“You told me so.” I raise my water glass in his direction. “I’m saying it because you won’t.”
“Maybe you don’t think you’re Catholic,” Brother David says, “but you’ve got the guilt.”
“Jewish and Catholic. I didn’t stand a chance.”
“You want to feel guilty? Try living with a priest,” Elena says from beside him. She’s joined us for dinner because Roger left to meet Walt once he’d dumped us back in prison, and they haven’t returned. She laughs at Brother David’s discomfiture and pats his arm. “I’m joking. I miss living with a priest.”
Elena looks around quickly, but it’s only our people at the closest tables in the back dining room. Though she doesn’t officially live at Walt’s, she’s there every night with the kids.
“Try having a lay minister for a father,” Indy says. “Every lecture was a sermon.”
“I didn’t know your father was a minister,” Brother David says.
“He was a good one, but, geez, did he like to talk. Sometimes my mother would impose an hour of silence on the house just to hear herself think.”
“Quiet was the hardest thing about monastic life at first. I wanted to shout out every thought I had. After a while, one of the brothers took me aside and said, Bucky, tell it to God, not me.”
We laugh. Felix helps Aurelia to use her fork, and, when Elena thanks him, he sticks out his tiny chest. I spend a lot of time watching kids, and most of them aren’t as bad as I originally thought. Sharla’s kids are as friendly and wacky as their mom. I already liked Chen and Emily. Even Dominic, who sits across the room talking quietly with Miss Anabelle, is all right.
“Would your dad have liked me?” Paul asks.
Indy’s lips form a sarcastic bend before she notices the wrinkle in his brow. She rests a hand on his arm and nods. “He would’ve said you were a good man and you treated me right. Of course, he wouldn’t have said that to you for the first six months to a year, just so you didn’t get too comfortable.”
Paul nods as if that makes perfect sense. “I would’ve liked him, too.”
“And my mom would’ve told him not to be such a hardass and sent you home with buckets of food to keep you from starving to death. And she would’ve loved Leo like she loved Lucky.”
Lucky eats at the table beside ours with Micah, Rissa, and April, but he hears his name and asks, “Yeah?”
“We’re discussing how great you are,” she says.
He fake yawns and goes back to his soup. Soup out of which I’ve picked out every single green thing and drank the broth to avoid the kidney beans that taste like fart. Indy scoops at what’s left of her soup and throws some peas in my bowl, which I promptly scarf down. Then I make panting noises because, really, pregnancy is ludicrous.
She leans across the table to pat my head. “That’s all I had left.”
I whine and stand with my bowl as the rest of our table rises. When we get back to our building, Elena and Brother David follow us into our apartment.
“I know where the insulin is,” Elena says, “and I think I can get the keys.”
104
Eric
The city reeks of singed hair and burnt flesh. It’ll be easier to get around after the thaw, though being trapped inside for days has made us all a little stir-crazy. To fight the boredom, Casper and I come to the penthouse bar of the hotel and practice with swords. The kid has become so quick he makes me work for any victory I achieve.
Leo has a sword we made from our firewood lumber, and he swings it around like a madman while Casper shows him moves with his own practice sword. But Leo’s learning. He has to learn. There may be zombies in ten years, in twenty. If not, there’s always the sobering thought that there will be asshole people and there may not be gunpowder.
I’ll have to teach my coming kid, too. This is a shitty world to be born into, which is why I’d written off kids last year. I can quiet a crying baby and change a diaper, but that’s about the end of my parental skill set. And while quieting a baby is a good skill to have, it doesn’t always work, and you need it to work these days. My experience with baby Leo makes me the more knowledgeable out of me and Sylvie, which is a frightening thought.
Kate comes to where I sit on the curved leather couches, which are arranged stadium seating style and provide a view of the smoky city through walls of windows. The rest of the room is wood and gold and glittery things, with a bar in the center.
“This place is fancy,” I say.
