She flips her ponytail. “I am. Right now. See?”
Eli watches her thread it onto her belt and then waves us to the roof’s edge. From our vantage point, we can see the few Lexers who loiter outside the wall. If they don’t wander off, or if they become too loud, they’ll be taken care of by someone with a long, pointy object. But for now they listen, heads cocked, for the sounds they heard earlier.
There are ten intersections around Sunset Park, and three are gated: two gates on Fifth Avenue—known as Gates 5A and 5B—and a gate at Sixth and 44th—Gate 6A. The remainder are nine-foot high walls. High enough they can’t be scaled easily, but low enough to kill zombies from above.
Sylvie leans against the ledge to inspect the street, and you might miss the way her hand grips the stone if you weren’t looking for it. “Getting brave?” I ask. “That’s a long drop.”
“As long as I can hold on, I’m fine,” she says. “But thanks for reminding me that I could plunge to my death at any second.”
“You’re welcome.”
The streets are dead and the sun is hot. July will be here in days, and we’re going to need a lot of water for people and plants. If this works, my mind will rest a little easier.
“If they turn the water on, I am going to take the world’s longest shower,” Grace says.
“It’s going to be cold,” Eli says.
“I don’t care. Water pouring out of a showerhead is the best invention ever. Do you think they can do it?”
“They seem to think so.”
“It’s nice of them to offer.”
Eli humphs, leans on the ledge, and watches down the street. There’s economy in his movements, as though he’s saving his energy for when it matters. Or maybe he’s sweating his ass off, like I am, and is trying not to work up more of a sweat. I will gladly take a cold shower. Maybe two.
Grace turns her green eyes on me. “Is it not nice of them to offer?”
“I don’t want to owe them anything until we know for sure,” I say.
Eli stretches his legs behind him. “And, by letting them in here, and letting them help us, we owe them.”
“Or maybe we don’t owe them. Maybe they’re being nice. It’s not that crazy to imagine, is it? And maybe because you won’t let them be nice, you’ll never find out that they are. What possible ulterior motive could they have? I can’t think of a single one.”
“If we knew, we wouldn’t be standing up here,” Eli says. “But you let homeless people sleep outside your window, so it doesn’t surprise me you can’t think of one.”
Grace throws her head back, laugh bubbling into the silence. “Did Sylvie tell you that? That’s her favorite story.”
“Because it perfectly describes every aspect of your personality,” Sylvie says. “You would lie awake at night because of the rustling, scared out of your mind, but you still couldn’t bear the thought of this person having nowhere safe to go. Or the karma the universe would inflict on you.”
It does sum up Grace well. Too trusting for her own good, somewhat flaky, yet so kind and heartfelt you can’t help but like her for it. Grace peers over the edge with a smile rather than deny it.
The next hour passes slowly. Sunlight reflects off the white roof coating until I’m wet with sweat. The streets are silent, the park is silent, and it takes too much energy to speak.
“This is boring as shit,” Sylvie says after she guzzles half a bottle of water.
“Is it opera time?” Grace asks her.
Sylvie clears her throat. “It might be opera time.”
“What the hell is opera time?” Eli asks.
“It’s when we sing everything instead of talking,” Grace sings in an insane operatic voice.
Eli fixes her with a firm stare. “No.”
“Gracie, he says it’s not opera time,” Sylvie sings, her voice just as insane.
It’s so ridiculous I have to laugh. Eli straightens with an expectant air about him. Sylvie and Grace watch, grinning, and then boo quietly when he shakes his head and re-settles himself on the ledge.
“You know you want to try it,” Grace says. “We used to do it when we were bored. It’s fun.”
“Nope,” Eli says.
“Well, we’re going to do it until you—”
Shouts come from the park. I raise my rifle, as does Eli. The zombies outside the walls moan in answer. If we had a radio, we would know what’s happening, but Guillermo only has a few, including our marine radio. Any others we’ve come across attached to corpses have been damaged by exposure to the weather.
After a few minutes, Lupe comes up the block, hands flapping above her head to call us down. “They’re back. Water is on!” She continues down the avenue to alert the people on the next roofs.
