Hollowland (5 page)

“She’s a lion, and uh, yeah, she is,” I said. I actually had no idea if she was, but I liked it better when I didn’t have a gun pointed at me, so I lied.

“Just put down the gun,” his friend said, putting his hand on the barrel to gently push it down. He was the older of the two, and he seemed much calmer.
 

“It’s a fricking lion!” The gunman completely lowered his weapon, but he was still freaked.

Once I could clearly see his face, he looked incredibly familiar. I squinted, as if that would make me place him better. He was attractive, with dark eyes, and tattoos decorating both arms. He looked closer to my age, but I couldn’t figure out where I knew him from.

“Well, it’s her lion!” His blond friend shook his head and took the gun away, smiling apologetically at me. “I’m sorry. We didn’t mean to intrude. We didn’t know anyone still lived here.”

“It’s okay,” I shrugged. “We’re intruding, too. They have some bottled water in the kitchen.”

“Really? Oh my god.” Without further invitation, the former gunman dashed across the room, jumping over the couch on his race to the kitchen. I glanced back at Ripley to make sure that she didn’t decide he was food, and she watched him with her ears bent back.

“Sorry about him,” the other guy said, nodding at his friend, who shouted happy expletives in the kitchen. “I’m Blue.”

“What? You mean like your name is Blue?” I raised an eyebrow. “Like the color?”

“My parents were hippies.”

“I’m Remy.” I decided that I didn’t have much room to mock his name, and I gestured to the cat. “She’s Ripley, and Harlow is upstairs.”

“Is it safe for me to come down?” Harlow asked, and I heard her walking down the steps.

I looked back at Blue. “You guys are safe, right?”

“Yeah,” Blue nodded. “I’m a doctor.”

“You’re too young to be a doctor,” I said. He only looked to be in his mid-twenties, if that.

“I was in med school, interning,” Blue explained, then lowered his eyes, the way everyone seemed to when they talked about what life was like before the zombies. “So, no, I’m not really a doctor. But I’m about the closest thing that’s out there now.”

“What’s going on?” Harlow came into the living room.

She had changed her clothes, another skirt that she had to tighten with a belt, and it still looked loose on her slender hips. Her hair was pulled back more neatly, now devoid any specks of blood.

“This is Blue.” I gestured to the med student.

“Hi,” Blue gave a half-wave, but she stared at him blankly.

She was still staring at him when his friend came into the living room. His mouth was full, and he had a half-eaten can of SPAM in one hand and a Fiji water in the other. Without the gun, he wasn’t intimidating at all. Short and wiry, with a slim fitting tee shirt and jeans, he looked completely out of place.

“What’s with the kid from
The Shining
?” He gestured to Harlow, spitting little chunks of SPAM out when he spoke.

“Oh my god.” Harlow did a sharp intake of breath, and her eyes widened when she saw him. “You’re
Lazlo Durante
!”

“Oh,” I said as it dawned on me.

 
Lazlo Durante had been the guitarist or drummer or something in this band called Emeriso. Right before the world went to hell, they had been the hottest group out there.

They were radio-friendly punk, kind of like a boy band with guitars, but their music had been catchy. Even I had their album. Lazlo was on one of the last ever covers of
Rolling Stone
, looking rather sexy in a shirtless pose.
 

“The one and only.” Lazlo choked down the massive chunk of SPAM in his mouth and smiled.

His chest puffed up, and he managed to look proud. I guess it must be some kind of achievement getting recognized after the apocalypse.

“What are you doing here?” Harlow asked, in awe.

“Probably the same thing you are. Raiding the place for anything useful.” Lazlo took a swig of water and pointed to the hole in the wall from when he shot at Ripley. “Sorry about that. I thought she was gonna eat my face. Where’d you get a lion anyway?”

“Found her on the side of the road,” I said.

“Sorry. I’m being a total pig. I just haven’t eaten in a while.” He looked at Blue and motioned to the kitchen. “They have other stuff in there, if you wanna eat. And not just SPAM. I know you’re not that into it.”

