Tomorrow Land Part 21

"This is going to sound crazy, but I think one of them was Avery Williams. She was sick. Her mom said she had the flu. But I came face to face with one of the monsters and I swear to G.o.d it was her. Or it had been her. She didn't seem to recognize me."

Ian nodded, not looking the least bit surprised. Probably he was the only man on Earth who wouldn't tell her she was being ridiculous.

"From our research, my coalition has determined that the Super Flu is affecting different people in different ways," he told her. "Some people simply die. Those are the lucky ones. The others... well, these others seem to have their DNA mutated somehow. They have reduced brain function and increased hunger. They lose their body hair and experience skin discoloration, get open sores."

Peyton shuddered. "Like... zombies?"

Her father shook his head. "They're not zombies, Peyton. Far from it. They're living, breathing humans. Completely alive. But they're not your friends and neighbors anymore. They're also infectious. Their saliva... well, one bite and you could turn into one of them, too."

Peyton thought about how close she'd been to being bitten. By her best friend, of all people. She sank into a chair, head in her hands. "Oh G.o.d," she whispered. "When will it all end? And how?"

"Look, Peyton," her father said. "Things are likely to get worse before they get better. And I need for you to start taking things seriously. That means no leaving the house for parties anymore. And I don't want you to go back to school. I can't imagine it will stay open much longer, anyway. And no more going to the supermarket. We have enough food, no matter what your mother thinks."

"But, Dad!" she protested. "I don't want to be stuck here, locked away! And I can defend myself now that I know what's going on. Wasn't that what all the training was about? What's the use of being alive if I have to spend my time in hiding, not being able to be with the people I care about?"

Ian shuffled his feet, staring into s.p.a.ce. "Indeed," he said, almost absent-mindedly. "That's what the training was about. I wanted to prepare you in case something went wrong. But I don't think a few martial arts lessons are enough. You need more. Humanity needs more." He rubbed his chin with his finger and thumb. "You need to be a Molly Millions."

She looked at him, confused. What on Earth was he talking about? That razor girl in his Neuromancer book? That was ridiculous. After all, she was tough because she had cybernetic- Oh, no. No, no, no.

"No way," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not going to let you implant me."

He frowned, and she realized that was exactly what he'd been thinking. "They'd help you survive," he remarked. "And I've been perfecting them."

"Survive? At what cost? Look what happened to the soldiers you created!" she cried. "Do you really want that for your daughter?" She remembered the photos of the men her father had implanted so many years ago, their blank faces marred by metal. They were monsters, too, in their own way. Just like Avery, only infected by technology instead of disease.

"That was not the cybernetics' fault," her dad retorted. "That was their inadequate government training and then their psychological response to being asked to do things outside of human nature. Sure, it's easy to blame the tech, but those soldiers would have been fine if they'd been trained as I mandated. They were unprepared for what they were sent to do." He ran a hand through his hair. "Cybernetics don't kill people, Peyton. People kill people."

She couldn't believe they were even having this conversation. That her father-her own father-wanted to turn her into a cyborg. "I'm not going to let you do that to me. I'm not a soldier. I don't want to be a soldier. I'm just a plain high school kid!"

"Peyton Marie Anderson! There is no more high school, and plain kids won't survive," her father retorted. "This is the end of the world we're talking about. It's no game. And I'm offering you the best chance possible to come through on the other side. To become a part of Earth's future."

"By turning me into a robot."

Her father looked pained. "You won't be a robot. You'll just have... parts. Very tiny, non-obtrusive parts that will help you see further, react faster, fight better. Parts that will help you survive whatever may come." He paused, peering at her over his gla.s.ses. "You do want to survive, don't you, Peyton?"

She hung her head, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to do. "Of course," she whispered at last. "But at what price?"

"Look," her dad said, walking back over to his computer. "We don't have to do this today. We still have some time left, and I still have some things to do before we go underground. You think about it and come back to me when you've decided. I will ultimately leave it up to you."

"Fine." She knew her answer, but at least this would buy some time. She started back up the bas.e.m.e.nt stairs.

"Oh, and, Peyton?" her dad called after her.

She paused on the top stair. "Yeah?"

"Until you're properly outfitted to survive, I don't want you leaving the house. Not ever again."

"But, Dad-"

"You want to see your friends? You want to see your boyfriend, whom you started dating against my advice? Yes," he added, "I know all about him. But until you agree to added protection, you are not leaving the house for him or anyone. Don't think it'll be otherwise."

Chapter Thirty-four.