Grace and Sylvie cheer. Eli smiles as we head for the door after waving to the two guards across the street, who’ll stay on the roof until their shift ends. This is huge—it means showers and gardens and flushing toilets. I decide to enjoy those things and take the rest as it comes. If it comes.
Chapter 43
Sylvie
People have opened up the park’s bathrooms and are reporting flushing toilets, though the water spurts due to air that Eric says must be in the lines. I laugh at the kids drinking from a water fountain, which squirts one in the face with its unpredictable flow. Running water. I love running water with all my heart and soul.
Guillermo shakes hands in the center of a jubilant crowd. I know most people here by sight, and I’ve never seen three of the guys who stand with Guillermo. Eric walks ahead and exchanges a handshake with one—a tall guy with dark eyes and dark stubble on his buzzed head. Beside him is a skinny guy with dreads, and on the other side a guy with blond hair and bulging muscles.
Indy strolls up with her fist in the air and brings it down on Eli’s shoulder. Grace hugs her, then Eli, then me, unable to contain her joy. I guess it’s possible Sacred Heart is only being neighborly, especially since Eric told us the water wasn’t Kearney’s idea. I wouldn’t put an ulterior motive past him.
“I didn’t think they’d really do it,” Indy says, watching the crowd. “The one with the shaved head is Emilio. I don’t know the other two.”
I look again. They’re coming this way with Eric, and, when they arrive, Eric says, “Emilio, you know Eli and India, and this is Sylvie and Grace.” He points to the guy with dreads and then the blond one. “Desmond and Kirk.”
We exchange hellos. Guillermo calls, “Eric, Eli, come here a second?”
Eric looks to me, wrinkle between his brows, and I wave him on. Desmond moves off with them after a nod in our direction, knotting his dreads up off his neck.
I’m not one for conversation with strangers, so I leave it to Indy and Grace. “Thanks so much,” Grace says. “We’re really excited for water.”
She’s toned it down in the enthusiasm department, but Emilio takes a step closer, showing white teeth. “So were we when we got it. It’s nice here. You have a lot of room.” His eyes skate around the park. “Lot of plants, too.”
“Do you have plants?”
“Some, but not like this. It’s bigger than Sacred Heart. They let anyone live here, right?” His eyes don’t leave her face, and they have that interested look.
“Of course they do. In fact, I wanted to ask you if you let anyone in over there. Do you get new people?”
“All the time,” Emilio says. He gives her a wolfish grin. “You thinking of moving?”
“No, but I’m looking for my husband. I know he was alive after it got bad, and I know he was looking for me. His name is Logan. Have you seen or heard of him?” Grace may live in another vibrational dimension, but she knows this one well enough to recognize the fastest way to shut Emilio down is to mention Logan. Though maybe not the easiest way, since her eyes have grown damp.
“Sorry,” Emilio says, and eyes her wedding band. “I’ll keep a look out, though.”
Leo races up and jumps in place. “Syls, the toilet flush
es! I peed in it.”
“Thanks for the update,” I say, then tickle his sides and whisper, “But I’m excited to pee in it, too.”
Emilio bends down to his height. “Hey, buddy, you like having water?”
Leo nods, clamming up at the greeting from a stranger. A kid after my own heart. Emilio raises his head, but his eyes take their time on the trip up my body, with a rest stop at my chest before they reach my face. “He yours?”
“No.” I take Leo’s hand. “Sort of.”
“Okay.” Emilio laughs and gets to his feet, well within my personal bubble. He’s decent looking in a roguish sort of way and friendly enough, but he makes me wonder if they have any women at Sacred Heart. Or maybe he was always one of those too-intense-stare, stand-an-inch-too-close kind of guys. “How about you, are you looking for anyone?”
It’s an unmistakable double entendre. I open my mouth to answer no on both counts, but Indy cuts in, “Emilio, how about some lunch?”
“That’d be great,” he says. “It’s good to see you again.”
She smiles and uses her thick eyelashes to advantageous effect. “You, too.”
