Tomorrow Land Part 6

He stood at the end of the driveway for a moment, mesmerized by her agility and strength. Her arms stretched above her head as she aimed again. There was a tiny flash of flesh between her shirt and her shorts, and it was more desirable than any of the full-frontal nudity sims Tank had shown him. The fabric of her shorts pulled tight across her b.u.t.t and Chris gulped. As she took her shot, effortlessly hopping on one foot and watching the ball swish through the hoop, he fought the urge to clap. Impressive. He barely managed to score in the sim.

The ball rolled down the driveway and she turned to chase it. Stopped as her eyes fell on him. He grabbed the ball before it could roll into the street.

"What do you want?" Her voice was cold.

He was taken aback. "I thought... you said... we were going to ask your dad..." Had he misheard? Had she changed her mind? Disappointment washed over him. Had he made a bigger fool of himself than ever?

"Oh." Some flicker of recognition lit her eyes. He squinted at her, noticing for the first time that her cheeks were blotchy. Her eyes were bloodshot. She'd been crying!

How dare someone make his G.o.ddess cry? A wave of protectiveness mixed with anger washed over him, and he wished more than anything he could just walk up and hug her, then fix whatever was wrong, no matter what it was. Of course she'd probably rather hug a muddy pig, so he decided against following through.

"That's right," she said, rubbing a hand against her cheek. "Sorry. I forgot."

"What happened?" he asked, walking up and handing her the basketball. He might not be allowed to touch her, but he could still sympathize. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she said. The words were too quick to be believable. She grabbed the ball. "Listen, do you think you could come back tomorrow or something? This isn't a good time for me."

What was the deal? Had she learned something more about Mrs. McCormick? But no, she barely knew the woman and would simply tell him. It had to be something bigger, something more personal, something that had nothing to do with him. Had someone she knew died? Had she gotten in trouble with her parents? Failed a test in school? What? It was driving him crazy, and she obviously wasn't going to tell him.

Why should she tell you? a voice inside his head jeered. After all, Peyton had no reason to love him like he loved her. He was a loser. A n.o.body. h.e.l.l, he was lucky she'd even let him set foot on her driveway.

Still, now that she had, he wasn't about to let her off the hook. He took the ball back and dribbled it a few times, prepared for a shot. It felt heavy in his hands, very different than the virtual ball they played with in Basketball Dayz. Holding it over his head, he threw it in the direction of the hoop. It hit the backboard and bounced away. "d.a.m.n." He raced after the ball. "I suck as bad in real life as I do in the sim." Grabbing it and bouncing it back to the center of the driveway, he gave her an apologetic grin.

"Sim basketball's for tech-heads." Peyton scoffed, grabbing the ball away and laying it up into the hoop. She was good. And so hot. As the ball bounced back to her, she pa.s.sed it. Chris caught it and shot again. This time it bounced off the rim.

"Closer," she said, half-smiling. She caught the ball and bounced it to him. "Try again."

He caught the ball and looked up at the hoop. Concentrating this time, he aimed first. Pictured the shot going in. Pictured Peyton being impressed.

He shot.

It bounced off his head.

As it rolled down the driveway, he rushed after it, his face burning. He swiped it up with both hands, turned and shot without thinking, wanting to rid himself of the stupid ball for good- Swish!

"d.a.m.n!" he cried. He was so surprised and pleased, excited by his accomplishment that he'd all but forgotten it was a ploy to get her to talk.

Peyton gave him a thumbs-up. "Not bad," she said approvingly. "Not bad at all when you don't think so hard."

"One more," he told her, feeling all warm inside. "And if I make this one, you have to tell me why you've been crying."

Peyton considered. "Okay," she said at last. "You'll never get two in a row anyway."

Oh, wouldn't he? They'd see about that. He bounced the ball twice, then caught it. Aimed again, sucking in a breath but also trying not to think...

The shot bounced off the rim.

"d.a.m.n," he said again, but this time with less joy.

