Razor Girl (15 page)

“Dad, Dad!” Molly cried as she took the basement steps two at a time. “Dad, are you down here?”

The workshop door swung open and Ian rushed out, looking concerned. He closed and locked it behind him. “What’s wrong, baby?” he asked, studying her. “What happened?”

She buried her face in his chest, searched for comfort and reassurance from the man who’d sired her. Her mom hadn’t been home. “Oh, Dad, it was awful,” she said, tears filling her eyes. “I still can’t believe it.”

He led her over to the weight bench and sat her down. “Take a breath,” he instructed. “Then tell me everything.”

“We went to Mount Holyoke Hospital,” she said. “And there were guards with machine guns. They wouldn’t let us in. So we snuck around back and looked in the windows. There are so many sick people, Dad,” she said, choking on the lump in her throat. “The place is overflowing.”

Her dad nodded. “Yes,” he said. “This Super Flu is a big deal. The government’s not going to be able to contain word of it much longer, no matter how they censor the media.” If Molly didn’t know better, she’d think he looked pleased.

“But that’s not the worst of it,” she sniffled. “There was this…trash compactor, I guess. And we looked inside. And there were bodies. So many bodies.” She broke down again.

Her father pulled her close and she sobbed into his chest. “Shh,” he said. “Remember what I told you. When the
apocalypse comes, we’ll be safe. I’ve taken preparations. Every day I’m taking more. We’re going to be fine. You’re not going to get sick. I can one hundred percent guarantee that.”

She wasn’t sure how that was possible, but she was too concerned with the next part of her story to get off track. “That’s not the worst thing,” she said, pulling away and looking her dad in the eye.

He scrunched up his face. “What do you mean?” He sounded concerned for the first time in their conversation.

She took one deep breath, swallowed, then another. “There was something else in the trash compactor,” she said. “Some kind of…I don’t know. You’re going to think I’m crazy.”

He grabbed her shoulders with his hands so hard that she cried out, startled. “Tell me,” he said, his eyes wide.

She shook her head. “I don’t know exactly. It was like…like…a monster.”

Her father dropped his hands, released her and turned. “Where was this again?” he said. “Mount Holyoke?”

Molly nodded weakly. “But I don’t know if it’s a good idea to—”

But her dad was already unlocking the door to his lab and disappearing inside. A moment later he returned, pistol in his hand. Molly’s eyes widened. She’d had no idea her dad even owned a firearm. It certainly wasn’t legal. Not after the Firearms Act of ’18.

“I’m going to check it out,” he told her. “You stay here. No matter what happens, do not leave the house until I get back.”

If she’d been scared before, she was petrified now. “What is it, Dad?” she asked. “Do you know?”

“No,” Ian said, heading up the stairs. “But I’m going to find out.”

“Trey, dude!” Chris said, touching his brother on the shoulder, trying to rouse him from his sim-induced torpor. “I gotta talk to you.”

Trey pulled off his VR goggles and looked at him, annoyed. “Dude,” he said. “You know better than to interrupt a
guy in a sim. I was in the middle of…Well, I was in the middle of that sim I loaned you. You never checked it out, and damn if you shouldn’t be sorry.”

“I
am
sorry,” Chris said. He sat down on the floor. “But I gotta tell you something.”

“Something more important than the Paperdoll Ms. March 2030?”

Chris just stared at him. “You know Mrs. McCormick, right? From down the street?” When Trey nodded, he quickly related her disappearance. “And I found some other reports, too. So me and Molly Anderson decided to go check out Mount Holyoke Hospital to see what was going on.”

Trey looked bored. “And?”

Chris related the rest of the story. About sneaking around the back of the hospital. The sick people. The Dumpster. “And Molly thinks she saw some kind of creature like a zombie!”

Trey started laughing.

“Dude, I’m serious.”

“I’m so telling Mom to force her to take your media player away,” Trey said. “Those old movies you watch have obviously warped your fragile little mind.”

Chris frowned. “I’m trying to tell you there’s something really wrong going on. People getting sick. And dying. And I think the government is trying to cover it up.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Molly Anderson’s dad. Is she like this, too?’ Cause, man, she is kinda hot, but if she’s spouting end of the world bullshit she’s likely to be a drag in bed.”

“
I don’t care about that
.” Chris slumped into an armchair, realizing he’d never be able to convince his brother to take him seriously. Not when he lacked any evidence. “I just wanted to make sure we’re all safe.”

His brother patted him on the back and went back to his sim.

The wasteland that was once the Eastern Seaboard of America stretched endlessly before them. Interstate 95 was the least depressing part, just a parking lot of rusted-out cars, broken glass and debris. Molly supposed most of the people had gotten out of their cars and staggered off into the wild to die and be disposed of by nature. It was when her group left the highway that they truly felt the horror of the apocalypse. Ghost towns with nothing but wind whistling down the vacant main streets and skeletons lying everywhere.

