Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After (30 page)

“It’s fine,” I say, and resume scanning the road.

“Don’t be mad at me, Cass. Please?”

“Why? Since when do you care if anyone’s mad at you?”

“I care if
you
are. You may be Penny’s best friend, but you’re mine, too. Please?”

She’s made an art of begging to get her way, but I hear an authentic tone of misery in her voice. I let her stew a minute longer and turn to her. “I’m not mad anymore. It’s just that I love you and Peter, and I don’t want things to be weird.”

She shrugs. “Well, it’s not weird for me.”

“That’s because you’re not human. It’s usually not weird for me, and I want it to stay that way. But you bringing it up like that
was
weird, okay?” Ana looks properly scolded, so I wrap an arm around her. “You know you’re one of my best friends. It’d be a shame if I had to kill you.”

Ana kisses my cheek before we break apart to watch in opposite directions. There’s not much to do. The road has only the occasional abandoned car and the adjoining streets are residential and empty. The roar of the tanker’s pump and the portable pump we use to fill the tanks drown out any noise, so we have to rely on sight alone. The only other movement is Kyle, who stands out front of the Mobil. He lifts his chin and makes his way over to us.

“How’s it going?” he asks. “The ground tanks are about full over there. John says the color looks good. It’ll take ten minutes to fill the truck.”

“Same over here,” I say. “It’ll be nice if we can go home after this.”

Kyle nods and stands at attention, rifle against his shoulder. He wears dark sunglasses and his usual serious expression. One day I’m going to make him laugh his ass off, if it’s the last thing I do. I look to where Peter, Dan and Nelly hold the hoses into the rectangular tanks in the pickup’s bed. The drums are done, and the tanks won’t take much longer. Caleb and Toby stand like tightrope walkers on the guardrail that separates the station from the vine-covered trees behind. Caleb points two fingers to his nose and does an arabesque.

I nudge Ana with my elbow. “Look at those idiots.”

Kyle snorts and Ana laughs, but if Dan or Peter catches them they’re never going on patrol again. Caleb hasn’t been all there since Marcus died. I may not be the poster girl for sanity, but I’ve regained my sense of self-preservation, whereas Caleb hasn’t.

“You guys okay here?” I ask. “I’m going to tell them to knock it off.”

Toby wraps an arm around a spindly tree. At first it looks as though he’s lost his balance in whatever game they were playing, but then I see the hands tangled in his dreadlocks, and he goes down with an open-mouthed scream I can’t hear. Shadowy figures appear in the spaces between the trees. Caleb tries to leap, but his ankle is pulled out from under him. He slams face-first into the guardrail before being dragged back into the foliage.

Ana and I take off at a run. Our shouts are drowned out by the pump’s motor. Finally, Nelly looks up when we’re twenty feet away and follows our fingers to where Toby and Caleb were a moment ago. They’re gone now, and in their place are a dozen Lexers. They spill over the guardrail one by one, first falling on the ground, and then slowly staggering to their feet.

Ana and I fire at their heads when they hit the asphalt. There are more than I thought. Too many. Another dozen trip over the guardrail at once, and then eight are on their feet, with more behind them.

The pickup slams to a halt beside us, and Peter leans across the seat to pop the passenger door. Ana and I cram ourselves into the front and watch the Lexers follow. A couple have faces smeared with the bright red of Toby and Caleb’s blood.

“Where’s John?” Ana yells.

“They’re okay,” Peter says.

He pulls out of the lot and stops in front of the Mobil, with Nelly and Dan behind in the other pickup. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see John and the rest moving toward us in the trucks. We roll down the road for a quarter of a mile and stop side by side with the tanker.

Zeke says, “What happened? Is everyone okay?”

Peter looks to us. There hasn’t been time to explain, but he knows not everyone is okay.

I pop open the door and stand on the running board. “Caleb and Toby—” I choke on their names. “They weren’t looking. They got pulled into the trees.”

Zeke hangs his head, and I see the disbelief on the others’ faces. John leans into my line of vision. “Could they be—”

I shake my head. There’s no way they’re alive. Stupid, stupid Caleb. He was only twenty, and Toby wasn’t much older. If they were okay I’d smack them first and then hug them. I look down the road. The pod has hit the pavement and they’re coming our way.

“There’s nothing we can do,” Zeke says. “Let’s go.”

