After the Ending (44 page)

As she brushed away a stray tear, her face widened with
an unexpected smile. “It sounds
kinda
nice when you
say it like that.”

Biggs gathered her up into his arms and carried her out
of the room. “I’m
gon-na
be-a dad-
dy
!
I’m
gon-na
be-a dad-
dy
!”
His chant echoed throughout the cavernous house, and Sarah’s giggles faded as
they disappeared down the hall.

Distracted by the excitement, I hadn’t noticed Harper
coming up beside me until I saw him out of the corner of my eye.

“Now,” he said and paused. “What’s wrong? Are
you
pregnant too?”

I rolled my eyes. “You have to have sex to get pregnant,”
I snapped, turning to face him.

“Hey, I offered,” he teased, but I ignored him. “Well,
then, what’s wrong with you?”

I gave him a withering stare. “What do you think?”

He shrugged, clearly annoyed.

“Goddammit, Harper. Why am
I
the last to know
about this prophecy thing between you and Jake? What the hell’s going on?”

Harper’s look of frustration disappeared, and his eyes
clouded with guilt. He sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t I get any explanation? Biggs mentioned something
about Jake being involved in my death like it’s common knowledge. Apparently
you’ve all known about it for a while, and all I get is ‘Sorry’? How long did
you guys know I was
supposed to die
?” I paced, trying to ignore the
regretful look on his face.

“First of all, we didn’t tell you because we didn’t know
if it was true. Jake sure as hell didn’t…at least, not until he actually saw
you for the first time. And even then he wasn’t sure if he should believe it.
This is all so surreal; you know that as well as anyone. We didn’t know what to
do. This is new for all of us, Zoe.” He finally took a breath. “I’m sorry you
feel—”

“Betrayed? Frustrated? Pissed?” I seethed.

“Yeah, but this has been hard on all of us too. We didn’t
know what to do,” he repeated. “There’s no manual.”

“No shit,” I spat. I couldn’t decide what was bothering
me the most—that I hadn’t known what was going on or that I felt betrayed.

Suddenly, fear bubbled up, replacing the anger that had
laced my words only moments before. “I could’ve tried to protect myself, H.”

When Harper threw his arms up in exasperation, I walked
toward the stairs. I suddenly felt claustrophobic and needed to get out of the
room.

“We didn’t know it was Clara, Zoe.” I could hear his
footsteps on the landing behind me, and I paused at the top of the stairs. “We
didn’t know if it would really happen. Jake was only told that you’d die and
he’d be the cause, but how were we supposed to know if that was true? It’s not
much to go off of so why tell you? So you can stew in fear for who knows how
long?”

Groaning, I sat down on the top step. Too many questions
floated in my head, so I grabbed the most tangible one. “Who told him
this…prophecy?”

I looked back at Harper when he didn’t answer. He shoved
his hands into his pockets. “Why don’t you talk to
him
about it? He
knows the details,” he said quietly.

 Just then, Jake stepped into the entryway and
looked up at us. Based on his somber expression, I could tell he’d overheard
our conversation—but I wasn’t ready to talk to him about it.

“I want to be alone,” I said quietly, standing. I passed
Harper and went back into my bedroom, closing the door behind me.

“We all decided to not tell you,” Harper called through
the door. “It wasn’t just Jake’s decision.” Eventually, I heard him pad down
the stairs, exchanging muffled words with Jake. I tried to ignore them and sat
on the bed.

My mind was a bottomless pit of questions. In an effort
to avoid them, I thought about Sarah and her baby. I worried about her—while
Sarah had been born into wealth and luxury, her child would be born into more
primitive circumstances—no prenatal care, no epidurals, no pediatricians. We
were still learning about how to survive in our new life—about the Abilities
and about the Crazies.
 How can she possibly take care of a kid?
There were too many uncertainties, and I certainly wasn’t convinced she’d make
the best post-apocalyptic mother.

“Well, I’d be pissed too!” Sarah shouted, her voice
jarring me from my musings. She flung open my bedroom door—apparently privacy
was a foreign concept to her. “There you are! Is everything okay? Riley told me
what happened. It’s so creepy,” she said and sat down beside me. She rested her
hand on my shoulder in an attempt to comfort me.

