Part 14 (1/2)

He walked the perimeter of the camp, frustrated. Did she really see him as so pathetic? So weak? He'd bent over backward trying to make things better for all of them, and it was as if she didn't even notice. And no matter what he said, he couldn't seem to get through to her. After that first kiss, she'd completely turned off. Radio silence. It was like traveling with a robot. She avoided him, preferring the company of the d.a.m.n kids. He could hear them laughing behind him on the road, making inside jokes that only they understood. It wasn't fair. They were his kids. Well, sort of his kids. He'd certainly known them longer. But lately they all seemed to prefer Peyton to him.

Maybe it was the pills. He'd started upping his daily dosage to deal with the pain of his cheek. He'd figured when the pain went away-or he ran out of his stash--he would quit taking them again. Still, they left him groggy and lethargic and not a h.e.l.l of a lot of fun to be around. Some days he could barely stay on his horse. Luckily, with everyone ignoring him, he could get away with it.

If only Tank were here. Chase missed his brother like crazy, and every day it got worse. He missed their casual banter. Tank's amazing way with the kids. If there were any justice in the world, Tank would be here now, leading everyone to Florida-not stupid, irresponsible Chase, who was flying by the seat of his pants, making it up as he went. No wonder the kids didn't talk to him.

He'd promised to protect the children, to get them to somewhere safe. Now he had to make good. And he had no idea how that was supposed to happen.

After all, he'd never been able to save anyone else.

He thought about his adopted sister. Her gap-toothed smile. Her high-pitched giggles. He'd been supposed to protect her from all the danger. Instead, he'd left her alone. It had just been for a few minutes, but that was all it took. A vision of her broken body, lying backstage, blood seeping out of her thousand bites, slammed through his brain. He swallowed a lump in his throat that felt attached to his heart.

Yes, Tara had believed in him and he had let her down. Now here he was again, thrust into another position where he was expected to protect the innocent. What if he failed? Tara's face faded and in its spot he saw Darla. Then Suns.h.i.+ne. They were bloodied and bruised and it was totally his fault.

He shook his head, a feeble attempt to keep the inner darkness at bay. He fingered the pill bottle in his pocket, desperately wanting another dose. But the last score had been a small one, and he'd had to take more and more medication these days to get results. He needed another score like the government lab one he'd once found. The high-grade stuff that was built to last for years.

A sudden thought occurred to him. What if he couldn't find another batch? What if what he had in his pocket was everything left in the world? His hands shook as he pulled the bottle out for another look. Were these his last pills? Would he have to stop taking them after they were gone? How on Earth was he going to function sober?

Panic throbbed through his veins as he popped open the top, and he felt like he was going to throw up. It would be fine, he told himself. He'd make up some excuse tomorrow to have the party wait for him while he went ”hunting and foraging.” Peyton would never know, just as Tank had never known. He'd travel until he hit some pharmacies or houses, stock up good and then he'd be okay. When he came back he'd just say he hadn't been lucky finding game. The plan would work.

And for now, he'd just take one. Just one pill wouldn't do much. After all, these were super weak. One pill would calm him down and he'd be able to stay up and guard the group without feeling so freaked out. It was in everyone's best interest.

He upended the bottle. Two pills fell out. He'd only take one. Except he took two. But they were weak. No big deal. He dry-swallowed them, feeling a sense of peace wash over him as they scratched down his throat. He'd be okay. He'd find more tomorrow. And tonight he'd keep Peyton and the children safe. Tank was gone, and Chase was the main man now. But that was okay. He could do it.

No big deal. He'd just close his eyes for a second, then make another circle of the perimeter.

Chapter Twenty-three.

”Hi, honey, how was school?”

Peyton's mom's smile seemed strained as she set colorful plates down on the dinner table in preparation for supper. Dad was down in the bas.e.m.e.nt again, not surprisingly. He'd been down there almost constantly for the last week, ever since Peyton told him about the monster in the dumpster. When she'd questioned him later, when he came back from checking it out, he claimed to have seen nothing. Nothing but dead bodies, stacked high. He said perhaps the shock of that nightmare itself was enough to make Peyton's mind go a little crazy. To cause her to see something that wasn't actually there.

But Peyton knew what she'd seen and it was no hallucination. And the fact that her dad wouldn't meet her eyes made her suspicious that he knew more than he'd tell. But try as she might, she couldn't get him to say anything more on the subject. Eventually she dropped it. But still, she found herself every day looking in the shadows, searching. Just in case. It wasn't something she could just forget about.

”Good, I guess, considering half the teachers are out with the Super Flu,” Peyton replied to her mother, plopping down in a chair. ”They combined all our cla.s.ses in the school auditorium with the one healthy guy left teaching. The sim-gym teacher! It's ridiculous. I don't know why they're bothering. They should just shut down.”

”Well, you still need an education,” Ashley Anderson said, carefully placing each fork, spoon and knife in its place.

”What good is an education if we're all going to keel over and die?”