The words may sound cold, but his face is haggard and his shoulders slump as he says them. And that’s what we do: We leave people behind.

There’s nothing to bury, and neither of them had family left, so their belongings have gone to their closest friends or back into the general supplies. Dinner was a subdued affair, and we sit in shock at the tables after most people have left.

Liz’s face is streaked with tears. She wipes at her face and inspects the wetness on her hand as though it’s a foreign substance. “He was so annoying. Like a pesky, incestuous little brother.” She sob-laughs. “I loved that kid.”

I give her a hug. Her tough, sinewy body yields, and she holds me tight. We’re having a bonfire in their honor tonight: our post-apocalyptic version of a wake. Caleb never got his birthday party, and Toby was always trying to arrange a bonfire and score alcohol to make it livelier. He rarely got the alcohol, but tonight we’re going to drink it for him.

I help bring bottles of wine to the spot behind the first barn, up near the orchard. It’s far enough away from the sleeping quarters that it won’t wake the kids. We have all kinds of wine here; Jeff appropriates any uneaten or un-canned fruit for wine-making.

He takes a bottle out of the crate I set down and holds it up to the sunset. It matches the gold color of the sky. “Watermelon wine. It’s just ready now, after a year. It’s a tough one to make, but if it’s done right, it’s delicious. I make it sweet. Man, Toby wanted some in the worst way.” He sets the bottle down and sighs. “I’d let him drink it all if he were here.”

Meghan and some of the other girls drop their crates before they sit on a blanket. Usually they’re big gigglers, but not tonight. Even the older folks are here, and some kids. I wave Bits over and find a spot on an old sheet with Henry and Hank.

Hank’s eyes are gigantic. “Cassie, is it true that they just grabbed them? Right off a fence?”

Bits watches me closely. Henry shushes Hank, but there’s no taking the question back.

“Yes,” I say. “But they weren’t being safe. They weren’t paying attention. They were supposed to be watching their own backs, and ours, and they forgot how serious a job that was.”

Hank shakes his head at Bits, who looks upset but not frightened. I take her hand in mine, and she looks around furtively; she doesn’t want to be seen holding my hand. Henry gives me a join-the-club look, and I laugh. It’s a good thing: I was afraid I was going to have to snuggle her to sleep when she was twenty.

“Bits and I would never do that,” Hank says. “We have each others’ backs. Right?”

“Even if you were trapped, with no hope of escape,” Bits says, “I’d come for you.” She squints into the distance, her smooth, freckled face screwed up in determination. Hank nods in satisfaction.

“I’m glad to hear that,” Henry says. “Now I won’t worry.”

He coughs into his hand. The image of these two small-for-their-age kids saving the world is both incredibly sweet and hilarious.

“How are the new digs?” I ask Henry.

Two of the long cabins have been completed. Families get first dibs, and Hank and Henry moved into the second cabin a week ago.

“Great,” Henry says. “And seeing as how I’m one of the electricians, I’m working out a way to get us some power for the winter. Those skylights are nice, but it’s still gonna be dark.”

“How about you hook up my cabin after that?” I ask with a wink.

He leans back and watches a young guy named Troy light the wood in the pit. “James and I already have the plans drawn up.”

“I knew you were a keeper,” I say. “One of the best things I ever did was to meet you, Henry.” I’m joking, but that doesn’t make it less true.

“We wouldn’t have survived, Hank and I, without that gun you gave us at the campground.”

This is America, land of the armed, and I’m sure they would have found something. But if his belief gives me electricity sooner rather than later, I won’t argue.

“I wish Dot were here,” he says. Bits and Hank are busy discussing something school-related, so they don’t hear. The lines around his mouth turn down, and he shrugs in apology.

“I understand. It’s a beautiful night.” Even though we’re gathered to mourn, it’s also a celebration that we’re alive. And we want the people we love at a celebration.

“I’m all he has left,” Henry says quietly. “What if something happens to me?”

“You know I’d take care of Hank,” I say. “I’d do anything to keep him safe. I promise you that.”

Henry watches me, his brown eyes solemn. “You would, wouldn’t you?”

“You would too, for Bits.”

Henry puffs up his cheeks and releases a breath. “Yeah. I would.”

“So we have a deal,” I say, and hold out a hand.

He takes it in his. “Deal.”

