Tomorrow Land (31 page)

The sound of what might have been a car backfiring, but was probably a bullet, rang in Peyton’s ears and she started worrying again about the monsters, the “others” as her father had called them. What would she do if she ran into one on her way to meeting the group at the school? She didn’t have any weapons. What, was she going to karate chop them to death? Her dad had been right; martial arts training wasn’t exactly going to cut it.

But it was too late to turn back. She stole through the streets, avoiding both broken glass from the store fronts and a line of corpses littering the pavement. A terrible smell was coming from somewhere, and it was overwhelming. Apparently there was no one left to clean up.

She got to the darkened high school at last. At first she wasn’t sure anyone would be meeting her, but then a flash of light flickered on and off. The signal. She followed it and soon came to a side door that had been propped open. Slipping inside, she realized she’d entered the auditorium.

“You’re the last,” said a deep male voice. “Go ahead and shut the door behind you.”

She complied, walking into a circle of light. The school had obviously kept its power somehow. But this group was being cautious all the same. Didn’t want to attract the crazies. And that meant most everyone these days.

The stage held a strange assortment of her former classmates. The head cheerleader sat next to the biggest stoner. The biggest tech-head was next to the sim quarterback. Terror had made everyone equal. Go figure. It took the apocalypse to break down high school cliques.

Chris sat leaning against a wall. He beckoned her over. She complied and took a seat next to him, smiling weakly as she sat. He reached over and squeezed her hand, sending a now familiar tingle of electricity through her. He was so sweet. If only she’d discovered it earlier, when life was still innocent and normal and there weren’t monsters wandering the streets.

“Okay, this meeting will come to order,” announced a black-haired boy at the front. Peyton recognized him as Chris’s brother, Trey. He rose to his feet and started pacing the stage. All eyes were on him. He swaggered like a born leader, which was funny, because most of what Peyton knew of him from before was his virtual football scores and his penchant for porn sims. But he had changed. They all had. And he’d been the one to come up with the idea of stockpiling supplies out of town. Now, standing there, in front of them all, he looked large and in charge, and he commanded everyone’s respect. Guess everyone had to grow up fast these days.

“I’m glad all of you could make it tonight,” Trey began. “I know it’s hard to get out of the house, and it’s certainly no picnic to cross town.”

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Peyton wondered what her dad would say if he knew she was here. He’d totally kill her. Maybe even lock her behind those titanium shelter doors he was always going on about.

“Armageddon, the End of Days, the Super Flu, the apocalypse. Whatever you want to call it, it’s here,” continued Trey. “Our friends and family are dying.”

Peyton glanced over at Chris, who was staring at his feet. His and Trey’s parents had left for the quarantine camp outside Monroeville two days ago, after making the boys promise to take care of Tara and not follow them there. After all, no one who entered the quarantine camp ever left alive.

“The government can’t control it, no matter what their stupid propaganda says. It’s out of control. I know a lot of you were at the party the other night. You saw the… creatures—our former friends and classmates turned into monsters. You know what’s going on. And you know it’s only going to get worse.” He walked to the end of the stage then turned to face them. “We have to get out of town. Soon. Before it’s too late.”

“But where?” asked a blond boy in cut-off jeans who looked about fourteen. “They say it’s everywhere. How are we going to escape?”

“Yeah, what makes you think we won’t get the flu?” asked another.

Peyton stood up. “Because we haven’t been vaccinated,” she told them. “It’s the AIDS vaccine that’s made people vulnerable. If you haven’t gotten that shot then you’re safe—at least from the sickness. It’s the zombies that we have to worry about. If one bites you and you live, you can become one of them.”

Several classmates shuddered, probably having been at the rave and having seen the monsters in action. She didn’t blame them. Not a night went by anymore where she didn’t have a nightmare herself.

