Until the End of the World (Book 1)

  “Hey, thanks!” I call.

  They look up and around until they see me and move to stand under us. Penny leans out of the living room window and waves.

  “Oh, hey. You Maria Diaz’s girl, right?” the leader asks. Penny nods. “Listen, you need to stay inside. They’re everywhere.” He gives us a stern big brother look.

  “Are they all like this? So violent?” I ask. “They said they were attacking people, but it looked like they were eating—”

  “Oh, they’re eating.” He grimaces. “Make no mistake. And you have to get their heads or they don’t go down easy. Cut their necks or something. Crazy shit. You know, like zombies.”

  A younger kid wearing a baseball hat chimes in with lit up eyes. “It is, man. They are zombies. It’s just like that game. You know, the one where you—”

  “Christ, Carlos,” the leader says. “This is no game. You see that body? That could be you or your moms or your sister.” He looks up at us as Carlos surveys the remains and quiets.

  “Sorry. We got to go. I’m picking up my little sister from a friend’s house. Stay inside. Be safe. Tell your moms Guillermo said hi.”

  Penny says she will. We watch as they walk down the rest of the block and pause before every doorway.

  “Zombies,” James mutters. “Jesus.”

  It’s silent. Penny finally speaks. “I’m willing to entertain the idea that this virus is out of control. I’ll leave New York as soon as my mom comes home. She’ll know how bad it is. But, zombies? C’mon.”

  She crosses her arms, her face tight. Penny is practical and even-tempered like her mother, but I can see the doubt in her eyes even as she insists it can’t be true. They were eating that person, as hard as it is to believe.

  “You just saw them, Pen.” James gestures toward the window, then squeezes her shoulder gently. “I can’t rule anything out, can you?”

  Penny shakes her head, arms still crossed. He knocks a cigarette out of his pack. I haven’t smoked since I quit again a year ago, but I think I can break the rule this once. James is smoking out the window, as no one in their right mind would send him outside, so I drag a chair over. He knows what I’m after and hands me his, lighting another for himself.

  “Thanks,” I say, and take a deep drag. The nicotine tingles down to the tips of my fingers and toes. “I can smoke if it’s the zombie apocalypse, at least. What’s my life expectancy anyway? One week, maybe two?”

  James chokes on his smoke as I grin at him. “You’re sick.”

  “Humor is the last refuge of the damned. That’s what my mom used to say.” I take another drag. “I don’t know what else to do.”

  James closes his eyes. I stare down to where Half Neck and Old Lady are sprawled on the concrete. The windows of the building across the street are filled with people. A little girl with a ponytail waves at me, and I wave back. I can’t imagine what her parents are telling her about all this.

  James’s eyes open suddenly. “Does it really matter?” he asks us. “I mean, I’m sure they’re not really zombies, but they’re acting like them. If this is spreading fast we need to get out of here before the rest of New York figures out the same thing. We can’t afford to sit around waiting.”

  He’s right. The trick is to leave before everyone else does.

  Ana wanders into the living room. “Zombies?”

  I stub out my cigarette and answer. “Yeah, it seems the virus is creating something close to zombies.”

  “Ew.” Ana makes a face, not about zombies, but about the cigarette. She waves her hand at the smoke that’s nowhere near her. “So, what are we supposed to do?”

  “Leave the city,” Nelly says. He sits next to Penny, who’s chewing on a fingernail, and pats the couch on his other side.

  “And go where?” she asks.

  “My parents’ house upstate,” I say. “If we can get there.”

  Ana purses her lips. “Seriously?”

  “We’ll talk to Mama first, Ana, and bring her too. Don’t worry.” Penny reaches across Nelly and squeezes her hand.

  “I’ll try her,” Ana says, and grabs her phone. “Oh, Mama texted. It looks like she texted us both, hours ago, but I’m only getting it now.”

  I wonder why no one is panicking when even making a simple phone call is a challenge. But I guess it was the same during 9/11 and the blackout. Maybe we’re used to it now.

  Penny checks her phone and shakes her head. “I don’t have it. What’s it say?”

