The City Series (Book 2): Peripeteia

  “Sounds about right,” I say.

  “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here. Denise is talking shit again.”

  I sigh. That Denise is a piece of work. “What’s she saying now?”

  “The usual. You stole her job. She did all her work. Blah fucking blah. No one cares because we all know she’s full of shit, but I thought you should know.”

  “I offered her a job. She didn’t want it.” Actually, she cursed me out and stormed off.

  “I know, bro. But I’m not sure how long Sylvie’s going to let her go on before she punches her.”

  Indy heads for the gardens with a whoop, and we follow. “Paul, you could’ve told me that part first.”

  “I sort of want to see it.”

  “You’re an asshole.”

  “Tell me you don’t want her to.”

  “No, I don’t want Sylvie to do my dirty work. I’m sure Den—”

  I stop at the sight of Denise stalking uphill toward us, son Dominic at the rear. She wears her usual scowl and dozens of sour lines are etched around her thin lips and narrowed eyes, though she’s mid-thirties, tops. Sylvie watches with Leo from the opposite end of the garden, and I appreciate she had the good sense to evade rather than engage. It’s not her customary approach.

  “Hey, Denise,” I say with as much friendliness as I can muster. I admit it’s not much. “Were you looking for me?”

  “And I thought you were a good worker.”

  I don’t rise to the bait, though it’s difficult. “What can I do for you?”

  “Nothing,” she spits out. “You’ve done enough. I stand on a roof all day because of you.”

  “Denise, I offered you a job, but—”

  “Yeah, a job digging. Thanks, King Eric.”

  I’ve never genuinely wanted to punch a woman, but I would love to punch her right in the middle of her smirking face. “Denise, we all dig. And plant. And water. And harvest.” She mimics me silently. I force my hands open and walk past. “I can see you don’t want to have an adult conversation about this. Let me know when you do.”

  “Enjoy your garden, dickhead!” she calls after me. “With your little girlfriend and your friends and that wimpy son of his.”

  Paul halts, does an about-face, and strides to Denise. “What’d you call my son?”

  “A wimp. He gets a little sand in his eyes and cries like a baby. I’d better make sure he doesn’t get past the gates at my post. He’d be zombie food.”

  Paul’s right hand clenches, and I grab his arm before he can use it. I’m not sure what he’d do, but all bets are off when Leo is threatened. Man or woman, you’re going down.

  “Watch your mouth,” Paul growls. His muscles tremble from holding back. “Words can kill you just as dead as zombies.”

  A bit of doubt touches her eyes, the thought that she might have messed with the wrong person. Then it’s gone, and she blinks innocently. “I’m just saying I’ll keep an eye on your kid. That’s all I meant.”

  She yanks Dominic by his shirt and disappears up the slope. Paul stands, breathing heavily. “Paulie,” I say. He doesn’t take his eyes off the rise. “She knew it would get to you. And it did. She wants an excuse to make more trouble.”

  Sylvie steps in front of Paul. I don’t know when she got here, but she’s left Leo with Indy and Grace. She peers into Paul’s face, eyes black as pitch. “Say the word, and I will kick her ass for you. I’ll do it right now.”

  Paul exhales and shakes his head. “Eric’s right. But I’ll take an IOU.”

  “You have one.” Sylvie watches the spot where Denise was last seen, then turns back with an icy calm. “I swear I will beat her down if she tries anything with Leo.”

  I don’t doubt her words. And though she’s somewhat intimidating like this, she’s also damn hot. It would suck to be Denise, but I’m not, so I enjoy the way Sylvie’s chest rises with deep, even breaths, the color high on her cheeks, and the slightly wicked curve of her lips. It’s a different kind of passion, maybe, but it’s sexy nonetheless.

  Paul grabs her in the crook of his arm. “I knew I liked you the moment I saw you.”

  “That’s a huge lie,” she says.

  “True. But I like you now.”

  Sylvie glances at me over her shoulder. “C’mon, your little girlfriend needs you at the tomatoes.”

  “It’s King Eric to you. That’s what she called me.”

  “You’re kidding.” She blinks in amazement. “Then move it, Your Highness.”

