Elixir (Red Plague #1) (Red Plague Trilogy) (16 page)

“There was this one girl,” I remembered. “Marcy. We used to pretend she had robot parts or something because no matter what distance she ran or whom she ran against she always came in first. She probably could have gone to the Olympics. She was that good.” But there might never be another Olympics and Marcy was most likely dead. Dead or infected.

I couldn’t stand the thought. “What about you?” I countered. “Did you play sports in high school?”

Pollard shrugged. “Football, but I was awful. I only played in three games my whole senior year.”

“It was your dad’s idea?” I guessed.

“How did you know?”

“I bet all you wanted to do was cook, right?”

He smiled. “Exactly.”

“I write songs,” I explained. “See, we both have secret obsessions.”

“Will you sing me one?”

I pulled a face. “I don’t sing, but I’ll say it. If you want.” When he nodded I recited something I’d written in my freshman year, long before the plague hit, “’Sunshine in my hair; sand between my toes. Must be summertime. School’s a memory; longer days to play. Must be summertime.’”

“That’s pretty,” Pollard said.

Russell called out, “Aren’t you going to guess anything?”

Without looking back, Pollard answered, “Is it the earth?”

“You are way off.” Russell chuckled.

“Maya,” Pollard said, his voice dropping. “How do you think you kept from getting infected?”

Easy
. My dad taught me to be clean and safe. “I stayed in my house and sanitized everything I touched.”

“I think we’re immune,” he said.

“To 212R?” I’d never considered immunity to be real. How could I determine, without a medical doctor and a lab, if I’d survived the Red virus because I was vigilant or because of a natural resistance?

“Have you read
The Stand
by Stephen King?” he asked. I shook my head, and he continued. “It’s about a disease that wipes out more than ninety-nine percent of the world’s population. But even one-hundredth of one percent of a billion people is one hundred thousand people. And there are more than a billion people in the world. That’s us. And Russell and Hunny and Simone. The hundredth of a percent.”

“Guys!” Russell snapped. “Did you hear me? I said you only have two more guesses.”

“Uh.” Pollard gave me half a smile before glancing over his shoulder. “Is it a vehicle?”

“No. Last question.”

“Is it a toy?” Hunny blurted out.

“Come on,” Russell complained. “It’s Pollard’s T-shirt. Jeez. I thought that would be easy.”

Hunny wanted to play again, and she and Russell went back and forth, peppering each other with questions. I tried to tune them out as we made a snail’s progress. At that point I could’ve gotten off the bike and walked faster than Pollard pushed it.

It wasn’t his fault. The highway was a mess, and we were headed uphill for the next quarter mile or so. But I was still frustrated. Then Pollard opened his mouth and made it worse.

“We’re not going to make it into downtown tonight,” he said, eyeballing the high rises in the distance. “And there will be more zombies in the city. We should find a place to sleep around here while we still can.”

Chapter Fourteen

“Are you sure?” Anxiety peaked inside me. I didn’t want to spend another night without meeting my goal. “Can’t we give it a try? We might make it downtown in the next couple hours, and then we could sleep in the lab.”

Pollard shook his head. “It’ll take longer than a couple hours on foot pushing the bikes. What if a Red corners us after dark? It’s too dangerous. We’ll sleep there.” He pointed down the highway toward a shopping center at the next freeway exit.

I wanted to argue, but he was right. Damn it. No matter how much I needed to get to my dad’s lab, we had to do it safely. What was the point of going through all this if I died before I found the cure?

We walked the bikes along the edge of the I–40, no one saying much of anything anymore. It was too hot and depressing to play games.

Pollard parked his Kawasaki on a strip of sandy earth between a thrift store and a car lot.

The front doors of the re-sell shop were smashed and twisted open. I stepped inside, avoiding glass and forgotten knick-knacks. This store had been looted too, but a lot of things remained, symbols of everything that had once been important. Sofas, dining sets, and framed art. No guitars, though. Not that I could have carried one on Pollard’s dirt bike anyway.

The whole place smelled of shoes and sour Chinese food.

“Stay in sight and be quiet,” Pollard ordered, giving a military hand signal for us to move inside.

Russell headed for the back wall, but I bee-lined for the clothes section. Scratching at my ribs, itchy with sweat, I searched for a pair of clean pants and a less constrictive tank top.

