Part 9 (1/2)
”And keep out the Others,” added the third.
”Who's going to read us stories?” asked little Suns.h.i.+ne, the brunette next to Darla. She stuck a grubby thumb in her mouth.
”Oh, please,” Red said, rolling his eyes. ”Who cares about stories?”
”I do,” Darla growled, grabbing Suns.h.i.+ne's hand and giving Red the evil eye.
Starr poked the little boy. ”And you do too, Red,” she reminded him, ”even though you're too cool to admit it.”
”Red likes stories, Red likes stories,” the triplets began chanting.
”Shut up!” With a cry of fury, Red lunged at them. The three fought back. Soon they were a tangled ma.s.s on the floor.
Peyton held up her hands in protest. ”Enough!” she cried. ”There's already been far too much violence today. I don't need it coming from you guys too.”
The fighting subsided. Eight pairs of eyes settled back on her. Great. Now what? she thought, frustrated. Where was Chase?
”Look,” she said, ”I know this is difficult. I know Tank was like a father to you guys and his death is a huge deal. But bad things have happened before, right? And you've gotten through them okay. You'll get through this, too. I promise.”
”Will you stay with us?” asked Suns.h.i.+ne, pulling her thumb from her mouth. ”Will you cook for us?” Her sky-blue eyes swallowed Peyton whole. ”Will you tell us stories?”
Peyton cringed. How did one explain to a seven-year-old that you were one of the last people in the world and had a very important mission-one that could be humanity's only salvation? How could you explain to eight children that they were less important than however many others had survived and needed to be rescued?
Of course, who could be sure how many others had actually survived? For all Peyton knew, these eight children were the only ones left. She looked over the band of ragam.u.f.fins, with their dirty, makeup-stained faces and ridiculous outfits. What would her dad say? Stop being so sentimental! You have more important things to do than babysit. Or would he understand that these children were a future she could see and could bet on? Would he give her dispensation to delay her task a few days?
She exhaled, realizing there was no easy answer. In the meantime, there was one thing she could do: make life go on. As normally as possible in a situation like this.
”Okay, guys,” she said. ”Who's hungry? Let's get some food in you. After we've eaten, those of you who aren't too grown-up for stories are in for a treat.”
When Chase woke up, it was still night. The full moon cast eerie shadows on the rusted cars in the Walmart parking lot, and he was lying next to Rocky's grave, which he'd dug next to Tank's. He remembered how Rocky used to annoy Tank with his constant silliness and hoped his brother would forgive him for burying them side by side.
He scrambled to his feet, realizing how stupid he'd been. He'd come outside alone, his mind addled by grief, and dug two graves right in the open where any wandering Other could put him on the dinner menu. Then, to make matters worse, he'd taken drugs and pa.s.sed out. Brilliant. He was going to make an stellar leader.
He headed back to the Walmart, his body and mind still hazy from a mixture of sleep and Vicodin. He'd been stupid to take the pills. They'd made him even more careless than usual. His brother had given him c.r.a.p for his lackadaisical nature in the past, but this was inexcusable. He had children to take care of. He had to be responsible. And that meant getting over his pain in other ways. He had to throw out the drugs and start over. Become the man he was supposed to be. One who had no difficulties leading a brood of crazy children on a zombie-plagued wilderness trek to Disney World.
Sounded great.
Still, from here on out he'd be stone-cold-sober Chase.
Starting tomorrow. Tonight he needed more sleep.
He made sure there was nothing dangerous around before he let himself back inside the Walmart, then wandered through the quiet store, flashlight in hand, looking for the kids. Finally he found them, all curled up and sound asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets around Peyton's feet. They were in the Home section. And they looked so innocent lying there, as if they didn't have a care in the world. He wondered what she'd said to them.
At first he a.s.sumed Peyton was asleep as well, but then she shuffled and stirred, crawling out of her sleeping bag and motioning him to follow her away from the circle of sleeping children.
”Where the h.e.l.l have you been?” she demanded, her face twisted into an angry scowl. They were out of earshot of the kids. ”They've been asking about you all night. I think half of them believe you're dead, too.”
Chase stepped back, startled. He'd forgotten they hadn't parted on good terms. To make things worse, he'd promptly gone off and pa.s.sed out, leaving her stuck with the kids. Kids he'd promised Tank he would protect.
”I'm sorry,” he said. ”I was... burying the dead.”
She gave him a suspicious look. Not that he blamed her. He'd been gone much longer than would be necessary for that. But he wasn't about to admit to accidentally pa.s.sing out from pills. She wouldn't understand, and that'd just make things worse.
”You've been gone a long time. Must have been some funeral.”
Chase glared at her, annoyed. ”I needed some time. I'm sorry. He was my brother, you know.”
She softened, looking embarra.s.sed. Part of him breathed a sigh of relief.
”Well, I fed the kids. And I got them to sleep,” she said, motioning to the brood. ”I'm going to be leaving really early in the morning. I didn't know if you wanted me to say goodbye now so I didn't wake you.”
Panic slammed through him. He hadn't thought she'd leave so soon. It was true she'd had this plan beforehand, but after the killings... He hadn't even had time to b.u.t.ter her up to agree to his plan!
”About that,” he said. The words sounded awkward in his mouth. This was going to come out all wrong and he knew it.
She stared at him.
”I was thinking... I mean, with Tank gone and all... there's really nothing here for us at the Walmart,” he began, struggling to explain. ”And, obviously, it's no longer safe. So, I was wondering if... maybe, if you wouldn't mind-”
”Oh, no. No way.”
He stared at her, surprised. He'd figured she'd at least agree to think about it. But the look on her face made him think she'd rather eat a live zombie than consider what he was about to suggest.
”What?” he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. ”You don't even know what I'm going to ask.”
”You're going to ask if you and the kids can tag along with me.”
Ah. ”Okay, fine, maybe you do know,” he replied. ”But you haven't heard my argument yet as to why it'd be a good idea.”
”I don't need to hear it. It's not a good idea. In fact, it's a very bad idea,” she said. Her voice was quiet.
”But why?”
She made a pained face. ”I'm sorry. It's just... well, I have... a schedule to keep,” she said. ”I need to get down there quickly, and there's no way I can do that if I'm dragging a bunch of kids along. Maybe if it were just you... maybe. But even then...” She trailed off, and he realized she was trying not to be insulting and was finding it difficult. Did she find him to be such a pathetic tool-fine to use when she needed stuff, but easily dumped afterward? It was just like old times. She hadn't changed a bit.
”Oh, I see.” He gritted his teeth. ”I forgot. You're better than us. You're all cyber chick, what with your implants and stuff.”
”You don't understand...” He could see the apology in her face, but he was too angry to accept it.
”Oh, I understand perfectly, don't you worry. And don't let me stop you. I can take care of these kids by myself. Maybe we'll take our own little field trip to Disney. We don't need you to play tour guide.”
She frowned. ”That's a bad idea. It'd be dangerous.”
”And it isn't for you? Please. You, Super Girl, have been out and about in this brave new world for exactly one afternoon. You may be all rawr-rawr razor-hands girl when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, but do you know anything about surviving day to day? Do you know when the Others are most likely to hunt, or that their eyesight is weak and how to take advantage of that? Did you know that they hate high-pitched noises and that whistles can sometimes save your life? I make sure the kids always have them when we go outside. Are you going to take one? And how about the fact that sometimes they work together, a small one baiting you into the open before a larger one jumps out of the shadows?”