Chase woke to the sound of soft breathing next to him. Helga had taken the night watch, and he and Peyton were able to curl up together in a motel room, snuggling close. There was little light, except for what flickered in through the curtained window from the campfire, but they were both mentally and physically exhausted from the ordeal and had immediately pa.s.sed out in each other's arms.

Peyton was curled against him, her small body melting into his. He absently brushed her hair with his hand, fingering the smooth strands. How he'd wanted this, and for so long. Now here she was. All his. At last.

The moment should have been perfect. But he couldn't relax. Not with the itching. Low in his belly first, then crawling up and down each limb.

It had been easy to make a promise to himself to give up the drugs when he was bargaining for his life and trying to appease the girl of his dreams; it was a lot harder to act on that promise in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep. No more pills. Not just tonight, but not ever again. The rest of his life spilled out in front of him, and it suddenly seemed very bleak.

He tried to tell himself that his love for Peyton was enough. Surely she could satiate his hungers, his desires. But the gnawing attacked him like a thousand tiny midges p.r.i.c.kling his skin, and no amount of scratching would make it go away.

Peyton shifted in her sleep, moaning a bit, and he wondered if she was dreaming about him. He felt so weak, so awful, lying there with her in his arms and unable to think of anything but a hit.

"You okay?" she murmured, half-asleep, turning to face him.

"I'm fine," he lied, not wanting to trouble her. He'd been enough trouble already. "I didn't mean to wake you."

She frowned, propping herself up on her elbow. "You don't look fine. What's wrong?"

He felt his face burn in shame, not wanting to admit the truth.

"Chase, you can tell me. You can tell me anything. I won't judge you, I promise. Just tell me," she urged, reaching out and stroking his cheek with a loving finger.

And suddenly he wanted to. He was sick of acting unnaturally strong. He wanted to lean on the girl he loved, to allow her to see the real him. The weak, vulnerable him. "It's hard to sleep without the drugs," he admitted. "When darkness falls, they're all I can think about. I... ache without them. I itch." There, he'd said it. Let her take the truth as she would. Maybe she'd kick him out of bed, yell at him for how pathetic he was, for having stumbled into this addiction.

But she didn't. "Oh, Chase," she whispered, kissing him lightly on the mouth instead. He kissed her back, then pulled away, wanting to explain somehow.

"Before you came back, I thought I had nothing to live for," he confessed, staring up at the ceiling. "The drugs were the only thing I had to block out reality. To dull the pain of all I'd lost, of what the world had become." He frowned. "But now... now for the first time, I have a reason to go on." He turned to her, his eyes watery. "You. And I don't want my weakness to get in the way of that."

She gazed at him with serious eyes. "Look, Chase, my mother was an addict. And at the time, I couldn't understand it. I thought if only she loved me enough, she'd figure out a way to give up her pills. To choose me over them. But she couldn't. Addiction is a disease and love and desire are not enough. You need real treatment. Well, as real as we can get here in this world."

She gave him a loving smile, making his heart feel as if it would burst. "I couldn't save my mom," she told him. "But I'm going to save you. We're going to stop at a hospital. We're going to let you have a proper detox. Give you time to get well."

"No!" he protested, fear drilling into him at her words. "You don't have time for that."

"I'll make time," she insisted.

"But your mission-"

"Don't you understand? You and the children are as important to me as any mission," she a.s.sured him. "In fact, you're more important."

Her words sent chills down his spine and suddenly he was itching again, but this time not for opiates. G.o.d, he loved this girl. He didn't deserve her. But he loved her all the same. Reaching over, he trailed his fingers down her arm, tickling her sensitive skin. She let out a soft gasp, letting him know he was doing something right. Emboldened, he trailed kisses down her jaw while running his hand over her sweet, silken body. Soft curves melting into taut muscles.

"I love you, Peyton," he whispered against her mouth. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you too, Chase . . . Chris . . ." She cuddled closer to him, tangling her body into his until he wasn't sure where he ended and she began. He wanted to lie like this for the rest of his life.

Screw the drugs. He had something much better now. And nothing on Earth was going to make him lose that.

Chapter Thirty-five.

Peyton slipped out of her window and onto the tree branch. It was a move she'd done a hundred times before, to meet a friend for a late-night walk or to make out with Drew after midnight. But never had she felt such fear as she jumped down and crept through the bushes and into the street. Her parents would kill her if they knew she was out. Well, maybe not her mom. Ashley Anderson was too zoned out to complain much these days. But her dad... well, her dad had made things very clear.

