The City Series (Book 1): Mordacious (46 page)

“They have food, but they only take in kids. There’s a whole group who’ve been separated from their parents. It was only temporary, ‘til I could figure something else out. I just…I couldn’t watch him go hungry, you know? And I couldn’t go out on long searches without him. I can’t leave him alone.”

He sneaks a glance at me, waiting to hear he’s a terrible father. It would’ve killed him to do it, and I’m not convinced he would have. If he was seriously considering it, things were worse than he lets on.

“You’d do what you had to, Paul, and then get him back. How’d you find them?”

He squeezes my shoulder hard enough that I wince. “Leo and I were checking the place out. I thought it was empty. This old nun comes out and tells me about it, says they’ll give Leo a meal if he needs one. Says she can’t offer me any, but I didn’t care. So I went in with him, watched him and all these other kids eating real, warm food. They were fucked up, yeah, ‘cause they have no parents, but they were smiling and laughing, too. I asked how they had so much. She said that when their food got low, they’d prayed for a miracle. Next day, some guys showed up and now they bring food sometimes. So I prayed for one for us.” He punches my arm. “You showed up a week late, man. Nuns got
their
miracle in a day.”

I punch him back. “My apologies. Did you try to get in with those guys?”

“Haven’t seen them, but I think I’ve heard them. Loud, like they’re not scared. I hear gunshots sometimes. I figured if I dropped Leo there, maybe I’d meet them, then I’d head down to Cassie’s and go back for Leo.” He closes his eyes and, when he opens them, he plasters on a smirk that only just covers his grief. “All right, now tell me what’s up with you. I’m gabbing like a teenage girl at a sleepover. Next I’ll want to try out some new hairstyles.”

Good old undemonstrative Paul has returned. I can tell he’s exhausted, so I give him a brief rundown. Although there was no love lost between Paul and Rachel at times, he’s sincerely distressed when I tell him her fate. It was less that he didn’t like her and more that he didn’t like her for me.

“That took some balls,” he says when I’ve run through it all. “I can just imagine you on the goddamned Verrazano. Can’t believe it’s down now. That must’ve been what I heard the other day.”

“Yeah, well, I’m going to have to do it again to get upstate. That’s not going to be easy.”

“Impossible, bro, not just
not easy
. Every bridge is down. Nine million people tried to escape on, what, a few thousand boats? You do the math. Our Marine Division was no more the morning they bombed the bridges. Either they went under or someone took them. I thought about building a raft, like Huckleberry Finn or some shit, but you’d be crushed by the garbage or sunk by the zombies. I thought maybe it’d be easier to find food in Jersey.”

“The Chief at Wadsworth said there’s a supermarket commissary in Fort Hamilton,” I say. “Probably still stocked because the VA hospital was overrun. Have you been over there?”

“Yeah, I was over there. Might be easier to get out of the city than get into Fort Hamilton. Place is mobbed. Thousands of them, no joke.” He shakes his head. “When are you leaving?”

I cross the supermarket off my mental list for now. “I don’t know. Maria keeps saying to take my time, but she wants to know where Ana and Penny are.”

Paul nods. “How about those girls? Sandy and…”

“Sylvie and Grace.”

“They’re cool?”

“Yeah. They’re really cool. You’ll like them.”

I think about adding more. About how they fought their way to the house, how Sylvie’s managed to learn more about survival in weeks than most people ever learn, and how she helped save my life. I might’ve died without the fluids, but I’m pretty sure Sylvie kept me alive until I got them.

“That candy for one of them?”

“Yeah. For Sylvie,” I say casually, and lean off the mattress to busy myself zipping my pack. Nothing has happened, but it feels wrong to bring up anything even remotely romance-related after Hannah.

Paul is silent. Finally, he says, “All right, bro, I’m going to sleep. Try not to hump me during the night.”

“That’s not what you said last time, but I’ll do my best to resist.”

Paul laughs and flops on his side. Within minutes, he’s asleep. I lie awake and hope Sylvie and Grace make it back. If they don’t, I’ll never forgive myself for letting them go alone—and Dad will never let me forget.