“It used to be an exclusive club,” Kate says, dropping beside me. “After a certain time of night, only the rich, well-dressed, or guest-listed could enter.”
“Sounds like the kind of place I’d hate,” I say.
“Agreed. But it was pretty, especially lit up at night. I was here once for dinner, but us riffraff had to leave before the club opened. I don’t miss the people, but I’d love some of that food.”
I’ve read the menu a dozen times, and I’d happily hang out with those patrons for a plate of something other than canned and packaged food cooked on a masonry heater.
A loud crash comes from behind, then Leo’s giggle. “Good thing you guys are up here,” Kate says. “They probably heard that in Jersey.”
We sit in silence before Kate says, “Penny for your thoughts.”
“Just sitting here thinking about how I know nothing about babies, and how it might not even matter because Sylvie is in StuyTown and could be killed at any moment.”
“Is that all?” she asks.
“I was also thinking that I’ll have to teach my kid to kill zombies and fight people, if I can get it past the age where it cries and we’re all eaten.”
“Good golly, that’s the last time I ask you for your thoughts.” She winks and returns to the view. “I wish I could tell you everything will be fine, but I can tell you a few things. Number one, even if you think you know about babies, you get your baby, and then you realize how much you love the screaming, demanding thing, and you live in terror of the myriad ways you’ll accidentally fuck it up.”
I laugh, and she says, “I kid you not. But you muddle through. If you have a good partner, you muddle through together, and maybe you produce someone worth knowing. Number two, Sylvie will do her best to kick the ass of anyone who tries to hurt her, you included.”
“True,” I say.
“Number three, and I’ve been thinking about this myself. We’re horrified that children will be born into a world where dead people walk and there’s no law to speak of, but they won’t know the old world. To them, this will be how it is. So, little Sylvie or Eric will learn how to fight alongside all the other babies who’ve popped up, and she’ll know to look behind her, and she’ll know how to gauge a situation for danger the way we’re still learning. It’ll be second nature. It’ll be normal.”
I drop my head. “That’s both terrible and comforting.”
“As is most of life.” Kate lifts her feet onto the table in front of us with a loud exhalation. “God, now I need a drink. Oh, I forgot number four. You’re surrounded by people who love babies, and some of us can’t wait to steal yours away for a couple of hours so Mom and Dad can get some rest.”
I don’t know how she does it so effortlessly, but she’s made me feel better. “Thanks, Kate.”
“My pleasure, m’boy.” She puts her arm around me. “This is probably not the best time to tell you what I came up to tell you, but Carmen and Kieran are here, and the news isn’t great.”
“Do they know where we are?”
She shakes her head. “Not exactly. But they think we’re downtown, and they’ll look harder. We need to be extra vigilant.”
“It’ll hone our skills for the next generation.”
Kate pulls me closer. “That’s what I like about you, kid. You’re a fast learner.”
Carmen has told us a hotel that stands above the High Line has been deemed a ridiculous place to hide, though she’s marked it as empty in case anyone gets a bright idea.
“But they won’t stop searching,” she says. “I’m doing all I can.” Farina takes Carmen’s hand in her lap.
“We have to stop hiding,” Mo says. “It’s time to act.”
“It’s too soon for StuyTown,” Louis says. He’s been coaxed from his perch at Central Park, and he sits in a chair pulled near the heater. “If they know we have Central Park, Walt will use them as hostages. Or worse.”
He seems calmer than when I last saw him, if the fact that he’s preaching restraint against Teddy is any indication. Guillermo nods, as do Susan and Jorge. As do I, for that matter. We know what Walt is capable of better than most. I’d love to be out there, attacking the small groups who burn Lexers—taking out one would be easy as pie from a rooftop—but drawing attention to ourselves makes no sense until we’re ready to be seen.
“Let’s talk plan anyway,” Kate says. “Essentially, we need to sneak people out of StuyTown to somewhere safe. Then, we do whatever we plan to do to Walt.”