I didn’t want to talk about my situation, so I smiled
reassuringly. “I’m fine. I’m just glad you’re doing okay.” I gestured to her
tummy.

“The more I think about it, the happier I get, especially
around Riley. There’s a lot that needs to be worked out, but we have a while,
right?” Her smile spread from ear to ear as she beckoned me to follow her
downstairs. “I told Riley I wanted to wait for you before we started,” she
said, but stopped and stood at the foot of the stairs. Turning to me, she began
squealing and dancing in place, unable to control her excitement.

“Was that the Running Man?” I laughed as she pulled me
into a hug before scampering through the foyer.

“It’s so strange—I mean, a lot of things are strange—but
how much has changed in the last two hours is
really
weird,” she said as
we paraded down a long hallway toward the kitchen. “I was so scared before. But
Riley’s so happy that I can’t be upset or worried, no matter how hard I try.
You should see him, Zoe. You think
I’m
crazy, but he hasn’t stopped
celebrating since I told him. How can I be pessimistic about this whole thing
when he’s so ecstatic?”

As I continued following her, I couldn’t imagine having a
baby at such a troubling time, but I smiled anyway. “You can’t.”

She tugged me along, and we practically fell through the
doorway into the lavish kitchen. To my surprise, about fifteen different
bottles of liquor were lined up atop the green granite-topped island in the
center of the room.

“Holy…Where’d you get all the booze?” I asked.

“My dad has an extensive liquor cabinet. It’s about as
big as a wine cellar—normal people’s wine cellars, I mean. Anyway, I took out
what I thought you could use. There’s more in there if this isn’t enough.”

“I think this is plenty…but what do I need this for,
exactly? I’m not planning on needing my stomach pumped at ten in the morning.”

“I’ve volunteered you to be the bartender during today’s
festivities. Duh!”

I was instantly confused. “Newsflash, Sarah. Drinking is
generally frowned upon in your current condition.”

She swatted my arm. “Yeah, well,
I’m
not drinking,
at least not alcohol, but that doesn’t mean no one else can. Besides, I know
you can make me a fancy, nonalcoholic drink that will make me feel special, and
I can pretend I’m partaking with you. Consider this a baby shower…Jake recovery
celebration…thing. And we can’t celebrate without drinks; it’s absurd.” She
dismissed the thought with a wave and gestured to the array of bottles before
me like the
Vanna
White of distillates.

I laughed, looking at the impressive collection. Deciding
I could definitely use a drink—or three—I canvassed the assorted bottles,
determining what type of potion I should concoct first.

Tequila…hangover
city.

Rum…tempting.

Vodka…I could
definitely get creative.

Knowing Sarah liked berries, I settled on vodka
crans
to start, using carbonated water to liven up her
drink a bit, and contemplated what our next libation might be.

Although I was still irked by my recent discovery, I was
determined to play nice with everyone for Sarah’s sake. I wanted to enjoy a few
drinks with my friends, even if my oblivion would only last for the day.

Jake and Cooper showed up moments after I made the first
round of drinks, and gratefully, Biggs and Harper enlisted Jake’s help with
something outside, so there was no awkwardness or opportunity to talk.

After a toast to the proud parents-to-be, we started
prepping for an early, very large lunch—baked beans, venison freshly killed by
Jake and Cooper, pasta salad with a balsamic vinaigrette, canned corn, and
skillet cornbread. As we laughed and dirtied the kitchen, my mind periodically
wandered to Jake, and I found myself pouring stronger drinks with each new
round.

Eventually, we all made our way out onto the back porch.
Harper and Jake manned the grill, babysitting their drinks while I downed mine,
hoping my variations of lemon drops and cosmos would keep my spirits up.
Although the cocktails were a little girlie for my taste, I drank them happily,
knowing Sarah was giddy over their virgin counterparts.

We continued celebrating into the late afternoon. Sarah
basked in the attention she received from Biggs, but no matter how much she
played the happy mother-to-be around him, I knew she was still wary when he
wasn’t there.

