This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) (22 page)

I spent the next couple of days being the recipient of curious stares. Everyone wondered whether I’d lost my mind. John patiently waited for me to spill my guts, but I wasn’t ready. I was beyond glad I’d agreed to go with Darren on his run; it would give me a break as the town’s resident loon. But due to my breakdown, as he’d called it, Darren had postponed the trip for a few days. Now that the few days had passed, we would be leaving tomorrow.

“Are you listenin’, Bailey?” Ethan asked.

I turned my head toward him, losing my train of thought. “You bet.”

Ethan didn’t look convinced, but went on. “Can you keep an eye on Chloe today? I have to do some things for Wyatt.”

I didn’t want to encourage Ethan’s attachment to this place, but I wouldn’t mind a chance to hang out with Chloe.

“Sure, but doesn’t she have apocalypse school or whatever it’s called?”

“Lessons are just in the mornin’ today.”

“When’s it over?”

“In like ten minutes.”

I glared at him. “Way to cut it close.”

“I figured you’d do it.”

He gave me a brief hug and left my condo with a goodbye. All of our group members had been stopping by like they were checking up on me. I told them I was okay, that I’d had my little outburst and was all good, but they didn’t really buy it. It was mostly the truth though. It was like every bad thing that had happened to me built up to the point where I needed some kind of release. Unfortunately, my treacherous body and brain had made it into a public spectacle. I was still struggling with the rather high body count I’d racked up. I didn’t know how people could get over that sort of thing. I supposed being a psychopath would help.

I stopped my wallowing and cleaned the kitchen island, clearing off various items. The place definitely looked lived in. As a bonus, I tucked away most of the cat paraphernalia, except for the hideous couch. Honestly, the place was kind of a mess. I wasn’t the cleaning type and neither was Roy. I didn’t know why I bothered. It wasn’t like Chloe would care.

After my ten minutes were up, I left the condo and headed toward the building they were using as the school. Even before I opened the door I could hear children screaming. Inside, they were all in a flurry, chattering among themselves. Papers were everywhere. I spotted an exhausted-looking Zoe and made my way over to her.

“Hey, Bailey. Came to fetch Chloe?” Zoe asked, a smear of sparkles on her face.

“How’d you know?” I asked.

She bit her lip. “Well, you’re not here for any other kid, are you?”

Fair point.

“Bailey! Look at the pirate’s hat I made!” Chloe brandished her work of art.

“What, no princess crown for you?” I asked, noticing that most of the girls had opted to make glitter-saturated paper crowns.

Chloe scoffed. “Pirates are way cooler.”

“You got that right. Guess you’re stuck with me today, kid.”

“Cool! Can we stay here for a bit? I wanna make the popsicle cabin next.”

I turned to Zoe. “Are you actually teaching them anything, or just having them do crafts all day?”

“Hey! We do so teach them. The last hour is always craft time.”

I chatted with Zoe while the kids governed themselves. It was nice to catch up with her. We’d been drifting apart since we’d arrived at Ethan’s cabin—her always with Darren and me trying to make myself useful. It was strange how you could be so close proximity wise, but so far apart communication wise. I frowned. Now I was making us sound like an old married couple.

After another half an hour, Chloe was ready to go. I had to carry her soggy popsicle cabin back.

“No, we need to take it back to my place,” she insisted, grabbing my forearm and dragging me in her condo’s direction.

We walked to the condo and once inside, Chloe set down her crafts on the kitchen island. Their condo was a lot tidier than mine.

Chloe looked up at me. “What are we goin’ to do today?”

Her fingers were stained with black marker from coloring the pirate’s hat.

“Don’t know yet. How about we get some late lunch first and then decide?” I suggested.

From their condo, we headed to the clubhouse, hoping to catch the cooks still serving lunch. Chloe regurgitated everything she’d learned today in her lessons. Apparently, tarantulas could survive for more than two years without food, a fact Chloe found interesting. Me, not so much. And ants never slept, nor did they have lungs.

“Jeez, are they training you guys to be entomologist?” I only knew that word because I’d watched
Silence of the Lambs
one too many times.

“Huh?” Chloe gave me a confused look.

“People who study bugs,” I clarified.

“No, but that would be cool!”

Weird kid.

“I missed hangin’ out with you,” Chloe said, almost grudgingly. “I always wanted a big sister.”

The image of Ethan in a dress and a floppy sun hat came to mind, and I laughed.

“I forgot you did that.” Chloe smirked.

I flipped her hair forward and watched her struggle to put it back in place. She hated when I did that. The truth was I also missed having her around—a fact that continued to surprise me. But our paths had deviated as soon as we got engulfed in this community. Everyone had their place to be.

The cooks were just starting to put away the food when we entered the clubhouse, so we scrambled to get our plates, the staff grumbling the entire time. I spotted Darren eating by himself, so we headed over to bug him.

“How’s it hanging?” he asked.

“Chilling with the kid today,” I said.

Chloe shot me a dark look. “I’m practically ten.”

“Still a kid though,” Darren said.

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him while still shoveling food into her mouth.

“What are you up to today? Need a hand with anything?” I asked, not really sure how to entertain Chloe all day.

Out on our own, my only concern had been keeping her safe, not entertained.

“Going to help count and portion supplies, especially the chicken feed. We really need to grab more when we go on our trip tomorrow.”

“Can we come with you to see the chickens?” Chloe asked, forgetting she was supposed to be mad at him.

“Sure, but fair warning: it’s not that exciting.”

“I just wanna help gather the eggs,” Chloe said.

I noticed the lingering stares of people nearby. Darren and I at the same table—apparently it was social suicide. Darren had said we were similar, and maybe he was right. Now people regarded us
both
with curiosity and fear.

