The City Series (Book 2): Peripeteia

  I reposition her head on the pillow, then place her hands at her sides. The fatigue has left her features and the blush of fever is fading. She could be sleeping. How I wish she were only sleeping. I kiss her forehead one last time and brush away the tears that fall from my face to hers.

  “Vale,” I whisper. Vah-lay. Farewell.

  Chapter 91

  Eric

  Taking out the two in the pickup was easy enough with the craziness in the park. It was getting past the walls that proved impossible. They’ve posted sentries on the roofs, and while Paul and I might make it, we won’t make it out with scared kids. We’ll have to wait for dark to leave our hiding spot in the school basement.

  Sylvie would hate it down here. I didn’t see a roach, but I saw old bait traps scattered beside the steam pipes and boilers before we shut off the flashlight from the greenhouse. There must be spiders, too, and while I can deal with that, sitting in the dark imagining bugs crawling on me is not one of my favorite pastimes.

  Paul breathes next to me. “Seven more hours until sunset?”

  “About seven, yeah.”

  His boots shuffle on the concrete floor. “Why did I follow you back into this hellhole?”

  “You couldn’t stand to lose me?”

  He chuckles deep in his throat. “That must have been it.”

  “Actually, I was surprised you left Leo.”

  There’s a long silence, followed by an exhalation. “It was your girlfriend’s face.”

  “What?”

  “When she saw you were going. Sylvie was about to follow you and then Leo was going to lose his shit. The kid thinks she’s his new mother.”

  “So it wasn’t me at all?”

  “Nope. But I did think you had a better plan than this bullshit excuse for one.”

  “Sorry,” I say with a small laugh. “I’m all out of plans at the moment.”

  Every so often, I think of the rifle kick and how the guy I shot looked down for a moment, as if wondering what had socked him in the chest, before he fell. But there’s not a lick of remorse. If I ever sleep again, I’ll sleep like a baby where that’s concerned.

  Baby Jin is not sleeping like a baby—he’s whimpering. So far Elena has been able to quiet him, but he’s going to get hungry enough to bawl at some point, and that’s going to be a problem. I don’t have a plan for that, either. I think of that baby upstate, left to die in its crib. Little Jin isn’t alone, but unless we can think of a way to keep a hungry baby quiet, we all might die if anyone hears his cries.

  “We need the milk from the kitchen,” I say. The rec center is across the street, but now that things have settled down, there must be people in there.

  Jin makes a series of short squawks. “That’s the cry just before they’re about to scream for a good hour,” Paul says.

  He knows what he’s talking about; Leo was a fussy baby. “I’ll go,” I say. “If I carry the rifle and keep my head down, they might think I’m one of them. Give me your sweatshirt so I can use the hood.”

  “Bro, if Walt or Emilio get a good look at you, you’re dead. I’m not getting these people out of here by myself. I’ll go.”

  “Paul, you can’t.”

  It’s bad enough he left Leo to come with me, but I won’t let him be killed for a baby’s milk when he has his own kid to think of. I flick on the flashlight when he doesn’t respond. Paul’s head is dropped back against the wall, eyes closed, and he lifts it to squint at me. “What? They’ve never seen me. Well, Emilio’s seen me, but not as much as you. And Walt and the others don’t know who I am because some jerkoff, whose name I won’t mention, wouldn’t let me go to Sacred Heart.”

  I sigh. He could get away with it—Paul’s good at bullshitting his way into places and out of situations. He stands, brushing off his pants. I get to my feet to hand him the flashlight, but he shakes his head. “Just light the way out.”

  We explain the plan to Jorge and Brother David, then I walk Paul to the metal stairs that lead to the main floor. “I’ll stay by the door. If something happens, start shooting and I’ll come out for you,” I say on our way up.

  He takes the last three stairs in one stride and turns back. “Fuck that, Forrest. This is my heroic moment. You’re not taking it away from me.” He grins and pulls his hood over his head. “I always knew you were going to get me killed one of these days.”

  This is Paul’s version of a goodbye hug. “Pull this off, and it’ll go down in the annals of history.”

  “Damn straight. See you in ten.”