Chapter 61

Sylvie

Micah and Carlos look about as dandy as I feel when Grace and I finally emerge from our overnight accommodations. I didn’t have to hold back her hair, but she’d probably look better if I’d had to—yesterday’s events and the liquor have left her with swollen eyes and a grim set to her mouth. We sit at a picnic table and eat our breakfast of stale Entenmann’s coffee cake. It’s still delicious and makes me insanely jealous of having the contents of an entire Key Food under one’s control.

“How’re you ladies feeling?” Guillermo asks. He’s a bit pale, but all in all he’s metabolizing the alcohol well.

“Like the vodka dried my brain to the size of a walnut and it’s rattling around in my skull,” I point across the table at Micah and Carlos, “but better than them.”

I still haven’t seen Micah’s face due to the fact it’s firmly planted in his hands, and Carlos is a shade of green-tinged brown that’s reminiscent of an acorn toward the end of autumn. He moans. “I drank too much.”

“You wanted to play with the big kids.” Guillermo smacks his shoulder and looks to me. “When are you guys leaving?”

“As soon as we’re done with our cake, which, let me say, makes me want to live here with you. The only thing stopping me is that you’re far too cheerful for someone who drank the night away.”

Guillermo leans in, hand cupped at his mouth. “You’ve got to drink water before bed. No hangover. Let me make sure you get home okay.”

After yesterday, we can manage this comparatively easy trip even with hangovers. I look to Grace, who lifts a rounded shoulder, and then say, “We’re fine, thanks. But we might leave our bikes here so we don’t have to carry them in and out of houses on our way.”

“Okay.” He places the plastic bag full of produce he carries onto the table. “For you,” he says to Grace. “I know you miss the fresh stuff. It’s apples and carrots and things that didn’t go bad yet.”

Grace dredges up a smile. “Thank you.”

“Sure. All right, I have to check they’re working on the wall, but I’ll see you soon.” We say goodbye, and he smirks under his beard. “What happened to
I love you, Guillermo
? What’s up with that, Sylvie?”

I give him my best death-ray glare.

“I didn’t forget,” he says, and taps his temple. “I don’t forget anything.” And, with that, he claps his hands and walks away laughing.

We finish our breakfast, wish the two hungover boys good luck, and leave for home, as Guillermo called it. It does feel like home, and I can’t quite wrap my rattling walnut brain around that sentiment.

Our journey up stoops and over fences is slower than usual, but we reach our yard alive. Before we make our presence known, I say, “We’ll try again.” Grace nods and strips off her gloves without making eye contact. “Grace, say something. If you don’t talk then I’m going to have to, and I know no one wants that.”

“It’s my civic duty?”

“You know it is. Without you to smooth me over, they’ll kill us and eat us in no time.”

“You’re deranged, you know that?” she says with the hint of a smile.

As we reach the back door, we hear a child’s voice and an unfamiliar deep voice, followed by Eric’s. I never had any doubt he’d get back in one piece, but that doesn’t stop my heart from galloping at the sound. He’s leaving soon and there are more important things to think about, so I attempt to ignore how glad I am he’s here.

The living room is dim after the brightness of outside. Maria and Jorge sit in the chairs, and a big guy sits on the couch with Eric. The new guy has slicked-back brown hair and a square jaw and muscles everywhere—Paul.

A little blond boy lies on the rug, busy with paper and pens. “…because this one shoots out lasers
and
—” he stops and looks up at us.

He’s adorable, with big, black-lashed eyes and chubby cheeks. He crawls across the rug and Paul pulls him onto his lap.

“Hi,” I say, which comes out squeaky. We’re back, as promised, but it’s occurred to me that they might’ve realized how nice it was not to have me here. There’s no indication they feel that way, but my brain still whispers that it
could
be true—that it’s possible, even likely. My brain is an asshole.

Maria is up in an instant. Her eyes flick to the barren space behind us, and she pulls Grace into a hug, then puts her arms around me. I give her a little squeeze. Jorge is next, murmuring an apology in Grace’s ear. He smiles his wide, plump-cheeked grin and then mushes me into his warm chest. It’s heartening and comforting, and I hang on for a second longer than normal.

Eric rises to his feet. “Did you make it there?”

“We had to turn around just after Cadman Plaza,” I say. “There were so many and we didn’t know if we’d be able to get out once we were in. We’ll try again.”

“I’m sorry,” he says to Grace, who gives him a hug. He flashes his high-wattage smile at me, and I wear a ridiculously wide one in return. “I’m glad you’re both okay, though.”

