“Of course,” I say.
Chapter 25
Sylvie
Sunset Park Safe Zone is packed with people. Or it feels that way from where we sit at the stone chess tables overlooking the gardens. Manhattan is in full view across the water, and the remnants of a dark cloud linger close to downtown. We don’t know why or how it came to be, but it’s been there since yesterday, slowly dissipating into clear air.
The park is surrounded by a stone wall and rises in a grassy slope from Fifth Avenue, though the grass has been torn up and planted with rows of vegetables. We sit where the park flattens to street level at Sixth Avenue, with the playground, handball, and other sports courts behind us. A fenced outdoor pool sits past those and is accessed by the brick recreation center at Seventh Avenue, whose locker rooms, gymnasiums, and offices now hold food and supplies. A swim would be nice on a muggy day like today, but the pool is dry. They can barely keep up with water for the people and gardens.
They guard the roofs of the buildings around the park, and every intersection is walled off by brick or cinderblock, with gates set in the middle at three. Double gates, actually. Guillermo may be warm-hearted enough to feed everyone he meets, but he’s similarly vigilant.
While I don’t want to move here as Indy suggested, there’s something to be said for a full night of sleep—or so I’ve heard—and the idea that no one can fuck with you. Of course, if someone wants to fuck with you they’ll find a way to do it, but the idea is reassuring.
Eli strolls to our table. “We’re going to the warehouse tomorrow to finish the job. You want to join us?”
The people must be fed, and though the Key Food was well-stocked, it’ll run out. All the food will run out, a thought that makes my breath short if I think on it too long. So I avoid thinking about it, just like I don’t think about Eric’s birthday four days away and how he may not return. I’ve decided to pretend it doesn’t exist—he doesn’t exist—and though Grace would bang her head against a wall at my lack of emotion, it’s such a familiar crutch that it’s almost effortless. The less you let yourself care, the less you feel. Simple and painless.
“Sure,” Paul says. He looks to Maria. “If that’s cool?”
Maria smiles at Leo. “If it’s cool with this one. You want to hang out with me tomorrow?” Leo nods happily, likely because they’re going to eat something delicious.
“I want to hang out,” I say. “What candy do we have?”
“You’re worse than him. No candy.”
“Fine. Then I guess I’m going.”
“All right,” Eli says, and bends toward Grace. “You know the asana that was giving me trouble? I think I got it.”
“That’s great,” she says.
Eli inclines his head. “Yeah.”
“Where’s your sister?” I ask. I haven’t seen her since our nacho cheese night. We hung out in the morning and didn’t make fun of Grace’s and Eli’s third eyes, or not where they could hear us.
“She said she’d be over in a minute.” Eli’s even less forthcoming with words than usual, which might break a record if not for Gary. He drums his fingers on his thigh and pivots to Grace. “Would you want to come and tell me if I’m doing it correctly? I set up a studio in our house.”
“We’re not leaving for a while, right?” Grace asks, and then stands when we shake our heads. “Sure.”
Eli’s cool expression morphs into a warm, wide smile that could melt the polar icecaps. “Great.”
The change is so rapid it makes me think his casual manner was anything but. I don’t blame him—Grace is pretty and open and genuine—but her husband is newly absent. And, even if Logan never existed, she’s into emotional connections, not one-night stands with Casanova yogi-lawyers.
“You know what I was thinking?” Grace asks, and Eli shakes his head. “That you could use more Savasana. I bet you were always jumping up to do some lawyerly thing instead of absorbing the benefits of the poses.”
Eli chuckles and steps aside so she can pass, then strides to catch up to her. “Sometimes.”
“Try most of the time,” she says. He murmurs something, and Grace squeals, “Liar! You look like you’re still, but I think you…”
Her voice fades as they walk down the wide concrete path. Grace is small beside Eli’s tall frame and she’s blabbing away, hands waving in the air, while he cowers in a jokey pose.
Indy appears and perches on the concrete table beside me. “Where are they going?”
“Yoga.”
