Razor Girl (7 page)

“We’ll see,” she said, refusing to let his pessimism soak in. She was, like it or not, a razor girl; she could do things normal humans couldn’t. That was the whole point. “I mean, I’m not entirely helpless,” she explained, holding out her fingers, displaying her blood-encrusted razors. Ew. She really needed to clean those.

“Yeah, check it, Tank. You should see what she can do with those bad boys. She took on one of the Others when I first ran into her. Big guy, too.” He mimicked her martial arts movements with an exaggerated flair. “Hiiii-yah! Bang! Boom! The thing didn’t know what hit it.”

Tank let out a whistle, staring at the blades. “Damn. Your daddy make you those?”

Molly nodded then looked down at the ground, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “It’s another long story,” she said at last. “I’ve got ocular implants, too.” She pointed to her sunglasses. “They allow me to see in the dark, have GPS navigation linked to an old-time satellite and allow access to special databases he left up and running.”

“Nice,” Tank said, taking her hand and examining her fingers. “I could use a set of those myself.” He dropped her hand. “So, have you talked to your father lately?”

She stared at the ground and shrugged. “No. Not for a bit.”

Tank nodded. “I thought not. You, girly girl, should face facts. With all those things running around, your father’s probably dead. I hate to say it, but it’s true. And you’re not going to make it to Florida. Consider hanging out with us instead. We could use someone like you to pick up the slack for my lazy-ass, no-good brother over there.” He gave Molly a charming smile.

Chase gave his brother the finger. “Please,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Who catches half the deer? And who’s the better cook?”

“Me, of course,” Tank replied.

“The last time you tried to boil water you nearly burned us out of here!”

“Lies,” Tank said. “If there were any lawyers left I’d sue for slander.” He turned back to Molly. “So, what you do say? How about you skip Disney and join our little tribe?”

She shook her head. It was nice of them to ask, and she was tempted, seeing as they were the best company she’d had in years—even if she had a guilt complex around Chase—but she couldn’t forsake her mission. She had to find her father and help him, just as she’d promised. There was also the change going on inside her, which she didn’t want to mention. She had that fast-approaching expiration date. If she didn’t get down to the Magic Kingdom pronto, things weren’t going to get easier. “Thanks for the offer,” she said, “but I have to do this.”

From the corner of her eye she noticed Chase scowling, his snarky good humor all but disappeared.
Was
he still mad at her? After all this time? Did he hate her for not showing up at the eleventh hour? For choosing her dad over him? Would he understand if she explained? Would it do either of them any good?

No. Probably not. And in the long run, what did it really matter? What was done was done. She’d made her choice, couldn’t take it back. And she was leaving in the morning. Probably would never see him again. Which was best. Really. Even if the sight of him did make her heart ache a little, seeing how he’d grown. The closeness they’d once shared was now a gaping chasm of regret.

Tank sighed. “Okay,” he said. “But at least stay the night. We’ll hook you up with some supplies.”

Molly forced her thoughts back to the issue at hand. “Right,” she said. “I’d appreciate those. But I do need to head out first thing in the morning.” She wanted to be clear.

“Big hurry to save the world, huh?” Chase asked.

“Something like that.” Molly stared down at her feet. She wished there were one sentence she could say, one short speech that could make him and his brother understand who she was and what she’d become, but it just wasn’t going to happen. She was on her own until Florida.

“So, it’s decided,” Tank announced, obviously wanting to change the subject. “Maybe if you’re lucky, Chase, chef extraordinaire, will cook you up some of his special five-star grub. Hope you like reconstituted beef stroganoff. It’s his specialty,” he added.

Molly threw Tank a small smile. “Right now, I’m so hungry I could probably eat a zombie.”

The big man took a step closer. He put his arm around Molly and said, “Hey, Chase, why don’t you make yourself useful and get some disinfectant for her hands?”

Chase gave him a look, but skulked off to obey. Molly watched him go, trying not to notice how the taut leather of his pants perfectly molded to his backside. Stupid frustrated
libido, she thought. The sooner she got away from Chase Griffin, the better.

She turned back to the children, who’d gone back to playing. Molly wondered why they seemed uninterested in her, but maybe they’d seen a lot of people come and go. Maybe they weren’t anxious to meet new people who were just going to die.