“You hungry?” Emilio asks the blond guy, Kirk.
Kirk pulls a baseball cap from his back pocket, fits it on his head, and then crosses his thick arms. “No. I’m going to stretch my legs. Meet you back here in thirty?”
Emilio nods and drapes an arm over Indy’s shoulder. The purposefully blank look she aims at me and Grace is one we females learn at an early age: I’m doing this, but I don’t like it at all.
“I’ll come with you,” Grace says.
I don’t want to subject Leo to Emilio’s company, but it would be a bad idea to invite myself along in any event. I’m incapable of faking the flirty fun-time gal the way Indy and Grace can. My natural irritation shines through. I don’t like the idea of Kirk wandering around alone, so I’ll keep an eye on him.
Paul arrives while I watch Kirk’s blue cap move across the park. “Let’s take a walk,” I say.
“Don’t you want to eat?” Paul asks, but he falls into step. “Or play with the water?”
“Where were you?” I ask.
“Shutting off open faucets. We’re checking all the houses around here.”
I nod and keep my eyes on Kirk in the distance. He takes the exit at Sixth Avenue and moves down the block. We can’t follow him on the sidewalk inconspicuously, but we can aimlessly stroll the concrete paths that wind between the gardens on the slope.
“Paul, we are a happy little family out for a walk,” I say.
“What?”
“That guy, Kirk, in the blue baseball hat. He’s from Sacred Heart. And he’s stretching his legs. By himself. Instead of eating our food.”
Paul nods, picks up Leo, and settles him on his shoulders. Leo kicks his legs happily. Kirk’s not moving fast or slow, and he’s not doing anything like making notes or taking pictures with an electronic device—if we can charge phones, then I’m sure they can. Maybe he’s eager to amble on a sidewalk where he won’t be eaten, which, I admit, is a refreshing change.
Our path bends away from that side of the park, and we take the intersecting path that loops to the bottom by Fifth Avenue. Paul watches Kirk without turning his head that way. “He’s law enforcement. Or a criminal.”
“How can you tell?”
“Just can.”
“Paul, do you know that sometimes you’re very unsatisfying to ask for an explanation? Or, heaven forfend, a conversation.”
He chuckles. “All right. I don’t know, look at the way he walks like he doesn’t give a shit, but you can tell he’s scoping things out. It’s not bluster. It’s like he’s used to being in authority.”
“That makes sense, but you got all that from his walk?”
“I’ve spent a lot of time around law enforcement. And criminals. You’re not the only one who got kicked out of Catholic school.”
I laugh and stop to finger the leaf of a bushy green plant. It’s pointy, a shiny medium green against the brown of the tilled earth. At home, I was memorizing where things were planted, which helped me to identify what was what. Now I’m back to utterly clueless unless an easily-recognized vegetable is dangling off a stem.
Paul sets Leo on the path to inspect the leaves. “Green beans,” Leo announces.
“I’m impressed,” I say to Leo.
He winks and shoots me with a finger-gun. I raise my brows at Paul, who says, “He did not learn that from me.” He shifts his eyes. “Kirk’s halfway down the avenue. Still moving.”
We continue on, dawdling when necessary. Bird springs out from under a bush, almost giving me heart failure, and then trots with us. I have that hyperaware, slightly adrenalized feeling I used to get when walking alone at night, or the few times when I truly feared for my safety. Now, fearing for my safety is a full-time job, but I still like it better than my old one.
“Did you like being a firefighter?” I ask Paul.
“It was a lot of calm with moments of craziness, but I loved it. I liked the guys I worked with.”
“How about the ladies?”
“Not many of them. Just over fifty out of ten thousand.”
“The bravest souls, to go in with the lot of you. I couldn’t do it.”
“No shit you couldn’t. Climbing a fire escape without pissing your pants is mandatory.”
I push him, which is akin to pushing a boulder. Kirk rounds onto 44th Street, and Paul says, “Hannah said the same thing. And she said she’d kick my ass if I gave the women any shit.”
“You mean Mommy?” Leo asks. “Mommy would kick your ass?”
