The City Series (Book 3): Instauration

by Lyons Fleming, Sarah

  “They’re a well-behaved group.” Regina leans for a better view. “It’s almost boring.”

  I close my eyes rather than flip out. I usually like my fellow women, but these women have murdered kids, and Regina seems disappointed they can’t murder more.

  “Sleepy, Sylvie?” I open my eyes at Lori’s voice. She stands close enough that her leg touches Micah’s, and the contact doesn’t abate when he shifts. “Want some coffee?”

  “Sure, thanks.”

  Her attitude doesn’t extend to us. Everyone rags on each other, and they have petty fights, but they’re a family and have accepted us into the fold. It would be heartwarming, except the Manson Family was a family, too.

  Micah sits up straight when she returns, his knees as far back as possible, but Lori makes sure to lean over his legs when she hands me the cup. “I made it sweet,” she says. “How I like my men.”

  Micah reddens. Regina laughs, as do some others. “I’ll give you some sugar,” Freddy says.

  Lori’s eye roll is visible behind her dark lenses. “Freddy, when you and I are the last two people in the world, the human race will die out.”

  Oohs fill the room, but Freddy takes it with good cheer. I recall how he forced Harold over the fence and sip my coffee to hide my lack of a smile. “Indy,” he says, “how about some salt to go with your pepper?”

  She stands from where she tapes power cords to the floor. “I’m plenty salty, thanks.”

  Lori perches on the arm of the couch with her knees touching Micah’s thigh. Her laugh practically tinkles. She’s into Micah, and though he’s done everything but shove her away to convey his disinterest, she hasn’t given up yet.

  “You know that word has been around for a hundred years or more,” Regina says, her English teacher side surfacing. “Which kind of salty are you?”

  “Whichever kind keeps Paul Bunyan away,” Indy says.

  More abuse is heaped on Freddy at that, much of it maligning his hipster beard and pompadour, and this time I do smile. “She’s finding her boyfriend tomorrow,” Lori says. “So step off.”

  “The boyfriend she left in a ditch somewhere?” Tai asks. “You can bet I wouldn’t take you back, Indy.”

  “You can bet I wouldn’t want you in the first place.” Indy curtsies at the applause that follows.

  “Hey,” I say. “He made her go to save herself. Did you ever leave anyone you loved because you had no other choice?”

  My eyes begin to fill. I’ve cried at everything for the past week. Thankfully, I haven’t run across any Cat Chow commercials or Hallmark movies, and I’ve done most of my crying alone or while Indy laughs at me in our apartment. Now I’m crying at scenarios I’ve made up on the fly.

  The room goes quiet. A few people nod. More than a few turn introspective, and a couple of sniffles sound in the silence. A young guy, Gil, calls out, “Way to kill the mood, Sylvie!”

  I laugh, dabbing my eyes, as conversation starts up again. “I have to pee,” I say to Micah. His eyes beg me to protect him from Lori, but the one perk of hanging out here is coffee, and I drink tons to stay awake.

  When I return, Indy stands in front of a monitor, her shoulders hunched and the roll of tape tight in her hand. “Sylvie,” she whispers.

  I take a look and stand beside her, angling myself so the rest of the room can’t see. On the screen, Elena wears a backpack and clutches Aurelia’s and Felix’s hands as she drags them out of the Oval toward First Avenue.

  “Pretend to be taping,” I whisper, wide awake now.

  She peels off a piece with shaking hands. Elena will be seen from a roof and shot. That is, if she doesn’t decide to try for the zombie moat and get eaten.

  “Break the monitor,” I say. “I’ll get her.”

  Indy nods. I head for the door. As I push it open, I hear a crash, followed by Indy yelling, “Shit!”

  I walk as fast as I can around the Oval without running. A minute later, Micah appears beside me. “What’s going on?”

  “Elena’s making a break for it.”

  Micah curses and speeds up. Once we’re past the Study and between two buildings, we move into a jog. “She’s going over the wall,” I say. “It’s the only way she could get out.”

  A kid screams up ahead, and we run. First Avenue Loop is walled off along its curve, except at a small manned gate like at Avenue C Loop. Elena can’t be dumb enough to go there, but we pass by just in case. Wyatt stands at the fence, gun in hand. “You hear that?” he calls. “I’d go, but Ed’s in the bathroom.”

