Razor Girl

by Marianne Mancusi

  “Er, what do you mean?” she asked. “What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal, as you call it, is the end of the world. The apocalypse is almost upon us.” Ian Anderson uncrossed his arms then crossed them again. She got a whiff of whisky on his breath. Great. Things were going to get better. “The government has spies everywhere. And we don’t have the first clue regarding whom to trust.”

  “Uh, Dad? Chris is just a kid from school, not to mention our neighbor. He’s lived down the street since he was six years old. He’s definitely no government agent.”

  “And you know this, how? What if he was just recruited? You say he’s lived down the street for years, yet I’ve never seen him in our house until today. Don’t you think that’s a bit convenient, especially when he’s asking what he’s asking about the government?”

  “Well…” She sighed. “I used to think he was a bit of a geek, if you must know. I didn’t want him here. But that’s not ’cause he’s suddenly turned James Bond. He’s not a government plant. Trust me.”

  “You brought him down to my lab!” her dad continued, obviously not listening. “What if he saw something I was working on and is now off to report back?”

  “Report back?” Molly cried, exasperated. “He’s a high school kid, for God’s sake! Who’s he going to report to, the electro shop prof?”

  “Molly, you’re obviously not taking me very seriously,” Ian scolded, walking back to his lab bench. “I would have expected more from you—especially now that you’ve seen the first signs.”

  Oh God, where was he going with this? Had he drunk more whiskey than usual? Normally he only got a bit tipsy, and then only when he was working his hardest. “First signs?” she asked, knowing she should resist the urge to encourage him.

  “Of the apocalypse. You know, disease. Plague. Your Mrs. McCormick is obviously one of the first to fall. And the government’s scared. They know as well as I do that more will come. God will sweep down on this world and smite those who deny His name.”

  “Uh, okay.” Molly let out a big sigh. Thank goodness Chris wasn’t still around to hear this. She loved her dad but his conclusions were sketchy to say the least. There were a lot of problems in the world, yes. There might be government cover-ups, yes. But one sick old lady, weird government van-collection or no, did not an apocalypse make.

  But it was better not to argue. “Sorry,” she said. “I won’t bring anyone down here again.”

  “Actually, I think it would be better if you never saw that boy again, either.”

  “What?” She wasn’t prepared for her stomach’s strong reaction to that mandate. It wasn’t as if she’d made plans to hang out with Chris Griffin in the near future. But it was ridiculous for her dad to forbid it. “That’s stupid.”

  “Is it?” Her dad peered over his black-rimmed glasses at her. “He wanted to come down to the lab. He wanted to ask questions.”

  “He was concerned about Mrs. McCormick!”

  “So he told you.”

  “Oh God, Dad, I can’t listen to this anymore.” Molly started up the stairs. “I’m going to help Mom bake her cookies.”

  “Fine. But remember what I told you, Molly. More will fall. And we don’t know whom we can trust.”

  “Right. Plague, famine, badness. Trust no one,” she muttered. “And the truth is out there, and I want to believe.” She couldn’t resist adding the old X-Files joke. That was another old series she and Erin had downloaded. Fox Mulder, the FBI agent, was remarkably similar to her dad in some respects. Though the actor, David Duchovny, was a lot cuter.

  A shout echoed up the stairs. “The end is near, Molly. I’m the only one who can save us!”

  Yes, there were times she really wished she had a normal father.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  “Okay, line up single file so I can count you.”

  Back in Toys, Molly barked orders at the whimpering children, trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation. The three youngest were crying. The middle ones were standing white-faced and stoic. The two oldest were off in a corner, whispering furiously.

  Molly clapped her hands and repeated her order, not sure if they’d obey her or not. After all, it wasn’t as if she had any claim to authority over them, save that she was older by a few years. What she really needed was Chase to come back. He, at least, would be a familiar authoritative face.

  The children at last obeyed, shuffling into line, all eyes on her. They looked so shell-shocked and sad.

  Molly ran a hand through her hair. Now what? What would a normal adult do in a situation like this? Though she was technically twenty-one, she still felt like a kid. She thought back to her parents. Her father would probably start barking at them, telling them there was no use in crying. Her mother would call for a big group hug and then organize a bake sale. Not that there was anyone left to buy cookies.

  She decided to try something in-between, something kind but in control. She had to make them feel safe in her charge.

  “Is anyone hurt?” she asked.

  Shaking heads all around were the reply. After a pause, the littlest girl in line—Molly remembered she was called Darla—stepped forward, a single blonde pigtail stuck in her mouth. “I got a boo-boo on my knee,” she announced, sticking out her left leg for observation.

  Molly knelt down, taking the leg carefully in her hands, examining the wound. She let out a breath when she saw that it was just a bruise—a small one, with no skin broken in any way. She lowered Darla’s leg and looked up at the little girl.

  “That must hurt a lot,” she said in a serious voice. “How did it happen?”

  “Dude, that’s nothing,” butted in another kid. “You shoulda seen Tank. He had his guts ripped out. They were all over the floor.”

  Molly winced as Darla and the brunette standing beside her burst into a fresh set of tears. Another kid said, “Shut up, Red.” Great, they were fighting.

