- - End of All Things, The (14 page)

She shook her head. “I’m sorry, too. I’m sorry I can’t wrap my head around the fact everything is dead and gone.”

“Don’t be too hard on yourself. It’s an enormous thing to digest; I’m not sure I’ve fully accepted it, myself.” He patted her shoulder, rose, and went into the little laundry room off the kitchen. He sang
Come Sail Away
as he loaded the washer, and Carly stifled a giggle. Being that off-key
had
to be intentional; another of Justin’s efforts to cheer her up using humor.

Justin came back into the living room and checked her back under his makeshift ice packs. “You’re going to have some bruising, and you’ll be sore for a few days. So, what do you say we stay right where we are until your back is better?”

Carly shook her head. As nice as it was to be inside a house, and one with electric power at that, she wanted to leave as soon as possible. “I want to go in the morning.”

“We’ll see how you and Sam are feeling.”

She glanced down at the wolf, who was deeply asleep, his paws twitching as he dreamed. 

“How did you know what he could take?”

“I had a dog myself at one time.” Justin said this in a nonchalant tone, but she could detect hurt under his words, the pain of losing a pet. Carly smiled at him with sympathy.

“Would you like to watch a movie? There’s a DVD player. We could watch
The Lord of the Rings
, if you like.”

He knew she was carrying the DVD. Carly wondered when he had snooped in her pack and why he hadn’t said anything before. She shook her head. That movie belonged to the memory of her and her father. “Not that one.”

“They have a nice selection,” Justin said quickly, sensing that he may have hit a sensitive area unintentionally. “I saw more in the other houses. Most of it’s comedy and action.”

“You pick.”

He put in a DVD and settled down on one of the recliners. It was
Dumb and Dumber
, a movie Carly had seen more times than she could count; it always made her laugh, but at that moment, the humor fell flat. She kept wondering if any of the actors had survived the Infection. She wondered what had happened to the actress in the movie who also played Drucilla on
The Young and the Restless
. Her character had fallen off a cliff; a nice, open ending, leaving room for her to come back, but there was no more show to which she could return.
Is she dead for real, now?
Carly decided she didn’t really want to know.

Justin wasn’t watching the movie. He was watching Carly. She was stronger than she thought, but she had a tendency to push aside trauma rather than deal with it in the present. His greatest concern was that killing the man in the train station would push her back into her state of shock.

He wondered if he should tell her what concerned him the most about the incident; the man who attacked her wasn’t Infected. Justin had touched the body only moments after he died and the man was not fevered. Justin wasn’t sure what to make of it yet because it presented a troubling possibility—some people may have survived the Infection, but lived with brains fried from the fever. Healthy and insane.

Not everyone who had the Infection had turned violent, of course. It seemed dependent on the personality of the individual. Some searched for lost loved ones. Some hid in their homes, paranoid and terrified of monsters only they could see. Some tried to flee, as though the illness was something they could leave behind if they just got far enough. Justin thought of those bodies scattered on the ferry’s piers, those in the cars on the bridge, the people who had waited to be allowed to pass and died where they sat, still waiting. And he thought of the bodies he had seen at the town’s borders—bodies with bullet holes, those who persisted when the quarantine guards told them to stop. He didn’t think Carly had seen them. She always averted her eyes when they came upon bodies, a trait for which he was grateful.

Carly fell asleep halfway into the movie. She hadn’t even noticed when Justin added a sleeping medication to the small handful of pills he’d given her to take. He waited a bit longer to make sure she was fully under and then rose and turned off the television.

Justin went into the kitchen and picked up the telephone from its wall-mounted cradle. He hadn’t been sure, but he’d suspected that this place would have a satellite telephone system because of the border patrol station, and he was pleased to discover he’d been right. 

Because of his dyslexia, Justin had memorized the phone numbers of his contacts. He dialed a number and listened to it ring. He tried another with the same results. And then another. He didn’t expect any of them to work, so it caught him by surprise when he suddenly heard the voice of a friend.

“Carter, it’s Justin.” 

“Fuck me!” Carter exclaimed. “I can’t believe it. I’ve been keeping my phone charged using car batteries, but I thought it was only wishful thinking on my part.”

“I’ve dialed seventeen numbers. You’re the only one who answered.”

“Where are you, man?”

“British Columbia. You?”

“Fucking France.” Carter sounded disgusted by the circumstance. “We’re headed south. Think we’ll settle in Nice.”

“You’ve got someone with you?”

“My wife.”

“Your wife? That’s incredible. I’d say you’re probably one of the few intact couples in the world. The odds against both of you being immune are astronomical.” It gave him some hope that others he knew may have survived. Perhaps the Infection hadn’t been so bad in some areas. Perhaps— 

“She wasn’t immune,” Carter said, his voice grim. “She . . . Well, the fever did something to her. She’s
different
now
.
”

Justin dropped his forehead against the wall. He’d hoped he was wrong about it. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m just glad to have her with me, even if she’s . . . different. She’s still in there. I see a glimmer of her old self now and again.”

Justin closed his eyes. He’d only met Carter’s wife once, but she’d been a nice lady, and Carter was head over heels for her. He couldn’t imagine what his friend had gone through, or what it must have been like to have to accept that he would never have his wife back the way she was before the Infection.

Carter changed the subject. “How the hell d’you end up British Columbia, anyway?”