  “Checking it out!” Micah yells.

  Wyatt waves a thank you. The screaming has moved away from the loop, to our right, and we race that way before someone beats us there. Wyatt might have radioed since he couldn’t leave his post.

  We come upon Elena, who holds Felix aloft as she tries to shove him to the top of the 20th Street Loop wall. He beats on her head with small fists. “No, Mama! No!”

  Micah snatches Felix from her hands and sets him on the path, then picks up a sobbing Aurelia, who buries her face in his shoulder. Elena is panting and wild, her pretty features twisted. Thankfully, she’s in a small space between two buildings, under trees and obscured from anyone who may be on the roof.

  I grab her arms. “Elena, you’re going to get yourself killed!”

  “I don’t care! We’re going over the wall.” She yanks from my grip. “We can run. We’re going!”

  She lunges for Felix, who hides behind Micah and howls, his eyes bright with terror. I swing Elena around by her coat. She claws at my arms, knocking us both into the brick of a building, and I do the only thing I can think of: I shake her the way they do in movies. “You can’t get across with two little kids,” I whisper, my voice harsh. “Not even ten feet. Elena, do you hear me? You’ll kill Felix and Aurelia.”

  “He’s crazy!” she screeches. “He’s crazy, and he’s going to kill us just like he killed everyone else. Why am I the only one who sees? Why don’t you care?”

  I shush her and look over my shoulder. Still no one coming, but that won’t last.

  “No!” she shouts. “I’m not the one who’s crazy!”

  Elena’s eyes dart around like a trapped animal. Aurelia bawls and Felix howls louder. My heart pounds as though I’ve run ten miles. That’s what Harold said, and it got him killed.

  Shouts come from the Oval, moving this way. They’ll be here in a minute. I wrap her in my arms and take a gamble that will either save her life or kill us all. “Guillermo’s alive,” I whisper in her ear. “He’s alive. I saw him in Brooklyn, and he’s coming soon. That’s why Indy and I are here.”

  She continues thrashing before what I’ve said sinks in, and then she stills, breaths coming in blasts. “We’re going to get out,” I say. “But you have to calm down. Can you calm down?”

  Elena steps back and nods quickly, hand to her mouth.

  “Sylvie,” Micah says. The voices grow louder. “Sylvie, her backpack.”

  It’ll be obvious if they see it. I strip it from her shoulders, run for the nearby service door that sits a short staircase below ground level, and toss it to the bottom. Two men come around the curve of the path, Walt following behind.

  “Fuck,” I whisper. We need a cover story, and my mind is a blank.

  When they’re close, Micah holds Aurelia in the air a foot from his face. She snuffles and sobs, arms out for him. “You can’t leave,” he says to Aurelia. “I know you want to go outside and see the water, but it’s dangerous.” The look he gives Walt says Kids, man, what are you going to do? “She wanted to go out, and she got upset when her mom said no. You don’t want to get hurt, do you?”

  Aurelia shakes her head and sticks her thumb in her mouth. I will hug Micah ten times a day for the rest of my life to thank him for this quick thinking.

  “Don’t you know what’s outside?” Walt asks Aurelia. She watches him with round eyes, and he takes her from Micah to sit in the crook of his arm. “That would be a bad idea. I
t’s scary out there.”

  “W-we were out for a walk,” Elena whispers, breath barely under control. “Aurelia ran away. We were yelling for her. I’m sorry if we caused a problem. She doesn’t know any better, she just wanted to see. She—”

  “Of course she wanted to see.” Walt smiles at Aurelia. “Who wouldn’t? Do you want me to take you to see?”

  Her thumb leaves her mouth with a popping sound when she nods. Walt chuckles. “But you were at the wrong end for the water, silly goose. It’s that way.” He points across StuyTown. “How old are you, Aurelia?”

  “Twee,” Aurelia says.

  “Three’s big, but not big enough to go out alone.” Walt turns to Elena, taking in her flushed cheeks and slender frame. “What a pretty girl she is. Like her mother.”

  Elena attempts a smile. “She’s not in trouble, is she?”

  “Trouble?” Walt’s mouth forms an O, and he bounces Aurelia to make her giggle. “Trouble? Are you in trouble?”