  “Virus very bad. Meet you at Cassie’s after work. Bring clothes. We leave city tonight. Explain later. Love you, Mama.”

  Penny’s eyes are huge behind her glasses. Ana shakes her head. “No way. Mama’s as bad as the rest of you!”

  I’m relieved. Not that it’s turning out to be as bad as James and I thought. But that we’ve gotten permission to follow our instincts. That maybe we’re not so crazy after all.

  CHAPTER 9

  Penny and Ana pack bags for themselves and their mother while we wait. Nelly smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t touch his eyes.

  I plop down next to him on the couch. “What’s wrong? That’s a stupid question. I mean, specifically, what’s wrong?”

  He looks down at his hands clasped between his knees. It’s been years since he’s worked on a ranch, but they still look like he does. He raises his eyes. “All those people out front of the hospital. If they’re all like those four, then how are they going to control them?”

  “I know. It’s still early. Maybe there’s some way…” I change the subject. “Have you spoken to your parents again?”

  “My mom emailed before we left work. They’re fine. Just a few sick there. They’re together, so I’m not too worried.”

  Nelly’s mom and dad and five siblings live near each other. They have cattle and a lot of guns. On my first visit Nelly had let them swagger around and show the City Girl how to hold a gun. Then I picked up a twenty gauge and blasted a can on a stump. Their mouths hung open until Nelly laughed and explained that my dad had taught me how to shoot when I was a kid.

  “Yeah,” I agree. “They’ll be okay.” I rest my head on his shoulder and wish I had parents to call.

  My dad was always ready for an emergency. When I was young it had been fun: target practice, pioneer skills, food storage, conspiracy theories. As I got older I’d thought he was wacky in a loveable sort of way. And as life went on with no great emergencies lasting over a three-day snowstorm, I ceased believing that something could go monumentally wrong. It was unimaginable that anything worse than both my parents dying in one moment could happen. There’d been no way to prepare for that.

  “So,” James’s voice breaks into my thoughts, “I’m seeing over two hundred thousand estimated infected here. The government has to be stretched pretty thin at this point. Especially since the rest of the country is fighting the same thing.”

  My dad always said it was better to be over-prepared than under-prepared. That he wouldn’t feel like a fool if nothing ever happened, and that only in recent decades did people think planning for a lean future was a waste of time.

  James taps a finger on his tablet. “The cities that were hit first are at forty percent infection. So that means if infection rates hold true, we could be looking at those numbers in days. Of course, this is all dependent on if they’ve quarantined most of the sick by now.”

  That’s almost half of the city. I can’t even fathom what that would be like. Maybe these websites are wrong and the Department of Health is right.

  “Maybe they can stop it,” I say. “You would think that they would’ve seen what should have been done in the Midwest and started doing it here.”

  James gives a sardonic laugh, and I admit he’s probably right.

  I miss my dad. It always seemed like nothing bad could happen if he was there to protect me. I remember standing down in the basement of their apartment as Dad showed me all the organized bins.

  He had handed me a heavy backpack. “This is
for you.”

  “What’s in it, an anvil?”

  “Funny. It’s your BOB. Your Bug Out Bag. It has what you need if you have to leave the city quickly.”

  I hugged him and laughed. “Okay, nutso.”

  He hugged me back, smiling but serious. “Keep it in your closet. I hope you never need it. But when I got to thinking about how you didn’t have one with you, now that you’re out of the house, I couldn’t sleep.”

  I patted his bushy hair. He tried to keep it tamed, but it grew in cowlicks and puffs with a life of its own.

  “Of course you couldn’t. How could anyone sleep soundly without a backpack full of escape gear?”

  He smiled but then shook his head at my levity. “All this,” he motioned at the bins, the cans of food, “is for you and Eric. I hope you never need it. My greatest fear is that I wouldn’t be able to take care of you guys. It’s a nightmare. You’ll understand one day.”

  I gave him a kiss. “Well, thank you, Daddy. I do appreciate it. Truly. I’ll keep this handy.”