Peyton laughed, collecting the rebound. "Ha!" she said. "You lose." She did a little victory dance.

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on," he teased. "You know you want to tell me anyway."

She stopped her little dance, her expression sober. "Oh fine," she said at last. "You're going to probably find out tomorrow in school anyway." She walked to the stone wall dividing her house from the neighbor's and sat down on it. Chris joined her, his heart beating as fast as he could ever remember. He was so close he could reach out and touch her. Of course, that would end any chance of her talking to him, so he managed to resist the urge. If only she wasn't so d.a.m.n pretty. That gorgeous, long blond hair and those beautiful blue eyes. He could barely stand it.

"It's Drew," she explained. "I caught him... He was kissing Brenda Booker."

Chris made a retching noise before he thought. "Gross!"

Peyton turned, slight amus.e.m.e.nt coloring the sadness in her eyes. "You don't approve?"

"Of Brenda Booker? She's nasty. Didn't she have her LTF revoked?"

Peyton gave him a half smile. "I don't know," she said. "I guess you'll have to ask Drew."

"Well, he always was a bit of an idiot." Chris knew he was being too daring, but he didn't care. That Drew had hurt Peyton made him furious inside.

She stared down at her feet, looking so sad that Chris once again wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug her and tell her everything would be okay. That she didn't want to date such a meat boy anyway. But he didn't know if any words of comfort would help. Also, sadly, he was pretty positive she'd reject any physical comfort.

"I'm sorry," he said. "He doesn't deserve someone like you."

She looked at him quietly for a moment. Then she said, "I punched him in the nose."

Chris's eyes widened. He couldn't imagine punching Drew, because he knew what would happen to him if he did. "Nice," he said admiringly, wishing he'd been there to see that happen.

"I think I broke it, actually. I've been training a ton, and I'm pretty strong."

Chris couldn't believe his ears. His day couldn't have gone better. "I can't wait to see him in school tomorrow. He's going to be so embarra.s.sed! To be shown up by a girl! Lawlz!" He caught himself too late. "Um, not that there's anything inferior about girls."

For the first time, Peyton laughed. He'd made her laugh! "Yeah, don't worry. I know what you mean," she said. "And thanks. For listening and stuff. And for shooting hoops with me. Basketball always makes me feel better."

His heart was pounding again. "I'll listen anytime," he said. "And shooting hoops was fun. I'd love to try it again sometime."

"It's a deal," she said. When she held out her hand, he took it in his and shook, shocked by the tingle of electricity that pa.s.sed between them. He wondered what it'd be like to hug her. To hold her. To feel her body against his. He'd probably go into cardiac arrest.

She dropped her hand quickly, and he wondered if she'd felt the jolt, too. Her expression was unreadable.

"Anyway," she said. "Let's go find my dad."

Chapter Ten.

Peyton followed Chase down the aisles toward the Garden and Patio section. He pushed open a door and led her into a large, colorful greenhouse. The walls of the house were blocked off with metal, but the gla.s.s ceiling was still uncovered and let in the last of the evening light. Lush emerald vines loaded with plump ripe tomatoes and shiny yellow peppers climbed brightly painted trellises in the center of the room. Fresh herbs sprouted from small planters lining one wall. Carrot tops poked through the dirt in a trough.

She twirled around, impressed, taking it all in. "This is amazing," she remarked. "When you said you grew your own food, I figured maybe you had a few raspberry bushes or something."

"With all the mouths to feed we needed more than that," Chase explained. "So Tank rigged this up a few years ago. Spud's our resident gardener-when he's not stuck in a cage and waiting to morph into a monster, that is." He rolled his eyes.

Peyton wandered over to a tomato plant, salivating. "Can I...?" she asked. "I haven't had any fruits or vegetables that didn't come from a can in four years."

"Be my guest."

She snapped a small tomato off the vine and bit into it. The juicy sweetness filled her mouth and she practically moaned with pleasure. "Oh, G.o.d. This is so good," she said with her mouth full.

