The City Series (Book 2): Peripeteia

  “Because you’re hot,” he whispers in my ear. “And because you’re happy. I like to see you happy.”

  I’m the happiest I’ve ever been, which is strange but true. And it’s not only Eric—it’s Guillermo snoring away on a bench, Maria and Jorge dancing, Grace trying to come back from her shattered life, Rissa asking me for help, and a thousand other things. It’s the soft lights on Indy’s face as she laughs at Paul. It’s community—something I’ve never had and always wanted, though I pretended it didn’t matter.

  I take his chin, aware I’m about to go off on a drunken tangent, but I don’t care. “You’re an amazing person. The true definition—you cause great surprise and wonder.”

  Eric holds my gaze, his eyes dark and hand caressing my waist. “So are you.”

  “Not at all. But you have to be Golden Boy and I don’t, so I’m fine with it.”

  Eric laughs as I finish my drink. His hand moves to my thigh, and my lower half begins to warm. I run my finger along the spot on his stomach that makes him jump. “Let’s go home.”

  He downs his beer and stands after I do, then turns to the rest of the table. “Goodnight, kids.”

  We get the usual jibes and winking instructions to have fun, but they let us go without too much protest. I tuck my arm through Eric’s as we walk. Candlelight flickers in the windows of Micah and Carlos’ house, and low music and voices spill into the night. We don’t yet have lights over here, though we will soon.

  Our house is dark and still, but our room is cozy and welcoming in the warm lantern light. I sit on the end of the bed. “I like our room. I would totally win the battle to the death to keep it.”

  Eric crouches in front of me. “I like you.”

  “I like you, too.” I more than like you, is what I should say. Even pink drinks aren’t strong enough for that, but I think it hard while I look into his eyes.

  “I’ve figured it out,” he says.

  “Figured what out?”

  “What happens when you drink. You stop being scared. You’re all the way here, all the time. Not just snippets of Sylvie.”

  Sobriety returns with a heavy thump to remind me that I always fall short. I gaze down so he can’t see how close to tears I am. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”

  “Hey, I didn’t mean it that way.” Eric lifts my chin, and there’s nothing but sincerity on his face. “I’m saying I like it. That there’s nothing you need to hide. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and I wish you believed it.”

  I want to tuck his words away, memorize them, so I can pull them out and hear them over and over. “Well, then, sorry I’m crazy.”

  “You are crazy,” he says with a chuckle, “but I love you anyway.”

  Color blooms on his cheeks while my head floods with white noise. I can’t feel my hands properly. Or my feet. Or my anything. I have a full-body case of pins and needles. The silence where we stare at each other seems to last forever.

  Finally, he takes a breath. “Well, I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

  I would laugh if I wasn’t frozen in place. I could say it back, and it would be true, but those words have never passed my lips in a relationship and they show no signs of imminent departure now.

  Eric lowers his head so that I see only the lines of his lashes against still-rosy cheeks. “I freaked you out. You don’t have to say it because I did. I didn’t mean it. I mean, I meant it, but I didn’t mean to say it. To say it now.”

  Eric never stumbles over words. Or blushes. I pull his hand into my lap and he meets my eyes reluctantly, lips pressed tight. I’m surprised my heart hasn’t leapt from my chest with the way it batters my ribs.

  “Me, too,” I whisper. It’s not as good as the actual words, but I hope it’s better than nothing. It’s the best I can do.

  “Yeah?” he asks.

  I nod—even a whisper is out of the question. He lights brighter than I’ve ever seen, and his lips meet mine gently, curiously, as though it’s our first kiss and this is all new. Or maybe it just feels that way because, for me, it is.

  Chapter 52

  Eric

  The harvest is better than I hoped midway into August. Whether it’s the compost, the attention we’ve given the plants, or luck, this might be a bumper crop. If the warm weather holds into fall, it won’t matter how late in the spring we planted.