  He slips out the door. I stand on the top stair and while away the ten minutes by torturing myself with my lack of knowledge of Sylvie’s whereabouts, wondering if Eli and Grace got out, and listening for the telltale shots that mean Paul is in danger or dead.

  Thirteen minutes later, I let out my breath as the door opens and he ducks through. “Jesus, there’s a lot of them. How many people did you say Sacred Heart had?”

  “I think Walt last said over a hundred.” There had to be more people to mount an attack like this, especially since that number included the families Walt slaughtered and, possibly, the bodies out front of Sacred Heart. “But, obviously, he’s not exactly a bastion of truth.”

  “No, he is not, my friend. And maybe if I’d gone with you to Sacred Heart, I would’ve—”

  “Did you get the damn milk, Paul?” I ask.

  Paul pats his coat and starts down the stairs. “Course I got the milk.”

  He’s going to spend the rest of our lives thinking he would’ve seen through Walt. But none of us did. I’ve spent my time in the basement trying to convince myself that I didn’t miss anything. That I didn’t fuck up. My hindsight isn’t 20/20 either way—a fact that provides no consolation.

  But I can’t escape the fact that I did fuck up today. I didn’t trust my instincts, didn’t turn and shoot Walt in his smiling face before any of it could happen. And while what I most want is to get out of here, I will say this: If certain death is on the horizon, I will do my very best to take Walt down with me.

  ***

  Basically, Paul pulled the old trick of acting like you belong somewhere so no one thinks to question you. He traipsed past a few guys in the rec center hall, rifle slung over his shoulder, then hid the milk jars in his coat and filled his pockets with candy bars before traipsing out again. The kids enjoyed the candy bars. I would like something to eat, but unlike them I won’t whine or throw a tantrum if I get too hungry.

  He says it’s quiet in the park, for the most part. They’ve already culled most of the Lexers and are chasing down the remainder. They have more than they brought, what with the new families and the people of SPSZ. Not everyone came out to greet Sacred Heart, and I imagine they either escaped as soon as they could or are now being hunted with the Lexers behind our walls.

  Jin was fed by way of a clean piece of cloth dipped in milk, on which he then sucked. It was a time-consuming process. We know they added ingredients to the milk in order to boost its nutritive value, but, even without them, he’s reverted to a chubby, content baby. We sat in the dark for a few hours, then turned on the flashlight when the kids started to lose it.

  I hold Jin by his armpits and bounce him on my knees while he gurgles in delight. As long as he’s fed and entertained, he doesn’t think he has anything to fear. It must be nice.

  “You and Sylvie might have one of those,” Paul says.

  “Sylvie doesn’t want kids.” I make a silly face at Jin so that he grins, and then I say, “Nope, she doesn’t want one of you, even if you are cute. Sorry, fella.”

  “And you’re all right with that?”

  I bounce Jin extra high. “Paul, I’m sitting in a basement hiding from bad guys and zombies, holding a baby who, if not happy, might be the death of us all. I’m all right with it.”

  “Good point.”

  Jin leans forward, hands out, and I bring him to my chest. He reaches up to yank my hair and then settles into me, grabbing at my coat p
ockets with one hand while he sucks on the index finger of his other. I rub his soft cheek rhythmically and watch his eyelids battle sleep before they stay down. His fist unclenches and his body eases until he’s a lump of warm weight nestled beneath my collarbone.

  Brother David gives me a thumbs up. “He has the magic touch,” Paul says in a low voice. “Hannah wanted him to live with us when Leo was a baby.”

  Jorge scoots close. “When we leave, I’ll go last to make sure everyone’s out.”

  “I can do that,” I say.

  “Already decided,” Jorge says firmly. He strokes his short ponytail. “Hope they got there okay.”

  I know who he’s talking about, since it’s the same thought that runs behind every thought I’ve had in the past hours, when it’s not front and center. “They’re probably wondering what the hell’s taking us so long.”

  He blows out a breath. “I should’ve gone with them, but I thought I could help here.”

  There’s no use second-guessing. I think about saying that to him, but he’ll ignore it just as I would if he said it to me. Even if it’s true, it won’t make me any less guilt-ridden if Sylvie and the others aren’t at the safe house.

