Tomorrow Land (36 page)

She decided to go find him, to at least say goodbye. She wouldn’t just disappear on him again. She owed him that.

*

They’d assigned Chase a small studio-type apartment at the end of Floor 23D. In no mood to celebrate and not feeling very hungry, he’d returned to it earlier that night, tried to read a bit—they had actual e-readers here—but found he couldn’t concentrate. He just kept thinking about the zombie bite. And about the fact that in just a short time, he’d probably become one of them.

As he did so often these days, almost neurotic, he stripped out of all of his clothes and began a thorough body examination, searching for any mark or blemish or spot that could be the first sign of sickness. It was a routine he’d done a hundred times since the bite, but he had yet to see a sign.

Until tonight.

It was on his inner thigh. A small, bubbling sore just above his knee. He stared at it, unable to breathe. It looked just like the one Spud got a week before he morphed into a monster.

Was this it? Was he definitely infected? Had the Other passed along its terrible germs and injected monstrousness into his DNA? Would this boil be the first of many spreading all over his body as his genes mutated and his hair fell out? How long would it take until his humanity fled and he became nothing more than a cannibalistic monster, a danger to all he encountered?

He couldn’t let it happen. He couldn’t endanger his family. The members of the Hive. His people were safe now. Peyton was safe. He’d kept his promise. So that was something, at least.

He debated his options, finding it nearly impossible to think when he was so scared and upset. He could leave the Hive, go somewhere where there were few people and let the change take him, live a half life as a monster and hope he didn’t run into any humans in his mindless travels. Or—he took a deep breath—or he could kill himself now and get it over with. It was the best way to be sure—the only way, really—that he’d never harm any innocents. That he’d never take anyone else’s life as the monster had taken his.

In the end, the decision was simple. He reached for his rifle and the bullets he’d stored under his bed.

He’d really hoped it wouldn’t come to this. That he’d been immune just like Tank had been. Then, once he was sure he was clean, he could have apologized to Peyton. Explained what had happened and why he’d pushed her away. Maybe they’d have even had a laugh about the whole thing. And then she would kiss him on the mouth, just like she used to, pressing her full lips against his, happy and wanting. They’d snuggle into each other’s arms, together forever, with no need to worry about monsters anymore.

That would have been perfect. A Disney ending, so to speak. But it wasn’t meant to be. And in the final analysis, he realized, he needed to do what had to be done, and he needed to do it before he ruined someone else’s chance at a happily ever after.

He put the barrel in his mouth and reached down to the trigger.

“Oh my God, Chase, what are you doing?”

Deep in thought, he hadn’t heard the door open. Why hadn’t he locked it? He looked over and saw Peyton, her face white and horrified, standing in the doorway. He was busted. Caught red-handed. He knew he should act fast, blow his head off right then and there before she got too close. But he found he couldn’t do it. It would scar her for life, and he loved her too much to do that. Hadn’t they both seen enough death?

Against his better judgment, he pulled the gun out of his mouth and lowered it to the floor. She was on him in a second, grabbing the gun and removing the bullets. She threw them across the room then turned to him, her face stormy.

“Chase Parker, you tell me what the hell is going on here this instant,” she said, sounding like his mother once had.

He hung his head, trying to buy time as he struggled with what to say. Should he come clean, tell her the truth? Guess it didn’t matter anymore. And maybe it was for the best. Maybe this is what he should have done in the first place. At least this way he could admit how much it hurt to push her away. How her pain was a knife, twisting inside his gut every time he looked at her disappointed face. How he loved her more than anything or anyone in the entire sorry world. And how he would love her forever and watch over her, even from the grave.

He looked up at her, his eyes heavy with unshed tears. “I have to tell you something,” he said.

*

Everything inside of Peyton was coiled like a spring, ready to explode as she waited for Chase to explain. She’d only come here to tell him she was leaving; she never in a million years expected to see him totally naked and deep-throating a rifle. Thank God she hadn’t startled him into pulling the trigger.

Why would he do this? Now, when they were finally safe? After he’d kicked the drugs, got them down to Florida and fulfilled his promise to his brother? After all they’d been through, after all they’d survived, now he wanted to take the coward’s way out? Was this why he’d pushed her away? Because he didn’t want her attached when he did himself in?