He’s been so quiet I think Paul forgot he was listening. “Yup. Mommy could kick Daddy’s ass any day of the week. And stop saying ass.”
Leo’s cheeks round and his hair glows yellow-gold in the sunshine, like an angel, though his repeated whispering of the word negates the beatific image. The smile Paul put forth for Leo has vanished.
“I don’t ever want to hear another word about my cursing in front of your child,” I say to break his mournful silence, and then point at a few rows of plants. “Tomatoes. They’re the only ones I recognize.”
Kirk nears Sixth Avenue, as do we. Eric appears on the path ahead. “Have you seen Kirk? He’s not with Desmond and Emilio.”
“Your girlfriend has us following him,” Paul says, and tilts his head to the blue baseball cap moving up the sidewalk below the slope. “He’s checking the place out, but no more so than anyone else would.”
“Good call,” Eric says to me.
“I do have some common sense, you know. Now get out of our way so we can continue to stalk him.”
“M’lady.” Eric steps aside with an arm flourish. “Hey, Leo, want to hang with me?” Leo picks up Bird and jumps to Eric’s side in answer.
“Be careful,” Eric calls after us, as though Paul and I are headed into a jungle of zombies instead of up the block of a walled-in Safe Zone.
I raise my thumb in answer, and, when we’re out of earshot, say to Paul, “Can you make him stop being overprotective?”
“No can do. He already asked me to step in when he’s not around.”
I laugh and sigh, which is precisely how I feel about the situation. It’s nice Eric cares, but I’m not used to this level of attentiveness. I want to wriggle out from under it for no reason other than to be recalcitrant. Which is also our word for today.
We watch Kirk hit the corner of Seventh, and then we lurk in the foliage behind the black fence that surrounds the giant pool, which I’ve just realized can be filled with deliciously cool water. The rec center, a round brick rotunda from which one-story wings spread out a block, sits at the front of the pool. The open strip of park between its entrance and the avenue offers no camouflage, so we’ll wait for Kirk to come out on the other side of the building in a minute or two.
“Eric’s like his dad,” Paul says. “He knows you’re okay on your own, but he’ll still try to protect you. I
t’s not you, it’s him. Think of it that way. He’ll calm down sooner or later. Or not. It’s—”
I watch him until I’m sure he has no plan to continue. “What?”
Paul keeps his eyes on the street. “He’s scared of losing you. And it could happen in seconds.” His voice cracks so that my chest pangs for him, for Leo and Hannah. “I don’t know if you know it, but Eric loves you. I’ve never seen him this happy. Or worried.”
It’s shady back here, but my temperature rises a few degrees. Eric likes me, but love is entirely different, especially the kind of love Paul is suggesting.
Kirk appears and turns down 41st Street with only a cursory glance at the intersection’s wall. Paul and I stand by the fenced courts while Kirk turns into the park and heads toward the newly functioning bathrooms on the other side.
“I guess there’s no evil plot to blow us up,” I say.
“Yet,” Paul says ominously. “You make a good spy.”
“You, too. Ready to go back?”
Past the courts, Eric kicks a soccer ball along the concrete path with Leo. His eyes find mine, and you’d think I really did trek the jungle by the way he beams. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself,” I say. “Did you see Kirk go past?”
“Yeah. Desmond and Emilio are waiting for him. They’re leaving. Want to say goodbye?”
“Not really. But okay.”
“You don’t like them?”
It’s a complicated answer that involves the mention of Emilio undressing me with his eyes. “Do you?”
Eric stares into the distance, rolling the ball under his foot. “Not sure.”
“Then let’s get rid of them.” I take his hand, and he rolls the ball onto his toe and kicks it to Leo, who catches it in his arms. I sigh. “You’re too coordinated. It’s not fair to the rest of us.”
I rest my head on his arm as we walk. He’s solid and he’s kind, and he shines like a light in the darkness. I don’t want to depend on him to be that for me, and while I don’t think he’s my only source of light, I can’t deny he’s the brightest. But maybe it’s because he lights up in my presence. It could be I do the same for him.