Her mother dropped a spoon, and it clattered to the floor. She squatted to collect it, then walked over to the sink. After tossing the utensil in, she reached for her pills. Peyton sighed. She'd noticed her mother's hands were shaking and wondered how many happy pills she'd already swallowed that afternoon. It had been a disconcerting development the first time she'd seen her mother take the medication, but gradually it had seemed more normal. A lot of people were running scared these days and overmedicating.

The Super Flu hadn't stayed a hidden epidemic for long; it was too deadly and spread too quickly for any government intervention to help. By the end of the week it had been all over the news. People were urged to stay home and lock their doors. Close their windows. They'd been a.s.sured this would help keep the disease from spreading.

What people had done instead was either: a) pretend nothing strange was happening, b) dose like crazy on psych meds, or c) take the opportunity to stick it to the Man. News of looting was becoming more and more common. Shopkeepers-those who were still actually going to work-had taken to keeping illegal guns behind their counters. Last week three people had been shot.

Oh, and then there was the d) option: preparing for the worst. Some were stockpiling food and water and medicine in a desperate attempt to keep their families safe. Food prices had gone through the roof, as no one was driving the delivery trucks. Many stores that had once boasted overflowing shelves were now closing after running out of stock.

Peyton didn't know which option was smartest, but she knew going to school and packing into a gym to be taught by the sim-sports coach was something of a joke. Of course, she supposed the government had to keep the children busy somehow. While adults were dying in droves, not a single person under the age of eighteen had yet been reported as sick.

”I need you to go to the store, Peyton,” her mother said, rummaging through the kitchen cabinets. ”Debbie told me they might be trucking in some fresh produce today.”

Peyton groaned. After a long day at school, the last thing she wanted was to stand in line for three hours, waiting for a delivery that probably would fail to show. But what else could she do? Fresh fruits and vegetables were the one thing you couldn't stockpile. Her mother had taken to canning them and drying them whenever she could, and her father had brought home several batches for just that purpose. Peyton didn't want to ask where he'd gotten them.

”Okay,” she agreed, grabbing her bag. ”I'll be back in ten hours.”

She headed outside. The neighborhood was quiet. No kids were playing outside. No cars were leaving their driveways. But she could feel the weight of eyes upon her, watching from behind drawn curtains. The people here were home. Waiting. Watching. Too scared to leave.

Peyton decided to swing by Avery's house on the way to the market. Maybe she could convince her friend to come with her. Having someone along would cut down on the boredom of waiting in line at the very least. And Avery's family likely needed some produce as well.

She walked up to her friend's front door and rang the bell. No answer. Frowning, she rang a second time.

”It's me!” she called loudly, just in case they were worried about thieves. ”Peyton.”

The video monitoring system clicked on, and unseen eyes stared down at her. A moment later she heard a click and the door swung open. Avery's mother stepped out, closing the door behind her.

”You shouldn't have come here, Peyton,” she said.

Peyton c.o.c.ked her head in confusion. ”What? Why? I just wanted to see if Avery wanted to go get some produce with me. Supposedly there's going to be a big delivery today.”

Avery's mom shook her head. ”Avery's sick,” she said, her voice shaking. ”We... we think she's infected.”

Peyton stared. ”But... I thought kids weren't getting it,” she said, confused. ”I thought it was just an adult thing.” Chills ran down her spine. It was now affecting kids, too? This was terrifying. Not that she hadn't been scared before, but...

Avery's mother shrugged wearily. ”I don't know. But she's been running a high fever since she got home from school and... well, she's coughing. It's coming up blood. They... they say that's the first sign.” The woman was clearly near a breakdown.

”Oh, G.o.d.” Peyton shook her head and blinked away the tears that were flooding her eyes. ”Can I see her?”

The woman shook her head. ”No, sweetie,” she said. ”I don't think that's a good idea. You don't want to get sick, too.”

In a daze, Peyton nodded. She knew the woman was right, even if avoiding the Super Flu at this point seemed next to impossible, no matter what her father claimed about her being immune.

”Well, tell her I said... hi,” she murmured, not sure how else to end things. ”And... and that I hope she feels better soon.”

She could see the tears welling up in Avery's mother's eyes, and Peyton suddenly realized that Avery wasn't going to feel better soon. She wasn't going to feel better ever. She was going to die. Like the rest of the world was going to die.

”Take care, dear,” Avery's mother said. ”And be careful.”

Peyton trudged down the front stairs of the house, tears streaming down her cheeks. Before this, she hadn't really known any of the victims. There was Mrs. McCormick, who'd begun it all, and her teachers had called in sick, but after that everyone who'd fallen ill was a stranger. All her friends at school were still fine. Her parents were fine-apart from her mother's sudden attraction to opiates. But now, to be best friends with someone who had the disease... Suddenly everything was feeling a lot more real.

Avery. Fun, suns.h.i.+ney Avery. Champion virtual cheerleader. All-around great person. Sick. Probably dying. Just like everyone else.