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

  “They’re like robots,” I say to Penny. “How do you do that?”

  “They listen to you, too.”

  “That’s only because I do fun stuff. If I taught math they’d be throwing spitballs at me. Now go lie down.”

  Penny flops on the pillows in the library. I think she’s asleep before she gets there.

  “We’re going to start working on self-portraits this week,” I say. “Who knows what a portrait is?”

  Ashley, who’s sixteen and arrived here last summer with her surrogate mom Nancy, says, “A picture of a person. And a self-portrait is a picture of yourself.”

  “Right.”

  “Cassie painted me a portrait,” Bits tells them. She pulls the locket out of her pocket. “It’s of my mom.”

  I pull out the art supplies while they pass it around. Some of the kids look at it longingly, and I’m sure they wish they had something similar. Chris, Doc’s twelve year-old son, had been on their annual father-son fishing trip to Vermont, and they never made it home to Mom. Even though Ashley has Nancy, she lost her parents. And the list goes on. I’d paint one for each of them, if only I knew their parents’ faces. Maybe if I teach them well enough they’ll be able to make their own before they really do forget.

  On my way to the front, I notice a photo of me in the locket, opposite the portrait. Adrian must have cut up an old picture for her. I know Bits loves me, but she kind of has to, since she has no parents. That she would put me into her locket, next to her real mom, makes my chest tighten—in a good way. I take a breath and turn to the class.

  “We’re going to make portraits of ourselves, like these.” I open the Frida Kahlo book to a self-portrait, one with Diego Rivera painted on her forehead. “We won’t only draw what others can see, but what’s inside, too. It can be anything—something that has meaning, something we love, even something we don’t like.”

  “She has a man on her head!” Chris says.

  “He’s not on her head,” Ashley says. She tosses her dark gold hair and raises her eyes to the ceiling. “She’s thinking about him.” Chris blushes, his unrequited love for Ashley apparent.

  “Let’s look at more of her paintings and talk about why you think she painted what she did.”

  They crowd around the book I set on the front table. Bits’s freckled face is serious; she loves art of any kind. And she’s good at it, like I always hoped my daughter would be. I smile and hope it conveys how much I adore her. And when she beams back, I think it must.

  CHAPTER 18

  I jolt awake when Bits leaps onto the bed.

  “It’s your birthday!” she screams into Adrian’s sleeping face, and his eyes snap open.

  “Yes,” he says, slowly coming to. “Yes, it is. And I can’t imagine a better way to be woken up than by such a pretty girl screaming in my ear.”

  Bits wiggles between us. She was ten times worse on her birthday. And this is before she has cake. “Party time! We took a vote, and we’re going to watch Ponyo.”

  The party is just dinner with something special for dessert, like we do for everyone’s birthday. But we always fire up the generator and let the kids watch a movie. They think it’s because we love them, but it’s to get them out of our hair while we drink a bit of alcohol.

  “That sounds great,” Adrian says. “But first, do you want your birthday present?”

  “It’s not my birthday,” Bits says.

  “Well, it’s mine. And I can give out birthday presents to anyone I choose. So, do you want it?”

  She stops bouncing and looks around the room. “Um, yeah! What is it? Can I have it?”

  “It’s not in here. It’s in the barn.”

  Her eyes grow round. “My kitten? I’m getting my kitten? Holy crap!”

  “Bits, language!” I yell, but she pays no attention, probably because I’m laughing.

  Adrian gives me a lazy smile. The kind that makes me want to stay in bed and do things. Things you can’t do around the eight year-old who just landed on me with a scream of joy.

  I wink and mouth, Later, then tickle Bits under her armpits. “Okay, let’s go get that kitten, potty mouth.”

  ***

  The gray-striped kitten’s name is Sparkle, and she’s unbearably cute, with her tiny white paws and pink nose. Actually, the kitten’s name is Sparkle Moon Rainbow, which is what happens when you let a fairy-obsessed eight year-old name a cat.