“Peyton’s right,” Trey said. “And we don’t have to sit around and wait to be turned into mutants. We can leave. If we work together.” He pulled out a holo-pen and pressed a button. A map of South Carolina burst to life on the center of the stage. “As a lot of you know, having helped, we’ve already gathered a bunch of supplies. In the next twenty-four hours, I want everyone to go home and pack suitcases. Be selective. We can’t take everything. Think about what you’d need to go camping. No prom dresses,” he said, looking knowingly at a group of girls to his right. “Tomorrow night, we will all rendezvous in the back parking lot. I’ll have vans. We’ll head up to the mountains. My parents have a camp up there, which is always empty this time of year. It’s on a lake and very secluded. We’ll live there until things calm down. There are plenty of wild animals and fish if we run out of packed food. We could live there a long time. Until things calm down and the government gets everything back in control. I’ll bring a media deck so we can stay updated as to what’s going on.”

“Do you really think that will happen?” Chris’s friend Stephen interjected. “I mean, what if all the adults die? What if there’s nothing left to come back to?”

A good question
, Peyton thought as she looked around the room. And it was one, it seemed, that no one had a good answer to.

Chapter Thirty-six

The next week went by in blur for Chase. As Peyton had promised, they’d found an empty hospital just off the highway, and she and Helga strapped him to a bed, preparing for his detox while the children played in the former kids’ ward, which still had plenty of toys on hand. He hated the idea of them wasting valuable time, especially with Peyton’s deteriorating condition, but she refused to listen to his protests.

Luckily, she also knew what she was doing, having evidently studied a few home remedies when her mother was in the throes of her own addiction. It wasn’t going to be easy, she told him. But she wouldn’t leave his side.

And she didn’t. Whether it was to press a cold compress to his sweaty forehead or spoon-feed him chicken broth—only to later clean up said broth when his stomach rejected it—she was there. When the nightmares came, she held his hand. When he cried out in agony, she soothed him with gentle whispers. She was an angel. His angel. And he knew, by the third day, when he finally woke up feverless, his mind clear for the first time since he could remember, that he wouldn’t have survived without her.

And so, on that third day, he got back up on his horse, ready to finish out their journey. To help Peyton as she had helped him. They traveled long hours to make up for lost time, setting up camp well after the sun went down. Thankfully, Helga had proved an invaluable asset to their little tribe, and Chase was glad Peyton had agreed to take her along.

It was funny, he thought on the tenth day since his detox. Here they were, traveling down a post-apocalyptic highway with only a small shred of hope that there would be something worthwhile at the end, and yet he had never felt happier. His body was growing stronger every day, now free of the drugs’ stranglehold. His mind was clear and he was able to make good decisions, decisions that benefited the group. Sure, there was still stress and pain and memories to deal with. But he was dealing with them head-on. He wasn’t running away anymore.

And then there was Peyton. Sweet, beautiful Peyton. They’d ride side-by-side on their horses each day, talking about everything and anything. And by sharing, by talking about some of the pain, it seemed to go away somehow. Or at least become manageable.

At night they’d come together, under the stars. He’d never experienced anything like it and wanted desperately for this closeness they shared to last forever. And best of all, she seemed to want it, too.

And their destination was so close now. He could almost taste the Florida oranges. He couldn’t wait to see what they’d find at the end. Peyton was so sure. She expected a new civilization, a rebirth of the world. It seemed hard to credit as they passed empty town after empty town, but he believed it because she did. He believed because he had to.

He imagined them reaching their destination, finding a friendly home base again. Where the children could feel safe. Where he and Peyton could live like husband and wife. Maybe there would even be a priest down there, someone who could marry them officially. Sure, they were young, but what did it matter anymore?

To have Peyton as his bride—well, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

But thoughts of the future had to wait. Tonight he was on guard duty. The rest of the camp was sound asleep. Peyton was curled up next to him, dead to the world. He kissed her lightly on her forehead, so as not to wake her, and crawled out from under the covers.

Time to patrol.

He wandered the perimeter of the motel they’d chosen, kicking at rocks as he went. He tried to imagine the place before the plague. What kind of people had stayed here. Families on their way to the Magic Kingdom? Traveling salesmen without a lot of cash? Maybe a few cheating husbands and their sleazy girlfriends, never knowing, as they enjoyed their dangerous liaisons, that soon infidelity would be the least of their problems.

