by Sara Grant
I kept my distance from the roadkill. I didn’t need some half-dead hyena taking a bite out of me. I’d seen Aliens – or was it Predator? – where they thought the thing was dead only to have it rear up and attack. And my dad said I was wasting my time watching all those horror movies! He could never have imagined that they would end up becoming a handy survival guide.
The lump on the roadside twitched. Marissa and I screamed and grabbed for each other.
Wait a minute. Was that animal wearing a polo shirt?
The thing groaned. It wasn’t the growl of a bear. It was human but, in this scenario, humans were probably the most deadly creatures of all. I had to get away from whatever it was. I looked for oncoming traffic. The coast was clear. I started to cross.
‘Shouldn’t we try to help?’ Marissa asked, holding me back.
Normally I’d think she was right, but right now everything and everyone was my enemy. I wasn’t taking any chances.
‘Hey, are you OK?’ she shouted to the lump.
Between video games, CSIs and horror movies, I probably averaged fifty dead bodies a day. This was different. Flies were collecting and covering the body while a buzzard, an actual buzzard, circled overhead.
‘What . . . the . . . hell . . . do . . . you . . . think?’ the voice was weak and the words were spoken painstakingly slowly. ‘Help me.’ It was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, and he was trying to push himself up. Rusty-brown patches of blood covered his body. His curly hair was blond under a layer of dust. His face was badly bruised, but everything seemed to be attached, thank God. He blinked up at us. His eyes were blue, but not a pale, watery blue like mine. His eyes were a bright blue, like a neon sign.
Marissa went into some sort of rescue mode. She took one of the bottles of water from her goodie bag, unscrewed the lid, and tilted the bottle to his lips. He half drank, half spat the water. He unfolded a little, becoming more human.
‘I’m Tate Chamberlain.’ He said the name as if it should mean something to us, to everyone. ‘Tate Cham-ber-lain,’ he said again, slowly, as if we might not have heard him the first time. ‘My dad owns Ozuye. You know, the big new casino on the Strip.’
Even though he was covered with blood and dirt and had a stain down his leg that I was pretty sure was urine, his tan trousers still had a crisp crease down the centre and his golf-course-green polo shirt was branded by some designer.
‘I’m Marissa and this is Icie,’ Marissa said, as if we were tied together. Marissa-and-Icie 4 eva.
I maintained a safe distance. My calves were tight and ready to flee. ‘Are you sick?’ I asked, praying for him to give the right answer.
‘No,’ he said as if that was a stupid question.
I relaxed a little, even though the boy was the eye in a tornado of flies.
‘So what are you doing out here in the middle of nowhere, looking like the losing end of a prize-fight?’ Marissa asked.
‘Don’t you know?’ he said, perking up a bit more. ‘Everything is out of control. I mean, there are rumours of terrorist attacks. My dad heard one report, on a private security channel, that thousands of people were already infected with some deadly virus and people were dying.’
Marissa gasped. Nausea overwhelmed me. Mum was right. I clutched my stomach and doubled over. I couldn’t catch my breath.
The boy didn’t notice our reactions and kept right on talking. ‘My dad paid some guys a million dollars to get me out of the city and someplace safe. He loaded the casino’s VIP RV with a bunch of food and weapons and stuff.’
I wasn’t the only one with parents who’d do anything to give their kid a chance of survival.
‘So what are you doing here, looking like that?’ Marissa asked.
His big baby blues brimmed with tears. ‘The guys dumped me.’ The boy wiped dirt, snot and tears from his face. ‘They threw me out while the RV was still moving. I’ve been trying to walk home. My dad trusted those guys. They’d been working for him forever. They did security at my birthday parties since I was two. How could they?’
‘People do all kinds of crazy stuff when they think it’s the end of . . .’ Marissa rumpled his hair.
I felt as if we were in some massive hourglass and time was slipping away one precious grain of sand at a time. I couldn’t afford to waste any more time. I also couldn’t be responsible for anyone else. I could barely take care of myself. ‘Let’s flag down a car and see if we can get you a ride back to Vegas,’ I said.
I walked a few feet away, raised my arms over my head and waved when I saw a car materialize in the hazy distance. When the driver spotted me, he seemed to speed up.
‘Do you think Vegas is a good idea?’ Marissa asked, stepping up next to me. ‘I mean, if it’s some sort of virus thingy, wouldn’t Vegas be one of the worst places to go?’