They’d been traveling for three days, and everyone was starting to get cranky and saddle sore—though they were relieved they hadn’t had any difficult situations. Molly knew at some point they’d have to take a day off to rest and recover, and maybe even have a little fun with the kids. Somehow. Otherwise this little band of travelers was bound to mutiny.

When they’d started out, she’d been hopeful they’d run into more people. Other pilgrims, perhaps. Maybe ragtag refugee camps. Small makeshift societies built up from the rubble. But so far they’d seen nothing. Absolutely no one. The only signs of life anywhere were occasional mutilated animal corpses, likely compliments of roving bands of Others.

So far they’d been lucky and hadn’t had any run-ins with zombies, but Molly knew that luck couldn’t hold forever. The creatures were out here. She’d seen glimpses out of the corner of her eye, only to have them disappear when she turned
her head. It was disconcerting to say the least. For what were always depicted as brainless creatures in the movies, these seemed awfully patient.

Since that first night, she’d tried to keep a distance from Chase, riding far behind him during the day and pretending to fall asleep early at night when it wasn’t her watch. He seemed to sense her stepping back and had done what he could to respect her space. Their conversations were stilted, dealing only with necessities. The two made sure never to be alone together—and to never ever touch.

Sadly, instead of this making things better, Molly felt pretty lonely. Watching Chase in the lead, trotting on his horse, she wanted nothing more than to go talk to him. For one thing, he was the only person in their ragged band who really remembered much of the world before the catastrophe, the world they’d lost. The children barely had any idea. The oldest ones had only been eight or nine years when the plague hit. Their memories were pretty limited to sim cartoons and video games. The youngest hadn’t even been born.

Still, even with her loneliness, Molly realized it was best to keep a distance from Chase. Anything else would only lead to an attachment that spelled trouble. She’d let them both down once again. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t do that to herself.

“Hey, Molly, can I ask you a question?”

Molly glanced over. In her musings she hadn’t realized that fifteen-year-old Starr had ridden up alongside her. Darla sat in the front of the saddle, playing with her doll, and the older girl sat behind.

“Sure,” Molly said. She hadn’t had many conversations with the children. They probably thought she was either a loner or a snob.

“How do you know when you’re in love?”

The question took Molly by surprise. She looked at Starr, raising her eyebrows. “Is this a rhetorical question, or do you have someone in mind?”

“I don’t know what rhetorical means,” Starr said, blushing furiously. “But I think I might be in love with Torn.”

Molly almost laughed. Of course it was Torn. There wasn’t anyone else Starr’s age. And he was indeed cute, what with that shock of brown hair that refused to lie flat, his bright blue eyes and lanky frame.

“Well, I’m not really an expert on love,” Molly confessed, wondering if she were blushing a bit herself. “I was still pretty young when I had to go into the fallout shelter. And I was stuck inside with only my mom.”

“So you’ve never been in love?” Starr said, wide-eyed. “But you’re so
old
.”

Old. At twenty-one. Now Molly knew she was blushing. She tried to figure out the best response. “I was,” she said at last. “Once.”

“Did the person love you back?”

“I believe he did.”

“How did you know?” Starr asked, sounding anguished. Obviously her crush had been raging for some time. Molly was surprised the two kids hadn’t acted on it. She wondered if Tank had taken him aside and given the boy a lecture, or if Torn was simply clueless. She remembered an old crush of Erin’s being that way.

Molly next considered Starr’s question. How had she known Chris loved her, all those years ago? Part of it was what they’d shared during the turbulent times. “It wasn’t what he said, necessarily,” she explained slowly. “It was more…what he did. Words are just words, you know,” she added. “It’s everyday actions that show if someone cares.” She had a brief flashback to Drew.

Starr rode along quietly. Then she grinned. “He gave me his apple yesterday,” she said, her voice full of pride. “Without me even asking!”

Molly smiled. “That’s a good sign,” she said to the girl. “A very good sign.”

Darla suddenly perked up. Molly had assumed she wasn’t
paying any attention, but she’d clearly been wrong. “I think Chase loves you, Molly!” she cried.

Molly turned tomato red. “Um, I don’t think so,” she said.

Starr grinned, quickly latching on to the idea. “I do,” she exclaimed. “And I think, from the look on your face, that you love him, too.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” Molly hissed, hoping Chase couldn’t hear. “It’s not like that at all.”

“Chase and Molly, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” sang the two girls. Molly swatted at them. They erupted into giggles.

“Everything okay back there?” Chase called out, evidently hearing the ruckus. This only caused the girls to laugh harder. Molly sighed.

“We’re fine,” she called up to him. “Definitely fine.”

“Aw, your boyfriend’s worried about you!” teased Starr.

Molly rolled her eyes. She had a flashback to being a teenager herself and growled, “If you don’t cut that out, I’m so telling Torn about you. I’ll tell him you want his bod.”

Starr’s eyes looked like they were going to bug out of her head. “No, no, no!” she cried. “I’ll be quiet. Really!”