  With not much to do in the garden at the moment, I’m chopping wood. We took down a few trees at a level spot near the rec center in order to make room for a greenhouse. They built a small one in the spring for their seedlings, now dismantled, but this will be permanent. I hate to kill trees, especially ones as old and grand as these, but we can put the fuel to use in fireplaces and rocket stoves come winter if necessary. It never hurts to have a backup.

  It’s hot, backbreaking work, and I can’t say I’m disappointed when my shift is over. I pass Indy and Paul, who staple screening onto wooden frames that will slide into our homemade food dehydrators. They’ll be ready in time for any surplus, though at this point everything is eaten as it ripens.

  “Shut up, Paul,” Indy says as I come within earshot.

  “I’m just saying, if you’re an actress, you should be able to act like you know what you’re doing with that staple gun.”

  “How’s this?” Indy lifts the gun and lets one fly at Paul’s chest. The staple bounces off harmlessly, as I’m sure she knew it would—a nail gun would be a different story, and I wouldn’t blame her if she used it on him. She tosses an exasperated noise my way. “How have you stayed friends with him for so many years?”

  “An effort of will. And I knew Leo didn’t stand a chance without me there to show him how to be a man.”

  Paul chuckles. “We’re almost done, no thanks to Indy.” He dodges another staple. “Guillermo came by a minute ago. He wants to try for some food tomorrow. See if the Lexers moved away from a few spots.”

  “Eli and I said we’d go,” Indy says.

  “Hope you’re better with your knife than you are with that stapler.”

  “Paul, I am going to kill you with my knife.”

  “Anyway, he’s at the office.” Paul grins before I walk away. He’s at his most jovial when he has someone to bother, and he’s found that Indy swallows the bait whole.

  A crowd makes its way onto the stoop from the parlor floor of Guillermo’s house. Once they’ve cleared out and I head inside, I find Sylvie, Grace, and Eli in front of the office map with Guillermo. Rob and Dennis sit at a desk with another map, marking off streets with assorted colors of highlighters.

  Guillermo traces a finger over a spot a few miles away. “There’s two schools, a retirement home, and a supermarket within ten blocks of each other. We go down on bikes, check it out, then we go back with trucks. I’m sorry you guys are stuck with that job again.”

  “It’s fine,” Sylvie says. “Stop with that.”

  His jaw tics. “I don’t want to have to beg people to live, you know? You don’t want to go, then don’t eat.”

  “You don’t mean that, you know you don’t,” Grace says with a tilt of her head. “More than enough people offered to go.”

  Over half of our hundred people are young or elderly, and though everyone else does their part, some of them are inexperienced or scared enough that you wouldn’t want them watching your back, even if they are willing.

  “Maybe someone else should be in charge. We could hold an election.” Guillermo motions to me. “You should run against me. This could all be yours.”

  “No fucking way do I want your job,” I say, and clap him on the back. “Just tell us what you need and we’ll do it.”

  “We’re your henchpeople,” Sylvie says. “You want us to bust a kneecap? Done. Burn something down for insurance purposes? No problem.”

  Guillermo smiles but looks no less despondent. “How long can I ask you guys to keep doing this before you don’t want to anymore?”

  “Guillermo, you make everyone here feel important,” Eli says. “And
, when it comes down to it, that’s all anyone wants. You can see it in how hard everyone works, whether they’re leaving the gates or cooking a meal or weeding the garden. I can see it.”

  Eli’s voice is rich with emotion, and he lays a hand on Guillermo’s shoulder like a father would. Guillermo watches his own feet, Adam’s apple bobbing.

  “We’re all scared,” Eli continues, “every last one of us, but those of us who aren’t as scared pick up the slack for those who are. We know they appreciate it, and they do for us in other ways—if I cooked for you, believe me, you’d regret it. And we’re all right with that, Guillermo. We’ve got you.”

  Guillermo raises his eyes in time to see our nods. Every word of Eli’s was spot on. This is a good place, maybe a rare place, and part of me is loath to leave it for upstate.