‘Hey! Hey, you!’ Tate called. ‘Dread! Baldy!’ Tate was shouting but somehow managing to keep a whiny tone to his voice. ‘Can one of you help me up? I need some more water. Do either of you have any food? I’m starving.’
Marissa and I – or should I say Dread and Baldy – glared at him. We found him near death by the roadside and he thought we owed him? Seriously?
‘Keep on doing whatever you’re doing,’ he shouted. His voice cracked with the effort. ‘Don’t worry about me. I’m fine down here with all the bugs. I could use a clean shirt. Either of you got any painkillers? I think I may have broken something.’
Marissa strolled over to Tate. ‘Let me explain a little something to you. Dread and Baldy saved your sorry ass, and we expect a little respect. My name is Marissa and that is Icie. You are not the boss of us. You’ll do as you’re told. Got it?’
He nodded and raised his arms like a toddler asking for a hug. He blinked those big blue eyes, which I was sure usually helped him get his way.
‘Help me get him up, Ice,’ Marissa said, slipping her hands under his arms like a forklift.
I couldn’t move. I wanted to help, but this was too much, too real.
‘OK, take a breath and then I’ll lift on your exhale,’ she told him. As Marissa lifted him, he took a deep breath and screamed like those pregnant girls did on that MTV 16 And Pregnant show. As he got to his feet he staggered into me; I flinched at the feel of his sticky body on mine and the smell of urine that wafted off him.
‘Thanks.’ He breathed the warm and wet word into my ear.
He wrapped his arm around my neck and I reluctantly placed my arm on top of Marissa’s, which was already slung around his middle. I whipped my free arm in a wide arc to shoo the flies.
We stood frozen like one of those stone sculptures that litter the DC landscape. We could be soldiers helping a fallen comrade off the battlefield – minus the steely looks of determination and matching uniforms. If there was some higher power – and I was having some significant doubts – then he or she was having a serious chuckle with this choose-your-own-adventure story.
‘Marissa thinks it would be safer if we go somewhere away from Vegas,’ I told Tate.
‘Yeah, I guess.’ He shrugged.
‘We’ll help get you across the road,’ Marissa explained. ‘It doesn’t look like you’ve broken anything, so after that you’ll need to suck it up and walk on your own. It’s too hot and we’re too tired.’
He slouched in our grip. ‘But I’m really hurt,’ he whined. He was banged up, I could see that, but it was clear to me that he was exaggerating a little for effect. He was used to being taken care of.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Marissa said in a way that meant end of discussion and, surprisingly, Tate straightened a bit.
We had to time it just right. A few cars were zipping past on our side of the highway, heading to Vegas. It was hard to gauge their speed. By the time we could make out a car in the glare of the sun, it was too late to cross. It was like watching some sports-car event. The three of us tracked the cars from the distance and followed them as they passed. It looked like about a bazillion miles to the concrete barricade that
separated the lanes of traffic.
‘We’re gonna have to make a run for it,’ Marissa said. ‘It’s clear after this car. Ready?’
As the car passed, we synchronized our jog. Marissa and I battled for the lead a bit, banging Tate between us with our ill-timed steps, but we finally got the pace right. When we reached the median, we lifted Tate over the triangular barricade. I hauled myself up and over and helped Marissa do the same. Tate was standing on his own, shaking his arms and legs as if making sure everything still worked.
‘Looks like you’re feeling better,’ Marissa said to Tate. Her scalp was shiny with sweat but other than that she didn’t look as if she’d exerted one calorie of energy.
‘Oh,’ Tate groaned. ‘I’m really hurt.’ He slouched and screwed his face up in pain.
‘Cut the dramatics. We need you to toughen up,’ Marissa said, giving him a playful shove. ‘Let’s find a ride.’
Marissa and Tate studied each car. Tate wanted to pick the most expensive vehicle. Marissa thought they should find an elderly couple or someone that needed help. By looking at her you’d never guess she was like a bald, teen Mother Teresa. Tate was trying to convince her that people with money would give them the best chance of survival. To Tate money equalled freedom and happiness and a get-out-of-a-national-disaster-free card. I rolled my eyes, but felt the tiniest wave of sympathy for him. He was only a kid.
Don’t get attached, I told myself. I had to mentally prepare to say goodbye to Roadkill and maybe Baldy too. I wasn’t cut out to be a hero. I wasn’t the best or the brightest at anything. They’d be better off without me.