  I do, glad we can joke about it, though I don’t expect we’ve heard the last from Denise. I was worried about assholes in the city, and I know we have some down the road, but I don’t need one in my own yard.

  Chapter 48

  Sylvie pokes me in the side. I may be a morning person, but I require some sun for it be considered morning. Particularly in August. “Why are you poking me?” I groan.

  “If you don’t want to see The Great Zombie Exodus, it’s your choice,” she says, “but all the cool kids are going.”

  I open my eyes. Sylvie is a dark shape, her face just visible in the silver-gray at the windows. “They’re leaving?”

  “They’re leaving.” She bounces on the mattress. “Heading for Queens, or wherever, but they are on the move.”

  I throw on clothes and brush my teeth. Sylvie drags me to the corner, where Grace and Indy wait on a roof. Garden workers may not have to take night shifts, but mine insist on it, which is why I chose them in the first place.

  The shuffle of Lexer feet is most always unwelcome, except for times like this when they’re shuffling away. The ones who were at the walls for weeks are already gone, and I can make out clumps of shadowy figures moving in the next intersection over.

  The roof door opens. Maria, Jorge, Paul, and Leo fall out, bleary-eyed. “Did you wake everyone here?” I ask Sylvie.

  “Just us. We were a little excited.” The sun isn’t up, but her face glows. She turns to Indy. “I woke Lucky and Eli on the way to my house. Eli was cranky.”

  “He sleeps like the dead, but once he’s up, he is up. He’ll be out any—”

  Eli exits the roof door with a cardboard box in his arms and Lucky behind him. Grace says, “Speak of the devil.”

  “Would the devil bring you all breakfast?” Eli sets the box on the roof, then kneels to remove two thermoses and hands Leo a juice box. I don’t know where he found it, but Eli is now a god in Leo’s eyes. The others root through his offering with thanks as he pours coffee.

  Sylvie sits on the roof to open a packaged pastry. “You’re an angel, Eli.”

  Eli chuffs. “Not quite.” Grace lowers herself beside him with her mug of coffee, and he asks, “Didn’t find anything in the box?”

  “I’m not that hungry.”

  He digs around and comes up with a nutrition bar. “This is for you. Gluten-free, processed sugar-free, organic, GMO-free, and—”

  “Taste free,” Sylvie says. Eli holds out his fist for Sylvie to bump.

  “Shut up,” Grace says, inspecting the label. “It has chia seeds! They’re so good for you.”

  “Should I worry if you sprout green fuzz?” Sylvie asks.

  Grace rips open the bar, chews a bite and shows Sylvie her mouth of food. Sylvie returns the favor with her pastry.

  “You guys are so classy,” Paul says. He hangs over the edge of the roof for a moment, then comes to sit on the tar paper. “It’s going to take them all day.”

  Jorge hands Maria a mug of coffee, then takes a sip of his own. “We’ve got nothing but time.”

  Lucky has set himself beside Indy and downed his pastry in two bites. My mother lamented my appetite as a teenager, joking that we needed our stored food in case I woke up hungry one night and there was nothing in the fridge. I pull my allotted pastry from the box and toss it in Lucky’s lap.

  “Really?” he asks, and I nod. “Thanks.”

  He tears into the package, and Sylvie squeezes my leg while she laughs at something Pau
l says. The sky has turned yellow behind the shapes of buildings, and the clouds above are dark, almost sinister, though they’ll be conquered by light soon enough. I watch the way everyone contemplates the view, faces radiant with sunlight and camaraderie. It’s similar to waking before dawn to summit a mountain with friends. You form bonds with the people who you trust will lock your rope or loosen it accordingly, and it’s no different here.

  I think that’s why they woke us: to share a happy surprise when we don’t get nearly enough. Eli brought breakfast because no matter how reserved at times, he’s a good guy. The only people missing are my sister and Maria’s girls, but I think we’ll find them. My luck has held out so far.

  Maria sits cross-legged beside me. “The garden’s looking good, sweetie. Lupe says Guillermo goes on and on about it. I don’t know if you know that.”

  “He goes on about it to us, too. Guillermo’s a good boss.”