Still carrying her Saddle Club doll on her chest, Hunny ran straight for the gently used toy area. She got real quiet as she studied each colorful, plastic plaything.

“Pollard,” Russell said. “I found camping gear, but there’s only one tent. And it’s small.”

“Good.” Pollard tested the weight of a cast iron skillet. “The ladies will have shelter tonight. You and I will rough it.”

I chose a pair of dark blue jeans and held them to my hips. “Pick out new clothes,” I told Hunny. “It’s easier than doing laundry.” There wasn’t enough clean water to wash our bodies every day, let alone our clothes and bedding. “Shoes, too.”

She ignored me, so I chose khakis and T-shirts for her. I picked out fresh blue jeans, a white top, plus clean socks and underwear for myself. I stared longingly at the shorts, but if I didn’t wear long pants my sword would cut my legs when I ran.

And then I chose a second outfit to pack into my bag for later. I was like a kid in a candy store with daddy’s wallet. Though all the shopping should’ve made me happy, I couldn’t manage it. I only needed new clothes because my entire life, the whole world, was thoroughly screwed.

“Cool, clothes.” Pollard rummaged through the menswear rack across from the shirts I was sorting.

He picked up a pair of ski pants that had fallen on the ground. A giant rat cowered in fear at being discovered. I squealed, rising up on my tiptoes. The disgusting thing scurried for cover under a sofa bed.

A scream bubbled up from my chest. I tossed away the clothes in my arms and hobbled for the entrance. No way was I messing with rats. Spiders I could handle. Wild dogs I could reason with. But freaking rats? No, no, no.

I didn’t stop fleeing until I stood in the bed of an abandoned pickup truck, panting for air and covered in goose bumps.

Pollard, Russell, and Hunny exited more calmly, each wearing new clothes and shoes.

“I think these are safe,” Pollard said, dumping a load of clothing in the truck at my feet. Grinning, he asked, “You don’t like mice?”

“That was a rat,” I corrected, folding my arms. “And I don’t know anyone who likes rats. They’re filthy. And they bite.” Plus their tails were creepy and they had black eyes.

Still smiling, Pollard lifted a lacy pink cocktail dress, the most hideous, backwoods prom dress ever made, from the pile.

“It’s for you,” he said.

I tried really hard not to make a face. “Thanks, but it’s a little impractical.”

“So?” He shook it out. “It’s pretty.”

If you say so
. “Did you pick up the tank tops I found?” I sifted through the pile, less worried about vermin outside.

“Uh.” He pushed aside a parka and a lone leather sandal. “I think so.”

I pulled out the clothes I wanted to keep, plus a pair of cotton pajama bottoms.

Pollard glanced up the side of the thrift shop. “I think we can climb on the roof and spend the night. It’ll be safe up there.”

It was maybe the securest place I’d been since I’d left my house. If I weren’t in such a hurry to get to Raleigh I wouldn’t have minded living on a roof permanently. Or in a high-rise apartment complex.

It would be a lot of work, of course, clearing the infected out of a place like that and securing the ground floor to prevent future attacks. But if a multi-floor building could be controlled, it was the best possible shelter. And I could loot all the apartments for food, water, and toiletries. I got a warm, fuzzy feeling at the very idea of settling somewhere safe.

“I’ll lift you girls up.” Pollard stepped onto the cab of the truck and scrambled onto the roof in a pull-up fashion. A moment later, he reappeared over the side, both arms outstretched. “Toss up the bedding first. And then the supplies.”

I did as he asked, passing him everything we’d need to spend the night and the next morning on a roof. Plus my private possessions.

I boosted Hunny up into his arms and then took both his hands in mine. He held firm, and I had no doubt he’d keep me from falling. Pollard was that kind of person. He’d protect and defend to his last breath. I used my feet to walk up, and he lifted me the rest of the way, but he wobbled off balance at the last second. We landed in a tangled heap on the gravel roof. I didn’t move right away, feeling the hard planes and sharp angles of his body against mine.

His breath puffed against my cheek. “Did I hurt you?”

I swallowed, not sure how to delicately disentangle myself. “I don’t think so.”