“I…I…” he stammered. “I . . .” He cleared his throat. “First of all, I want to apologize for how I’ve been acting. All cold and mean and heartless. That’s not me, and you don’t deserve to be treated that way. I’m sorry. I… I love you, Peyton,” he said, his voice cracking.

Her heart leapt. This was so not what she’d been expecting him to say. “Then what’s going on, Chase?” she asked, desperate to know but thoroughly frightened at the same time. “Why have you pushed me away? And why are you in here, with a gun down your throat?”

“Remember two nights ago when I killed the Other?”

She nodded slowly, trying to grasp what he was saying. Then suddenly reality hit. She stared at him, eyes wide beneath her implants. “You got bitten, didn’t you?” she whispered. Suddenly everything slid together in a horrifying puzzle. “You got bitten by one of those Others. And you were afraid you were infected.” It all made sense now: how he wouldn’t touch her, how he kept his distance from the kids. It all made perfect sense. Why hadn’t she figured it out before? She was an idiot. A real idiot.

He rubbed his eyes with his fists. “Yes,” he said at last. “I was bitten. But I didn’t want you to freak out. Or more importantly, to waste any time on quarantine. I’d already slowed you down too much. The last thing I wanted was for you to die because of me. For the children to be left alone. I figured I’d get you guys as close as possible to Disney, and then, if I started seeing signs of infection, then… I’d take care of it.”

She stared down at his rifle, realizing it was the “taking care of it” part she’d just interrupted. “You’ve seen signs?” she asked, her voice hoarse. Her Chase, her beautiful, wonderful Chase—the first boy she’d ever opened her heart to and allowed herself to love—was going to turn into one of the pus-filled cannibal zombies? It didn’t seem possible.

He stretched out his leg and showed her a small boil. “I found this just a few minutes ago,” he said. “It’s the first sign. I’m sure of it.”

“It could just be a small infection,” she argued. “A coincidence. We’ve all got scrapes and cuts from being out on the road. We’re dirty and not eating right. Of course that can lead to infections. It doesn’t mean you’re turning into an Other.”

“Maybe, but I can’t take the risk. If I turn into a monster, I could hurt you. I could even kill you. I don’t want to endanger you or the children or anyone else here at the Hive. I don’t want to be like Spud, hurting my friends.”

Tears streamed through the vents in her lenses and Peyton fell to her knees by his side. He backed away, obviously afraid that even close proximity would spread the disease. But at this moment she wouldn’t have cared if he had a third eye and dripping wounds.

“Chase, what am I going to do without you?” she asked.

He reached over and patted her head awkwardly. It was first time he’d touched her since he’d been bitten. “You’ll be fine,” he assured her. “You’re safe here. You can start a new life. Maybe meet someone new, even. Start a family. I want you to be happy, Peyton. I love you.” His voice broke.

“Chase,” she said. “Listen to me. I’m not staying here. I need to go to Disney and find my father.”

“But I thought the doctors here cured you.”

“They did. I’m better already. But I made a promise to my dad and I’m going to keep it, no matter what. And,” she added, “you’re coming with me.”

Chase looked at her sharply. “What are you talking about? I just told you I might turn into a zombie.”

“Well, we’re close. And I’m willing to bet you still have time left. It usually takes two weeks? It’s been two days. We’ll get there much sooner than your deadline. You’ll be fine,” she said. “Look, Chase, my dad’s been working on a cure since before we even went underground. Surely by now he’s made some progress. Maybe we’ll get down there and he’ll have an antidote.”

“That’s a big maybe, Peyton. You don’t even know for sure he’s still alive.”

“I
know
,” she said firmly. “Don’t ask me how, but I’m sure my dad is still alive. I would know if he were dead. I came all this way. I
have
to believe.”

“And the antidote?”

“Well, I don’t know that for sure. But what do you have to lose, right?” She crossed her fingers, praying he’d see that what she was saying made sense.

He hedged. “I don’t know. I don’t like the idea of putting you in danger.”