Lazlo smirked, and in a falsetto, he said, “
I don’t like
SPAM
,” and then went back to his normal voice. “Like from the Monty Python sketch, right?”

“What’s Monty Python?” Harlow asked, and I rolled my eyes.

“Do you mind if I get some food?” Blue asked, looking to me for confirmation.

“Yeah, sure,” I shrugged. “Just leave some for us.”
 

I didn’t have a claim to it any more than they did, but I needed to make sure we were fed. Ripley had been eating some of the zombies, so at least she wasn’t hungry.

“Thanks,” Blue smiled gratefully and headed to the kitchen.

“Come on. Let’s see what they have upstairs.” I put my hand on Harlow’s shoulder.

“But-”

“Come on.” I pushed her harder, and she stared back at Lazlo.

When we left the living room, he was still standing there, and he hissed at Ripley.

“There’s nothing that great up here,” Harlow muttered as I forced her up the stairs. “I don’t know why you need me to come with you.”

“Don’t argue with me,” I sighed.

“It’s just clothes,” she said.

I didn’t want Blue or Lazlo to overhear so I didn’t say anything until we got into the massive master suite. It had tall double doors, with ridiculous gold inlays. Once we were inside, I shut the doors behind me, and Harlow walked over to the king sized bed and flopped down.

She had been going through the closet when Lazlo and Blue arrived, and clothes were strewn about the room. It sort of looked like a zombie had done it, but none of them were torn or covered in blood.

“I didn’t want to leave you down there with them.” I picked up some of the discarded clothes off the floor.

“Why not?” Harlow crossed her arms over her chest.

“Those are two guys with guns who we just met and you’re a thirteen-year-old girl!”

“
Lazlo Durante
would never do anything!” Harlow insisted, almost swooning at his name.

“Whatever,” I scoffed. “Don’t do that.”

“What?”

“
That
.” I waved vaguely to her with an argyle sweater. “Be all… like that. It’s the end of the world. You can’t have school girl crushes during the end of the world.”

“Why not?” Harlow sounded offended. “You got to have a boyfriend.”

“He wasn’t my boyfriend,” I said under my breath.

I went into the walk-in closet so I wouldn’t have to talk about Beck. The sun had almost completely gone down, so I could barely see anything. I pulled at the clothes, hoping to get something I needed. Jeans and underwear were my top priorities.

When I came out of the closet, Harlow had found a box of matches. The room was lined with thick white pillar candles, and she began to light them.

“There’s a pool out back,” she said as she lit the last candle. “It’s a little skuzzy, but maybe tomorrow we could clean it and go swimming. It might be the closest thing we have to a shower for a while.”

“Maybe.”

I still had my messenger bag looped over my shoulder. I pulled it up over my head, along with the gun and set them on the bed. My tennis shoes had been very nice Converse before I wore them all to hell, and I slipped them off. When I sat down on the bed, my feet throbbed painfully.

“I don’t wanna walk tomorrow,” Harlow said. “I don’t think I can do that much again.”

She sat on the bed next to me, and I looked over at her feet for the first time. They were covered in bloody, swollen blisters.

“Holy hell!” I gaped at her wounds.

“I know. When I pulled off my socks, they were full of blood.” She stared down at her feet wearily for a second, and then looked sharply at me. “Don’t worry. It was all my blood. Those are army grade boots, and they don’t have any holes. I double checked.”

“Those boots are killing your feet, though. They’re way too big!” I wanted to get up off the bed and take them from her, so she couldn’t let them mutilate her feet anymore, but I wasn’t ready to move just yet.

“But they’re great for kicking in zombie’s heads.”

“Yeah, but I haven’t seen you kick any zombie’s heads since I met you.” I shook my head. “You can get gangrene and lose your feet. And there’s no way you can go swimming like that.”

“What? Why not?”

