Tomorrow Land (11 page)

“With all the mouths to feed we needed more than that,” Chase explained. “So Tank rigged this up a few years ago. Spud’s our resident gardener—when he’s not stuck in a cage and waiting to morph into a monster, that is.” He rolled his eyes.

Peyton wandered over to a tomato plant, salivating. “Can I…?” she asked. “I haven’t had any fruits or vegetables that didn’t come from a can in four years.”

“Be my guest.”

She snapped a small tomato off the vine and bit into it. The juicy sweetness filled her mouth and she practically moaned with pleasure. “Oh, God. This is so good,” she said with her mouth full.

Chase laughed again. “When you’re done with your orgasm, come outside and see what I really wanted to show you.” He walked to the far side of the greenhouse and unlocked a metal door. Curious, she followed, still munching on the tomato.

Outside, she found they were in a small section walled off with cinder blocks but open to the night air. Chase pointed. “Basketball,” he said. “Just like old times.”

“Wow,” Peyton marveled. It was a portable pole and hoop that he’d clearly relocated from the Gaming section inside. She took the last good bite of her tomato. “I haven’t seen one of these in four years. Virtual or real.”

He grabbed a grungy ball off the ground and tossed it to her. She caught it and dribbled a few times. The synthetic leather slapping against her palm brought back memories of days outside her house. She remembered Chase joining her that first time, right after Drew broke her heart. She hadn’t had any true feelings for him then; he’d just been a boy with a crush. But afterward…

It was best not to think of such things.

“No? Well, then that gives me the advantage,” Chase boasted, and he lunged at her. She dodged quickly and dribbled around him toward the hoop. Raised the ball over her head and laid it up.

“Damn,” she swore, as the ball bounced harmlessly off the rim and into Chase’s awaiting hands. “There was a day I’d never have missed that.”

Chase shot the ball into the net with ease. “I’ve been practicing,” he said. “Not much else to do once the chores are done.” He dribbled twice, then passed. She took another shot. This one went in.

She cheered, feeling a moment of happiness. Chase gave her a high five, then chased the ball, which was rolling away from them and into the greenhouse. She watched him go, a flush warming her cheeks. Damn, he looked good in those leather pants. And it was nice to feel normal, to think about how things might have been, if only for a few minutes.

What would have happened if she had left with Chris and the gang instead of going into the shelter? It was something she’d thought about every night before going to bed for the last four years. Would they still be together, in love? Would they both have survived? Trey and Chris had left with a bunch of other students from school, but Peyton hadn’t seen any of the others here. Had they all died except for the two of them?

Chase returned with the ball, checked it to her. She bounced it back. He dribbled toward the hoop. She stayed in front of him, anticipating his path. He stopped just under the backboard, lifted his hands to shoot. She knocked the ball from his grip, sending it bouncing away.

“I’m starting to remember,” she said.

“Guess I should stop taking it easy on you then.”

They played for probably a good half hour, the lead always changing. Chase’s jump shot had really improved, Peyton noticed, and she was impressed that he played well, though there was little light. Throughout the game, they traded verbal jabs. For a brief period there was no apocalypse, no betrayal; they were just two friends playing one-on-one.

Until they heard the scream.

Peyton and Chase looked at one another. Chase’s face was white as a ghost under the sheen of sweat. Peyton was sure she looked similar. He dropped the ball and started toward the door. “Come on,” he said.

Peyton didn’t need a second invitation.

*

Chase darted down the aisle, not looking back to see if Peyton was following. His heart pounded and adrenaline pulsed through his veins. On the way through the Sporting Goods section he used his flashlight to find a golf club—not exactly the perfect weapon, but it was the best thing in reach.

Another scream. Oh God, what was happening?

He could feel Peyton behind him, her footsteps echoing his. They swung around a corner and burst into the Toys section. What once had been an oasis of children’s laughter and games was now a horror show. The lights were tipped over. Toys were strewn everywhere. The children were all running and screaming.

At first Chase couldn’t figure out what the hell was going on. Then his eyes fell upon the problem: Spud. Or, more accurately, what had once been Spud.