Ren, sitting beside Jerry, cracks his knuckles.
“I assume that safe space is Central Park?” Kate asks.
“Radios don’t work up there,” I say. “If we do it all in a short timeframe, Central Park won’t be able to warn StuyTown.”
“Exactly,” Mo says. “We do them first, then we get your people to us. After that, we get rid of Walt.”
“Can Central Park sustain us all?” Kate directs her question to Carmen.
Carmen nods. “Central Park could sustain six to seven hundred people right now, more if we opened up the other parts of the park.”
“And they have…?” Jerry asks.
“Two hundred,” Jorge says. “Teddy won’t let more in.”
Jerry’s white mustache billows with his astounded breath. “Why do they put up with him?”
“Up to now, they thought StuyTown was happy being separate,” Carmen says. “They didn’t see the people he turned away, only the ones he let in. After he put people out for asking questions about Walt, the rest weren’t happy. Even Lauren argued with him about it. He doesn’t have many loyal people left, but the ones he does have are the ones who are armed. If we can get past them, the rest will believe us when we tell them you’re the good guys.”
“Teddy’s signed his own death warrant,” Mo says. “You’ve got to love that. What are you thinking?”
“I let you in at night. If we surround the guards’ houses while they sleep, we only have the ones at the gates and the castle to deal with. Most at Central Park are good people.” She shrugs at Mo. “Sorry, but they are.”
“We want them to be good people,” Pilar says. “And we think you should be in charge there, unless you think someone else would do a better job.”
Carmen’s eyes go circular. “Me? No way.”
“They know you,” Mo says. “It’s not mine anymore. You’d get to boss me around.”
Farina claps her hands and then holds them in a prayer position. “Please, Carmen. Do it for me.”
“There’s always consensus,” Chris says, causing the entire room to groan.
Kate laughs. “It’s a pain in the ass, but it works most of the time. We’re jumping the gun, though. For now, we wait to hear from StuyTown.”
After the meeting ends, Jorge and I go out on the terrace. “What do you think?” he asks.
“Honestly, I just want them out of there. I’ll live under consensus or democracy or I’ll live in this hotel until the mainland is safe enough for travel.”
“I’m with you.” Jorge gestures to the street. “Look at that.”
The sun is almost down, and a sole zombie trips in the shadows on the sidewalk. The Lexers are thawing—what’s left of them, anyway. It seems Central Park and StuyTown made a good-sized dent in the number of bodies roaming the streets.
It’s the beginning of the island Safe Zone Declan and I talked about long ago. Once the zombies are gone, Manhattan could be one of the safest places in the country, if not the world. But only if we rid it of the people who make it dangerous.
105
Sylvie
A hand battering my bedroom door wakes me only seconds before April enters, yelling, “Sylvie! Wake up!”
I leap to my feet, adrenaline spiking and heart thudding in my throat. It’s past dawn outside, but I don’t need to be up for another two hours. “What?” I hold my nightstand so I don’t keel over. Going from dead asleep to wide awake is not easy.
“Where’s Brother David? He’s not at the apartment. Is he working?”
“I don’t—” I shake my muddled head. “I’m not sure. Why?”
April’s eyeliner is down to her cheekbones and her hair sticks out from her head. “They came to get Ed. They said Walt had the priest.”
“Shit.” I try to come up with something other than the glaringly obvious explanation. “Where’s Lincoln?”
“He wasn’t there, either.”
Indy and Paul stumble in. “What’s wrong?” Indy asks.
April explains. By the time she’s done, they’re alert. We throw on clothes and find Micah, Rissa, and Lucky in the hall. Brother David and Elena’s apartment is empty. We wake May, who can add nothing except more worry and two frightened kids.
“Roger went with Walt last night to look for Coby,” I say. “I’ll see if he’s back.”
“I’m on this morning,” Micah says. “I’ll go in early and see what they’re saying.”