  “No!” she yells.

  He grins, and she grins back. “That’s right, no. How about we go and see the water? But only if Mom says it’s okay.” They wait for Elena’s nod before Walt bends to Felix. “And who might this young man be?”

  “Felix.”

  “We’re going on a field trip, Felix. Want to come?”

  Felix fixes frightened eyes on his mother. “Of course he does,” Elena says, voice less shaky than before. “It sounds fun.”

  Walt hitches Aurelia up on his side. “Let’s go.”

  “Wet’s go!” Aurelia yells. Walt laughs indulgently, and I would swear he’s truly as delighted by Aurelia as he appears.

  I want to pull Elena aside and make sure she’s okay before I allow her to be alone with him, but she steps in front of me on her own. “Thank you, Sylvie and Micah.” Fear remains in her eyes, though her smile is steady. “I’m glad she didn’t get hurt.”

  “Me, too,” I say. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

  Her words mean more than they seem on the surface. She turns, one hand in her coat pocket and the other gripping Felix’s, and the two of them walk beside Walt toward the Oval. The guards with him, Harvey and Julian, salute us and then follow.

  Once they’re out of sight, I sit on the ground though my ass will probably freeze to it, then light a cigarette with a trembling hand. “Micah, I love you.”

  He plops beside me, arms draped over his knees and head hanging. “I was about to throw up. I can’t believe I thought of that in time. I’m glad you told her about…you know. It worked.”

  I groan at the sky when I think of all the ways it could’ve gone wrong. “I’m going to die of stress before I’m thirty.”

  “It’s going to be twenty-five for me.” Micah leans against my shoulder like the little brother I’ve thought he could be. He was a kid a year ago, and now he’s a man. A good one. I want him to live forever, and I’m so afraid he won’t. He puts his arm around me. “I think we’ll be okay.”

  Tears roll for the twentieth time this week. I sniff them back and put on a movie trailer voice, “If they stick together, this ragtag team of misfits might just take over the world.”

  Micah laughs. “You totally are going crazy.”

  90

  We’ve said our goodbyes in our apartment, though Elena is absent. “Walt took her and the kids somewhere at breakfast,” May says. “She said to tell you goodbye if they didn’t get back.”

  “Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine. He was all smiles.” May shudders. “She couldn’t say no.”

  I imagine how that’s going and restrain my own shudder. I haven’t heard mention of Walt being creepy in a sexual way, but I wouldn’t put it past him.

  Jin slobbers my face when I give him a kiss. I hand him to Brother David. “Take this kid. He’s a mess.”

  “I’ll be praying for you,” Brother David says.

  “That’s better than being told I’m going to Hell.”

  He squeezes my arm. “Be careful, Sylvia.”

  I say we will. We meet Roger by the Avenue C gate, where he waits with three bikes. Tai and Freddy search our bags, though they don’t get intrusive, and then they hand us our weapons.

  Freddy winks at Indy. “If you can’t find your boyfriend, I’ll be here to comfort you.”

  “I can’t believe you gave me a gun before you said that,” Indy says, and slides it into her holster.

  Tai smiles his movie star smile. “He doesn’t give up easy. Especially not when they look as good as you.”

  Indy must have dealt this bullshit all her life because she’s unperturbed, whereas I’d make the situation ten times worse by punching them both. She throws a leg over her bike. “And you’re still single, Freddy? Gee, I can’t imagine why.”

  Roger coughs into his hand. “Freddy, you might want to take the hint. It’s not happening.”

  “We’ll see,” Freddy says.

  I’m sure he thinks his intense stare is sexy, but it creeps me out. If Indy feels the same, she doesn’t let on. “Are you opening the gate today?” she asks.

  Freddy runs it open, and we start up the ramp to the FDR. The ring of the metal as it slides shut behind us is akin to the singing of angels. We stop once we hit true freedom out of sight down the FDR. I almost float with the unfettered feeling, and the same lightness is in Indy’s relaxed posture and the way she gazes over her handlebars as if seeing the world for the first time.

  “Thanks, Roger,” she says. “I can’t believe we’re out.”

  “Sylvie got you out,” he says. “My brother might’ve made us wait just to punish me.”