“Why are they dressed like that?” she asked, needing to change the subject.

Tank laughed and took his arm from around her shoulders, glancing off in the direction his brother went. “We gave up trying to dress them years ago,” he explained. “It was way too hard to convince them of the whole matching concept, and we eventually realized it didn’t make a difference anyway. No one’s gonna see them who’d care, right? So we just point them in the direction of the children’s department and tell them to go nuts. The older ones sometimes try to re create what they see in the fashion magazines up front, and the little ones try to mimic the older ones, but basically none of them have any fashion sense whatsoever. Hell, half of them would run around naked if we let ’em.”

Molly laughed. “Little savages, huh?”

“You said it, not me.” Tank grinned. He still had that easy smile he’d been known for in high school, a smile that made Molly feel comfortable and at home. Unlike Chase, who made her feel completely on edge. The sooner she got away from here, the better.

“And the makeup?”

“Ah, that’s courtesy of my man Rocky. When we first started gathering up the kids, they were all freaked out and scared. None of them would talk to one another; they just huddled in corners, practically catatonic with fear and grief. So Rocky came up with this idea to tell them that we were a special tribe. He came up with a whole story about us and told them all members of the tribe needed war paint.” Tank smiled at the memory. “He hit a Halloween costume store downtown and brought cases and cases of makeup back with
him. Painted all the faces of the children, one by one. They loved it. First time we saw any of them smile.” He looked down at the kids lovingly. “Half the time I forget they’re wearing it nowadays, I’m so used to seeing it. Probably looks pretty silly to you.”

Molly shook her head. “I think it’s cute,” she said. “You guys are really good to them.”

“Well, I try to teach ’em stuff,” Tank continued. “We set up a little school in the café and meet for a couple hours a day. I hit the library down the street and got a bunch of books for them to read. I’m not the best teacher in the world, for sure, but I figured it was better than nothing. Right?”

She was impressed. “Definitely. They are the future, right?”

“Damn straight.” After a moment he added, “Gotta take a leak. Be right back.” Then he walked off down a nearby aisle.

She watched him disappear, thinking that here was a good guy. Her father could use people like him down at Disney World, she’d bet: dependable leaders who could get a job done. Once she joined her father and got settled in, she’d have to see if there was a way to bring this entire group down. She’d get the kids in school, give Tank a real job in what ever new society was being built. And Chase would come, too, she supposed. As long as he was living on the other side of the park, far away from her.

She felt a tapping on her leg and looked down. A scrawny little girl, about six years old, with big brown eyes and straw-colored braids, looked up at her with a curious expression on her war-painted face. She was joined a few moments later by a similarly painted Asian boy who had crimson streaks in his otherwise white-blond hair.

“I’m Darla,” the girl declared, pointing to herself. “And this is Red. Who are you?”

Molly crouched down, getting to eye level. Kids always made her nervous, and it didn’t help now that she hadn’t had any to deal with in six years. But she’d do her best.

“I’m Molly,” she said. “Nice to meet you.” Should she hold
out her hand? No, her razors were still flared and covered with goo.

Darla squinted at her. “What’s wrong with your eyes?” she asked, pointing at Molly’s glasses. “They look freaky.”

Molly tried not to bristle. Darla was just a kid, and kids were blunt about that kind of thing. Still, it was more than a bit unsettling. Back in the shelter it had been easy to pretend everything was normal. Here, out in the world, she was a total freak.

“They’re special lenses,” she explained. “They help me see better.”

“Well, they’re weird,” Red pronounced, reaching up to try and touch them. Molly dodged so that she wouldn’t have to wipe away the smudge marks later on.

“Weird,” Darla agreed, nodding. “Very weird.”

“Hey, don’t you rugrats have anything better to do than pester our guest?” Tank demanded, reappearing. She hadn’t heard him return. “If not, I suggest you start peeling potatoes for dinner.”

“What
ever
,” Red retorted, sticking out his tongue.

“Whatever,” Darla repeated like a parrot.

“Oh, yeah? Is that how we speak to our elders?” Tank dove for the two children, grabbing one in each arm and whirling them in a circle. They squealed in protest. “You know what the punishment is for ‘what evering’ me, don’t you?”