Paul heads into our apartment. “I’ll meet you there.”
Paul was drafted onto watch full-time, as Walt’s taken a shine to him and the absence of four guards left an opening. Indy and I are at the store today. We have to go to work or risk looking suspicious.
“Where are you today?” Indy asks Lucky
“Laundry,” he says. “But I could go to Public Safety and—”
“Don’t do anything.” Indy grasps Lucky’s arm. “Promise me. Go to work and don’t say a word.”
Lucky swallows, then nods. He’s only had a couple of shifts on a roof. He watches April pace the hallway, muttering to herself. “April’s with me today.”
“Good,” Indy says. “Keep her quiet.”
“Okay, Auntie.” He knows better than to argue with Indy’s authoritative voice, especially when her fear is plain to see.
We’re barely inside our apartment before Paul enters the living room, hair damp and slicked back. “Please be careful,” Indy says.
“Don’t worry.” He kisses her and nods at me. “I’ll come as soon as I know something.”
Once he’s out the door, Indy and I get ready and leave for breakfast, hardly speaking. The short walk is cold, and the Oval seems quieter than usual, though I’m not sure if it’s my imagination. Breakfast is warm, however, and the café windows are clouded with steam. People chat away in the dining area.
I hold out my card to be punched and stare at the food behind the glass. I can’t imagine eating, but I ask for a bowl of oatmeal to keep up appearances. I take it and my coffee, then wait for Indy to get her plate. We turn to the tables and stop at the sight of Walt sitting in the middle of the room with Roger beside him.
Walt waves us to two empty chairs at their table. We can’t refuse. I lock eyes with Roger as we make our way there, and my stomach rolls at the apology in his before he drops them to his plate.
I set my dishes down and sit. Indy does the same, then manages to say a cheery good morning and take a sip of coffee. I remind myself that StuyTown Sylvie doesn’t care about anyone, especially not a priest, and say, “Morning.”
Roger smiles thinly, though Walt beams. “Good morning. You just missed Elena.”
I raise my coffee to my lips, but I can’t get any down. Walt rarely eats in the café, and I don’t know why he would today, unless it’s to keep an eye on everyone.
“Not a morning person?” Walt asks.
“Not an anything person.” I glance at Roger, who won’t look my way, and lift a spoonful of oatmeal to my mouth. Indy has tucked into her br
eakfast, though she chews each bite fifty times before she swallows. “We usually eat while we stare at the wall. Sorry.”
“Morning people are the worst kind of people,” Walt says agreeably. “I wanted to ask you something. You’re friends with the priest?”
My second bite of oatmeal turns to superglue in my mouth. I drink coffee to wash it down and pray I don’t tremble too badly. “A little.”
Walt wears a beneficent smile. “It’s fine, Sylvie. But there’s something you don’t know about him. Have you ever wondered why he works with the kids?”
My feet have gone cold. My fingers, too. “He likes them?” I ask.
“Well, yes. Too much.”
He doesn’t elaborate. Once I understand, I hear myself say, “No,” loud enough that a few people turn. Indy’s spoon is fixed halfway to her mouth, her lips open to receive it.
“It’s a shock,” Walt says without a trace of astonishment. “But we have a witness. And he confessed.” He sniffs like something’s struck his funny bone. “A priest confessing to me, now that’s interesting.”
“He did?” My two bites of oatmeal threaten to come up. There’s no way Brother David would do that or confess to it.
“And he’ll do the same before everyone later. Close the store at two today.” He finishes his coffee and stands. “I’d like to see the two of you on watch more. We’re down four people. Why waste your talents?”
Walt moves out the glass doors and along the path toward Public Safety. Roger stares into his coffee cup, and I hiss, “What is happening?”
“I’ll come to the store,” he says, then rises to follow his brother.
Indy searches for my hand under the table, and we sit with them clasped together until our coffee has gone cold.
The City Series (Book 3): Instauration Page 71