“The water is probably contaminated with the virus, and you have open wounds,” I said. “Even if it’s not full of the zombie virus, it’s probably has something that would cause a major infection. In fact, come here.”

“I am here.”

“Come closer. I don’t know why you argue so much. Have I led you wrong yet?”

She sighed and scooted over to me. I put her feet on the bed, setting the argyle sweater underneath them. I reached in my bag and dug out a bottle of alcohol. Beck had told me to always be sure to pack plenty of bandages for wrapping wounds and lots of alcohol. It might not stop the zombie virus, but it would suck to die from tetanus.

“This might sting,” I warned her, and before she could protest, I poured it on her feet. She let out such a shrill scream, I would’ve thought someone cut her leg off. “Harlow! Shh! It’s okay!”

Within a minute, I heard feet pounding up the stairs, and Blue threw open the bedroom door, gun in his hand. I reached for my gun, but I only put my hand on it.

“Is everything okay?” Blue scanned the room.

“Yeah, I was just cleaning her feet.” I pointed to Harlow’s damaged appendages.

“Are there zombies in there?” Lazlo shouted from somewhere down the hall.

“No, it’s all clear,” Blue yelled back at him and lowered his gun.

“You used to be a doctor, right?” Harlow asked him. “She’s killing my feet.”

“Do you want me to check them out?” Blue offered, stepping closer to where we sat. “I mean, I wasn’t board certified, but I can clean a few cuts.”

“Yes, please.” Harlow nodded and glared distrustfully at me.

“Alright, whatever.” I threw my hands up and stood, wincing at the pain in my own feet. “She’s all yours, Doc.”

Blue took my spot on the bed and talked to Harlow, reassuring her that everything would be all right, and examined her feet. After a few minutes of listening to him soothe her, I was convinced that he didn’t have plans to rape and murder us.

I excused myself to get some food. Since I was hydrated and a little rested, my stomach remembered that it was starving.

The downstairs was lit with lots of candles, too. Thank god for Crate & Barrel. Lazlo stood by the patio doors in the living room, but I went into the kitchen without saying anything to him.

He left a can opener out on the counter, and I used it to open a can of salmon. I grabbed a fork, eating it right of the can, and I made my way back to the living room.

“The cat is swimming,” Lazlo nodded to the pool out back. That’s what he’d been staring at. Ripley freaked him out.

“I think lions like water.” I swallowed down the salmon and walked over to watch her. The pool had an algae film to it, but she dog paddled through it.

“So where do you come from that they have lions?” Lazlo gave me a sidelong glance.

“We found her on the way here,” I shrugged and took another bite. I didn’t want to talk about where I came from, or remember the quarantine or Beck or Sommer.

“I was in L.A.,” Lazlo explained, as if I asked. “I lived in a bunker under a house after the virus really started spreading. Then three weeks ago, we ran out of food.”

“So you’ve been living in a bunker throughout this whole thing?” I glared at him, but he was too busy watching Ripley to notice.

“Through most of it,” he said, oblivious to my icy tone. “When shit started hitting the fan, I bought this house in the hills with a bunker underneath. It was me, my bassist, his girlfriend, and a friend of mine from high school.

“I asked my mom to stay with us.” His voice got lower as he went on. “But she was at home in Toledo and didn’t want to fly out. And at first, I think we went in the bunker almost as a joke. We didn’t think it was really as bad as they were saying. We didn’t think …” He trailed off.

“What happened after you left the bunker?” I asked.

“They all died.” Lazlo shook his head, trying to shake it off, but his voice was thick. “Within a week. The only good thing is that they were all killed. None of them ever got infected.”

“How did you survive?” I asked. To be honest, I was a little shocked that he had been the brains of the operation.

“Don’t know,” Lazlo shrugged. “Luck. I hid out in an old recording studio for a while. I left to scavenge, and I found Blue last week. Without him, I wouldn’t have made it this far.” When I didn’t say anything, he smirked at me. “He’s Canadian, you know.”