  “I wouldn’t be sitting here if you hadn’t,” Brother David says to Jorge, then motions to Jin, “and neither would he.” Jorge nods and touches a finger to Jin’s pudgy cheek.

  We turn off the flashlight. Every now and then we hear a volley of gunshots. They could be killing zombies, or people, or shooting into the air in victory, but, whatever the case, they have plenty of ammo. Especially now that they have ours to add to their collection.

  Finally, my watch registers a half hour after sunset. Paul and I go first to scope out the hallway. It’s empty. “Hang on, I want to see something,” I say, and head for the rooms at the front of the building.

  Paul follows me into a dark classroom to view the park. Lights are lit, and a few people stand outside the rec center, laughing and talking like they own the fucking place. Which, I suppose, they do. I grind my teeth to keep from going out there. Men, women, I don’t care—I’d murder them all. We opened our arms and got sucker-punched. And I do feel like a sucker. A huge one.

  Paul’s hand clamps my bicep. “Now we turn around and leave.”

  I’m not used to Paul being the voice of reason, but I listen. We lead everyone through the school lunchroom to the cold, dark courtyard and press ourselves against the side of the building to stay single file in the shadows. Once through the gate, we pass into the small church’s yard, which is hidden behind an annex of the school.

  I take in the school’s roof before I follow them to the next avenue, where we’ll loop around. Up high, two men glow in the light of a lantern before it switches off. If I waited for them to light it again, I could take at least one of them by surprise with my rifle.

  “Bro,” Paul whispers. “C’mon.”

  I climb the fence and leave it all behind, along with a good portion of my pride.

  ***

  We had to kill a thawed zombie before we hit the cemetery, and now we walk the paths with the kids inside a ring of adults. Night is great for hiding, until you trip over a zombie and start it crawling after you, which Elena’s son did ten minutes ago. Felix is a quick learner, though, and he hasn’t strayed again.

  We make it out of the cemetery and to the safe house, then switch on the flashlight. The exhaust grill beside the front door has a piece of torn green fabric wedged between the top slats. Jorge grunts beside me. It means someone is on the top floor. No light comes from the windows, but they would’ve covered them.

  The walk upstairs is the longest of my life. Made even longer by the kids. I lift Chen in one arm, Emily in the other, and refrain from tossing the slower-climbing adults out of my way. It’s only on the top landing that I come to a halt, more afraid than eager of what I’ll find.

  Paul sets Felix on the floor and tries a door. It swings open to reveal dim light down the hall in the living area. There’s no stopping him now, and by the time I reach the front of the apartment, he has Leo in his arms. I brush past Micah and Lucky, the rock in my throat dissolving at the sight of Sylvie rushing for me. I gather her to my chest and put my lips to her hair. Her smell, her warmth, and her touch are why I walked away, swallowed my pride. And I don’t regret it.

  Indy scans the assorted people behind us, shoulders drooping. “Eli and Grace?”

  “They’re not here?” Paul asks over Leo’s head. He meets my eyes, lips parted in surprise. “We couldn’t get to them, but we told them to leave, and they did. They went toward the house.”

  “When?” she asks quietly.

  Paul runs a hand through his hair. “Right after we left you.” Indy bites her lip, and he shakes his head. “Shit, Indy. I don’t know what—” He breaks off.

  “We just made it out, had to wait for dark,” I say to Indy. “You know Eli would’ve, too.” Her head jerks up and down before she turns to the covered window. I was sure they’d be here. It doesn’t mean they won’t be, but I’m not encouraged by the news.

  Sylvie pulls away, holding my hand, and then reaches for Jorge’s with her other. “Maria, she’s—she was bitten.”

  The room goes silent. I stumble. I’m not walking and somehow I stumble. I can’t have heard her right. Maria was fine when Jorge left. He said so himself. Jorge’s eyes are dark circles as he stares at Sylvie, uncomprehending, and I notice how her face is swollen and splotchy.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispers. “I couldn’t wait any longer.”

  “Where?” Jorge croaks.

