Eight. There are eight of us now, with Ethan. I don’t like to think about that part of it. Nope, in all the moments where I picture us back at the house, Ethan is…elsewhere. I won’t say a bad word about him to Rose, but I want to tell her she deserves to be happy. Whether or not I’m part of her happiness, I can’t say, but based on how she seeks me out, plugging a headphone in my ear when we have a half hour to spare, I think I might be in some way. I hope I might be in an entirely different way—something I’ve admitted to myself with the warning that I keep those sentiments locked down tight. Rose can’t know, and neither can Ethan. Neither can Clara, for that matter. She’ll revert to hating me for sure, and I wouldn’t blame her. I’m not too pleased with myself.
Voices come from my right, where shelving holds more food, toiletries, and medications. I lean over and catch sight of Nora, Jesse, and Marquez huddled by a shelf at the end of the building. Curiosity piqued, I head that way. No one cares what you do as long as you get your work done on time.
Marquez sees me and whispers something. Jesse says, “No, he’s cool,” before he turns to me. “Hey, Tom. They’re showing me the M9.”
“Mind if I see?” I ask. My pistol is tucked away in my backpack, but the fairgrounds are full of this particular Army-issue handgun, and there may be a time when I need to use one.
“Sure.” Nora takes the black pistol from Jesse and hands it to me. It’s heavy, but a good kind of heavy. “You know this is a nine-millimeter, right?”
I nod. We have a few boxes of 9mm ammo at the house, which makes getting my hands on one even more attractive. “And that’s about all I know. Except for one time with a Glock, I’ve only ever shot a revolver.”
“Why don’t you show him, Jesse?” Nora asks.
“All right.” Jesse takes the gun from me and thumbs the button to release the magazine. I’m glad to note that Jesse’s finger stays alongside the trigger and the gun pointed away from people. Sam taught him the basics, and I appreciate not being the recipient of an accidental bullet.
Jesse pushes in the magazine with the palm of his hand. “You seat it like that. Here’s your safety—it’s ambidextrous. Pull back the slide to chamber the round. The hammer’s cocked.”
He points to the hammer at the rear of the gun. “It’s ready to fire. Switch the safety down, and the hammer goes up. It’s on safe. But you don’t have to leave it there if you don’t want to.” He flips the safety up, exposing the red dot that means danger. “It’ll take one long trigger pull for that first shot, which is a safety, too.”
He flips the safety on and hands it to me. Marquez elbows Jesse. “Sure you don’t want to join up?”
“My mom would kill me,” Jesse says with a wry smile. “I wish I could fire it, though. I was all right with my grandpa’s gun, but that doesn’t mean shit.”
“We miss more heads than we hit,” Marquez says.
“We?” Nora asks.
Marquez grins. “We, not including Nora.”
Nora laughs, then walks me through loading and unloading several times. By the end of it, I can seat the magazine and ready the pistol to fire. It’s unsatisfying, though, as what I really need is target practice.
“We have to go,” Nora says. “We’re on gate duty soon.”
“What’s going on out there?” I ask, handing her the pistol.
“Same shit as ever,” Marquez says. “See a zombie, kill a zombie. A lot of them are still gone for now, at least around here. See you later.”
Once they’re gone, Jesse squints my way. “You won’t tell my mom about this?”
“Hell, no. You think she’d be mad?”
“Who knows? But when she’s really mad, don’t fuck with her.”
“I think I’ve seen that once or twice.”
“I heard her tear into you once. I was coming out to the RV, and I turned right back around and went into the house.”
Jesse fails to hide his smile, and I laugh. “If it was the time I’m thinking of, she was right to do it. Are you leaving? I’m just finishing up here.”
“I’ll wait for you.”
He follows me to the pallets and pokes around while I cross off and fill in the remaining food on my chart. “Looks like a lot, but it’s not,” I say. “I don’t know if they have a plan, but they’re going to need one before ten days are up, if not sooner.”
“Nora says they’re waiting for the others to get back.”
“They need a plan for if they don’t.”