  “Thank you, Doctor,” she said, turning to the first boy. “Your detailed analysis is very helpful.” She guessed he was just as upset but was overcompensating with false bravado. She wanted to stop that immediately.

  The oldest girl stepped forward, a teen who wore a ridiculously short skirt and had spray-painted her hair with blue streaks. “I’m Starr,” she announced. “Is Tank dead?”

  Molly swallowed hard, not sure what to say. Then she decided the truth was probably best. After all, the kids would find out sooner or later. And she had a feeling they were pretty used to funerals.

  “Yes,” she said simply, looking from face to face. “I’m sorry, but he is.”

  The children nodded, staring down at their feet. They looked sad but not shocked. Which made sense, really. Pretty much everyone they’d ever loved had died. They likely didn’t remember things any other way.

  “Rocky’s dead, too. And Spud. Who’s going to take care of us?” demanded one of the triplets. “Who’s going to hunt for food?”

  “And tend the garden,” added one of his brothers.

  “And keep out the Others?” added the third.

  “Who’s going to read us stories?” asked little Sunshine, the brunette next to Darla. She stuck a grubby thumb in her mouth.

  “Oh, please,” Red said, rolling his eyes. “Who cares about stories?”

  “I do,” Darla growled, grabbing Sunshine’s hand and giving Red the evil eye.

  Starr snorted. “And you do, too, Red, even though you’re too cool to admit it.”

  “Red likes stories, Red likes stories,” the triplets began chanting.

  “Shut up!” With a cry of fury, Red lunged at them. The three fought back.

  Molly held up her hands in protest. “Enough!” she cried. “There’s already been far too much violence today. I don’t need it coming from you guys, too.”

  The fighting subsided. Eight pairs of eyes settled back on her. Great. Now what? she thought, frustrated. Chase needed to get his ass back to help out.

  “Look,” s
he said, “I know this is difficult. I know Tank was like a father to you guys and his death is a huge deal. But bad things have happened before, right? And you’ve gotten through them okay. You’ll get through this, too. I promise.”

  “Will you stay with us?” asked Sunshine, pulling her thumb from her mouth. “Will you cook for us?” Her sky-blue eyes swallowed Molly whole. “Will you tell us stories?”

  Molly cringed. How did one explain to a seven-year-old that you were one of the last people in the world and had a very important mission—one that could be humanity’s only salvation? How could you explain that eight children were less important than however many others had survived and needed to be rescued?

  Of course, who could be sure how many others had actually survived? For all Molly knew, these eight children were the world’s future. She looked over the band of ragamuffins, with their dirty, makeup-stained faces and ridiculous outfits. What would her dad say? Stop being so sentimental! You have more important things to do than babysit. Or would he understand that these children were a future she could see and should bet on? Would he give her dispensation to delay her task a few days?

  She exhaled, realizing there was no easy answer. In the meantime, there was one thing she could do: make life go on.

  “Okay guys,” she said. “Who’s hungry? Let’s get some food in you. After we’ve eaten, those of you who aren’t too cool for stories are in for a treat.”

  When Chase woke up, it was still night. The full moon cast eerie shadows on the rusted cars in the Wal-Mart parking lot, and he was lying next to Rocky’s grave, which he’d dug next to Tank’s. He remembered how Rocky used to annoy Tank with his constant silliness and hoped his brother would forgive him for burying them side by side.

  He scrambled to his feet, realizing how stupid he’d been. He’d come outside alone, his mind addled by grief, and dug two graves right in the open where any wandering Other could put him on the dinner menu. Then, to make matters worse, he’d taken drugs and passed out. Fucking brilliant. He was going to make a kickass leader.

  He headed back to the Wal-Mart, his body and mind still hazy from a mixture of sleep and Vicodin. He’d been stupid to take the pills. They’d made him even more careless than usual. His brother had given him shit for his lackadaisical nature in the past, but now it was inexcusable. He had children to take care of. He had to be responsible. And that meant getting over his pain in other ways. He had to throw out the drugs and start over. Become the man he was supposed to be. One who had no difficulties raising a brood of crazy children on a zombie-plagued wilderness trek to Disney World.

  Sounded great.

  Still, from here on out he’d be stone-cold-sober Chase. Starting tomorrow. Tonight he needed more sleep.

  He made sure there was nothing dangerous around before he let himself back inside the Wal-Mart, then wandered through the quiet store, flashlight in hand, looking for the kids. Finally he found them, all curled up and sound asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets around Molly’s feet. They were in the Home section. And they looked so innocent lying there, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He wondered what she’d said to them.

  At first he assumed Molly was asleep, although it was impossible to tell with her glasses. But then she shuffled and stirred, crawling out of her sleeping bag and motioning him to follow her away from the circle of sleeping children.

  “Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, her face twisted into an angry scowl. They were out of earshot of the kids. “They’ve been asking about you all night.”

  Chase stepped back, startled. He’d forgotten they hadn’t parted on good terms. To make things worse, he’d promptly gone off and passed out, leaving her stuck with the kids, a responsibility he’d had no reason to expect her to accept. Kids he’d promised Tank he would protect.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I was…burying the dead.”