  “You think of him as your boss?” She clucks disapprovingly. “You know more than anyone here about this stuff. You fixed the garden and showed them the rocket stove and—”

  I raise a hand. Maria is protecting her young—anyone’s young. “Maria, I don’t want to be the boss. Too many decisions. I want to putter in the garden and make cool things and not worry about who isn’t doing their job.”

  “But you know you’d be a good one?”

  I pat her arm. “Yes, Maria, I’d be a good one.”

  “Stop patronizing me. I only want you to know that people appreciate what you’re doing. You’re saving lives.”

  I pat her again, un-patronizingly. “I’m here because you saved mine, so maybe you should be the boss.”

  “You’re impossible. It’s a good thing I love you.”

  I smile. “It’s the best thing you love me.”

  “Don’t give me that face,” Maria says. She shakes her head in Sylvie’s direction, lips twisted to hide her own smile. “The poor girl never stood a chance.”

  “Neither did I, if that makes you feel better.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Maria kisses my cheek and whispers in my ear, “She can be fierce, but she loves fiercely. More than she knows how to say. Remember that, mijo.”

  I nod as my throat tightens unexpectedly. There’s no question I love Sylvie, but I haven’t said the words, even though I know I should before it’s too late. I’m worried they’ll scare her off, and maybe I’ve been a little afraid she won’t say them back. But Maria is right—Sylvie’s actions say it as plain as words.

  Maria waves at Jorge standing above us. “Sit down already. You’re hovering.”

  Jorge lowers himself and sips from his mug. “As you wish.”

  No matter how worked up Maria gets, Jorge is unruffled. I think it works for the both of them. In fact, I’m sure it does, based on their satisfied expressions.

  “Eric,” Eli says, watching me with an arm draped casually over his bent knee. “Indy told me about your offer to go upstate.”

  “Yeah? What do you think?”

  He tilts his head as if weighing the offer, like the lawyer he once was, though I’m sure he’s done his due diligence. “I think it’d be good to get out of this damned city. I could see being a farmer.”

  “Cool,” I say. “That’s great news.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the offer.”

  “Believe me, you’d be doing us the favor.”

  “You hardly like the garden,” Grace says. “How are you going to be a farmer?”

  “What?” Eli pulls his T-shirt away from his chest. “I’ll get a plaid shirt, some overalls, maybe a hat.” Grace giggles, and Eli shakes his head sadly. “Not believing in me could be what makes the universe hinder my plan.”

  “Oh, be quiet,” she says. “Does anyone take me seriously?”

  “I take you very seriously.”

  Though most have moved on to another conversation, Sylvie and Indy covertly study Eli and Grace, who are locked in a staring match. Grace averts her eyes first, and Eli watches her for a few more beats before he rises to view the street. I have a guess what it’s about. He and Grace would be good together, but there’s that most-likely-dead-husband thing to contend with.

  I join Eli at the roof ledge. “They still going?”

  “Yup. It’ll take a while. But patience is a virtue, right?”

  I wonder if he’s talking about the Lexers or Grace. “That’s what they say. I think it depends.”

  He swings his gaze to me. “On what?”

  “On how badly you want something. You never know what the answer might be.” I glance at Grace, then rest my elbows on the ledge. The intersection a block away is crammed with Lexers. “And, of course, it depends on whether or not that something will eat you if you get too close.”

  “True,” he says with a smile.

  I stretch my arms and scan the roofs down the block. This apartment building is separated from the next by a few smaller houses. The tallest building is next door to Indy and Eli’s, with garden beds out back that now hold potatoes. My heart pumps when the rising sun hits its roof, illuminating dirty panels that peek just above its roofline, tilted to the south. I’m positive I see streaks of black beneath the dust. “Holy shit.”

  “What?”

  “I think those are solar panels. Has anyone said anything about them?”

  “No.” Eli squints at the building. “I think you’re right. I’ve never been up there.”

  “No time like the present.”

  ***

  They are solar panels. Almost two hundred, and all the wiring and gadgets that come along with them. The only thing missing are batteries, but we have a golf course not too far away, whose golf carts hold the batteries we need. Because the building is beside our houses, it’ll be easy enough to leave some panels in place and wire us up, but the rest will be moved for the rec center and Guillermo’s block.