“Again? I like yoga fine, but Eli spent three hours twisting himself into weird positions yesterday.”
Maybe he likes yoga as much as he says. I wouldn’t fault Grace if she hooked up with him, but she has no problem shooting men down—she’s had a lot of practice, since they basically fall all over themselves to get close.
Except Paul, who appears to have no interest in anything female. From what Eric says, Paul and his wife were happily married, but he doesn’t check anyone out in a cursory fashion. Not even Grace and Indy—and I check them out. His arms are spread over the back of his bench and his blue eyes scan the top of the park, where non-adult humans frolic. He shifts his gaze my way. “What’re you looking at?”
“That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
He snorts and uses his boot to nudge Leo on the ground at my feet. “Why don’t you go play with some of the kids?”
Leo shakes his head and scratches at the concrete with a stick. We brought him here so he could do just that, but he hasn’t left my side all day.
“C’mon Leo, you need to be socialized,” I say. “Too much time with me will make you an outcast.” Leo stays intent on the ground. Normally, this kid is berserk, but maybe he’s shy out of our yard. I get it—I’m shy out of our yard. “Let’s go make you some friends.”
I get to my feet while I tell myself that making friends with five-year-olds can’t be that hard. Leo rises, head ducked and shoulders rounded in a way that makes my heart twinge.
“I’ll take him,” Maria says, grabbing hold of Leo’s hand. “You stay.”
“Why?”
Maria presses her lips together like she can’t think of the right words and is afraid the wrong ones will escape. Paul says, “Because you’ll screw it up.”
“Really, that’s why?” I ask Maria.
“Indy came to see you,” Maria says. “You can’t run off.”
This is both an answer and a non-answer to my question. I open my mouth to argue but close it at the thought of that mob of kids—I’m better off sticking to a mob of zombies. I pat Leo’s head. “Maria’s the right choice here, kiddo.” After they’ve left, I ask Paul, “Should he be around other kids more?”
“That’s why you should move here,” Indy says.
“I don’t know,” Paul says, eyes on the path to the playground. “Do you think I’m screwing him up?”
“Move here,” Indy whispers. I jab her thigh, but she begins a soft chant.
“No, not at all,” I say to Paul. “I was just curious. What do I know about—” I turn to Indy, whose chanting has grown louder, and yell, “Keep that up and I am never moving here!”
Indy breaks off with a cackle. Guillermo walks up and asks, “Why are you never moving here?”
“Because India is annoying.”
“We might be going upstate, anyway,” Paul says, and flashes his teeth. “But, also, Indy is annoying.”
“I hate you both,” she mutters.
“I’ll tell you who’s annoying,” Guillermo says. “Carlos.”
Indy leans back on her elbows. “Seriously. What is going on with that?”
“What?” I ask.
“Carlos came to me and asked if he could date Marissa,” Guillermo says, half-amused and half still in shock at Carlos’ audacity. “I told him no. He just turned twenty. She’ll be eighteen soon, and she can do whatever she wants then. So now he’s moping around when he’s not trying to show off for her.”
Havi
ng had Carlos preen for me, I can only imagine what it must be like when you’re around him constantly. But she’s young; she might like the attention. “What does Marissa want?”
“Don’t know. Doesn’t matter. She’s underage.”
“Don’t you think she should be involved in this discussion? She’s seventeen, not seven.”
“You want to involve her? Talk to my mother.” His head shake warns that would be risky. “You should’ve heard my mom yelling about teen pregnancy after she caught April and Vinnie making out the other day. I’m not getting involved with that shit. I have enough to think about.”
“They were only kissing,” Indy says. “Lupe yelled at me, like I had something to do with it. I sent Vinnie and Jayden down to the warehouse to keep them safe.”
“Was Jayden making out, too?” I ask. It’s hard to imagine Jayden putting the moves on someone, but I guess he could play the baby-faced cute angle.
“No, he volunteered. He’s probably eaten all the chips by now.”
This place is entertaining as hell, as long as I stay in this one spot and don’t have to talk to the other seventy people here. “Maybe you should come live with us.”