  I’ve just finished work at the laundry, which is the worst job here, barring anything related to zombies. It may not be as bad as Ma Ingalls had it, with the huge drums that we agitate using belts and a generator, but it still involves copious amounts of hot water and heavy lifting. We ran out of toilet paper months ago and switched to cloth. Thankfully, today was not a poop wash day because on those days I’m in the shower within eight seconds of the end of my shift.

  Now, back in my room, I hold Sparkle in the air and talk to her while her tiny purr motor runs. “I’m sorry about your name, but I figure we can call you Sparky. That’s not so bad, is it?”

  Adrian enters and I deposit her in his outstretched hands. “Oh, I love you, Sparkle Moon Rainbow.”

  “I’m going with Sparky,” I say. Adrian rubs Sparky against his cheek, and both of them close their eyes in pleasure. I have a sneaking suspicion he wanted this kitten as badly as Bits did. “So, is the cake almost decorated?”

  “Nope, Bits just threw me out of the kitchen. She’s waiting for it to cool.” I lock the door. Adrian places Sparky on Bits’s bed, and his eyes gleam. “Hi.”

  “Hello,” I say. “She’s going to be there for a while. She’ll want to sleep here tonight with the kitten, and we’d be evil if we said no. You shot yourself in the foot with that one.”

  Adrian laughs. “I realized that, but it was too late. We’ll work out custody arrangements with Peter tomorrow.”

  “So, do you want your present now or later?”

  “I thought this was my present.”

  “Nope.”

  “It’s all I want,” he says. “What else could you have gotten me?”

  I peel off the damp shirt I wore to the laundry and look in the dresser for something halfway decent to wear. Everything is so boring. I’m not a clothes horse, but something special would be nice every once in a while.

  “You’ll never guess,” I say. “Now or later?”

  He comes behind me and runs his hands down my sides. “Later. Definitely later.”

  I put on my only nice shirt, a black one that shows some cleavage, and sit on the edge of the bed. “Come here.”

  Adrian sits next to me, and I hand him the first box, which he rips open like a little kid on Christmas morning. He holds his iPhone in the air. “My phone?”

  I nod and give him the bigger box. He pulls out the charger that James made. It has a USB port and a solar panel that flips open, but it folds down to be carried in a backpack.

  “Sweetie, I can’t. I love it, but I—”

  I make a shushing noise and thrust his card into his hand. The glitter on the front drifts to his jeans as he reads the inside aloud, “We, the people of Kingdom Come Farm, insist you charge your phone and listen to music whenever you want. Love, everyone.” He looks up with a furrowed brow. “Did you make everyone here sign this?”

  “Every single person. Even Penny’s baby signed it.” I point to the tiny baby foot in the corner. “And I didn’t have to make them. They wanted to, I swear. Turn it on.”

  When the home screen appears, I press the music app, and then all his music is there, in his hand.

  “So, what are you going to play first?” I ask.

  “I—” he says. My heart falls when he grips his phone silently and presses his lips together. It’s not going to work, even with the card. I mentally line up all the arguments I prepared. But then he gives his biggest smile—the one with teeth and dimple and shining eyes. “Wow.”

  I bounce up and down on the bed. “You’ll use it?”

  “Yeah, I’ll
use it.”

  “And please don’t feel guilty. Everyone really, truly wants you to have it and James said that panel wouldn’t work in the system anyway and it was the thing you named in I Miss—”

  He covers my mouth with his hand. “Okay, okay. Thank you, I love it. It’s the best present I’ve ever gotten.”

  “Play something already!”

  He scrolls through his millions of songs and chews his lip. Adrian lives for music the way I live for books, and he’s looking for that first perfect song.

  “Here,” he says. He touches the screen, and “In the Aeroplane Over the Sea” begins.

  “Good choice.”

  “It’s for you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.” I start to argue, but he silences me with a shake of his head. “You are the kindest, most beautiful person I’ve ever known, inside and out. Don’t ever think I don’t know how lucky I am.”

  For once, I decide to take the compliment. It’s the best one I’ve ever gotten.

