The Dead-Tossed Waves (2 page)

“There’s still the possibility of Mudo out here,” he tells me, the word
Mudo
falling so easily from his lips but causing my own to quiver.

“The fences around the park always hold them,” he adds. “But just in case …”

I try to swallow the fear, its taste hot and metallic like blood. He must feel me pulling away from him, ready to claw back over the Barrier to the safety of the town, because his grip remains firm as he tugs me closer.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I’ve got you.” His voice is like the night, deep and dark around me, and I try to relax against him. I try to trust him.

I’ve never been beyond the protection of the town and as we weave through the crumbled ruins at the edge of the amusement park, every shadow is the dead rising. Every scratch of concrete shifting is the moan of the Mudo craving our flesh. Every turn taking us farther away from our world and into the dead world.

I wonder how he can feel so comfortable out here. He was raised the same way I was, he learned the same lessons in class as I did: That the only safe places are those protected by walls and fences. That the dead will never stop once they scent
human flesh. That an Infected who turns when there aren’t Mudo around will become a Breaker.

And yet Catcher strolls through the ruins with confidence and ease. Every part of me envies him for this.

Something flickers past us, a hint of sound and wind. I jump. My heart seizes and I grasp at Catcher’s shoulder. “Just a bat,” he murmurs, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

There are rules for a reason
, I want to tell him.
We’re not supposed to be here
. But he pulls my arm tight in his and I can’t help but fall into the feel of him.

O
ne of the girls is talking about the Dark City as we catch up to them in the center of the amusement park. Her name is Mellie and she’s two years older than I am—Catcher’s age—and she twirls in the dark with her arms out by her sides, fingers brushing the still air. “At the first snow, I’m going,” she says.

The brightness of the full moon reflects off the broken concrete of the ground. The light carves around the dips and curves of the old roller coaster, echoing Mellie’s own graceful turns.

I crane my neck to look up at the coaster. I’ve only seen it from a distance, its humps rising from the decaying ruins like the back of some serpentine monster we once learned about in school.

I wonder what it would have been like to ride the coaster back then—perched at the edge of the fall and looking out at the world past the fences.

Which would be more terrifying, the sense of the ground falling from underneath you or the image of your best friend throwing herself at the fence, her mouth open, teeth flashing, fingers grabbing—the cacophony of moans?

I glance around me at the shadows thrown by the other rides, by the old buildings that have been stripped bare or crumbled in on themselves. In the darkness everything is frayed at the edges, making me scared of what could be hidden beyond my reach.

“Think of all the people in the Dark City,” Mellie says, staring up at the stars. “So many possibilities, so many men.” Her voice is like a song and one of the boys—a redhead named Griffin—steps toward her, wraps his hands around hers and joins her.

“We’re not enough?” He smiles and laughs, pulling her around faster, and she tilts her head back farther so that the light of the moon trails along her neck.

I want to look away, feeling as if I’m watching some sort of intimate dance. But I can’t. I’ve heard people talk about the Dark City my whole life. Even though it’s over two weeks’ journey by foot up the coast, it’s the closest large city, one of the last fortified bastions from before the Return. It’s where the Protectorate, the loose confederate government, sits. But it never occurred to me to want to go there. Never occurred to me I’d ever be able to pay the heavy rents to stay.

“Can you imagine living in those old buildings?” another girl says, walking toward where Mellie and Griffin are dancing. “I hear some of them are forty stories or more.” She tilts her chin to her chest so that she’s looking at Griffin through heavy-lidded eyes and he leaves Mellie to take this new girl in his arms, his grin wide. Their laughter’s almost too loud in the darkness.

I’m so aware of Catcher standing next to me and I’m sure I must look as awkward as I feel. Mellie seems so graceful and free and beautiful and I wonder if Catcher wants to dance like the others are. If he wishes I were more like the other girls. I can’t even imagine what it would feel like to spread my arms wide and twirl in the night, not worrying about the dark corners or the possibility of Mudo and death. I glance at where Cira leans her head close to one of Catcher’s friends, as if they’re oblivious to everything around us.

I cross my arms over my chest and grip my elbows. My skin is thick with goose bumps.

I can’t stop thinking about what it must have been like here when the Return hit. The panic. The confusion. The bodies packed so close in one space. The inability to escape. The moans.

Always the moans.

The group migrates closer to the coaster, their voices buzzing with rumors of the Dark City and plans for leaving Vista. I wait for Catcher to go with them, for me to be left to follow behind. But he lets them go until it’s just the two of us standing in their echoes.

He brushes his hand over my arm and I swallow down a million words. The air mingles with the scent from his body; it fills my head and replaces my fear of being beyond the Barrier. There’s something about Mellie’s abandon that makes me want to be free as well.

I want to be like her. I want to forget my constant worry and dance around the old amusement park rides, twirling with the faded animals on the carousel or spinning around in the chipped teacups.

But I don’t. I just stand there and feel Catcher’s fingertips against my skin. It’s as if we’re the first ones to find this old
world. To slip past everything that used to hold us tight. The air outside the Barrier seems different, seems to hum with possibility. And every time I draw a breath of it I feel as though I’m leaving behind who I used to be and becoming something else.

I begin to think that maybe I’ve been wrong to fear the world outside the Barrier. That maybe I can be like the others my age and dream about making the trek to the Dark City. That maybe there’s more to the world than hiding away in such a dead-end town as Vista.

Catcher opens his mouth to say something and I’m leaning toward him when we hear a shout.