Justin told him about deciding to go on the Deadhorse Rally on a whim and his detour where he had watched Juneau from the nearby woods. He’d tried to keep his cell phone charged from car batteries as Carter had, but as the Infection grew worse, it had been a risk he grew less willing to take. And by the time it was over, he couldn’t get a signal any longer. Carter was in one of the few areas where cell phones would still work because some of the French cell phone towers were powered by solar and wind, technologies that had been tested there for use in developing countries.

“Shit,” Carter said softly. “I had sort of hoped . . . remote places like Alaska . . .”

“Juneau is a big tourist draw, and the incubation period was so long . . .” He thought of the cruise ships anchored in Juneau’s harbor, the floating tombs of those who had probably brought the Infection to the sleepy little town.

“That’s what we’ve been finding too,” Carter said. “Every little village we pass through . . . Have you encountered any survivors?”

“One.” Justin cleared his throat. “A girl I found in Juneau.” He did not mention the man in the train station.

He could hear the smile in Carter’s voice. “She cute?”

Justin clenched his fist. “I’m trying not to think that way.”

“If you’ve got the only sane and healthy woman in Alaska, I recommend you
start
thinking that way.”

Justin ignored him. “What would Lewis say about your situation?”

It was a catchphrase in The Unit:
What would Lewis say?
They’d even had rubber bracelets made up with the letters WWLS? Lewis had been one of the first commanders of The Unit, a cold, calculating man who could give exact odds on the success or failure of a mission. He had been technically retired, just as most of them were after a service period of five years, but he still showed up at the office every day, helping to organize and plan the missions. And he was almost always spot-on in his predictions. The one time Justin hadn’t listened to him had been bad. Really bad.

“Probably five-to-one,” Carter said after a pause. “I ain’t gonna lie to you, man. It’s bad here. I’m trying to skirt the populated areas, but I keep running into trouble, and one of these days, sum’bitches are going to get lucky. I’m saving back two shells, if you know what I mean.”

Justin thudded the side of his fist against the wall. “We can’t stay up here. We can’t grow enough food or keep warm in the winter.”

“I understand, man. Just stay frosty. And keep that girl close to your side. I’m glad you found someone, Justin, I really am.”

Justin was startled. Had he let something slip, or had his tone spoken louder than his words? He teased and flirted with Carly because he just couldn’t help himself, and she was so cute when she blushed, but he hadn’t intended to let it go any further than that. “She’s dependent on me, Carter, and I’m not going to take advantage of her gratitude. You and I both took the same psychology classes.”

“You’re afraid you’ll fall in love with her, but her feelings for you won’t be real.”

Justin closed his eyes. “I don’t remember you being a relationship counselor.”

“As you said, we both took the same psychology courses. And this is probably the last chance I’ll ever get to talk to you. If you’ve got a chance with this girl, take it. Life is way too fuckin’ short, especially these days. You can’t miss out on what might be a good thing just because you’re afraid of what may or may not happen in the future. You may not even
have
a future, dude, so grab what happiness you can.”

Justin snorted, but it was good-natured. “Thanks for the advice, Dr. Phil.”

Carter chuckled. “Take care, man.”

“I will. Best of luck.”

“
Vaya con Dios,
buddy.”

The line went dead. Justin hung up the phone and closed his eyes.

Carly sang while she was in the shower—a long, hot shower that felt so incredibly good. She’d woken very late; it was almost noon before she got out of bed. She called down to Justin to see where he was, and he shouted back that he was cooking lunch.

Carly washed her hair twice and conditioned it, and then she shaved her legs and under her arms. She felt really clean for the first time in months. She wrapped her hair in a towel and put on a clean T-shirt and yoga pants with socks before she headed for the staircase. The aroma made her stop in her tracks, her eyes wide. It
couldn’t
be . . . 

Carly ran down the stairs, through the living room and into the kitchen. She lost the towel from around her hair somewhere along the way but didn’t even notice. She came to a stop in the kitchen so fast her feet slid on the linoleum.

Justin stood at the stove, pushing something around in a skillet with a metal spatula, something that hissed as it fried in oil.

“That’s not . . .” 

“Yup. French fries. I found them in the freezer.” 

Carly thought she was going to cry. “Oh, my God . . .”

He glanced at the timer. “They’ll be done in about five minutes. Why don’t you get out some plates for us? And, keep an eye on these. I gotta run outside.”

“Why?” She was leery of the town, and going outside seemed risky.

“Burgers on the grill,” he said and grinned when she hopped up and down with undisguised glee.

Burgers and fries. She couldn’t believe it. She poked at the fries, shoving them around in the skillet. Through the window over the sink, she could see Justin on the patio in front of a large gas grill. Shadowfax grazed on the grass in the small yard behind it. Sam had followed Justin outside and was trying to get the horse to play chase again, but Shadowfax ignored him. Disappointed, Sam followed Justin back inside, his head tilted back as he sniffed the air, tracking the delicious scent of the burgers.

Justin brought in a plate heaped with hamburgers and cheeseburgers, which he sat down on the counter before fishing the fries out of the oil, salting them, and placing them on a paper towel to drain. While he did so, he teased Carly that women hadn’t evolved to be able to grill as well as men, and it made her laugh, thinking of when she’d told him about her theory as to why men couldn’t find things. And she thought of her mother teasing her father that the only time he would ever cook was when he used the grill, and the memory didn’t make her sad.