The boy before them was no longer his goofy friend who tended the community garden and liked to hide cans of SPAM in the women’s lingerie section of the store. In Spud’s place stood a horrifying monster with red eyes, razor-sharp teeth and bleeding, pus-filled sores. His clothing was shredded—it must have torn in the metamorphosis—and only scraps still clung to his body. A Rolex dangled from his wrist—the one Spud and Chase had stolen from Neiman Marcus one day when they were bored. The last remaining shred of who he once was. But Spud was one of them now. An Other. And somehow he’d gotten out of his cage. The cage Chase was supposed to be guarding instead of playing basketball with Peyton.

There was only a moment to hesitate, to mourn the loss of yet another friend, because Chase knew what was coming next, what had already begun. His friend was now a destroyer and needed to be put down. There was no alternative.

He sprang into action, swinging his golf club at the creature with as much force as he could muster. The nine iron struck Spud’s head with a sickening thud, sending the zombie sprawling. But that wasn’t going to stop him. Spud righted himself quickly and charged forward, bellowing an inhuman cry. He—it—grabbed the club from Chase’s hand and snapped it in two.

Oh crap.

Chase leapt backward to avoid the creature’s claw-like fingers, his eyes darting around the store, searching for another weapon. Once upon a time, Walmart had a whole section of the store devoted to guns. But they’d been made illegal years before and there wasn’t a suitable alternative.

 Spud didn’t pursue him. Instead, his friend turned and went for Darla, who was cowering nearby. Chase screamed wildly, hoping to distract him—it. But the monster formerly known as his best friend ignored him, his inhuman sights locked on the girl.

Then, suddenly, with a movement so quick he couldn’t track it, Peyton was there, squarely positioned between the zombie and Darla. Blades shot from her fingertips with an elegant violence that took Chase’s breath away. Without pause she engaged, striking Spud in the chest. Chase’s friend screamed as blood soaked what remained of his
Gothic Robots from Hell
concert t-shirt.

Peyton wasn’t finished. Her foot found Spud’s groin, and the Other keeled forward. Luckily, unlike some of the Hollywood zombie films he’d seen long ago, the real-life ones still felt pain. Peyton didn’t pause; she took the opportunity to grab Spud’s head and twist, snapping the neck. Spud fell to the ground, dead.
Really
dead. Chase let out a sigh of relief, forcing himself to forget that the creature she’d just killed was one of his best friends, trying to focus on the fact that Darla was safe and unharmed.

Peyton leaned over and vomited. Chase didn’t blame her. He was pretty sick to his stomach as well. Watching one’s friend morphed into a monster and trying to chomp little children could do that to a guy. He forced himself to look away from the mayhem, remembering all the stupid pranks he and Spud had pulled back in the refugee camp.

Stupid old Spud. Stupid, stupid Spud. He felt bile rise in his throat and forced it back down. It was over. And it could have been a lot worse.

“Chase, Chase!” Red cried, appearing out of nowhere. The little boy tugged at his pant leg.

“What is it, Red?” When Chase looked down, he saw that the child’s normally brave face was stained from tears.

“Tank. You gotta help Tank.”

Chase’s heart leapt into his throat. “What do you mean?” he asked. In the chaos, he hadn’t processed that his brother was missing.

“Spud hurt him,” Red said, yanking at his hand.

Chase left Peyton where she was puking and let the boy lead the way down an aisle, fear slamming his heart against his chest. A moment later his eyes fell on his brother lying motionless in an ocean of blood. Chase flew to Tank’s side, landing on his knees, peering into his brother’s face. Tank’s eyes fluttered open. He was alive. Thank God.

“He got me,” Tank said, his voice strangely gurgling. “He killed Rocky and then came after me.”

Chase glanced over and saw Rocky’s lifeless, ravaged body a little ways off in the darkness. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and a lump clogging his throat. This was bad. This was really, really bad. “Are you okay?” he asked. At least Tank was immune to the infection. He’d be okay. He had to be okay.

“Chase, I need you to promise me you’ll look after the kids.”

Chase struggled to understand. “What? What are you talking about?” he asked, the lump in his throat now threatening to choke him. “You’re going to be fine. We can stitch you up. Get you some antibiotics and—”

Tank reached out and touched his brother’s shoulder. “Chase, I don’t have much time. I need you to promise me. I’m not kidding.”

Chase squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. This couldn’t be happening. First Tara, now Tank. It wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. And, once again, it was all his fault. If he hadn’t been so distracted he could have done something.