Biggs, on the other hand, was too happy to be even a
little bit pessimistic. I continued refilling his glass as his toasts became
more and more frequent. Being the observant, well-practiced bartender I was, I
noticed Jake had stopped drinking after a few shots of whiskey, and Harper was
still nursing his second rum and Coke. Sanchez and the guys chatted, lounging
in the wicker chairs that were scattered along the wraparound porch. They
paused periodically, watching Sarah and me with amusement—I was intoxicated,
but Sarah was just plain silly.

“Can we have pink ones next?” she begged, and I conceded,
giving in to her every whim. In turn,
I
became less coherent. I knew I’d
need to slow down if I was going to make it to sunset.

Putting a CD titled “Songs that Rock” into the stereo, I
pressed play. I wasn’t shocked when I heard the high-pitched voices of a
pubescent boy band emanating from the speakers.

“Oh my God, Sarah, this is hilarious,” I barked,
laughing. “I can’t believe this is one of your ‘songs that rock’.”

“I
love
this song!” she exclaimed, the
white-washed boards of the porch creaking under her feet as she danced around.
I was gasping to catch my breath in between bouts of laughter, trying not to
pee my pants as the songs continued—each more ridiculous than the last, just
like Sarah’s dance moves.

Eventually Biggs zeroed in on me, tugging on my arms and
trying to pull me up from my perch on a chaise. “Come on, Zoe. You haven’t danced
all day!”

Resisting, I said, “Thanks, Biggs, but I’m not drunk
enough to start dancing. Especially not to this. Sorry, buddy.”

“Nope, no more excuses. Sarah told me you ladies used to go
out dancing, so come on!” He continued pulling on me, and as my drink sloshed
in my glass, I relented, if only to avoid a spill.

“Uncle, uncle!” I conceded, but Biggs kept at it. “Okay!
One second!” Downing what remained of my drink, I set the glass aside and
followed him over to where a completely sober Sarah flailed and sang.

With each unsteady step, I realized how drunk I actually
was—I swore that I was done drinking for the night. The sun was low, and the
sky would be full of vibrant colors soon…I hoped I would make it that long. As
we started dancing, I stumbled, barely catching myself before falling. Biggs
threw me around, attempting his own rendition of swing—he was three sheets to
the wind, so our movements may not have qualified as dancing, exactly.

When I flashed a “please rescue me” glance at Harper, he
smiled, getting out of his chair and sauntering over to us. “Mind if I step
in?”

Biggs shook his head and returned his attention to Sarah.

As Harper gathered me into his arms, a classic rock song
blared from the speakers, and his eyes lit up. “This was my sister’s favorite
song,” he said.

“You have a sister?” I’d sort of expected it. As much as
he flirted, he was also protective and brotherly.

Twirling me, he said, “I have three, actually…or I
had
three. All younger.” There was sadness in his voice I understood too well.

“You’ve never mentioned them,” I thought aloud.

“I know…it’s hard to talk about life before.”

I nodded and rested my cheek on his shoulder.

“You surprise me, Baby Girl,” Harper whispered.

Lifting my head, I cocked it to the side and studied his
face. “What
d’you
mean?”

He chuckled. “I thought you used to be a bartender, but
you aren’t holding your liquor as well as I’d expect.”

Feeling defensive, I tensed. “We’ve been drinking for,
like, five hours or something. I’m not a linebacker, you know.”

“Calm down. I’m just saying…” He watched me curiously,
and I scowled in return. “And it’s been more like seven hours,” he added.

“
Oy
,” I muttered. “I rest my
case.”

Smirking, Harper said, “You’re funny,” before holding me
tighter. Again, I leaned my head on his shoulder and closed my eyes, feeling
like I might float away as we swayed to the rhythm of the music.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” he said guiltily.

I instantly knew what he was talking about, and in my
intoxication, his sincere apology was all I needed to forgive him.

He pulled away so he could see my face. “I would’ve
wanted to know too. I didn’t think about it like that. I know you would’ve told
me, and I should’ve done the same for you.”

I nodded, trying not to get emotional in my drunken haze.
“It’s okay,” I slurred, repositioning myself in the comfort of his arms.

After a couple more songs played, I decided it was best
to extricate myself from Harper’s hold—before I got too comfortable and passed
out standing up. Opening my eyes, I saw Jake watching me. I smiled shyly at him
before turning my head to face the opposite way.