Chase laughed again. "When you're done with your o.r.g.a.s.m, come outside and see what I really wanted to show you." He walked to the far side of the greenhouse and unlocked a metal door. Curious, she followed, still munching on the tomato.

Outside, she found they were in a small section walled off with cinder blocks but open to the night air. Chase pointed. "Basketball," he said. "Just like old times."

"Wow," Peyton marveled. It was a portable pole and hoop that he'd clearly relocated from the Gaming section inside. She took the last good bite of her tomato. "I haven't seen one of these in four years. Virtual or real."

He grabbed a grungy ball off the ground and tossed it to her. She caught it and dribbled a few times. The synthetic leather slapping against her palm brought back memories of days outside her house. She remembered Chase joining her that first time, right after Drew broke her heart. She hadn't had any true feelings for him then; he'd just been a boy with a crush. But afterward...

It was best not to think of such things.

"No? Well, then that gives me the advantage," Chase boasted, and he lunged at her. She dodged quickly and dribbled around him toward the hoop. Raised the ball over her head and laid it up.

"d.a.m.n," she swore, as the ball bounced harmlessly off the rim and into Chase's awaiting hands. "There was a day I'd never have missed that."

Chase shot the ball into the net with ease. "I've been practicing," he said. "Not much else to do once the ch.o.r.es are done." He dribbled twice, then pa.s.sed. She took another shot. This one went in.

She cheered, feeling a moment of happiness. Chase gave her a high five, then chased the ball, which was rolling away from them and into the greenhouse. She watched him go, a flush warming her cheeks. d.a.m.n, he looked good in those leather pants. And it was nice to feel normal, to think about how things might have been, if only for a few minutes.

What would have happened if she had left with Chris and the gang instead of going into the shelter? It was something she'd thought about every night before going to bed for the last four years. Would they still be together, in love? Would they both have survived? Trey and Chris had left with a bunch of other students from school, but Peyton hadn't seen any of the others here. Had they all died except for the two of them?

Chase returned with the ball, checked it to her. She bounced it back. He dribbled toward the hoop. She stayed in front of him, antic.i.p.ating his path. He stopped just under the backboard, lifted his hands to shoot. She knocked the ball from his grip, sending it bouncing away.

"I'm starting to remember," she said.

"Guess I should stop taking it easy on you then."

They played for probably a good half hour, the lead always changing. Chase's jump shot had really improved, Peyton noticed, and she was impressed that he played well, though there was little light. Throughout the game, they traded verbal jabs. For a brief period there was no apocalypse, no betrayal; they were just two friends playing one-on-one.

Until they heard the scream.

Peyton and Chase looked at one another. Chase's face was white as a ghost under the sheen of sweat. Peyton was sure she looked similar. He dropped the ball and started toward the door. "Come on," he said.

Peyton didn't need a second invitation.

Chase darted down the aisle, not looking back to see if Peyton was following. His heart pounded and adrenaline pulsed through his veins. On the way through the Sporting Goods section he used his flashlight to find a golf club-not exactly the perfect weapon, but it was the best thing in reach.

Another scream. Oh G.o.d, what was happening?

He could feel Peyton behind him, her footsteps echoing his. They swung around a corner and burst into the Toys section. What once had been an oasis of children's laughter and games was now a horror show. The lights were tipped over. Toys were strewn everywhere. The children were all running and screaming.

At first Chase couldn't figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on. Then his eyes fell upon the problem: Spud. Or, more accurately, what had once been Spud.

The boy before them was no longer his goofy friend who tended the community garden and liked to hide cans of SPAM in the women's lingerie section of the store. In Spud's place stood a horrifying monster with red eyes, razor-sharp teeth and bleeding, pus-filled sores. His clothing was shredded-it must have torn in the metamorphosis-and only sc.r.a.ps still clung to his body. A Rolex dangled from his wrist-the one Spud and Chase had stolen from Neiman Marcus one day when they were bored. The last remaining shred of who he once was. But Spud was one of them now. An Other. And somehow he'd gotten out of his cage. The cage Chase was supposed to be guarding instead of playing basketball with Peyton.