“You’re not. Well, not for sure. A small boil does not a monster make. And you have time. We’ll be there in two days. And then, if there’s no antidote…” She drew in a breath. “Well, we’ll take care of things.”

He drew in a breath, was silent for a moment, then nodded. “Okay,” he said, his words filling her heart with joy. “I promised to get you to Disney World and that’s exactly what I’ll do. But I want you to carry the gun and keep it loaded at all times. The second you see some kind of serious change in me, you have to promise you’ll shoot me. Don’t hesitate. I won’t be me anymore.”

“Okay.” She’d agree to anything just to keep him from killing himself right then and there. Still alive, they had some hope. Not much maybe, but some. And that was all she could ask for.

“I’m serious, Peyton,” he said. “You have to be willing and able to shoot me. You can’t think about things. Remember Avery?”

“I know.” She sighed. “I remember, and I will. It’ll break my heart, but I will.”

He rose to his feet and pulled her close, careful not to let his knee touch her. He embraced her hard, crushing her against him, and it brought back memories of all those blissful kisses they’d shared. If only he would kiss her one more time. But, no. A hug was all she was allowed. All that was safe.

“I love you, Peyton,” he whispered in her ear. She felt his hot breath and squeezed him harder, wanting to pull him inside of her somehow and never let go. How was she going to live without this boy? She couldn’t.

Her dad had to have an antidote. He just had to.

“I love you, too, Chris,” she replied. “More than anyone ever.”

He pulled away so he could find her face with his kaleidoscope colored eyes. “Whatever happens,” he said, “it was all worth it, getting to spend this time with you. I don’t regret a thing.” He paused, then gave her a wry grin. “Well, except for letting that zombie get the jump on me.”

She felt tears dripping down her cheeks from her implants again and sank down on the couch. “Just hold me,” she begged. “For tonight.”

He looked torn. “It might be dangerous. I don’t want to infect you.”

“I’ll take the risk.”

He sank down next to her, looking ecstatic but also nervous, and took her in his arms. They lay down on the couch together, him spooning her from behind, keeping his leg raised away from her body. Tracing the outline of her cheek, he ran his finger to her ear, caressing gently, slowly, as if memorizing each contour with soft, worshipful strokes.

Peyton lay staring at the apartment wall across from her, hardly able to enjoy his touch, too busy praying over and over that they would make it to Disney. That her dad would be waiting with a cure.

And that she would never, ever be forced to put a bullet into the boy she loved.

Chapter Forty-three

It was raining the day they packed to leave. It wasn’t just drizzling, but hurricane-like downpours, gushing buckets of water down on their heads and worse, their supplies. Trey tied everything under tarps and shoved suitcases into garbage bags, but water damage was inevitable.

“What do you girls think, you’re going to Europe for the month?” Trey scolded as he shoved suitcase after suitcase into the ancient Ford E-Series van they’d bought off a black-market dealer for three hundred bucks. It barely ran, spilling out black goo and blacker smoke each time you turned on the engine. But it wasn’t a Smart Car, so it wasn’t traceable. Trey wasn’t taking any chances with the food they’d begged, borrowed, and stolen.

Thank God they had a sim Boy Scout like him leading things. After spending years of his life in rather impractical role-playing fantasy sims, Chris had very little clue about real life survival. But Trey was taking care of everything. He’d calculated food, supplies, even the number of people who could join them. Ten. Any more, he said, and there would be too many empty stomachs and too many fights.

“Oh no, here comes another one,” Chris said, pointing through the rain to a hooded individual running up the path. Ever since the kids in school found out they were skipping town, they’d had visitors up the ying-yang. Everyone wanted to escape, and they were willing to trade fancy, high-end sim decks, Mom’s jewelry—anything to strike a deal.

“Useless,” Trey would say. “What good will a sim deck be when there’s no power, no web?”

The figure approached, stepping under the awning where Trey and Chris were standing, pulled off her hood and looked up at Trey with big doe eyes. Anna Simmons. This ought to be interesting.

“Trey!” she cried. “I can’t believe you were going to leave without me.”

Trey looked down at her. And Chris could see the debate in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Anna,” he said. “We’re full. We can only take ten. You said you weren’t coming, and just because Richard broke up with you…”