She didn't like disobeying him. But at the same time, she didn't see a way around it. She had to meet the gang. More importantly, she had to see Chris.

She crept down the street, ducking into the shadows as police cruisers pa.s.sed. It was funny: her neighborhood seemed relatively calm considering the fact that there was a killer plague and monsters on the loose. Of course, the monster thing never made the local news; even now, the government kept a tight clamp down on the information pipeline. But people talked. They knew there was something horrifying out there, something that had killed some of their children. The police claimed they were taking care of it. But rumors of new attacks filtered down the grapevine and everyone was scared. Helpless. They hunkered down in their houses, doors locked, windows barred, waiting to see how it would all play out. Apart from increased police patrols, her suburbanite neighbors were still willing to play by the rules and not go crazy. Unlike the rest of the world, it seemed.

It took her ten minutes to reach Monroeville's town center, and what she saw was another story altogether from what she'd believed. Sirens screamed and small, scattered fires flickered up and down the street. Men and women ran by, some wearing all black, some wearing masks, others in respirators, but all had their arms full of supplies from stores that had closed and barred their windows and doors. Only the Walmart was still open, actually doing business. But unlike the old, friendly Walmart greeters that used to line the store entrance, now the place was heavily guarded by what appeared to be soldiers. There were trucks coming and going behind it, too.

The sound of what might have been a car backfiring, but was probably a bullet, rang in Peyton's ears and she started worrying again about the monsters, the "others" as her father had called them. What would she do if she ran into one on her way to meeting the group at the school? She didn't have any weapons. What, was she going to karate chop them to death? Her dad had been right; martial arts training wasn't exactly going to cut it.

But it was too late to turn back. She stole through the streets, avoiding both broken gla.s.s from the store fronts and a line of corpses littering the pavement. A terrible smell was coming from somewhere, and it was overwhelming. Apparently there was no one left to clean up.

She got to the darkened high school at last. At first she wasn't sure anyone would be meeting her, but then a flash of light flickered on and off. The signal. She followed it and soon came to a side door that had been propped open. Slipping inside, she realized she'd entered the auditorium.

"You're the last," said a deep male voice. "Go ahead and shut the door behind you."

She complied, walking into a circle of light. The school had obviously kept its power somehow. But this group was being cautious all the same. Didn't want to attract the crazies. And that meant most everyone these days.

The stage held a strange a.s.sortment of her former cla.s.smates. The head cheerleader sat next to the biggest stoner. The biggest tech-head was next to the sim quarterback. Terror had made everyone equal. Go figure. It took the apocalypse to break down high school cliques.

Chris sat leaning against a wall. He beckoned her over. She complied and took a seat next to him, smiling weakly as she sat. He reached over and squeezed her hand, sending a now familiar tingle of electricity through her. He was so sweet. If only she'd discovered it earlier, when life was still innocent and normal and there weren't monsters wandering the streets.

"Okay, this meeting will come to order," announced a black-haired boy at the front. Peyton recognized him as Chris's brother, Trey. He rose to his feet and started pacing the stage. All eyes were on him. He swaggered like a born leader, which was funny, because most of what Peyton knew of him from before was his virtual football scores and his penchant for p.o.r.n sims. But he had changed. They all had. And he'd been the one to come up with the idea of stockpiling supplies out of town. Now, standing there, in front of them all, he looked large and in charge, and he commanded everyone's respect. Guess everyone had to grow up fast these days.

"I'm glad all of you could make it tonight," Trey began. "I know it's hard to get out of the house, and it's certainly no picnic to cross town."

A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Peyton wondered what her dad would say if he knew she was here. He'd totally kill her. Maybe even lock her behind those t.i.tanium shelter doors he was always going on about.

"Armageddon, the End of Days, the Super Flu, the apocalypse. Whatever you want to call it, it's here," continued Trey. "Our friends and family are dying."

Peyton glanced over at Chris, who was staring at his feet. His and Trey's parents had left for the quarantine camp outside Monroeville two days ago, after making the boys promise to take care of Tara and not follow them there. After all, no one who entered the quarantine camp ever left alive.

"The government can't control it, no matter what their stupid propaganda says. It's out of control. I know a lot of you were at the party the other night. You saw the... creatures-our former friends and cla.s.smates turned into monsters. You know what's going on. And you know it's only going to get worse." He walked to the end of the stage then turned to face them. "We have to get out of town. Soon. Before it's too late."

"But where?" asked a blond boy in cut-off jeans who looked about fourteen. "They say it's everywhere. How are we going to escape?"