As Tate and Marissa discussed the strategy for selecting a getaway car, I felt a darkness descend. Was I really going to be all alone? I didn’t think I’d ever been truly alone. In DC even when I was alone in my house, I could hear life going on outside my window. Lola was only a text away. If I screamed, I was pretty sure the neighbours would come running.
This was really it. Maybe I should just slip away. I summoned all my courage. But I couldn’t do it. I’d left too much behind already. I couldn’t stop the terrorists. I couldn’t go back and save Lola. I could help Marissa and Tate.
‘Guys, there’s another option.’ I opened the map and found a few rocks to pin down the four corners. I crouched next to it and waved Marissa and Tate over. ‘This is where I’m going.’ I pointed to the spot on the map and then the mountains in the distance. ‘You can come with me, or whatever.’
‘But there’s nothing there,’ Tate said.
I hesitated. My parents had entrusted me with a secret and not even twenty-four hours later I was blabbing it to everyone I met. But I couldn’t leave them here and I realized I didn’t want to be alone. ‘There’s an underground—’
But before I could finish, Tate interrupted. ‘You mean that nuclear waste repository. That was never finished. I know because my dad got the casino owners to lobby against it. He made his employees go to demonstrations and distribute flyers.’
‘That’s the point,’ I said, and shoved the map in my pocket. ‘It’s an empty bunker. You can come with me or stay here. It’s up to you.’
‘I don’t know,’ Marissa said, appearing to mentally weigh her options: hop in a car with complete strangers, or go underground with only slightly less strange strangers.
‘We could at least go and check it out,’ I continued. ‘Maybe you could get a phone signal once we’re up on the mountain,’ I said to Marissa. ‘Maybe we wait it out a few days. I don’t know.’ I was feeling pretty vulnerable out here in the hot sun with a mass of humanity rolling by. ‘You need to make a decision.’
‘No offence, Ice, but I think I’ll hitch-hike to the next town,’ Marissa said.
‘Yeah, I’m with Baldy.’ Tate moved closer to Marissa.
‘OK, whatever,’ I said. This felt a bazillion times worse than being dumped by Tristan. I knew, when Tristan sent that text, there would be other guys. Was that only yesterday? If Marissa and Tate left me, I was going to be all alone, maybe forever.
I picked a minivan with two kids watching movies on the screens embedded in their parents’ headrests. There was room in the very back for Tate and Marissa. I tapped on the passenger-side window. The woman, who looked like the Wikipedia definition of ‘soccer mom’, stared straight ahead. I forgot what I must’ve looked like with my dreadlocks and mismatched set of bald and bloody.
I tapped on the window again. ‘Can you help us?’ I shouted through the glass. She cringed so I knew she could hear me. ‘Please,’ I called to her.
She lowered the window less than an inch. A wisp of cool air exhaled across my face. Oh, how I wanted to climb into her air-conditioned heaven and let someone else take me far, far away.
‘What are you doing, Denise?’ the driver yelled, and stabbed at the window controls on his side. ‘You’re going to get us killed,’ he said as the window gap closed.
She looked at me. Tears had drawn white and black tracks through the woman’s bronzer. She mouthed the word sorry.
I pressed my palm against the window. I was sorry too. Sorry that this was happening. Sorry she couldn’t help me. Sorry for everything!
She shook her head. The driver was shouting at her. She turned towards the windscreen and the minivan eased forwards a foot.
‘My turn,’ Tate said, and led Marissa and me to the most expensive car he could find. He hobbled over to a shiny red sports car occupied by a man in a black suit with his hair slicked back. Tate knocked on the window.
There wasn’t really enough room for both of them in the car. The tiny backseat was strewn with a laptop, a brown leather briefcase and a matching overnight satchel gaping open with clothes spilling out.
The man reached over and extracted something from his glove compartment. I didn’t even need to look; I already knew what he’d be holding. There was something about the expression on his face and his expensive stuff that told me he wasn’t about to help us. He pointed the handgun at Tate and said calmly and clearly, ‘Get the hell away from my car.’
Tate’s face blanched. He raised his hands in surrender and backed away.
Marissa decided it was her turn. She picked one of those old tank-like sedans. Even though it had to be fifteen years old, its denim-blue paint job was pristine. As we approached the car from behind, we spotted two heads of silvery white hair.
‘I don’t want to sneak up on them,’ she told us. She wiped her face and head on her shirt-tail and plastered on a big cheerleader smile as she stepped in front of the long hood. She opened her mouth to say something but stopped. Her face scrunched as if she might cry. She rushed back to us.