Jesse scratches his chin, where stubble has taken hold. He’s a few inches taller than his dad and with similar facial structure, but he has an easy way about him, as if he’s watching the world and not judging, exactly, but noticing. That quality and his eyes are Rose all the way.
“They’ll have to let us out there.” Jesse lifts his shoulders. “I’ve been under lock and key for a while now. It’s getting old.”
“I’ll bet it is.” I set my clipboard on the nearby table, and we head for the door. “I haven’t gotten to hear you play yet. Why didn’t you bring a guitar?”
“Seemed stupid.” Jesse stares across the lot, face giving nothing away. “I didn’t want to be the asshole with a guitar when I should be carrying a machete, you know?”
“I get that.” I don’t like it, though. It’s too close to my past—giving up what gave me pleasure for a bleaker notion of reality that doesn’t necessarily have to be. “But you do have two hands. And a guitar strap.”
Jesse’s exhale is almost a laugh. “Maybe, if I can find one.”
“I’ll play with you, if you find two.”
“You play? I didn’t know that. Clara never mentioned it.”
“I stopped when she was young. She probably doesn’t remember. Keep that in mind when you hear me. It’s been a while.”
My brain notes with mild alarm that I’ve just promised to play guitar with Jesse. The urge to backpedal makes a brief appearance, but I’m doing it for Jesse as well as myself. Yes, I’ll suck. At least at first. But I can still feel the strings under my fingers, the contentment of making something with my hands, even if it’s only sound.
“I’m sure you’ll be fine.” Jesse sounds enthusiastic about the idea now that I’m on board. “If they ever let us out of this place, maybe we can find a couple.”
“Deal. I—”
I break off when I see Ethan heading our way from the ice rink, looking none too happy. After he falls in step with us, he says, “A few people have pneumonia, or it’s heading that way. We started them on antibiotics. Boone’s planning to make an announcement tonight. It’s mandatory.”
“Great,” I say. “I just listened to him for an hour in the Auditorium.”
“I think he likes to hear himself talk,” Jesse says.
“I know he does,” Ethan says. “Be thankful you’re not in the rink. His lectures are both long and numerous.” He squeezes Jesse’s shoulder. “I have to go to the infirmary for a while, but I’ll see you at dinner.”
He cuts across the lot. Jesse watches, face inscrutable once again. The kid would be killer at poker.
The beginning of Boone’s speech is to the point: they need people on the inside gates if they’re going to defend the outer boundary. I volunteer, as do Rose, Sam, Mitch, and the kids. Rose watches unhappily when the kids write their names on the roster that’s passed around, but she doesn’t say a word. It’s easier than allowing them to leave the gates, and I don’t want Clara out there any more than Rose does Holly and Jesse.
“Thanks to those of you who are signing—” Boone is cut off by a man’s voice, “Will we get weapons?”
Boone purses his lips. “No, no guns. Each gate will have one of my men—people—with them. If necessary, more will be called to assist them.” He ignores the muttered complaints that statement evokes. “As I was saying, we’ll be going down to two meals a day in the interim. Once Sergeant Carver is back, we’ll go out for food again. Therefore, expect breakfast beginning at seven and dinner beginning at five
.”
More groans come at that. He looks the room over coldly. “Would you rather be a little hungry or dead?”
No one speaks, as the answer is obvious. Off to the side of the stage, Barry cringes. He’d have everyone believing they were part of a common cause and begging to switch to two meals.
“How about small children?” a woman asks. She has a strident voice and short blond hair. “They need more than two meals a day.”
“Kids will get a snack. Happy?”
Mitch releases a gust of air. “That lady’s a pain in the ass, but she’s right. Am I the only one who wants to punch him?”
“Nope,” I say.
“I wouldn’t mind a shot,” Sam murmurs.
Mitch snickers. After Boone finishes and leaves the room, voices explode. Barry steps from the stage and is instantly surrounded. He raises his hands, looking like a man in need of a stiff drink. I say as much, and Mitch says, “I’m a woman in need of a drink. Do they have any alcohol here?”