  “Did he give you insulin?” I ask.

  “Enough for a week, but he wants us back three nights from now at the latest, unless we’re trapped. We should save that excuse for when we need it.” Walt puts a week’s worth of insulin in the kitchen fridge at a time. So far, there’s no way to follow him and find out where he hides the remainder. “You ready?”

  I yank a granola bar from my bag, unwrap it, and take a bite. “Now I am. Sorry, hungry.”

  “You didn’t finish breakfast,” Indy says.

  “That egg thing tasted like snot,” I say. “I don’t know how you ate it.” My stomach turns at the thought of the runny yellow mess of powdered eggs, peppers, and cheese sauce.

  “It wasn’t great, but it didn’t taste like snot.”

  “I thought it was fine,” Roger agrees.

  “You’re both crazy,” I say. “Shall we?”

  We hop off the FDR in a spot where only a few Lexers congregate and make our way through the Village. On the west side, the streets run at weird and confusing angles, but Roger pedals with purpose until he stops out front of a four-story brick townhouse. The door is painted a cheery blue and met by a stoop with ornate wrought-iron railings.

  “This is my other stash house,” he says. “Want to see?”

  “Sure,” Indy says. She must want to get to The Standard as badly as I do, but she makes a point of being friendly to Roger.

  It’s gorgeous inside. The original moldings, paned windows, and parquet floors are perfectly blended with modern touches. Or so Indy tells me. “Why weren’t you an architect or an interior designer?” I ask.

  “I might’ve gone back to school if acting didn’t work out,” she says from where she has her head stuck inside one of the three working fireplaces. Roger has firewood and lumber stacked in the small yard to keep a fire going. “I love houses.”

  I imagine living somewhere where we had our choice of domiciles. A perfect, zombie-free place of Indy’s design. I love nice houses, but I have no patience to make it all happen. “I’d hire you.”

  She emerges from the fireplace smudged with ash, which I dust off. “Ready?” she asks Roger.

  He shifts his weight from foot to foot. “I thought I’d stay while you went. Just be back in three nights. We’ll meet here.”

  “Why?” I ask. It will make life simpler�
�I don’t have to worry he’ll find out Eric is alive. We told him about Mo, but if anyone’s there he shouldn’t know about, the plan is to hide them. They’ll see us coming and move them to Chelsea Market.

  He lifts his shoulders and walks to a window. “The new people. I’m sure they don’t like my brother much, and I don’t want to spend three days trying to make them like me. I’m actually looking forward to time alone. I’ll ride to the High Line with you, though. I want to make sure you get there safe.”

  “We’ll be fine. You should get a fire going so you’re warm. Will anyone see the smoke?”

  “Once you have a hot fire, it doesn’t make much smoke. I’m planning to build one of those masonry heaters while I’m here. Just a little one. I found supplies.”

  Indy and I don our packs. “Okay,” I say. “If you’re sure.”

  “Can I talk to you for a second, Sylvie?” he asks.

  I silently beg Indy to rescue me. She lifts her hands in apology. “I’ll be outside.”

  Once the door closes, Roger walks my way. If he tries to kiss me, I will murder him. But he sits in a chair by the fireplace, fingers tapping the arms. “I have to tell you something. I said I didn’t know how Eric was stabbed, but I do. I did it. It was an accident. I was trying to get him to help me with Walt, and I tackled him with my knife in my hand. Then my brother showed up.”

  He glances at where I stand frozen. I already know, but I can’t believe he’s telling me, and my shock is genuine. “I was angry he wouldn’t help me, and I couldn’t leave without my insulin. I know I’m a selfish asshole, I know that.”

  Tears plop to my cheeks while I wait for the rest—the part where he sends Eric to his death—which doesn’t come. He stares into the fireplace and releases a long breath. “I’m sorry. I really, truly am. I wanted to tell you now, when you didn’t have to look at me for a while. I hate myself, too.”

  I watch dust motes dance and twist in the light through the windows. I could tell him everything, but his words seem vaguely needy, as if he wants me to feel sorry that he hates himself. I suspect the news of Eric’s rise from the dead wouldn’t please him. But he’s told me more of the truth, knowing I’ll likely hate him. There was no reason to come clean other than his conscience.