  CHAPTER 19

  Art class is over when Ana arrives at the school. The self-portraits are coming along nicely. The kids put away their sketches and line up at the door like good little robots, but you can still see their excitement. They love Ana, partly because she gets them out of the cabin and partly because she’s so enthusiastic about being their PE teacher.

  Today she’s set up boards to jump over and scramble under while she has them run. She made up a game that the kids named Dodge Tag, but which we privately call Zombie Tag. In this game almost everybody’s “it,” and the few who aren’t have to escape them. It may be called PE, but it’s not just for fun; they’re learning to evade, although they don’t know it. They have no idea that Ana’s obstacle courses give them stamina and the crazy ball games improve their reflexes.

  We try to protect them from the worst of it, but they all know how to aim and fire a gun. They also know how to use a knife, and everyone knows where to stab it. But mostly, we make sure they know how to run. We want them fast and tireless. If they didn’t have such short legs, they’d probably be faster than me.

  “Okay,” Ana says as they file out the door. “Get on your teams and get ready. You’re not getting dinner unless you win.”

  She winks at me when they giggle. I follow them into the sunlight and talk to Ana while the first team finishes. Ashley stands next to us and crosses her arms.

  “I don’t see why I can’t do patrol,” she says. “I’m sixteen. I don’t know why I have to sit in school with all the little kids.”

  “It’s because you’re sixteen,” Ana says. “You should be learning, not spiking zombies.”

  “You could use me. I’m trapped in there all day, and I hate it.”

  “If you do patrol, you have to do poop day and all the other gross jobs, too,” I say. “I’d rather be in school. And every teenager hates being trapped in school all day. It’s part of being a teenager.”

  She isn’t convinced, though, and she narrows her eyes. “That’s when school was normal. There’s not even anyone to hang out with.” She makes that teenage noise in the back of her throat. “I hate my life!”

  “How about I talk to Maureen and Nancy about letting you do guard every once in a while?” Ana asks.

  “Really? Oh my God. Thank you, Ana!”

  Ashley rushes off to join her team, and I turn to Ana. “They’re never going to let her do it.”

  “I know. But it’ll be their fault, and she’ll love us and hate them.”

  “You’re diabolical. I’m so glad you’re on my side.”

  Ana grins and calls the kids over. “All right, now we’re going to go for a run. Cass, want to come?”

  I back away slowly. Ana made me run with her all winter and stab things in ice-cold barns. I gave in because I didn’t want to get out of practice, but there’s no way I’m running now that we have Lexers to kill. Not unless I’m being chased.

  “Shucks,” I say, and snap my fingers. “I’ve got dinner shift. See you later, everyone.”

  ***

  I stand behind where Adrian splits wood under the cover of the trees behind the barns. Summer may be coming, but we need wood for the kitchen year-round, and it takes a lot of wood to keep everyone warm in the winter. Cords of firewood are under the barns’ eaves in tarp-covered stacks, with more waiting in piles to join them. I take a moment to admire the way Adrian’s t-shirt sticks to his back. He wasn’t a slouch in the muscle department to begin with, but now with the farm work we have to do by hand—it’s one of the silver linings in a very dark, zombie-shaped cloud. Barnaby sits by his side and squeezes his eyes shut every time the axe falls, due to the fact that with every third strike a wood chip smacks him on his head.

  Adrian looks down and nudges him with a boot. “C’mon, Barn. Move it.”

  Barnaby gives him a doggy grin and stands his ground. Adrian pats him on the head and then pushes him, but Barnaby leans into his hand and pants happily. He’s not budging.

  “Well,” Adrian says, “if you’re not going to move, then I can’t be held responsible for what transpires.”

  Adrian positions both hands on the axe and swings. I wait for a lull and call out his name, but he doesn’t turn; he must be wearing his ever-present earbuds. When he stops to swig water, I sneak up and pull the old fourth-grade trick of pushing the back of his knee with mine. He spins around in surprise and pulls out his headphones

  “If I were a zombie, I would’ve bit you,” I say.

  Adrian laughs. “Art class over?”