“Not that I’ve seen,” I say.
“That’s strange,” Ethan says. “They had some before. Maybe the Army’s been drinking it.”
Mitch glowers. “Jerks.”
“I guess it’s for the best,” Rose says with a sigh. “People would fight over it.”
Ethan puts an arm around her shoulders. “But people like Mitch would win.”
Rose laughs up at him, and Ethan taps her nose. I won’t come between the two of them, but that doesn’t mean I have to watch. Instead, I keep my eyes on the emptying room. Most of the older folks are heading to bed, or to wherever they all head at nine o’clock most nights.
“We’re going to the Pavilion,” Clara says. It’s a circular building by the Auditorium—used for supply overflow—where the young people hang out. “We’ll see you in the morning.”
“Don’t go in the rink,” Rose says.
“Mom, we know.” Holly’s tone is mildly exasperated. “Good night. Love you.”
I say good night to Clara and sneak a glance at Rose, who watches me with a wrinkled brow. I smile before I turn to the room once more.
Mitch elbows me a minute later. “Earth to Tom. You coming to the rec room?”
I’m not sure I want to observe more of Rose and Ethan, but part of me can’t stop trying to gauge her feelings on him. It’s like a car wreck, and I’m the moron rubbernecking in the passing lane. “Sure, be there in a few.”
Rose, Sam, and Ethan head out. “Sucks, right?” Mitch asks me.
“What does?”
“Wanting something you can’t have.”
“We’ll get alcohol one day,” I say. “There’s plenty at the house.”
“Right. Alcohol. That’s what I meant.” I become aware of Mitch staring. Between her height and intense gaze, the woman has menacing down to a science. “I’m pulling for you. Just one thing, Thomas—hurt her and you die.”
My face heats. That sentiment lockdown doesn’t appear to be going as well as I’d hoped. I think of a few things to say, all of which would come out in stammers and half-assed denials. Instead, I nod.
Mitch punches my arm hard enough that I wince. “Glad we had this talk.”
53
Clara
We start guard the day after Boone’s announcement. Barry has put me, Holly, and Jesse on the southwest gate with a soldier named Gus. He’s older, not prone to smiling, and takes off periodically to loom over two other gates also manned by civilians. Every time he does, we breathe a sigh of relief. When the sun is lowering, which means a shift change for the outer boundaries, Nora, Marquez, and a few others appear on foot.
Nora calls Jesse over to the side, where they perform what looks like a drug deal in the bushes. I pull open the gates after Holly gives me the okay from the viewing platform they built to check the street. “See you later, Fobbits,” Marquez says. It’s a joke, though it’s obvious the word is not complimentary.
“What the hell is a Fobbit?” I ask.
“The troops who stay behind, safe in the FOB.”
I know he doesn’t mean a key fob. “Okay, and what’s a FOB?”
“Don’t you know anything? Forward Operating Base.” He shows me gleaming teeth. Marquez is cute—more than cute with his amusing personality—but I’m not doing my hop-into-bed-with-anyone-cute act anymore. “Fobbits stay behind, avoiding combat and missing all the fun.”
“You were a bit of a Fobbit yourself,” I say. “I didn’t see you volunteering to go to Portland.”
The other three soldiers ooh at that. Marquez laughs. “Damn. No need to blow up the spot and emasculate a brave young man such as myself.”
I can’t help my smile. He is cute. “Sorry, Marquez. Thank you for keeping this Fobbit girl safe from the scary monsters outside.”
“No problem, sweetie.”
I bat my eyelashes at him, and he blows me a kiss as he leaves the gate. Nora follows, a beanpole next to the bulkier soldiers. I’ve given up asking Holly about her. Holly has stopped the bitchy act, and though she’s never anything more than polite, her eyes continually flick to Nora when we all hang out. It could be Nora isn’t the only one who still holds a torch—or a flame of some sort.
“Is there anyone you can’t flirt with?” Holly asks me. She tears her gaze from Nora’s back and hops down to the asphalt from the platform.