  “That was one hell of a closing argument,” Dennis says from the desk.

  Eli’s smile borders on embarrassed. “I got a little carried away.”

  “You should get carried away more often,” Grace says.

  Guillermo thumps his fist over his heart. “That was some deep shit, Eli. You sure you don’t want the job? You’d get everyone outside the gates.”

  “To quote Eric,” Eli says, eyebrow cocked, “no fucking way do I want your job.”

  The room explodes with laughter. Guillermo stretches his arms above his head and groans, but he starts for the door with his usual energy. “Let me go get some stuff ready. I’ll see you guys later.”

  After he’s gone, Sylvie turns to Eli. “That was truly a motivational speech. It got Guillermo to move his ass.”

  “Never underestimate the power of a good speech,” Eli says. “My dad was a lay minister and taught me everything I know. But his would’ve been better.”

  “Sounds like he was a good man,” Rob says.

  “He was.” Eli takes Grace’s arm and leads her to the hall. “Let’s get some lunch.”

  “Lunch you didn’t make,” Grace says. “I hear it’s the best kind.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Rob and Dennis follow them out. As Sylvie and I reach the door, I ask, “What’s with Grace and Eli?”

  “They’re just friends, for now.” She waggles her eyebrows. “But probably not for long.”

  “They seem like a good match.”

  “Eli is the most perfect person for her,” she says. “He’s her slightly saner counterpart, but only enough to keep her from going entirely off the deep end.”

  “Everyone needs someone like that.”

  “Do you keep me from going off the deep end?”

  I grip her arms and look gravely into her upturned face. “I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you’re already in the water.”

  Sylvie’s head drops back with her initial yelp of laughter before she succumbs to giggles. It’s what she does when I tease, and I might fall in love with her a little bit more every time. I take her by the waist, and I can’t think of a single reason someone might say brown eyes are boring when I contemplate the depth in hers. “I love you.”

  She rests her head on my chest. “Me, too.”

  I’ve said it multiple times a day for the past week, and her response is always the same. It felt risky to lay all my cards on the table, but I don’t think you can play it safe with Sylvie. If you want her to open up, you have to go first. However, I do get to pester her about it, which evens the score some. “It’s only one more word than me, too. Are you ever going to say it?”

  “Maybe. If you stop with this bedevilment.”

  “And you fit the word of the day in there to boot? That’s unfair.”

  She drags me onto the stoop. “Someone once said all was fair in love and word games. I told him he’d regret that statement. Regret it yet?”

  I gaze at this beautiful person who loves me even if she can’t come out and say it, the bountiful gardens, our safe streets, and all the good people on their way to lunch. “Not a word.”

  Chapter 53

  Sylvie

  Eli’s speech may have been motivational, but it didn’t inspire the Lexers to move their asses off the streets we need to travel. Nearby stores have been depleted, and the few we could reach were cleaned out, with the gore on the slain zombies still tacky. It was most likely Sacred Heart, but there’s no law against them getting there first, as much as I would like to convene the Senate and pass that bill. Because we have enough food for now, the plan is to wait for winter and reach congested areas like Fort Hamilton before Sacred Heart.

  However, that plan will only work if the Lexers freeze. We’re about to find out if they will, in a seriously gross experiment for which the kids have been sequestered in the yards of 44th Street to “play games.” Grace, Indy, and I, along with numerous other people, watch a pickup truck enter Gate 6A and drive toward where we stand outside the rec center. A banging comes from the truck’s bed, and when the engine cuts off, muffled grunts add to the thumps.

  Guillermo and Eli jump out, walk to the back of the truck, and lower the tailgate. A body, head covered by a thick flannel pillowcase duct-taped at the neck, flops around like a fish out of water. Its arms are taped behind its back and feet taped at the ankles. The feet are bare, with grayish-pink tissue peeking out from cracks in filthy skin. Toenails are jagged where they’re not torn off. Its legs are clad in stained, ripped jeans, and the plaid shirt it wears is no better. There’s another beside it, similarly bound, flopping a little less spiritedly due to its missing leg.