  She gave him a suspicious look. Not that he blamed her. He’d been gone much longer than would be necessary for that. But he wasn’t about to admit to accidentally passing out from pills. She wouldn’t understand, and that’d just make things worse.

  “You’ve been gone a long time. Must have been some funeral.”

  Chase glared at her, annoyed. “I needed some time. I’m sorry. It was my brother, you know.”

  She softened, looking embarrassed. Part of him breathed a sigh of relief.

  “So, I fed the kids. And I got them to sleep,” she said, motioning to the brood. “I’m going to be leaving really early in the morning. I didn’t know if you wanted me to say good-bye now so I didn’t wake you.”

  Panic slammed through him. He hadn’t thought she’d leave so soon. It was true she’d had this plan beforehand, but after the killings…He hadn’t even had time to butter her up to agree to his plan!

  “About that,” he said. The words sounded awkward. This was going to come out all wrong and he knew it.

  She stared at him.

  “I was thinking…I mean, with Tank gone and all…there’s really nothing here for us at the Wal-Mart,” he began, struggling to explain. “And so, I was wondering if…maybe, if you wouldn’t mind—”

  “Oh, no. No way.”

  He stared at her, startled. He’d figured she’d at least agree to think about it. But the look on her face made him think she’d rather eat a snake than consider what he was about to suggest.

  “What?” he asked, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

  “If you and the kids can tag along with me.”

  Ah. “Okay, fine, maybe you do know,” he replied. “But you haven’t heard my argument yet as to why it’d be a good idea.”

  “I don’t need to hear it. It’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s a very bad idea,” she said. Her voice was quiet.

  “But why?”

  She made a pained face. “I have…a schedule to keep,” she said. “I need to get down there quickly, and there’s no way I can do that if I’m dragging a bunch of kids along. Maybe if it were just you…maybe. But even then…” She trailed off, and he realized she was trying not to be insulting and was finding it difficult. Did she find him to be such a pathetic tool—fine to use when she needed stuff, but easily dumped afterward? It was just like old times. She hadn’t changed a bit.

  “Oh, I see.” He gritted his teeth. “I forgot. You’re better than us. You’re all cyber-chick, what with your implants and shit.”

  “Chase…” He could see the apology in her face, but he was too angry to accept it.

  “Yup. Once again you’ve got more important things going on, and you’re going to abandon your friends.” He gestured around, arms wide. “I hate to break it to you, Molly, but you might be sacrificing us for nothing. Not that it’d be that much of a sacrifice, but…Earth to Molly. The world’s dead. It’s over. The human race is struggling to survive here, and the only way we’re going to do that is to stick together. Combine our strengths.”

  She looked a little guilty, but then her lips tightened into a thin line. “Chase, I’m not saying you guys aren’t important. You don’t understand—”

  “Oh, I understand perfectly, don’t you worry. And don’t let me stop you. I can take care of these kids by myself. Maybe we’ll take our own little field trip to Disney. There’s plenty of maps in the Books section. We don’t need you as tour guide.”

  She frowned. “That’s a bad idea. It’d be dangerous.”

  “What, and staying here isn’t? Or is it ’cause we don’t have you to watch our backs? Please. You, Super Girl, have been out and about this world for exactly one afternoon. You may be all rawr-rawr razor girl when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, but do you know anything about surviving day to day? Do you know when they’re most likely to hunt, or that their eyesight is weak and how to take advantage of that? Did you know that they hate high-pitched noises and that whistles can sometimes save your life? I make sure the kids always have them when we go outside
. Are you going to take one? And how about the fact that sometimes they work together, a small one baiting you into the open before a larger one jumps out of the shadows?”

  “No. I didn’t know any of that,” she said.

  “No, of course you don’t!” he said, triumphant until he realized she had just admitted it, which stole a tiny bit of his thunder. “So while you may be stronger, faster and deadlier, you’re also probably going to be lunch by the third day. And then none of that cyber strength will matter.”

  “You’re right,” she said simply.

  He looked at her. “What?”

  “You’re totally right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insulting. I was just worried about time. I don’t have much time to get there.”

  “What’s the deal with this not-much-time thing?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve waited six years. What’s the hurry now?”

  She paused, looking pained. “It’s a long story,” she said. “Let’s just say that I’m sick. The nano computers inside me, the ones that make me stronger and faster—well, they’re not working right. They’re malfunctioning. Breaking down for some reason. And as time passes I’m going to get weaker. Eventually I’ll be so weak that I won’t be able to walk.”

  Wow. He hadn’t been expecting her to say that. “What about once you get there?”

  “Supposedly they can fix me. They’ll cycle my blood, get rid of the nanos and make me good as new. But I have to get there. And the sicker I get, the less chance I’ll have to make it. In other words, I’m in a hurry.”

  Chase felt like a tool. No wonder she didn’t want to take them along. It wasn’t about her being selfishly unwilling to commit to him and the kids; it was about staying alive. He kept picturing himself standing in the rain waiting for her all those years ago, but he didn’t know what had happened back then. Maybe she’d had a good reason for that. Maybe it was something he could ask her. Maybe…but not now.