Tomorrow Land (14 page)

Peyton clapped her hands and repeated her order, not sure if they’d obey her or not. After all, it wasn’t as if she had any claim of authority over them, save that she was older by a few years. What she really needed was for Chase to come back. He, at least, would be a familiar authoritative face. But she hadn’t seen him since he’d yelled at her. She prayed he hadn’t taken off for good. That would be unforgivable. But no, she couldn’t imagine the boy she once knew—even if he had changed over the years—just abandoning the children like that. He’d be back. She just hoped it’d be soon.

The children at last obeyed, shuffling into line, all eyes on her. They looked so shell-shocked and sad, it broke her heart to see them.

Peyton ran a hand through her hair. Now what? What would an adult do in a situation like this? Though she was nineteen and by far the oldest, she still felt like a little kid. She thought back to her parents. Her father would have probably started barking orders at them, telling them it did no good to cry while her mother would call for a big group hug and then organize a bake sale. Not that there was anyone left to buy cookies.

She decided to try something in-between, something kind but firm. She had to make them feel safe in her charge.

“Is anyone hurt?” she asked.

Darla stepped forward, a single black pigtail stuck in her mouth. “I got a boo-boo on my knee,” she announced, sticking out her left leg for observation. Gone was the former bluster she showed when making fun of Peyton’s eyes, and Peyton felt a tug of guilt for being angry with her earlier. She was just a child. She hadn’t meant to be cruel. And now she needed her help.

She knelt down, taking the child’s leg carefully in her hands, examining the wound. She let out a breath when she saw that it was just a bruise—a small one, with no skin broken in any way. She guided Darla’s foot back to the floor, then looked up at the little girl.

“That must hurt a lot,” she said in a serious voice. “How did it happen?”

“Guy, that’s nothing,” butted in one of the triplets. “You shoulda seen Tank. He had his guts ripped out. They were all over the floor. Tons of blood, too! Like buckets full!”

Peyton winced as Darla and the brunette standing beside her burst into a fresh set of tears. Another kid said, “Shut up, Drummer.” Great, they were fighting.

“Thank you, Doctor,” she said, turning to Drummer, who stared back at her with defiant eyes. “Your detailed analysis is very helpful.” She knew he was probably just as upset, but overcompensating with false bravado.

The oldest girl stepped forward, a blond teen who wore a ridiculously short skirt and had spray-painted her hair with blue streaks. “I’m Starr,” she announced. “Is Tank dead?”

Peyton swallowed hard, not sure what to say. Then she decided the truth was probably best. After all, the kids would find out sooner or later. And she had a feeling they were pretty used to funerals.

“Yes,” she said simply, looking from face to face. “I’m sorry, but he is.”

The children nodded, staring down at their feet. They looked sad, but not shocked. Which made sense, really. Pretty much everyone they’d ever loved had died at one time or another. Their parents, their siblings, their friends. They likely didn’t remember things any other way.

“Rocky’s dead, too. And Spud. Who’s going to take care of us?” demanded Drummer. “Who’s going to hunt for food?”

“And tend the garden,” added one of his brothers.

“And keep out the Others,” added the third.

“Who’s going to read us stories?” asked little Sunshine, the brunette next to Darla. She stuck a grubby thumb in her mouth.

“Oh, please,” Red said, rolling his eyes. “Who cares about stories?”

“I do,” Darla growled, grabbing Sunshine’s hand and giving Red the evil eye.

Starr poked the little boy. “And you do too, Red,” she reminded him, “even though you’re too cool to admit it.”

 “Red likes stories, Red likes stories,” the triplets began chanting.

“Shut up!” With a cry of fury, Red lunged at them. The three fought back. Soon they were a tangled mass on the floor.

Peyton held up her hands in protest. “Enough!” she cried. “There’s already been far too much violence today. I don’t need it coming from you guys too.”

The fighting subsided. Eight pairs of eyes settled back on her. Great. Now what? she thought, frustrated. Where was Chase?

“Look,” she said, “I know this is difficult. I know Tank was like a father to you guys and his death is a huge deal. But bad things have happened before, right? And you’ve gotten through them okay. You’ll get through this, too. I promise.”

“Will you stay with us?” asked Sunshine, pulling her thumb from her mouth. “Will you cook for us?” Her sky-blue eyes swallowed Peyton whole. “Will you tell us stories?”