  Gary moves in to help, as do Felipe and Jorge, all with expressions of distaste. Half the crowd, which was only a small portion of SPSZ to begin with, is taken by a sudden urge to be elsewhere. When Lexers are attacking you, or roaming the street, it’s easy to hate them. Trussed in the back of a truck, with their heads covered like hostages, it almost looks as though we’re the monsters.

  Eric walks through the glass doors of the rec center and down the steps with a set jaw. I can feel my lips stretched in a grimace, my shoulders by my ears. Grace has her hand to her mouth and Indy emits a soft noise of revulsion. The guys at the truck pull out the first body, Guillermo at its head, Felipe at its feet, and Gary in the middle. The Lexer jerks and they almost lose their grip as they mount the stairs.

  Eric helps Jorge and Eli with the second body. Two tedious minutes later, they’re through the doors of the center rotunda on their way to a freezer. The rec center and much of 44th Street have power. It’s enough for lights at night, laundry, and cooking on electric stoves, as well as a few freezers that have been modified to run as refrigerators, since they use less power than a standard fridge. One chest freezer has not been converted, and it’s the final resting place of today’s zombie guests—possibly. We’ll know soon if they freeze, and what happens when they thaw. And then, I hope, they will burn that chest freezer.

  The remainder of the crowd disappears except for Brother David, who might be praying with the way his head is bowed. He crosses himself and walks toward us. “The soul is gone—it must be—but that was difficult to watch. Sometimes they seem so alive you almost wonder.”

  “I think it’s the face,” I say. “When it’s covered, they could be a person. But when you see their eyes, it’s obvious no one’s home.”

  Brother David turns his typically lively blue eyes on me, though at the moment the best you can say about them is that they’re livelier than a zombie’s. “Very true.”

  Eric exits the doors, shoulders slumped. We were all depressed over the news that Lexers are everywhere, which led to this plan. But Eric is Golden Boy. The King of Optimism. It was his idea to put them in the freezer.

  “What’s going on in there now?” I ask him.

  “They’re thumping around. You can hear it outside the kitchen.”

  Grace and Indy both shudder. “Maybe it’ll stop soon,” I say, and attempt not to shudder myself.

  “I hope so.”

  “Where is everyone eating tonight?” Brother David asks.

  With our
new electrical capabilities, we eat in the rec center. A small kitchen has been converted into a larger one, and a gymnasium that held ping-pong tables is our dining room. It’s easier, means we have a better idea of our remaining food, and the best part is I don’t have to cook. I would rather eat chips than cook, and often do, at the risk of receiving a nutritional castigation from Grace.

  “Guillermo’s hoping they’ll be frozen by dinner.”

  “Please tell me we’re getting rid of that freezer,” I say.

  “We are.” Eric wipes his hands on his jeans. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  “I don’t blame you,” I say, then wave to the others and follow him. “Are you okay?”

  He nods but doesn’t look at me as we turn the corner. “It’s Cassie’s birthday today.”

  I take his arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because you wouldn’t have known what to say. And you would’ve thought I was upset.”

  “I never know what to say, so that’s a lame excuse. But you’re right. Acting like nothing’s wrong and then being upset anyway is a much better plan.”

  His laugh is somber. “I guess I didn’t want to make it a big deal.”

  “But it is a big deal. She’s twenty-nine?”

  “Yeah.”

  If she’s alive is left unsaid, but it hangs in the air. We pass the big apartment building and stop at the base of our stoop. Eric once said he’s always perceived as the one who’s okay, and I might be just as guilty as everyone else of believing that to be true. He comes across as a pillar of strength, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t need support.

  “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s fine,” I say. “But don’t keep quiet because you think I wouldn’t want to hear. I don’t always know what to say, but I do know how to listen.”

  He puts his hands in his pockets and shrugs at the ground. “Sometimes I’m not sure I want Wadsworth to call. I’m afraid to know.”