"Yeah, what makes you think we won't get the flu?" asked another.

Peyton stood up. "Because we haven't been vaccinated," she told them. "It's the AIDS vaccine that's made people vulnerable. If you haven't gotten that shot then you're safe-at least from the sickness. It's the zombies that we have to worry about. If one bites you and you live, you can become one of them."

Several cla.s.smates shuddered, probably having been at the rave and having seen the monsters in action. She didn't blame them. Not a night went by anymore where she didn't have a nightmare herself.

"Peyton's right," Trey said. "And we don't have to sit around and wait to be turned into mutants. We can leave. If we work together." He pulled out a holo-pen and pressed a b.u.t.ton. A map of South Carolina burst to life on the center of the stage. "As a lot of you know, having helped, we've already gathered a bunch of supplies. In the next twenty-four hours, I want everyone to go home and pack suitcases. Be selective. We can't take everything. Think about what you'd need to go camping. No prom dresses," he said, looking knowingly at a group of girls to his right. "Tomorrow night, we will all rendezvous in the back parking lot. I'll have vans. We'll head up to the mountains. My parents have a camp up there, which is always empty this time of year. It's on a lake and very secluded. We'll live there until things calm down. There are plenty of wild animals and fish if we run out of packed food. We could live there a long time. Until things calm down and the government gets everything back in control. I'll bring a media deck so we can stay updated as to what's going on."

"Do you really think that will happen?" Chris's friend Stephen interjected. "I mean, what if all the adults die? What if there's nothing left to come back to?"

A good question, Peyton thought as she looked around the room. And it was one, it seemed, that no one had a good answer to.

Chapter Thirty-six.

The next week went by in blur for Chase. As Peyton had promised, they'd found an empty hospital just off the highway, and she and Helga strapped him to a bed, preparing for his detox while the children played in the former kids' ward, which still had plenty of toys on hand. He hated the idea of them wasting valuable time, especially with Peyton's deteriorating condition, but she refused to listen to his protests.

Luckily, she also knew what she was doing, having evidently studied a few home remedies when her mother was in the throes of her own addiction. It wasn't going to be easy, she told him. But she wouldn't leave his side.

And she didn't. Whether it was to press a cold compress to his sweaty forehead or spoon-feed him chicken broth-only to later clean up said broth when his stomach rejected it-she was there. When the nightmares came, she held his hand. When he cried out in agony, she soothed him with gentle whispers. She was an angel. His angel. And he knew, by the third day, when he finally woke up feverless, his mind clear for the first time since he could remember, that he wouldn't have survived without her.

And so, on that third day, he got back up on his horse, ready to finish out their journey. To help Peyton as she had helped him. They traveled long hours to make up for lost time, setting up camp well after the sun went down. Thankfully, Helga had proved an invaluable a.s.set to their little tribe, and Chase was glad Peyton had agreed to take her along.

It was funny, he thought on the tenth day since his detox. Here they were, traveling down a post-apocalyptic highway with only a small shred of hope that there would be something worthwhile at the end, and yet he had never felt happier. His body was growing stronger every day, now free of the drugs' stranglehold. His mind was clear and he was able to make good decisions, decisions that benefited the group. Sure, there was still stress and pain and memories to deal with. But he was dealing with them head-on. He wasn't running away anymore.

And then there was Peyton. Sweet, beautiful Peyton. They'd ride side-by-side on their horses each day, talking about everything and anything. And by sharing, by talking about some of the pain, it seemed to go away somehow. Or at least become manageable.

At night they'd come together, under the stars. He'd never experienced anything like it and wanted desperately for this closeness they shared to last forever. And best of all, she seemed to want it, too.

And their destination was so close now. He could almost taste the Florida oranges. He couldn't wait to see what they'd find at the end. Peyton was so sure. She expected a new civilization, a rebirth of the world. It seemed hard to credit as they pa.s.sed empty town after empty town, but he believed it because she did. He believed because he had to.

He imagined them reaching their destination, finding a friendly home base again. Where the children could feel safe. Where he and Peyton could live like husband and wife. Maybe there would even be a priest down there, someone who could marry them officially. Sure, they were young, but what did it matter anymore?

To have Peyton as his bride-well, he couldn't think of anything he wanted more.

But thoughts of the future had to wait. Tonight he was on guard duty. The rest of the camp was sound asleep. Peyton was curled up next to him, dead to the world. He kissed her lightly on her forehead, so as not to wake her, and crawled out from under the covers.