With a slightly embarrassed look, and an arm locked around my ribs, he rose to his feet and steadied me. “I’ll work on dinner,” he said, snatching up two backpacks and marching away.

“Do you need any help?” I called.

Pollard didn’t answer and I took that as a
yes
. So, I left Hunny and Russell to make the beds and crossed the roof to where Pollard was sorting his cooking supplies.

“Nothing fresh,” I observed. After only two hot meals I was already spoiled again.

He gingerly set a sheathed knife atop a stainless steel frying pan. “There’s not enough time to go hunting. And I don’t want to risk it, anyway. I’m not familiar with this area.”

“So, what’s your plan?” If it wasn’t eaten with a spoon from a tin can I didn’t know how to make it.

“A stovetop casserole.” He showed me a can of chicken chunks. “I’ll mix a couple different things together.”

I wasn’t sure I’d ever had it before, but it sounded delicious.

“Will you open these and drain the liquid while I start the fire?” Pollard pushed a can opener and cans of chicken and black beans at me.

“Okay.” I cranked off the lid of the can of black beans first. Careful not to spill anything, I carried it to the edge of the roof and tipped back my head, swallowing the sweet and salty fluid. After suffering a day and night from dehydration, it was too good to waste.

Movement at the far side of the parking lot caught my eye.

Ben had found me, and a thrill crackled along my nerve endings.

“Don’t spill any,” Pollard warned.

I startled, nearly dropping the whole can onto the pavement below. But I saved it at the last second and, not sure what to say, returned it to Pollard.

“Here you go.” I picked up the next two cans and carried them to the roof’s threshold.

Ben was on the move now, edging closer to our position, but he didn’t seem to be in much of a hurry for a guy on the hunt. He must have run all day to keep up with us.

“You got those cans drained?” Pollard asked. “The pot’s ready.”

“Uh. One second.” I opened and then swallowed the fluid from the last two cans while keeping an eye on Ben. He wasn’t behaving aggressively. It was impossible for him to climb. And because he was harmless down there in the parking lot I didn’t tell Pollard about our zombie tagalong. He’d go off again about Ben hunting me and how dangerous he was.

“I need those ingredients,” Pollard said.

I scurried back across the roof.

Chapter Fifteen

We ate as a family would, as my family had before my mom died, gathered around Pollard’s one pot meal of chicken, black beans, stewed tomatoes, and white rice seasoned with garlic and cumin. It was very good, made even better because Pollard had created it out of practically nothing, and it reminded me why shared meals had been so special. Before the red plague.

“Good food, man,” Russell declared, patting his stomach after finishing two servings. “I need a smoke.”

“I’m glad you liked it, but you can’t disappear yet,” Pollard said, scooping a last bite straight from the pan. “You’re going to help me clean up.”

The teen groaned and scrubbed at his stubbly red hair, but he picked up the dirty disposable plates and silverware, piled it onto the skillet, and followed Pollard to the makeshift kitchen.

“I like them,” Hunny said, dropping her head into my lap for a cuddle.

Finger-combing her delicate curls, I said, “Me too.” They’d proven their trustworthiness. “You’ll be happy living with them.”

“
We’ll
be happy.” She glanced up at me. “Right, Maya?”

No. But she’d found stability and security with Pollard’s group and I didn’t want to scare her by telling her I was leaving first chance I got.

Though, who knew, would she even miss me when I left?

The day before, I’d been thrilled to discover a new group for Hunny, but it hadn’t occurred to me then that she might bond to me. We’d only known each other for a day. The more time I spent with her, though, the more attached she became.
We
became.

I’d miss her when I left.

“Time to make camp.” I urged her onto her feet.

The roof was flat and wide, broken only by air conditioning and heating ducts and some kind of electrical panel. I claimed a spot, as good as any, out in the open and prepared a bed.

I’d never slept communally before. This felt exposed and vulnerable.

I worried I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep unless I was hemmed in by four walls. But this isolated spot away from everyone else at least gave me the illusion of solitude. I spread a thin blanket over the gritty roofing.

“Maya, sleep in the tent with Hunny.” Pollard shook his head at my handiwork. “We got it for you.”

“I like sleeping by myself.” Being snuggled to death by Hunny for the next nine hours or so sounded like torture.