“No!” Darla pleaded. “No, Tank!”

“Oh yes,” he said, grinning wickedly. He set them down. “Tickle torture!”

They both screamed.

“You’ve got three seconds to eff off and spare yourselves my wrath,” Tank said. “One, two…”

The two children scattered. Tank nodded. “Thought so,” he said. He turned back to Molly. “Little cowards. Sorry about that. No manners. Little
savages
, just as you said.”

“Who are little savages?” Chase asked, making Molly turn again. She hadn’t heard him approach, either. He handed her a few wet naps.

“Who do you think?” Tank replied.

Molly rose to her feet, ripping open a wet-nap packet, trying to regain her composure as she wiped down her blades. How much had Chase and Tank overheard of the conversation between her and the pair of children?

She wasn’t sure what bothered her. It wasn’t as if they didn’t already know how freaky she looked. Hell, she could see it herself in a mirror. But it was easier when she was alone to convince herself that her appearance wasn’t a big deal—that it was kind of geeky cool, almost superhero-like. But here, back in society—or what was left of it—with people who didn’t understand the intended purpose of the lenses and razors, Molly definitely felt like a freak.

“You need to teach those brats some manners,” Chase declared. “If I hear one more of them ‘what ever’ me, I swear to God…”

Tank laughed. “Reminds me of Tara, you know,” he said, watching Darla and Red wrestling in the corner. “Every time one of them says it, I feel like she’s back with us.”

Chase scowled at his brother. “I thought we decided not to talk about her anymore.”

“Come on, Chase. Ignoring her death won’t bring her back. We should celebrate the time we had with her. After all, she was—”

Chase held up a hand. “Whatever, man. Do what you want. Say what you want. I’m going to get Molly her supplies and then go play ball.”

“Oh, no you don’t. It’s your turn to guard Spud,” Tank corrected. “Rocky’s been on guard duty since early this morning.”

“Oh God, you still got a guard on him?” Chase cried, rolling his eyes. “That’s ridiculous. It’s been two weeks. He hasn’t changed a hair on his head. He’s clean. He’s fine.”

“We don’t know that. He could still change.”

“Change?” Molly asked, not able to help herself from asking. “What do you mean?”

“Spud got a tiny bit knicked up by one of the Others a couple weeks ago when we were out gathering food,” Chase explained. “So Tank here put him in jail.”

“Quarantine,” Tank clarified. “Not jail.”

“The dude’s been in the supply closet for two straight weeks,” Chase argued. “And he’s totally fine.”

“What about that infection on his inner thigh?”

“It’s just an ingrown hair. Or a boil. You know Spud never bothers to use soap when he bathes. He’s dirty. But that doesn’t mean, he’s…you know.”

“He’s what?” Molly asked.

“Infected.”

“You don’t know that,” his brother insisted. “It hasn’t been long enough to tell.”

“What could happen?” Molly asked.

“Infection. The Others like to eat people, right? Well, sometimes they only get a bite in before we kill them. But that bite is bad news. Some people…change.”

She shook her head. “It’s just like an old zombie flick.”

Chase nodded. “Yeah, exactly like that. Who knew it was real? Although, I guess it’s not like any one zombie movie. Sort of a mix of a bunch.

“Anyway, some of us are immune. Tank here is for sure. He’s been bitten by Others about three or four times now, and he’s completely fine. But you never know who’s going to be okay and who’s not. So we put anyone bitten in quarantine. Monitor them.”

“And your friend was bitten two weeks ago?”

“Yes. About that. And he’s fine. Totally immune,” Chase claimed. “I saw him this morning and he was doing crossword puzzles.”

“I want to keep him two more days,” Tank said. “We’re better off being safe than sorry. I don’t want him transforming in the middle of the night while we’re asleep and eating the other children.”

Molly shuddered. Monsters that ate children. Monsters that were children eating children. And here she’d been in a hurry to leave the fallout shelter? The sooner she got to Disney, the better.

“What about you?” she asked Chase. “Are you immune?”

He grinned. “I don’t know. Never let one get close enough to find out. I’m called Chase for a reason.”

“You’ve been lucky,” Tank reminded him. “But luck doesn’t hold out forever. Especially for people as foolhardy as you.”