There was only a moment to hesitate, to mourn the loss of yet another friend, because Chase knew what was coming next, what had already begun. His friend was now a destroyer and needed to be put down. There was no alternative.

He sprang into action, swinging his golf club at the creature with as much force as he could muster. The nine iron struck Spud's head with a sickening thud, sending the zombie sprawling. But that wasn't going to stop him. Spud righted himself quickly and charged forward, bellowing an inhuman cry. He-it-grabbed the club from Chase's hand and snapped it in two.

Oh c.r.a.p.

Chase leapt backward to avoid the creature's claw-like fingers, his eyes darting around the store, searching for another weapon. Once upon a time, Walmart had a whole section of the store devoted to guns. But they'd been made illegal years before and there wasn't a suitable alternative.

Spud didn't pursue him. Instead, his friend turned and went for Darla, who was cowering nearby. Chase screamed wildly, hoping to distract him-it. But the monster formerly known as his best friend ignored him, his inhuman sights locked on the girl.

Then, suddenly, with a movement so quick he couldn't track it, Peyton was there, squarely positioned between the zombie and Darla. Blades shot from her fingertips with an elegant violence that took Chase's breath away. Without pause she engaged, striking Spud in the chest. Chase's friend screamed as blood soaked what remained of his Gothic Robots from h.e.l.l concert t-shirt.

Peyton wasn't finished. Her foot found Spud's groin, and the Other keeled forward. Luckily, unlike some of the Hollywood zombie films he'd seen long ago, the real-life ones still felt pain. Peyton didn't pause; she took the opportunity to grab Spud's head and twist, snapping the neck. Spud fell to the ground, dead. Really dead. Chase let out a sigh of relief, forcing himself to forget that the creature she'd just killed was one of his best friends, trying to focus on the fact that Darla was safe and unharmed.

Peyton leaned over and vomited. Chase didn't blame her. He was pretty sick to his stomach as well. Watching one's friend morphed into a monster and trying to chomp little children could do that to a guy. He forced himself to look away from the mayhem, remembering all the stupid pranks he and Spud had pulled back in the refugee camp.

Stupid old Spud. Stupid, stupid Spud. He felt bile rise in his throat and forced it back down. It was over. And it could have been a lot worse.

"Chase, Chase!" Red cried, appearing out of nowhere. The little boy tugged at his pant leg.

"What is it, Red?" When Chase looked down, he saw that the child's normally brave face was stained from tears.

"Tank. You gotta help Tank."

Chase's heart leapt into his throat. "What do you mean?" he asked. In the chaos, he hadn't processed that his brother was missing.

"Spud hurt him," Red said, yanking at his hand.

Chase left Peyton where she was puking and let the boy lead the way down an aisle, fear slamming his heart against his chest. A moment later his eyes fell on his brother lying motionless in an ocean of blood. Chase flew to Tank's side, landing on his knees, peering into his brother's face. Tank's eyes fluttered open. He was alive. Thank G.o.d.

"He got me," Tank said, his voice strangely gurgling. "He killed Rocky and then came after me."

Chase glanced over and saw Rocky's lifeless, ravaged body a little ways off in the darkness. He felt tears welling up in his eyes and a lump clogging his throat. This was bad. This was really, really bad. "Are you okay?" he asked. At least Tank was immune to the infection. He'd be okay. He had to be okay.

"Chase, I need you to promise me you'll look after the kids."

Chase struggled to understand. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, the lump in his throat now threatening to choke him. "You're going to be fine. We can st.i.tch you up. Get you some antibiotics and-"

Tank reached out and touched his brother's shoulder. "Chase, I don't have much time. I need you to promise me. I'm not kidding."

Chase squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the pain. This couldn't be happening. First Tara, now Tank. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. And, once again, it was all his fault. If he hadn't been so distracted he could have done something.