  I knew it gave him a modicum of feeling in control, and it was harmless, really. He wasn’t one of those people who sat around hoping the world would end; he just felt more secure when he was prepared for anything. That bag is in the basement right now, still packed with what he thought would keep me safe. I’ll go through that first.

  “So, y’all, it’s great we’re leaving town and all. But just what are we leaving town in?” Nelly asks.

  “I was thinking we could take one of the vans from work,” I say.

  There are a couple of ten-passenger vans in the lot behind the building. Nelly and I both have driven them in the past.

  “I was thinking the same thing,” James says with a nod.

  A rumbling echoes down the hall. Ana enters rolling a suitcase and wearing ballet flats.

  “Huh,” Nelly says, completely straight-faced.

  “I’m thinking someone hasn’t grasped the gravity of the situation,” James mutters to Nelly.

  I attempt to keep my voice light. “Ana, do you have a backpack?”

  “I still have one from school. Why?”

  “Maybe you should pack in that.” I look down at my bare feet. “And shoes you can run in would probably be good.”

  Her upper lip curls. “Fine. Do you want to help me pack?”

  “Why not?” I wink at James and Nelly, who are still snickering, and follow her down the hall.

  Ana must have thought we were heading to the Caribbean, since I removed gauzy tank tops, a makeup bag and a pair of heeled sandals from her bag. Now she’s outfitted in a pair of decent shoes, jeans and a sweater. Penny’s in a similar outfit.

  “I’m scared, you guys,” she says.

  Her lower lip trembles and I give her a hug. “Whatever! So there are thousands of people who want to eat us alive. I don’t see what the big deal is.”

  The face I know almost as well as my own breaks into a smile. We can always make each other laugh, no matter how bad it is. We always have, ever since that sad girl whose papa had just died walked into my fifth grade class.

  “Love you,” she whispers and grabs my hand.

  “Love you back.” I squeeze. “It’ll be all right.”

  James opens his arms and she steps into his gangly embrace. I nod at Ana’s look and she grins. She’s always dying for Penny to meet someone, so I know she’s pleased, even if she thinks he’s a geek.

  Nelly stands up and claps his hands. “Shall we?”

  “We shall,” I say, as I link my arm into his.

  CHAPTER 10

  The streets are empty of infected, except for the bodies. The bodegas on the avenue are open, and people lug full bags as they hurry home. Some hang out, completely ignoring the pleas to stay indoors.

  By the time we reach my garden apartment my neck hurts from looking over my shoulder constantly. We troop down the hall into the living room. Someone’s in the kitchen, and for a moment I think it’s Eric, but that would be impossible. It’s Peter.

  He’s making himself something to eat and has his sleeves rolled up and his tie off. It’s the most untogether that Peter ever appears. He always looks so out of place in my apartment amidst the clutter of papers, books and art supplies. Not that I’ve used art supplies much in recent years, but I can’t bring myself to admit defeat and pack them up. I’m sure I look the same in his apartment with its big windows and clean lines. The minute I get there, it looks like I’ve exploded all over, even when I try to be neat.

  “Hey, babe. I was worried.” Peter wraps his arms around me so hard my air cuts off. I hug him back in surprise. I didn’t think Peter got worried. “We got a ride on another plane to LaGuardia, so I came straight here. And when you didn’t answer your phone…”

  I feel a pang of guilt at the concerned look in his eyes. All I’ve felt is relief that I won’t have to see him. I’m a horrible person, and I’m probably all he has. He lost his little sister and parents in a car crash when he was twelve. We have that in common; it may be the only thing we have in common. His rich, aloof grandma raised him until she died. He’s alone. At least I have Eric.

  My voice catches. “I’m sorry. I’m glad you made it back.”

  When I met Peter at a bar in the city I’d dismissed him. Smooth, charming rich guys from the Upper East Side aren’t my type. He insisted on buying me a drink, though, and I chatted with him while I counted down the minutes I had to be polite before I could escape. But when he asked if my parents still lived in New York, and I mentioned the accident, he didn’t make that uncomfortable face everyone makes just before they apologize.