“You’re going to be fine!” he said, trying to sound cheerful. “What hurts? We’ll fix it!” His hands roved his brother’s body, seeking out injuries. It was then that he saw the wound in Tank’s lower back and side. It had been concealed by the way he’d been lying, but it was grievous. Chase felt the gorge rise in his throat and leaned over to let it out.

“Chase, focus!” Tank commanded, his voice weak but determined. His skin was very white. “The kids need you. I need you to promise me you’ll look after them. You’re all they have now.”

“But… I can’t!” Chase cried, his life flashing before his eyes. “I can’t take care of them. I can barely take care of myself. Look what happened to Tara! I couldn’t save her!”

“No, you couldn’t save Tara. But you can save
these
children. Do it for Tara. And for me.”

“But I’m not like you. I can’t lead them,” Chase said.

His brother’s face twisted in a combination of anger and frustration. “Grow the fleck up, man,” he growled. “
There’s no one else.
”

Chase paused, anguished. Then he swallowed. “I promise,” he said. “But God, Tank, what will I do?”

“You’ll manage.” Tank’s eyes rolled up in his head for a moment, then he drew a deep breath and forced himself to focus on Chase. “You’re stronger than you think. You’re not a screw-up—or you don’t have to be. I have faith in you. And… I love you.”

“I… I love you, too.”

But he’d said it too late. His brother’s eyes were closed, and Tank’s final breath had just escaped in a long, torturous wheeze. He was dead.

Chase threw back his head and screamed.

Chapter Eleven

Chris followed Peyton down the stairs.

“Dad, this is Chris. Chris, this is my dad,” Peyton called as they entered the basement. Her father was sitting in a lab off to one side, working on some kind of metal gizmo. He set the device down, came out of the workshop, and shut and locked the door behind him. Off-limits to tourists, Chris guessed.

“Ian Anderson,” Peyton’s dad introduced himself, putting out a hand. The guy looked like a mad scientist with his shock of graying hair and wild blue eyes. Hard to believe he was Peyton’s father. “It’s nice to meet you, son. I saw you two playing basketball outside. It’s great to see kids enjoying real sports in this day and age. Everyone’s always inside on their sims twenty-four-seven. Missing out on what the great outdoors has to offer.”

“I thought it was stellar,” Chris agreed. “I’d never played before. Of course, I’m kind of sweaty and gross now.” He sniffed his armpit and made a face.

Ian slapped him on the back. “Nothing wrong with a little sweat,” he proclaimed. “It’ll put hair on your chest. Now, what can I do for you kids? I’m kind of busy at the moment.”

“I know, Dad, I know. But I figured you’d be interested in this.” Peyton paused. “I should have come to you before, but… well, I wasn’t sure if it was important and didn’t want to bother you. Have you heard anything about weird disappearances related to illness? Anything to do with the government? A few days ago Chris and I came across Mrs. McCormick from down the street. She was acting all sick, coughing up blood. We called for an ambulance, but instead this strange brown van showed up. It had a government seal. They took her away.”

Chris noticed she didn’t add anything about them being chased. He guessed she just didn’t want to worry him.

“That was a few days ago, and she hasn’t been back to her house since,” Peyton said. “I figured she might have died, but—”

“I called all the nearby hospitals,” Chris spoke up. “They said they were taking her to Mt. Holyoke, but the guys in the van didn’t really even know where it was—and no one there’s heard of her. And when I went searching some of the internet forums about this, I found similar things are happening other places.” He crossed his fingers that he wouldn’t get the usual lectures about accessing unauthorized sites; adults seemed to think that what the government banned really shouldn’t be talked about. He figured Peyton’s dad, if anyone, would feel differently. After all, he was about as anti-establishment as anyone could get. “Peyton thought maybe you would have read or heard something else.”

Ian looked distracted. “Sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “No, I haven’t heard anything.”

“Is there… is there any way you could take a look?” Chris pressed. He didn’t want to be rude, but he was worried about Mrs. McCormick, and Peyton’s dad seemed the only option for information. Rumor had it that he knew all sorts of people in high places, although not all of them were friendly. “That woman was like a grandmother to me,” he added. “I’m worried something really bad might have happened to her, and she’s got no one else who’d care.”