy looked like a mad scientist with his shock of graying hair and wild blue eyes. Hard to believe he was Molly’s father. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I saw you two playing basketball outside. It’s great to see kids enjoying real sports in this day and age. Everyone’s always inside on their sims twenty-four-seven. Missing out on what the great outdoors has to offer.”

  “I thought it was awesome,” Chris agreed. “I’d never played before. Of course, I’m kind of sweaty and gross now.” He sniffed his armpit and made a face.

  Ian slapped him on the back. “Nothing wrong with a little sweat,” he proclaimed. “It’ll put hair on your chest. Now, what can I do for you kids? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

  “I know, Dad, I know. But I figured you’d be interested in this.” Molly paused. “I should have come to you before, but…well, I wasn’t sure if it was important and didn’t want to bother you. Have you heard anything about weird disappearances related to illness? Anything to do with the government? A few days ago Chris and I came across Mrs. McCormick from down the street. She was acting all sick, coughing up blood. We called for an ambulance, but instead this strange brown van showed up. It had a government seal. They took her away.”

  Chase noticed she didn’t add anything about them being chased. He guessed she just didn’t want to worry him.

  “That was a few days ago, and she hasn’t been back to her house since,” Molly said. “I figured she might have died, but—”

  “I called all the nearby hospitals,” Chris spoke up. “They said they were taking her to Mount Holyoke, but the guys in the van didn’t really even know where it was—and no one there’s heard of her. And when I went searching some of the Internet forums about this, I found similar things are happening other places.” He crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t get the usual lectures about accessing unauthorized sites; adults seemed to think that what the government banned really shouldn’t be talked about. He figured Molly’s dad, if anyone, would feel differently. After all, he was about as anti-establishment as anyone could get. “Molly thought maybe you would have read or heard something else.”

  Ian looked distracted. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

  “Is there…is there any way you could take a look?” Chris pressed. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was worried about Mrs. McCormick, and Molly’s dad seemed the only option for information. Rumor had it that he knew all sorts of people in high places, although not all of them were friendly.

  “That woman was like a grandmother to me,” he explained. “I’m worried something really bad might have happened to her, and she’s got no one else who’d care.”

  Molly’s father sighed. “What did the van look like again?”

  “Brown,” Molly said. “And like I said, there was a government seal on the side.”

  “The men had brown uniforms, too?”

  “Yes,” Chris said, remembering. “They did.”

  “Cleaners,” Mr. Anderson said. “Government cleaners. They’re called the DNP, the Department of Natural Progressions, but basically they get paid to get rid of messes.”

  “Messes? What mess could an old lady like Mrs. McCormick be in?” Molly spoke up. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

  “Look, our government has its own agenda that we can’t even try to understand. You two are very lucky they didn’t come after you,” her father said sternly. He waggled a finger at Molly and Chris. “The next time you see a van like that, leave the area immediately. I don’t care who they’re taking away. Do not get involved, what ever you do.”

  “But—” Chris started.

  Mr. Anderson glowered at him. “No buts,” he said. “It’s dangerous and stupid for you to mess with government operations. They don’t care that you’re just kids. If they think you know something, they’ll remove you without a second thought.”

  For the first time, Chris felt true fear crawl through his stomach. He’d been nervous when he and Molly were chased, but that had just felt like something from a Smart TV show or a sim. Was this guy right? Would the government actually do something like “remove” him? It was tough to credit.

  Of course, they had given chase, and Mrs. McCormick really had disappeared.

  “Okay, Dad, we got it,” Molly said, grabbing Chris’s hand. She began to drag him upstairs. “Government agents are bad. We’ll stay away.”

  “Mock me if you will, daughter!” Ian called after them. “But mark my words. This is the End of Days we’re living in. Many will fall. Only a few will rise like phoenixes from the ashes. These will create a new heaven and Earth.”

  Wow, the rumors were right, Chris marveled as they reached the top of the stairs. Molly’s father was out of his goddamned mind. End of days, indeed! How ridiculous was that?