His arms are loose and sort of welcoming, as if he anticipates a hug, but I don’t move and the moment passes. Now it’s weird that I didn’t hug him and Grace did. I’ve put far too much thought into a hug and will probably spend the next three hours torturing myself about it.

He introduces Paul and Leo. I know Paul has a wife, but we don’t ask about her. Paul looks like a man who has been through the wringer—his face is unshaven and he nods as if it’s all he has the energy for.

“We got back a couple hours ago,” Eric says.

Maria serves drinks while we recount meeting Brother David and the rest of our trip, omitting the part where I proclaimed my love for everyone.

Eric tells us about the Verrazano. Maybe I had no intention of crossing the bridge, but a rush of apprehension comes anyway. Knowing I could cross it if necessary was more important than I realized. He lets that sink in for a moment before he tells us he found plenty of seeds. I’m sure he purposely did it in that order to buoy our spirits, and it works, except for the part where I envision myself having to eat large amounts of spinach.

“Do you want to get cleaned up?” Maria asks Paul.

He rubs his chin. “Yeah, that’d be great. Thanks.”

“I’ll put on water,” I say.

In the yard, I pass the time at the stove by attempting to change myself into a sane person with socially acceptable reactions. I’m all aflutter about Eric and unsure if I’m still welcome and uneasy that the bridge is gone and worried I’ll have to eat vegetables. In order, I should be: unconcerned about a guy, confident the people who seem happy to see me really are, fine with the bridge since I wasn’t going anywhere, and glad we’ll have food—even if it is vegetables.

Everyone joins me outside. Leo, Grace and Maria head off on a mission for toys in the other houses. Paul sits in a chair and lets his head fall back.

“Your water’s almost ready,” I say.

“Thanks,” he says.

“Sure. How was the trip here?”

Eric appears at my side. “It was nothing. We drove most of the way and left the car at Third Avenue. We got out, Paul set off the alarm’s panic button to distract them, and then we cruised up here.”

“Better than surprise zombie bombs dropping on your head, which is what happened to us. I can’t believe the bridge is gone.”

“You weren’t going to cross it anyway.”

“You never know,” I say. “With the right impetus, I might have.”

“Like orange candy on a stick?”

“That could work.”

“I’ll have to remember that. Paul, I’m stealing some of your water.” Eric dips a bowl into the pot, then lathers up his hands and face. He walks to the drain in the next yard and rinses off before he comes back. “I’m going to work on Operation
Caffeine Strike
.”

“Aren’t you tired?”

“Not now that I’m back. I started it the other day. Don’t you want coffee to go with your cake?”

“Sadly, I believe the cake is gone.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make some more, won’t we?”

I fight every instinct I have that wants to say I don’t care. I do care. I want cake. “I guess we will. Thank—” I close my mouth.

“Nice save. I moved my stuff upstairs with Paul, so you and Grace are back in Cassie’s room.”

“You didn’t have to—”

“Be awesome? Can’t help it.”

And I can’t help my laugh, so I push him. “That is definitely not what I was going to say.”

“Pretty sure it was,” he says. “I also checked our word: mulct. To punish by a fine. Or to attain by theft or fraud. So put on your thinking cap.”

He places an imaginary hat on my head and buckles it under my chin. He’s so ridiculously jovial that it buoys my spirits the way spinach never will. “You’re a dork,” I say. “Like, from the Planet Dorkatron kind of dork.”

“You’ve been? Nice place, right?”

He chucks me under the chin before he walks to his pile of assorted junk a few yards down. I watch him pick through pieces of metal and what looks to be part of a metal garbage can. This must be Eric one hundred percent better—goofy, strange, and so amiable I don’t know how to react except to wish he hadn’t walked away.

“What’s this word thing?” Paul asks.

I turn back to the stove. Paul watches me, although it feels more like an appraisal. “We have a word-of-the-day calendar and we try to use the word in conversation. Whoever uses it first wins a point.”

He nods as though it’s the most uninteresting thing he’s ever heard. There’s no reason for him to be excited by this breaking news, though it still makes me feel stupid.

“So you’re Eric’s best friend,” I say, in a feat of brilliant repartee.

“Yup.”

“I’m glad he found you. Leo’s really cute.”

“Thanks. I heard you were at the hospital. How come you didn’t go home? I’m sure you’d rather be there than with strangers.”