“Believe me, I’m thinking about it,” Guillermo says, “but I don’t think I can look at your cat every day.” He jumps to dodge my boot. “We’re gonna get the rest of the chips tomorrow. Then we go looking for more food in the next few weeks—we think we know a few places. They won’t be easy, but easier than Fort Hamilton. You in?”
I want to say we’re not because we’re going upstate to a log cabin with lots of food and a garden where we’ll live happily ever after. I suspect Paul does, too, judging by the shadow that flits across his brow. He hasn’t said another word about Leo’s safety, but as we made our way here today—the first time Leo’s left our block—Paul was so on edge you could’ve used him to cut through metal.
I may not allow myself to think about gardens and cabins and a certain hazel-eyed someone, but I can’t keep pretending food doesn’t exist. I wait for Paul’s nod and add my own.
Chapter 26
We spend the morning reconstructing our path to the warehouse by returning vehicles to their assigned spots in the main intersections. At first, it seemed like a great idea to leave our route in place, but when a mob wanders down the avenue and can’t get around the wall of cars, it hangs around. That’s what kept Eric here for an extra night, and I wish they hadn’t left.
We reach the gate with three trucks, enough to empty the place for good. Paul and I idle in the back of the line. He leans out the window, ignoring the two Lexers plodding toward us down First Avenue, and mutters, “What’s the hold up?”
The trucks ahead move forward, and we follow them down to the warehouse once the gate is closed. Guillermo exits his truck, wiping his hands on a small towel. He doesn’t always wear gloves, which, in my opinion, is bonkers.
“There were a few on the street,” he says over the beeping of the truck Eli backs to a loading bay.
“Behind the gate?” Paul asks. Guillermo nods, eyebrows in a V.
Access to this street is either gated or blocked by a building, but they could’ve fallen from a roof or out a window. There are endless possibilities to the ways in which zombies will try to eat you. Eli’s truck quiets, and we watch the warehouse door. With the noise we’ve made, the people in there should’ve been out by now, but it remains closed.
Guillermo approaches the door with heavy feet and then lifts a hand to knock three times. “Gus! Vinnie!”
A muffled thump jars the door, and I jump straight back into Indy. Guillermo has gone a sickly yellow color. He takes a breath. “Spread out. I’ll open it.”
I take a place on the asphalt between Paul and Indy, pull out my chisel, and re-swallow the morning bag of chips that climbs up my throat. It’s not the killing of zombies—I’ve done that a million times—it’s the killing of zombies I know. People I know.
Guillermo bashes the door with his shoulder. It flies inward and he moves to the street, axe at the ready. They shuffle out a moment later. I don’t recognize the first six bodies who move to the right, but two who head our way are another story.
I keep my eyes on Jayden. Pallid, bloody Jayden, who’s coming for me. Out of all the people in there, he’s the one I most didn’t want to finish off. Vinnie’s colorful tracksuit flashes in the corner of my eye, on his way to Indy. Paul steps forward to entice the remaining two—residents of Sunset Park I know only by sight.
I’d use the gun, but I don’t trust myself to get it right. Jayden’s lips twist in a snarl. His hands are talons. Plunging my chisel through that sweet face gone vicious is a sickening thought. When he’s three feet away, I kick his legs out from under him, pin his writhing body to the ground with my knee, and bring the chisel through the soft roll of flesh at the back of his neck. I angle it up and push it into his brain with a crunch that makes me shudder.
He stills. I rise to my feet and breathe deep to quell my nausea, but the air tastes like dead flesh. I stumble across the street and press my cheek to the cool brick of a building. Close my eyes. Swallow excess saliva. At last, my stomach begins to settle.
A hand touches my arm. “Jayden,” Paul breathes, a lament and sympathy wrapped in one.
“I’m fine,” I say.