Molly smirked. “Thought so.”

That night they set up camp at a rest area off the highway. It wasn’t the most secluded, safest spot in the world, but darkness had fallen before they’d come to any better place, and they’d decided to make the best of what they found. So they pitched tents, built a great bonfire and settled in for the night as best they could.

The kids passed out early, even the older ones, exhausted after the day’s journey. It was Chase’s turn to stand watch. He was tired, too, but wasn’t about to admit it. Not to Super Molly, who never seemed the least bit worn out. It was thanks to all her enhancements, he was sure. Must be nice to be half robot.

He stifled a yawn as he poked the fire with a stick. He’d rise to the occasion, of course; he needed to prove to her that he
was useful, needed to make her glad she’d brought him along. He didn’t want her thinking she’d made a mistake.

“It’s been a long day,” she remarked, coming up beside him. She must have seen his yawn. “Maybe we should split the watch to night. I’ll take a shift, too.”

Chase shook his head. She was always trying to get him to admit weakness. “Nah,” he said. “I’m fine.”

She frowned. “There’s no need to be all macho,” she reminded him. “If you start feeling tired, just wake me up. I really don’t mind.”

Of course she didn’t. “I will, I will,” he said. “Now go to sleep.”

She finally complied, curling up in a sleeping bag under the stars, refusing a tent just in case. Chase watched her close her eyes and waited until her breathing became regular to get up and begin his patrol.

He walked the perimeter of the camp, frustrated. Did she really see him as so pathetic? So weak? He’d bent over backwards trying to make things better for all of them, and it was as if she didn’t even notice. And no matter what he said, he couldn’t seem to get through to her. After that first kiss, she’d completely turned off. Radio silence. It was like traveling with a robot. She avoided him, preferring the company of the damn kids. He could hear them laughing behind him on the road, making inside jokes that only they understood. It wasn’t fair. They were
his
kids. Well, sort of his kids. He’d certainly known them longer. But lately they all seemed to prefer Molly to him.

Maybe it was the pills. He’d started upping his daily dosage to deal with the pain in his cheek. He figured when the pain went away he would quit taking them again. Still, they left him groggy and lethargic and not a hell of a lot of fun to be around. Some days he could barely stay on his horse. Luckily, with everyone ignoring him, he could get away with it.

If only Tank were here. Chase missed his brother like crazy, and every day it got worse. He missed their casual banter. Tank’s amazing way with the kids. If there were any justice in
the world, Tank would be here now, leading everyone to Florida, not stupid, irresponsible Chase who was flying by the seat of his pants, making it up as he went. No wonder the kids didn’t talk to him.

He’d promised to protect the children, to get them to somewhere safe. Now he had to make good. And he had no idea how that was supposed to happen.

After all, he’d never been able to save anyone else.

He thought about his adopted sister. Her gap-toothed smile. Her high-pitched giggles. He was supposed to protect her from all the danger. Instead, he’d left her alone. It had just been for a few minutes, but that was all it took. A vision of her broken body, lying on the stage, blood seeping out of her thousand cuts, slammed through his brain. He swallowed a lump in his throat that felt attached to his heart.

Yes, Tara had believed in him and he had let her down. Now here he was again, thrust into another position where he was expected to protect the innocent. What if he failed? Tara’s face faded and in its spot he saw Darla. Then Sunshine. They were bloodied and bruised and it was totally his fault.

He shook his head, a feeble attempt to keep the inner darkness at bay. He fingered the pill bottle in his pocket, desperately wanting another pill. But the score had been a small one, and he’d had to take more and more medication these days to get results. He needed another score like the government lab one he’d once found. The high-grade stuff that was built to last for years.

A sudden thought occurred to him. What if he couldn’t find another batch? What if what he had in his pocket was everything? His hands shook as he pulled the bottle out to look. Was this his last pill? Would he have to stop taking them? How was he going to function sober?

Panic throbbed through his veins as he popped open the top, and he felt like he was going to throw up. It would be fine, he told himself. He’d make up some excuse tomorrow to have the party wait for him while he went “hunting and foraging.” Molly would never know, just as Tank had never
known. He’d travel until he hit some pharmacies or houses, stock up good and then he’d be okay. When he came back he’d just say he hadn’t been lucky finding game. The plan would work.

And for now, he’d just take one. Just one pill wouldn’t do much. After all, these were super weak. One pill would calm him down and he’d be able to stay up and guard the group without feeling so freaked out. It was in everyone’s best interest.

He upended the bottle. Two pills fell out. He’d only take one. Except, he took two. But they were weak. No big deal. He dry-swallowed them, feeling a sense of peace wash over him as they scratched down his throat. He’d be okay. He’d find more tomorrow. And to night he’d keep Molly and the children safe. Tank was gone, and Chase was the main man now. But that was okay. He could do it.

No big deal. He’d just close his eyes for a second, then make another circle of the perimeter.