“What about you, Catcher? You in for a race up the coaster?” Blane, one of Mellie’s tagalong friends, says as she walks slowly toward us, one eyebrow raised high. Catcher’s eyes flare a little in response and I try to study her grace. To memorize it. I feel the awkward hunch of my own shoulders and deflate a little. How could he like me when there are girls like her around?

“I’ll leave the stunts to the twins,” he says, nodding at the two brothers goofing around on the old wooden trellis, trying to show each other up.

“Aw, come on, Catch,” she says, not letting up. He tenses next to me and I remember his confession—his fear of heights.

“It’s me,” I say. My voice is a squeak, the exact opposite of Blane’s low purr. I try to clear my throat, try to stop my hands from sweating as every eye turns toward me. I’m not used to being the center of attention. I feel too keenly that I’m younger and not one of them, not part of their group.

“I … ah … I don’t like … um … don’t like heights,” I say, utterly failing to hide my embarrassment.

Blane rests a hand on her hip, cocking it to the side, and is about to say more when Catcher slides his arm around me and I feel my body freeze. Afraid that if I move he’ll somehow slip away.

“Gabry and I’ll sit this one out,” he says.

Blane narrows her eyes at me and then turns to the others. “Please tell me
someone
is willing to show us what they’re made of,” she says loudly, striding toward the base of the coaster, where the twins are already halfway to the top of the highest rise.

I wait for Catcher to let me go, as if he were only holding me as protection against Blane. But instead the pads of his fingers press against the skin of my shoulder, pulling me closer. I’ve never been so aware of my own body, so in awe that it could contain the quivering of excitement inside me.

I hear their shouts as they egg on the racing boys, shadows beneath the moonlight. Catcher tugs me away from them toward the carousel with the faded animals, the chipped red and green and purple and blue paint along its peaked roof.

I slide a leg over the unicorn, the tip of its horn long gone, and Catcher stands next to me. One hand on my thigh, the other on the pole by my head. His stomach slightly touches my hip and I squeeze my knees against the side of the ride.

I can feel the possibility between us. My sweaty fingers clench the pommel of the saddle, afraid I’ll slip away, that somehow I’ll take off and fly.

My mother once told me about her first kiss. I was feverish in bed—delirious, she told me later—but I remember her voice and how she told me about the boy she’d known growing up. He’d been from her village in the Forest and he’d been injured and feverish like me. She’d stayed by his bed, refusing
to give up on him, and later when he was better she’d stood on a hill with him and dreamed of the ocean and kissed him then and there, with all the hopes of her future rolled out before her.

I think about that now, while Catcher’s breath hovers around me. I can feel him, can feel the air pulse between us. His gaze flicks to my mouth and before I can stop myself I lick my lips, scared that maybe he isn’t interested in me and nervous that maybe he is. More than anything I’m skittish about the silence. A pressure to say something gnaws inside me.

“I’m glad you decided to come with us,” Catcher tells me.

I shift, relieved. The heat of the summer night causes my shirt to stick to my back. I don’t know how to tell him that I’ve never wanted to test the Barrier before. That I’m not like Mellie and the others who want to go explore the world and I’m happy with the safety of home.

Instead I mumble, “I am too.” And then there’s silence between us again. I tap my foot against the unicorn’s leg, wondering how to fill the awkward gap. A crazy thought circles my mind that I should admit how much I like him but I shake it away.

He reaches out and takes the tip of my braid in his hands, running his fingers along the fan of my hair, and I can’t hold back my smile.

“It feels like things have changed,” he says, and I don’t know if he means in a good way or a bad way.

“How so?” I ask, my voice bordering on a squeak.

He focuses on his fingers in my hair, running the ends of it against the palm of his hand. I stare, mesmerized.

He clears his throat. “You know how you can know someone—or—think you know them—but maybe you only
know them in one way?” He sneaks a glance up at me and I notice that his cheeks are red in the moonlight. I nod, my eyes wide, too afraid to hope he’s talking about me and the possibility of us.

He takes a deep breath, letting go of my braid. As it slides down along my shoulder I realize that my lungs are burning, waiting for him to continue.

“Maybe you know someone as your little sister’s friend,” he says. “And then maybe something shifts. Maybe one day you hear them say something unexpected. Or hear the way they laugh and then suddenly you see them all over again. Like this time it’s different.”

He places a hand on my shoulder, his thumb on my collarbone. I have a hard time catching my breath, wanting so desperately to hear him tell me how he feels about me. That he thinks about me as much as I do about him.

“This time, maybe you see them as …” He pauses. Above us stars whirl and collide and eke out their light only for us. “Beautiful,” he finishes, and my body explodes, my heart filling every part of me.

Catcher leans in closer. “Wonderful and funny and …” He leans in even closer.

My body tingles at being so near to him. I realize how right he is. How we still see people as who they were before and maybe not as they are now. I run my tongue over my lips and dive in, my voice shaking only a little. “And maybe you start to see your best friend’s brother differently too.”

I wonder what I’m supposed to do—if I should lean in to him as well—how this is all supposed to work and if I’m doing something wrong.

He smiles that secret smile, except this time I think that
maybe I understand what it is. Possibility sparks and skitters between us. He glances down at my mouth, his breath puffs against my lips.

Once, when I was a child, the ground trembled beneath my feet. They said that it was the earth shifting, settling. But in doing so it threw up a massive wave. I remember standing in the lighthouse and seeing it coming. I remember the compression of air before it hit, the way everything stilled and pulled back for just a breath, and held.

That’s how it feels when Catcher moves toward me. The compression of air between us, the still pause, and then his lips brushing against mine.

I feel their heat first. Feel the way his mouth pauses over mine before pressing in again. I place a hand over his on the bar and he twines his fingers in mine.