With all the gossiping, this place really did feel like a high school cafeteria. If Darren noticed, he paid them no heed. I fought the urge to flip them all the bird, but that was the last thing my dented reputation needed.

We finished our food and followed Darren to the stinky part of the block: the chicken coop. As soon as we got there, Chloe ran to the lady tending to the chickens, asking if she could help. The lady, Margret, explained how to get to the eggs without scaring the chickens and how to tell whether the egg was still good. She had a bucket with shallow, cold water to demonstrate that good eggs stayed on the bottom and the rotten ones floated to the top.

I left Chloe with Margret while Darren and I went to the shed to count out the remaining feed. Judging from the small amount of sacks, it wouldn’t take us very long.

“Shit, we really do need to get some feed when we go,” Darren said as he scrubbed his hand down his face.

“Where would we even get that?”

“Any kind of feed and seed store. Even some pet stores carry it. I’ll ask Byron if he knows where we should go.”

Darren estimated that the remaining feed would last another two weeks. According to Margret’s second-hand knowledge, chickens ate less when it was hot out. I was learning all sorts of new things today. I felt like I was on an episode of
The
Magic School Bus.

We stepped out of the shed in time to see a clucking chicken run by us, followed by Chloe and Margret.

“Do they usually let them out of the coop?” I asked as they whizzed past us.

“Nope.”

We watched Chloe dive for the chicken. She caught it, but it managed to squeeze out of her grasp in a flurry of feathers. Margret approached the chicken like it was a strange dog, inching toward it while the chicken stood still, then she struck when she got within range. Margret grabbed it in what could only be described as a headlock for chickens and strode back to the coop.

Chloe trailed after her, kicking at the grass. “I almost had it.”

A guard fired a shot by the front gate. Throughout the day, I’d catch random bouts of gunfire as the guards took out a roaming infected that got too close to the walls. I no longer jumped in surprise and knew the double alarm would sound if too many approached. Depending on how many infected they killed, a crew would be formed to remove and dump the bodies miles from Hargrove. 

Darren took off to help with the weekly food inventory count, while I decided to doze off in the sun as I watched Chloe play with the poor chickens. She was like a fox terrorizing the hen house, and I was surprised Margret allowed it. She seemed to enjoy having Chloe pepper her with questions, reminding me of a grandmother with her endless patience.

“Oh jeez. We, uh, need to go, Bailey.” Chloe was right beside me, tugging on my arm.

“What for?”

“Uh, I can’t tell,” she said, not meeting my eyes.

Okay, that was suspicious. I let her lead me back to my condo, the one she’d avoided earlier. Chloe was practically bouncing, and she kept looking back at me with a poorly hidden grin. I had an odd feeling she was about to prank me.

She opened the door and motioned for me to go in. The first thing I spotted were lit candles on the island with two sets of plates out. Ethan was smiling, wearing a clean, blue button-down shirt and hole-free dark jeans.
Wow, he busted out the good jeans for me.

Multicolored string lights hung all over the living room and a newly set up projector screen took up one wall.

“So?” Chloe blurted out behind me.

“You got me out of the house all day so you could set this up?” I said to Ethan.

This was really sweet of Ethan. The last guy I’d dated thought going to the casino and watching him lose all his money at the blackjack table was a great date night. Needless to say, shelling out five hundred dollars to the casino had put a damper on the romantic mood.

“Well, you said we couldn’t just go out for a movie and dinner, but I figured, why not? So I brought the dinner and movie to us,” Ethan said as he motioned to the food on the counter. “Thanks for gettin’ her here, Chloe. You’re good to go.”

With a giant grin, Chloe shut the door, leaving us alone.

“What about Roy and Amanda?” I asked as I walked to Ethan.

“I arranged a sleepover for ‘em.”

“So you’re sleeping over here then?” I smiled at his subtle hint.

He cast me a shameless look. “Well it
is
a date night. Have a seat.”

“This is very sweet of you,” I said and sat down on one of the bar stools.

“Darren said it was corny.”

“He’s kind of right, but I like it all the same.” I was really looking forward to eating a meal alone with Ethan; we’d never shared a meal without the others around.

Ethan leaned over, his hand cupping my cheek, and gave me a tender, lingering kiss. “It seemed like the right time.” Subtle way of
not
mentioning my “breakdown”.

“Did you cook all this?” I asked when he pulled away.

“Nah, I ain’t much of a gourmet cook. The ladies in the clubhouse prepared it just for us.”

“How many people were in on this?” This date was sounding like a conspiracy.

“Almost everyone, especially Zoe. She made me promise to leave a couple movies for you guys to watch later. I had to borrow the projector they had stored in the clubhouse. Apparently, they used to have movie nights for the seniors, so our selection isn’t that impressive. Then I had to get a full battery to plug it all into, since the power in these units only go to keepin’ the water runnin’ and hot.”

“You know, it’s a lot less romantic when you tell me all the details,” I teased.

Ethan laughed. “That’s a good point.”

He served up our plate of fettuccine alfredo with a side salad and wine to go with it. The pasta was really good. The cooks must have used the fancy stuff for this batch. They certainly cooked a lot of pasta here, but I supposed dried noodles were an easy find and had a long shelf life.

We started talking about Hargrove but had to stop before a fight erupted. I still couldn’t understand how he’d assimilated so fast, and he didn’t understand why I was so skeptical about the place. I mentioned the murders, and he had no reply other than, “Wyatt will deal with it.”

For the sake of not letting our evening go to waste, I changed the subject. “So, what kind of movie choices do we have tonight?”