A sudden noise came from the bushes. Startled, he backed up, only to hit a wall that served to separate the motel from the former pool area. He reached for a rifle he’d brought out of Paradise—a lucky find when he’d stolen the scooter—praying he was wrong and it was just a raccoon or maybe one of the children up to go to the bathroom.

But it was no raccoon. And it was no sleepy child. Instead, a small Other wandered into the parking lot. A female, by the looks of it. Remnants of stringy blond hair hung off her head and what was once a flower-patterned dress clung to her emaciated frame.

She turned on a dime, her bloodshot eyes zeroing in on Chase’s hiding spot, deep in the shadows. He cringed as her bloody mouth twisted into a gruesome smile at the sight of potential prey. He could almost hear her stomach rumbling with desperate hunger as she took a slow step forward in his direction. How had she gotten so close so fast?

He lifted his rifle slowly, resting it on his shoulder, knowing any sudden movements would only set her off. His hands shook as he attempted to line up the gun’s sight with the creature’s head. The money shot. The one he’d need to take her down for good.

It was more than a bit tempting to run. To get as far away as possible from this pus-dripping creature of his nightmares. But she was too close to the campsite where Peyton and the children were sleeping. And while Chase had failed before—failed whenever it counted, in fact—things were different now. For the first time since the plague erupted, he had hope. And no dumb, oozing, post-apocalyptic zombie was going to take that away. Not on his watch, anyway.

He blew out a breath and steadied his gun, eyes narrowing to slits.
Steady as she goes
, he told himself. This was a matter of protecting his family. A matter of doing good.

In an instant it happened. The creature lurched forward and Chase fell back a step, squeezing the trigger of his rifle. Its recoil bruised his shoulder. He watched as a gout of blood spurted from the woman’s chest—he’d missed. Only a flesh wound. And she was still coming. Not only her, but two other shadows had appeared behind her. Three… no, four? How much ammunition was left in his gun?

He fired again, twice more, and finally hit his mark, the creature’s head exploding in a mass of red and gray pulp. At the same time he reached around his neck and pulled free a whistle. He blew as hard as he could. The shadows that had risen stopped in their tracks. A cacophony of inhuman protests assaulted his ears as the creatures turned and fled.

Chase watched them go, slumping his shoulder and allowing the rifle to slide off to his side. The whistle fell from his bloodless lips. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, shaking out his arms and trying to regain some composure. “I thought so! Run, cowards!” He nodded to himself and stepped out from the shadows.

Only to find himself thrown backward.

He crashed hard onto the asphalt, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred and, for a moment, nothing made sense. Then he looked up and saw what had struck him. An Other towered above, clearly not scared away by his whistle. It was growling and spitting and looking as if it hadn’t eaten for weeks.

The creature lunged, hands finding Chase’s neck, encircling and squeezing tight, cutting off his breath, just as Toro had in the ring. Desperate, Chase kicked wildly, managing to connect his foot with his attacker’s groin. The monster bellowed but didn’t let go. Chase struggled harder, panic slamming through him as he used one arm to brace himself, fighting to keep away from the monster’s mouth. He reached for his boot with his free hand, feeling for the knife he always kept there for emergencies. It took what seemed like forever to wrap his fingers around the hilt. In the meantime, the creature’s grip tightened on his neck, and the blackness swam toward him with frightening speed, while pain seared his shoulder. In his final moment of consciousness, he managed to yank the knife free and drive it into the creature’s heart.

The zombie recoiled then fell on top of him, crushing Chase with its weight. But the fingers loosened and Chase was able to breathe. He sucked in a huge breath and pushed the creature off. It rolled back onto the pavement, staring up at the sky and whimpering. The heart was always a weak spot.

Chase surged to his feet and stared down at the monster. It looked a lot more human lying there now, vulnerable and bleeding. This was something he always hated. He wondered who it had been before the change. A doctor? A lawyer? Maybe a humanitarian who built houses for poor people.