‘What is it?’ Tate asked.
Marissa couldn’t speak. She shook her head manically, half screaming and half sobbing.
‘Marissa?’ I asked, and put my arm around her shoulders.
‘It’s . . .’ she stammered. ‘It’s . . .’ She took a deep breath. ‘It’s awful.’ She curled into me and sobbed.
Tate rushed over to the car, looked in and walked back. ‘Oh, man,’ he said. ‘That’s disgusting. I bet that car must really stink.’
‘What?’ I did and didn’t want to know. ‘What?’
Marissa freed herself and clipped Tate on the back of the head. ‘How can you be so insensitive?’
‘She’s old’ was Tate’s explanation.
‘What? What?’ I asked Marissa and then Tate.
Marissa raked her sleeve across her face, smearing her perfectly outlined eyes. ‘The woman is . . . she was . . .’ She sniffed.
‘Dead,’ Tate said a little too enthusiastically. ‘Yeah, and the guy’s bawling.’
‘What?’
Tate continued, ‘She’s slumped over, and she’s got these—’
But before Tate could give me what I’m sure were the gory details, Marissa whacked him again. ‘Have some respect.’
‘The man’s got these . . .’ Tate flinched when he saw Marissa raise her arm, but it was only to wipe her face
. ‘He’s sick too,’ Tate whispered to me.
‘How can you be sure?’ I asked.
‘Trust me. You can tell,’ he said.
We stood there, scanning the vehicles around us. I didn’t see people in those cars; I saw killers. No one and nothing felt safe. Someone could shoot us for staring at them. Some of these people were already infected. That was it.
‘I’m out of here,’ I said, and found the straightest line to the roadside.
‘I’m coming with you,’ Marissa said. She raced up to me and looped her arm through mine.
‘Yeah, OK. OK. Wait up,’ Tate called. ‘I guess I’m coming too. We can check out your bunker, but I’m not saying I’m going in.’
‘Come on,’ I said, and led them towards the mountain range. One of them was my mountain and I was going to make it there or die trying. My story wasn’t going to end with my corpse decaying by the roadside like fast-food litter chucked out of some SUV.
Chapter Eleven
‘There is no such thing as a good death.’
– Just Saying 66
ATTI
All the rockstars are clustered around Atti like a litter of kittens. They slept all night in this jumbled pile with their arms and legs tangled together. Seeing those lights in the Man-Made Mountains scared them. Atti’s the oldest and a Cheerleader now. The rockstars look up to her like she does to Finch. They needed her last night, and she liked being needed. But she has to show Finch, show all of them, that she isn’t a rockstar any more. Last night she could hear the Cheer Captain talking to the Great I AM. He asked for guidance and strength and wisdom. Then he started all over again. He is so smart and so good, but there was something about the way he kept Saying over and over that made Atti feel shaky inside. She heard Finch come back. He didn’t even check on her. But he’s busy and important. She knows he’s thinking of her even if he doesn’t always show it. There was this kind of buzz all night. The rockstars kept crying. She’d stroked their dreads just like her mum used to do. Mum. Her mum. It was her mum Out There. She knows it. The Cheer Captain always talks about signs. Atti’s never really understood it before but when those lights came on, she said to herself, That’s my mum. She’s Out There. She’s lost and scared and she’s signalling to me and Finch to come and help her. Why can’t Finch read the signs like she can? When the light outside the cave changes from black to a soft grey, Atti makes up her mind. She will go and find her mum, even if no one else will. Even if it gets her into big trouble on her first full day as a Cheerleader. That’s what Cheerleaders do. They are leaders. That is part of the name. Part of the word that she now is. She nudges one rockstar and pokes another and they roll away. Now she’s cold. She rubs her arms and legs. Harper says she generates her own energy. She wishes Harper could come with her but she thinks she needs to do this all by herself. Show them that she is a Cheerleader. She crawls over to the mess of clothes along the back wall. She was supposed to wash them in the Mountain spring yesterday or the day before, but she doesn’t like to wash. It’s boring. She pulls on a few shirts and a skirt that fits. They’re supposed to share, but she tries to wear the same things all the time. She rips the material and ties a few knots to make the clothes fit better. Her body is different from everyone else’s, and their bodies aren’t the same shape as those of the people who first wore these clothes years ago. They all know it, but no one says. She has to roll up the waistband and cuffs. Her feet fit the shoes and her head fits in the hats, but she doesn’t look like the people in the pictures from the Time Before. The bracelet her mum gave her slips off her wrist because her hands are too small. She takes the silver loop from where she keeps it safe and slips it