  They stepped out into the living room, and Molly closed the door behind them. Chris noticed her face was flushed. Was she embarrassed by what her dad had just said? She shouldn’t be. He didn’t judge her by her parents. He tried to avoid judging anyone by anyone else.

  “Hey, kids, come in here!” cried a woman’s voice from the kitchen. “I want you to try my cookies.” It was like jumping from an Operation: Terror sim into a Mrs. Rogers’s Kiddie-time sim, but Chris found he didn’t mind the transition.

  They entered the kitchen to find Molly’s mother setting down a plate full of delicious-looking cookies. The room was warm and smelled like chocolate. The creepy feeling Chris had felt down in the basement started to dissipate. At least one member of Molly’s family was normal.

  “I need your opinion,” Molly’s mother told them. “Are these good enough to sell at the church bake sale this Sunday?”

  They obediently tried the cookies. “Mmmmm,” Chris said. “These are delicious.” And he wasn’t exaggerating to get into her good graces; he hadn’t tasted such a wonderful cookie in forever. “Thanks, Mrs. Anderson. Can I have another?”

  Molly’s mother beamed at him. “Of course,” she said. Then she turned to her daughter. “I like him,” she mouthed, but Chris caught it.

  Motherly approval? Nice.

  Molly didn’t know what was more embarrassing: her crazy father talking about the end of the world or her matchmaking mother. Her mom had never liked Drew; she was going to be psyched when Molly informed her of the breakup.

  First she had to get rid of Chris, though. Grabbing another cookie and motioning for him to follow her outside, she hoped he’d take the hint and go home. Not that she minded his company; it’d been good to have someone to play basketball with today. But now she was ready to wallow again in the pain of the whole Drew situation. Why hadn’t she walked away when she’d had a chance? Why hadn’t she broken up with him before this? And why had she thought it was a good idea to break his nose? Now everyone in school was going to think she was crazy like her dad. That was just the reputation she’d been trying to avoid.

  “Sorry my dad wasn’t more helpful,” she said, wandering over to the nearby stone wall. Chris followed, evidently not interested in saying good-bye yet. What a surprise.

  “It’s okay.” He shrugged, hopping up on the wall. “I mean, he’s right in a way. Not about the end of the world or anything, but he’s probably right that it’s a good idea to stay away from government agents. I’m glad we ran.”

  She half laughed. “Me, too. And I’m glad I didn�
��t tell him what really happened. He probably would have locked me in my room for the next six years.”

  “Well, he just wants to protect you,” Chris said. “Which is nice.”

  “Yeah, real nice,” Molly snapped. “Do you know I’m stuck every day after school doing martial arts training with him? It’s so I’ll be prepared for the coming apocalypse.”

  Chris looked surprised. “Really? That’s hardcore.” He paused then added, “Though, maybe it’s a good idea? Just in case?” He was trying to be nice. She’d give him that.

  “Whatever.” She shrugged. “Personally I fail to see how martial arts will help if we’re talking Armageddon.” She sighed, feeling suddenly old. “The world will either end or it won’t. There’s nothing we can do about it. There’s nothing we can do about anything.”

  “You’re still upset about Drew,” Chris observed, picking a piece of broken glass off the top of the wall. Their neighbors liked to have rowdy barbeques and, try as they might, the Andersons were never able to get rid of all the after-party evidence.

  “That obvious, huh?” she said with a small snort. “I guess I just feel stupid. Like such a loser.”

  Chris shook his head. “Please,” he said. “Because of him?”

  He was sweet. But he had no clue. “You don’t understand,” she said. “I punched out the most popular kid at school. My family’s kind of weird. Tomorrow I’m going to be a total social outcast, some leper that everyone will go out of their way to avoid. I’d kind of hoped…Well, this is what I’d wanted to avoid. Drew was—”

  Chris grabbed her hand with a suddenness that startled her, pried open her fingers and deposited in her palm the shard of broken glass he’d picked up. She looked down at it then up at him.

  “Um,” she said. What was this about?

  “Tell me. What is that?” he asked.