  Guillermo stands on the roof, jaw still loose with shock. “I don’t remember who came up here to check it out, but everything was so covered in crap they probably didn’t realize.”

  I nod and continue writing my list. The building contains seventy units and, according to the electric bills we found in the office, this array provided anywhere between twenty-five to fifty percent of their power. It’s enough to operate lights, the laundry, and kitchen, as long as we use it sensibly. This means no unlimited phones and video games, but I think working lights and heat in the winter will make up for it.

  We can start furnaces using the electricity, and, if we get our hands on heating oil trucks, our running water makes radiator heat a real possibility. The heating systems that have separate water heaters can be replaced by boilers that provide heat and hot water. Suddenly the coming winter doesn’t seem as cold. I’d envisioned everyone huddled around an old fireplace, burning wood and whatever we could find, or the endless hum of generators powering baseboard heat scavenged from newer construction. We’ll still have to consolidate houses and people, but we won’t freeze to death. If we’re here, I remind myself. Sometimes I forget we might not be.

  Guillermo peers over my shoulder at my notes. “You really know what you’re doing?”

  “More or less,” I say. “I helped my dad with his solar system, so I know the basics. It’ll be some trial and error, though.”

  “This fucking guy!” Guillermo calls to everyone and no one. He grabs my head and plants a big, wet kiss on my cheek.

  “Let’s see if this works first,” I say with a laugh. “Then you can kiss me.”

  “Is this one of those bromance things?” Sylvie asks. “I feel left out.”

  Guillermo keeps his laugh below a roar. “I’m excited, Sylvie!” He grabs her by the waist and lifts her in the air. “Are you excited? You’re not coming down until you say you’re excited.”

  “I’m excited, Willie!” she squeals.

  “All right, then.” He sets Sylvie on her feet. “It’s gonna be great!”

  This is why Guillermo is a good boss—he ta
kes things seriously enough to get them done, but he’s always game for some fun. He doesn’t care if an idea is his, as long as it betters everyone’s lives.

  He gazes at Manhattan, arms crossed over his chest. “Now that the mob is moving, we need to get to Brother David. They didn’t have a lot of food last time we were there.”

  “How much did they have?” Sylvie asks.

  “Maybe two weeks with what we brought, if they ate less. I said we’d be back soon, but then this happened.” Guillermo nods at the street. The majority of Lexers have moved, but it won’t be clear—or at normal zombie level—until dark. “That was over a month ago.”

  “Shit,” Sylvie says. “Maybe we should go tomorrow.”

  “That’s what I was thinking. You want to go?”

  “Of course.” Sylvie gazes in the general direction of the church. “Did they ever get a route cleared?”

  “Close. We could bring the bus as far as we can. I hope they’re okay.”

  “Me, too.”

  Guillermo scratches his chin. “All right, tomorrow we’ll see what we can see.”

  Chapter 49

  Sylvie

  I made sure to take a seat at the front of the city bus in order to avoid any roaches who reside in the engine at the rear. As long as they stay there and I stay here, I can pretend I live in a roachless world. Sunset Park is two blocks from an MTA bus depot, which is why our bus is in pristine condition and full of gas—compressed natural gas, or CNG. I’m told the bus’s tank is full, though this is the last of it. I smile and nod. I can’t concentrate on whatever the hell Eric is talking about with those creatures in the back.

  “There are no roaches,” he says. He sits in a blue seat next to me, watching out the window. This stretch of Fifth Avenue is quiet, with houses to our left and a half mile of cemetery on our right.

  “You don’t know that for sure,” I say. “Did you take a roach inventory, or did you ring the roach doorbell and no one answered?”

  Eric ignores me. He wouldn’t be nearly as calm if tarantulas lived on the bus. I watch a zombie stumble around tombstones in the overgrown grass. It lifts its head and changes direction as the bus roars past. The bad thing about this ride is that we’re loud. The good thing about it is the air conditioning. Magnificent frigid air circles around us even though they turned it off after a few minutes.