“That was hardly flirting. It’s called joking. This is why you’re hopeless at flirting.” I watch Jesse lock the gate, wondering if he was listening. Wondering if he cares about my possible flirting with Marquez. If he does, he gives no sign. “You’re not made to flirt. Your flirting is to sit in a corner until women flock to your silent mating call.”
Holly runs her hands through her hair and sweeps it into a ponytail that puffs out above her refined features. She has a delicate thing going on that makes people want to rescue her. “Yeah, I can hardly fend them all off. I was thinking of hiring a bouncer until zombies happened.”
“Maybe still get one,” Jesse says. “A zombie bouncer would come in handy.”
“Did you get us some weed or something?” I ask him.
“What?”
“You and Nora in the bushes. What were you doing?”
Jesse studiously watches the gate, which is ridiculous, since we can’t see through it. Our job is to listen and occasionally stand on the platform to check the street. If you stand in plain sight for too long, zombies might come to investigate. “Nothing. M-Y-O-B.”
“Really? You’re going with M-Y-O-B? You’ve been hanging out with the acronym crew too long, Fobbit.”
“She gave me something, and it’s none of your business.”
Holly is now as curious as I am. I cock my head his way, and she nods slightly. “Fine,” I say. I move to my bag and sip from my water bottle, then walk back toward them. “But I’m pretty sure it’s still on your person, so we’re going to have to find it.”
Holly springs into action. Her arms lock around Jesse’s torso so that his arms are pinned to his sides. I race forward and pat him down while he fights off his sister, who laughs so hard she can barely hang on.
Jesse throws his arms wide, breaking out of Holly’s embrace and pushing her back, then grabs my arm in a vise grip. “Stop!”
I freeze, surprised at his heated tone and how tightly he holds me. “Fine. Geez. Sorry for being curious.”
Jesse’s eyebrows lower. “Yeah, well, sorry for not wanting you to shoot yourself.” He drops my arm and reaches into his coat, then pulls out a big black pistol. “Here. This is what Nora gave me.”
I back up a step, though he points it at the ground. Firing Dad’s gun twice hasn’t exactly made me comfortable around firearms. Sam taught Holly to use a small rifle when she was young, and she’s had a turn with his pistol, but she still retreats to my side.
“Jess!” she hisses. “What the hell are you doing with that? You could shoot someone.”
“That’s kind of the point.” Jesse sticks it in his coat. “They have a ton of t
hem. Nora said no one would notice.”
“Do you even know what you’re doing with it?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“How? Where did you shoot it?”
Jesse’s poise slips a bit. “I’ve done everything but shoot it. Because, obviously, I can’t do that here. They’re going to have to let us out to find food, and I’ll practice then. Or I’ll find another way.”
“Do Mom and Dad know about this?” Holly asks. Before he can answer, she says, “Of course not. And you don’t want me to tell them you’re walking around with a loaded gun, either.”
“That would be correct.” He puts on the face he wears when he plays older brother—slightly paternal and full of a maddening patience. “It’s not a big deal. The safety’s on.”
“Oh, if the safety’s on, then whatever.”
“Hols, we can’t depend on this place or these people to risk their lives for us. I know some of them will, but some of them are going to save themselves. I don’t blame them. But no matter what, there are a lot of people here and not enough military. What if a gate goes down or something? We’d be fucked.”
I nod. I have to admit he’s right about that. “See?” Jesse says. “Clary agrees.”
“Hold on,” I say. “I agree about the fairgrounds. I’m not sure if your inexperienced ass having a gun makes me feel better, but I appreciate the thought you’ve put into it.”
Jesse’s eyes twinkle. “All right, she agrees on half of it. She’ll agree with the other half when she sees me go into ninja mode.”
I laugh while Holly fights her smile. “I just don’t want you to kill yourself,” she says. “Because I love you even though you’re a giant asshole.”
“Your mom,” Jesse says. It never fails to make Holly giggle, and this time is no exception. He puts an arm around her shoulders. “I only want to protect you. Remember in the woods, when—”
The Cascadia Series (Book 1): World Departed Page 51