I take a sip of watermelon wine. Jeff wasn’t kidding about the sugar. The sun has dipped behind the trees, and the woods beyond the fence and trench are already dark, but rays of sun still angle over the barn and orchard.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” I say.

I walk to the edge of the orchard, out of sight of the fire, and stand at Adrian’s grave. At least he has a grave. Dot doesn’t, neither do Caleb and Toby. I feel bad that I don’t visit more often, but I can’t find him here. I don’t know where else to talk to him, though. Talking to the phone seems weird, although I feel him more when I hold it in my hands.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

The apology slips out. I’m not sure what I mean at first, until I understand it’s for trying to be happy without him. It’s what I would want, if our roles were reversed, but I can’t shake the feeling that it somehow belittles what we had. I should be tearing my clothes, throwing myself on his funeral pyre, but instead I keep on going. Because that’s what we do.

The bonfire is at full-tilt. There’s no way all this noise isn’t drawing Lexers, but no one seems to care. I know I don’t. My face is flushed with wine, and when Nelly tries to talk to me on the blanket, I point a finger at him.

“I’m still mad at you,” I say. I sound sloppy drunk.

Nelly doesn’t look much better than I sound; even his hair looks drunk. He kneels and puts a heavy hand on my knee. “C’mon. You know I love you, Half-pint.”

“Promise you’ll stop bothering me about this, then.”

“Not fair! You bother me all the time.”

I press my forehead against his. “That’s different. You don’t feel like a bad person. You can tease me about something else.”

We’re so close that in the firelight he has four eyes, and all of them blink slowly. His forehead rubs mine when he shakes his head. “You are not a bad pershon. Did I just say
pershon
?”

I crack up. He pulls me down so we’re lying on our backs. “Per-sssson,” he says. “You know what I mean. You’re not a bad one.”

Penny sits next to us and hands me a canteen of water. “Drink, both of you. Do you know how annoying it is to be missing the first full-on drinking party in a year?”

I put my hand on her stomach. “You’re creating a person, Pentastic. You’re beautiful and brimming with life. It’s a miracle!” I enunciate each word clearly, but it still comes out sounding like a drunken sorority girl.

“You should be high on life!” Nelly yells. “All we have is this here delicious wine.” He attempts a sip, but since he’s lying down, half of it runs to his neck.

“And you have no idea how annoying drunk people are when you’re not drunk,” Penny mutters. “Promise me a party after I pop this kid out.”

“Absolutely,” I say. “Abso-fruitly!”

“I’m going to bed,” Penny says, looking somewhat mollified. “Want me to take Bits? Or are you so drunk that you’ve lost her?” The corner of her mouth rises.

“Hey! What are you trying to say? She went with Henry and Hank. They stopped to get her cot so she could sleep over. I know where my kid is!”

“It’s ten p.m. Do you know where your children are?” Nelly says, like the gloomy voice in the old PSA. Penny sighs when we roll around in drunken laughter.

She bids us goodnight, and we lie on the blanket and talk until Nelly begins to yawn. “Today sucked,” he says. “God, it sucked.”

“That’s why we’re drunk.”

“Uh-huh. And that’s why I’m going to bed. Tomorrow’s another day.”

“What? Don’t leave me.”

Nelly sits up. His smile isn’t his usual smirk. “Don’t worry, there’s someone waiting in the wings. He has been all night. Good night, darlin’.”

He kisses my forehead and slowly rises to his feet. I’m about to follow when Dan appears next to me. I take the full cup out of his hand and swig.

“Haven’t you had enough?” he asks.

“Nope,” I say. “I’m just getting started. The fun has just begun.” Except it comes out as
hash jusht begun
.

He nods, straight-faced, and I push him. “You’re right. Okay, I’m done. Do you want your prize?”

“What prize?”

“I got you a prize today. Don’t get too excited, though. It’s not that great.” He stares at me without blinking. “What? Is that weird?”

“No, it’s not weird. It’s nice.”

His whole face shines. It makes me wonder if I should have said anything, and I try to play it down. “Well, like I said, don’t get too excited. It’s in my cabin. Walk me to get it?”

Dan pulls me to standing. I walk beside him, chattering about everything and nothing, partly because he’s so quiet, and partly because it keeps my mind off of Caleb and Toby. I run to the cabin to grab my leather jacket and meet him at his tent. The tent floor trips me on my way in, and I giggle when I sprawl on the ground.