all the way up her arm until it gets stuck. She kisses the metal and tells her mum that she’s coming. She tells the two Cheerleaders guarding the cave that she’s going to the Necessary. Lucky is waiting for her right by the Mall. She’s flicking her tail back and forth as if she’s keeping time to her own special song. Atti gives Lucky a tickle behind the ear and a kiss on her head. She spits out the thin cat hairs that stick to the cracks in her dry lips. ‘You can come on this adventure with me,’ she whispers to Lucky. She imagines that the Cheer Captain will tell her heroic story. Atti and the Cat. She likes the sound of that. She sneaks out of Forreal with Lucky at her heels. She’s pretty good at sneaking and Lucky is too, but it’s easier because most everyone is asleep. She bets Finch has people patrolling now, so she’d better be careful. She can’t get caught. Not until she has brought Mum back. Finch will be so surprised. He doesn’t think she’s smart and strong, but she is. She’s a Cheerleader now. She will show them. She will probably be given her very own title – Rescue Captain or something like that. At the edge of Forreal, right at the place where she thinks Forreal ends and everything else begins, there are these boulders that have the sacred symbol on them. Lucky leaps from one rock to another until she is sitting on the tallest one. ‘Cheer Captain Lucky,’ Atti says, and laughs at the cat looking down at her with her big yellow eyes. The way Lucky sits with her back straight and her head held high, she could be a leader. Atti will lead like a cat. ‘Come on, Lucky,’ she calls to her, and claps her hands. She takes off running because she’s afraid if she stops she won’t have the courage to do what she knows, deep in her heart, that she has to do. The lights were a sign for her so this has to be right. She’s got to be brave. The Great I AM will watch over her on her sacred mission. She needs to go! Go! Go! She hesitates when she gets to the Black River. She’s never been this far before. She’s not supposed to be here. It’s as if Lucky knows, because she sits on the edge of the Black River and meows at Atti. Lucky’s so loud that Atti thinks someone might hear her. They can only leave the Mountain with the permission of the Cheer Captain and he only lets a few people leave every so often to find stuff they can use. But this is a special circumstance. The Cheer Captain will understand and forgive her when she returns with her mum. Atti races down the Black River and hopes Lucky will follow, but the cat just sits there. Atti keeps turning back to check, which makes her stagger off course. Lucky’s still there and still there and still there, until she’s a black dot that fades into the landscape. Atti runs and runs and runs. The sun is directly over her head now. Her legs feel wobbly because they aren’t used to all this flat. She runs by rusting hunks of metal. She zigzags from side to side, looking in these big metal containers. Finch said the rubber rings they sit on at Storytime came off these things. He said they used to move, but she doesn’t see how. Some even have bushes growing inside them. One has a nest but she doesn’t wait around to see which animal lives there. Being out here on her own is a bit screepy. She wishes she’d remembered to bring water and food. She should search for some of those plants May mushes up in her stews. She races off the River and looks high and low, but everything is brown. Just brown all around. She spots a chuck and wally. She races after them. She’s caught them before, but there are too many places to hide here. She loses chuck and then wally. She’s hungry and hot and tired. She thought it would be easy to find the Man-Made Mountains. They are right there in the middle of the valley. She figured she could walk in a straight line. The Black River looks as if it leads there, but now she’s not so sure which way the Black River is. She walks one way for a while and then another. The sun is mixing up her head and this flat nothingness all around her doesn’t feel real any more. Her feet keep walking. Maybe she should just go home. The sun is escaping behind those mountains over there. ‘Mum!’ she calls. ‘Mum!’ Maybe Mum can come and find her. Atti’s getting so tired. ‘Mum!’ she screams. She’s got to hear her. ‘Mum!’ But Mum’s not there. Atti’s lost and she’s really, really scared. She runs as fast as she can. Just run, she tells herself. She’s looking up for the lights in the Man-Made Mountain but all she sees are stars. Her foot rams into something hard and she sprawls flat on her face. It’s the Black River. Maybe she’s safe. One way leads to the Man-Made Mountains and the other to Forreal. She just needs to get up, but her body feels so heavy. She
hears a low growl. She shuts her eyes tight and curls into a ball. Maybe it can’t find her if she’s so small. She offers up her humble Saying to the Great I AM. Whatever . . .