  I’m not sure he believes her. I don’t want to, either, and I choke back a sob that knifes between my ribs. Sylvie takes Jorge’s arm and leads him down the hall, pulling me behind on deadened feet. I was wrong—the walk to the bedroom is even longer than the stairs.

  Chapter 92

  Sylvie

  In the morning, we lay Maria in a mausoleum and manage to not be interrupted by Lexers before Brother David finishes saying a few words. The others walk toward the safe house across the street, but Eric stands with his arm around me while I watch Jorge run a finger along the verdigris patina on the mausoleum’s door. We chose the nicest one that isn’t gaudy, with a lake view and a stained-glass window of an angel that allows light to flood inside. Maria was too colorful to be shut in the dark.

  “You all right?” Eric asks. He has dark depressions under his eyes and cheekbones from stress, grief, and lack of sleep.

  I nod, though I’m not sure. I’ve been doing what I have to do, focusing on the next thing. Now that this step is finished, I keep reliving the needle sliding through Maria’s skin, my thumb delivering the fluids that put her down like she was a beloved family pet. I’m not guilt-ridden—I’m furious, and I want to make it out of the cemetery before it poisons my goodbye.

  “Why didn’t she say something?” Jorge asks. “I would’ve left with you.”

  “That’s why,” I say. “And then you never would’ve saved that baby, or Brother David, and she would’ve been pissed. You know Maria.” It’s knew, but I don’t correct myself and neither do they. We’re all heartrendingly aware Maria is past tense.

  Jorge wipes his face with his arm. “When she asked if I knew she loved me, I thought it was because she thought I might die, not because she was—” He stifles a sob, looking past the lake to the trees and winding roads of the cemetery. “Let’s go. She would’ve asked us why we’re standing here waiting to be eaten.”

  I pull him to my other side with as authentic a laugh as I can produce. Jorge cried most of the night, especially after I told him what Maria said, but he’s strong. I know he’ll keep going, and I’m so thankful for that.

  “Have I ever told you I love you, Jorge?” I ask.

  His head pivots as he keeps an eye out for zombies, but he pauses to wink a bloodshot eye. “No. But I knew.”

  “Good.”

  We climb the stairs of our safe house. The plan is to wait a couple of
days for any stragglers to join us and then figure out what’s next. At dawn, we chanced a quick look from a roof closer to Sunset Park and saw people standing on the buildings—our buildings—alert for signs of payback. Which I plan to give them a hundredfold.

  ***

  Eric and Micah left on bikes two hours ago to search for a trace of anyone. Indy resumed her vigil at the window while the sun rose high above the rooftops, and she hasn’t moved since. I join her, trying to imagine what could keep Eli and Grace that isn’t bad news, but my imagination is lacking in that department. Twenty-four hours to make it less than a mile. All I can think is that they ran into Kearney on the same block we did, if they got that far.

  I can’t stand the thought of Grace lying somewhere, bloody and dead. I can’t stand the thought of her walking around, gray and dead. The idea that she’ll never sing opera or lecture me about the universe or critique my eating habits has carved out a hollow in my chest. She’s the only family I have from before, the only thing from my old life I care about.

  Every figure that walks into view makes my heart leap and then plunge when it’s another thawed-out Lexer. They’re waking up. After two appear, a tall one and short one who aren’t Eli and Grace, Indy says, “I can’t take this.”

  “We have to wait,” I say. Indy shakes her head, and I clasp her wrist. “Let me finish. We have to wait for now, but we’ll go.”

  Indy views me sideways. “You’ll go?”

  Tears rise for the millionth time in the past day, and I blink them away. “Eli is your brother, but Grace is like my sister.”

  Sacred Heart is not taking it. They’re not sneaking in and murdering our people, then stealing our shit and getting away with it. Walt and I are going to have a talk, and by talk I mean I’m going to kill him. My eyes dry. Anger is how I kept from crying for years. But that was misplaced anger, and this anger is appropriately aimed straight between Walt’s eyes. And Kearney’s, if I didn’t kill him already. Now that I know I can shoot him without a single qualm, I relish the thought of doing it again.

  “I promise we will kill them,” I say. “Even if it’s just you and me, we will kill those motherfuckers eventually.”