  His eyes were dark and liquid when they met mine. “It’s like living in a house where the roof’s been torn off, isn’t it?” he asked, and I could tell he’d been waiting years to find someone to say that to. Someone who might understand.

  I nodded, shocked, because the feeling that there was no protection, nothing left to shield me from whatever fucked-up thing the world was going to throw at me next, was exactly how it felt. And I’d thought that maybe I’d unfairly judged the book by its cover. But that guy, the one in the bar with the kind eyes and startling insight, hasn’t shown his face in months, until now.

  It’s a brief appearance. Peter lets go abruptly and surveys all of us with a dark eyebrow raised. He goes from warm to cold so fast it can make my head spin.

  “So, what’s the deal with everyone here?” he asks.

  “We’re waiting for Maria, Penny and Ana’s mom,” I say. “She said we should get out of the city, so we’re going to my parents’ house upstate.”

  He gives a dismissive laugh. “Seriously? I think you might be overreacting a bit.”

  Ana nods in agreement with him. Traitor.

  I feel my usual annoyance at him swell. “Well, if wanting to leave a place where people are eating other people is overreacting, then sign me up. Were you chased by a man with half his neck missing? Did you watch four infected people eating someone?”

  “Cassandra, it’s a small outbreak. They have it under control. I spoke to friends in Manhattan and they say police are everywhere and the streets are empty.”

  He looks like a petulant little boy. I saw pictures of him once in an old album on his bookcase. They were from the years when his parents were alive. Peter had been a cute kid, with freckles that matched his dark hair and a wide, easy grin. He hadn’t looked bratty like he does now. When he’d gotten out of the shower and saw me looking at the album, he had smiled but put it away. The next time I was there it was gone.

  Ana flips her hair and smiles at Peter. It’s the smile she reserves for people who aren’t us. “See? It seems like they’re taking care of the situation in Manhattan. I’m sure we won’t have to leave.”

  Ana has a huge crush on Peter. She thinks it’s one of life’s great mysteries that Peter and I are together. I’m alternately irritated and amused by her consternation. Sometimes I name a place we’ve gone and watch her burn with jealousy, just to mess w
ith her.

  James smirks. “I think I’ll go by what Maria’s saying. Cassie, I’ve got to charge my iPad. Can I use your computer?”

  “Of course.” I look at Nelly. “Want to see what’s in the basement?”

  CHAPTER 11

  The plastic bins are stacked against the far wall of the basement. I’ve passed them a thousand times on my way to grab a can of tomatoes or something but never notice them anymore.

  “So, where to begin?” Nelly asks.

  “I guess we’ll start with the BOBs. That’s Bug Out Bag to you normal people. Filled with all the stuff you need to make a quick getaway.”

  We find four large backpacks on the top of the stack. Mine must weigh thirty pounds. The contents are neatly packaged in Ziploc bags and stuff sacks.

  “Why don’t you start emptying the others?” I ask. “Let’s pile it up next to each bag and see what we’ve got.”

  “You got it, Boss,” he says.

  I sift through my bag. There are energy bars and dehydrated food, water bottles, water filter, first aid stuff, toiletries, and the dorkiest sweatshirt ever, among other things.

  “Hey, Nels. What do you think?” I hold up the sweatshirt with a kitten painted on the front.

  “Nice,” he says. “You should totally wear that.”

  I laugh. “It had to be my dad. My mom would’ve known I wouldn’t be caught dead in it. He must’ve bought it so there’d be some warm clothes in here. At least the jeans look normal.”

  I’m still smiling. My dad was convinced I loved kittens even though I had grown out of that sometime, oh, around when I was ten. He always put something in my Christmas stocking that made me laugh until I cried: a fluffy kitten calendar, a notepad with cats wearing Victorian hats, those types of things. Now that I think about it, maybe he did know and liked to see my reaction. Suddenly the sweatshirt is the best gift I’ve gotten in a long time. I pull it over my head and wrap my arms around myself. It’s like a hug from my dad.