  “Yep. I’m on guard tonight, and I’m filling in for Penny at dinner, so I wanted to give you a goodnight kiss.”

  He grabs my hand and makes loud kissing noises up and down my arm. “But how will I sleep without you, sweet cheeks?”

  “Snuggle with Barnaby.”

  Barnaby wags his tail and looks receptive to the idea. He arrived last fall with his name tag still on, otherwise we would have named him something halfway normal. It said he’d lived down south, near Manchester. How such a clueless animal found his way to us, I’ll never know, but he immediately decided that Adrian was his Person.

  “You will, won’t you?” Adrian asks him, and kneels down for dog kisses.

  “Maybe I don’t want that goodnight kiss after all. God only knows what’s been in there today.”

  “Old Barn and I have an understanding. He’s even learned a trick.”

  He stands and points his finger at the ground. “Sit, Barnaby.” Barnaby looks at Adrian’s finger and remains on all fours.

  “He did it earlier. Sit, Barn. Sit!” Barnaby continues to watch him blankly.

  “Great trick,” I say.

  “Stand, Barn. Stand up.” Barnaby wags his tail, and Adrian gives his head a pat. “Amazing, isn’t it?”

  “You’re a dog whisperer. The likes of which have never been seen.”

  “I know.”

  The light filters through the branches and casts highlights on Adrian’s cheekbones. His eyes are green against the brown tree trunks, and his smile is so broad that I want to freeze the image.

  “Let me see your phone,” I say. “I’m taking a picture, so be good.”

  He pulls it from his pocket. Usually, he balks at having his picture taken by himself, but he keeps smiling until I’ve finished.

  “Perfect,” I say. “We should take more pictures, now that we can.”

  I decide to behave when he turns it on me and then move around so we’re both in a shot. He drags his tongue up my cheek as he presses the shutter.

  “Yuck!” I yell, and scrub my cheek with my hand. “I don’t want your germs on me!”

  “That’s not what you said the other night.”

  I push him. “One more. A nice one this time.”

  Dan comes around the barn and when he sees what we’re doing he insists on taking the shot. He hands it back and picks up an axe.

  “Hey, Dan,” I say, and point it his way. “That’s a keeper. I’m definitely putting you two in th
e Hunks of Kingdom Come Calendar.”

  They laugh, and I turn to Adrian for a kiss. “I’ve got to go. Goodnight, my little puppy dog.”

  I wave goodbye, and as I walk away I hear Dan ask, “Can I call you puppy dog?”

  “Absolutely,” Adrian answers. “If you want to be banished for life.”

  CHAPTER 20

  I tip my head to watch the stars in the night sky down at the first gate. The thin, white streak of a meteor moves across the sky and fades away.

  “I just saw a shooting star,” I say. “Everyone make a wish.”

  “You know, it’s not really a star,” Nelly says.

  “Yes, Mr. Spoilsport, I know it’s not really a star. Forget it—I’m not sharing my wish with you.”

  Peter laughs from his chair. The three of us pulled night duty tonight, and I’ve been looking forward to it all day.

  “So, Peter, Ana hasn’t been asking to do patrol constantly,” I say. “Did you talk some sense into her, or what?”

  “I wish. It’s the garden,” Peter says. “She’s too busy bossing Adrian and Ben around. She’s driving them crazy.”

  May is days away, and although the last frost date this north isn’t until the end of May, it’s time for the cool season vegetables to go in. We still have potatoes left in the root cellar, but I want a big spinach salad and carrots in the worst way.

  “Adrian can handle it,” I say. “Remember, he knew her for years. He likes that she’s into the garden now. And she grilled him on it all winter, so she does it his way, mostly. Ben, on the other hand, might be losing his mind.”

  I was out there today, and watched Ana stand Ben down about whether the carrots should be sown closer together. Finally, just to get rid of her, Ben let her plant some of them her way to see if it worked better.

  Footsteps crunch on the road behind us. It could be our hot drink delivery; sometimes someone takes pity on us and sends us food and drink.

  “It’s Dan.” He appears in the lamplight and sits in an empty camping chair. “What’s up?”