He pats my back as we walk to where Indy kneels over Vinnie. His skinny face is mangled, both from Lexer teeth and where Indy’s knife hit just below his eyeball, popping it out of its socket. I fight the nausea again, grateful I flipped Jayden over before I shoved a sharp object through his flesh. Indy drops her gory knife and wipes her hands on her pants, jaw slack. Paul picks up the blade, cleans it with another body’s tattered clothing, and then returns it to her side without a word.
Bodies lie scattered on the street. Four people who died for potato chips and the eight zombies who killed them. “What the fuck happened?” Paul asks. Guillermo shakes his head weakly and moves for the warehouse.
“Wait up,” Eli says. He flicks on the headlights of the truck at the second loading door and then strides into the building.
A minute later, the door rolls up. We file inside and check behind pallets, under tables, and in the break room and bathrooms at the far end. It’s empty, and there’s no sign of forced entry.
“They must’ve let them in by accident,” Guillermo says. “Or left the door open or something.”
“Is anything missing?” Paul asks.
Guillermo circles a hand. “Look at this place, man. Someone could take five pallets and we’d never know.” He points to an overturned table and torn up, bodily fluid-covered papers on the floor. “That’s our inventory. But why not take it all if you’re gonna take it?”
Everyone shrugs, including me. But not Indy—she’s not inside. I jog for the street and find she’s dragged Jayden beside Vinnie to crouch over them both. He looks like Jayden again. She wipes her nose with the back of her hand and, though she doesn’t take her eyes off them, her body tautens like she waits for an explanation.
“We can’t figure it out.” She nods, and I add, “I’m sorry.”
The others return to the street. “We’ll bring them home and bury them,” Guillermo says.
Indy raises her bloodshot eyes, though she leaves her hand on Jayden’s cheek. “Where?” she asks. “Can we plant if we do that?”
Guillermo stands silent, his chest heaving and head turned to where seagulls circle New York Bay at the end of the block. “The water?” he asks.
“I am not throwing my boys into the bay like some garbage,” Indy growls. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What the fuck do you want, then?” he yells.
“What I want is for them to be alive.”
Guillermo’s face reddens as if he holds back tears, and he punches the side of a truck hard enough to dent it. “There was nothing in there. There was nothing outside. I was down here yesterday! They were fine.”
Indy gets to her feet, arms rigid at her s
ides. “Well, they’re not fine now. They’re dead.”
“Indy—” Eli begins.
She raises a hand. “Shut up, Eli.”
Eli quiets. Indy stalks forward with snapping eyes. Even her hair seems electrified, corkscrewing out as it does. It’s possible that I’m taking my life into my hands, but I step into the line of attack. Indy stops.
“We can bury them in yards away from Sunset Park,” I say, thinking quickly. “Or we can cremate them. We could make a fire by those burnt tanks at the top of the block.” I glance over my shoulder at Guillermo. “There’s some sort of fuel there, right?”
He nods and drops his chin to his chest. “I don’t want to leave them either, Indy,” he says, voice almost inaudible. “Gus was my friend.”
She sags as though her power main has been switched off. “I know. I’m sorry, Guillermo, I—”
“Forget about it.”
Indy wipes her face, lifts Vinnie gently by the shoulders, and begins to drag him up the block.
***
The red-orange flames are bright against the backdrop of scorched fuel tank. We loaded the trucks with the remaining food first, so we can leave as soon as the fire dies down. I could think it’s a stupid idea, especially with what I said about tossing me out of the way and getting on with things, but I understand why they need this. Even if they’re only bodies, we can’t leave them as if they meant nothing while alive.
My mother’s body is slowly rotting in a hospital bed, and the thought of that mixed with the fumes of burning fuel turns my stomach. I console myself with the thought that I was going to pay to cremate her if the world hadn’t fallen apart, but it doesn’t help all that much. The sentiment was different than what we’re doing here. It was out of obligation, not respect or love.
The bodies become a carbonized heap so that you can’t tell where one ends and another begins. Guillermo nods at the twenty Lexers who groan at the gate. It doesn’t matter if they enter the street once we’re gone. Carlos runs open the chain-link and we pull out, leaving our own plume of black smoke to dissipate into the New York City sky.