Peyton cringed. How did one explain to a seven-year-old that you were one of the last people in the world and had a very important mission—one that could be humanity’s only salvation? How could you explain to eight children that they were less important than however many others had survived and needed to be rescued?

Of course, who could be sure how many others had actually survived? For all Peyton knew, these eight children were the only ones left. She looked over the band of ragamuffins, with their dirty, makeup-stained faces and ridiculous outfits. What would her dad say?
Stop being so sentimental! You have more important things to do than babysit.
Or would he understand that these children were a future she could see and could bet on? Would he give her dispensation to delay her task a few days?

She exhaled, realizing there was no easy answer. In the meantime, there was one thing she could do: make life go on. As normally as possible in a situation like this.

“Okay, guys,” she said. “Who’s hungry? Let’s get some food in you. After we’ve eaten, those of you who aren’t too grown-up for stories are in for a treat.”

*

When Chase woke up, it was still night. The full moon cast eerie shadows on the rusted cars in the Walmart parking lot, and he was lying next to Rocky’s grave, which he’d dug next to Tank’s. He remembered how Rocky used to annoy Tank with his constant silliness and hoped his brother would forgive him for burying them side by side.

He scrambled to his feet, realizing how stupid he’d been. He’d come outside alone, his mind addled by grief, and dug two graves right in the open where any wandering Other could put him on the dinner menu. Then, to make matters worse, he’d taken drugs and passed out. Brilliant. He was going to make an stellar leader.

He headed back to the Walmart, his body and mind still hazy from a mixture of sleep and Vicodin. He’d been stupid to take the pills. They’d made him even more careless than usual. His brother had given him crap for his lackadaisical nature in the past, but this was inexcusable. He had children to take care of. He had to be responsible. And that meant getting over his pain in other ways. He had to throw out the drugs and start over. Become the man he was supposed to be. One who had no difficulties leading a brood of crazy children on a zombie-plagued wilderness trek to Disney World.

Sounded great.

Still, from here on out he’d be stone-cold-sober Chase.

Starting tomorrow. Tonight he needed more sleep.

He made sure there was nothing dangerous around before he let himself back inside the Walmart, then wandered through the quiet store, flashlight in hand, looking for the kids. Finally he found them, all curled up and sound asleep in a pile of pillows and blankets around Peyton’s feet. They were in the Home section. And they looked so innocent lying there, as if they didn’t have a care in the world. He wondered what she’d said to them.

At first he assumed Peyton was asleep as well, but then she shuffled and stirred, crawling out of her sleeping bag and motioning him to follow her away from the circle of sleeping children.

“Where the hell have you been?” she demanded, her face twisted into an angry scowl. They were out of earshot of the kids. “They’ve been asking about you all night. I think half of them believe you’re dead, too.”

Chase stepped back, startled. He’d forgotten they hadn’t parted on good terms. To make things worse, he’d promptly gone off and passed out, leaving her stuck with the kids. Kids he’d promised Tank he would protect.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I was… burying the dead.”

She gave him a suspicious look. Not that he blamed her. He’d been gone much longer than would be necessary for that. But he wasn’t about to admit to accidentally passing out from pills. She wouldn’t understand, and that’d just make things worse.

“You’ve been gone a long time. Must have been some funeral.”

Chase glared at her, annoyed. “I needed some time. I’m sorry. He was my brother, you know.”

She softened, looking embarrassed. Part of him breathed a sigh of relief.

“Well, I fed the kids. And I got them to sleep,” she said, motioning to the brood. “I’m going to be leaving really early in the morning. I didn’t know if you wanted me to say goodbye now so I didn’t wake you.”

Panic slammed through him. He hadn’t thought she’d leave so soon. It was true she’d had this plan beforehand, but after the killings… He hadn’t even had time to butter her up to agree to his plan!

“About that,” he said. The words sounded awkward in his mouth. This was going to come out all wrong and he knew it.

She stared at him.

“I was thinking… I mean, with Tank gone and all… there’s really nothing here for us at the Walmart,” he began, struggling to explain. “And, obviously, it’s no longer safe. So, I was wondering if… maybe, if you wouldn’t mind—”

“Oh, no. No way.”

He stared at her, surprised. He’d figured she’d at least agree to think about it. But the look on her face made him think she’d rather eat a live zombie than consider what he was about to suggest.

“What?” he asked, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “You don’t even know what I’m going to ask.”

“You’re going to ask if you and the kids can tag along with me.”

Ah.
“Okay, fine, maybe you do know,” he replied. “But you haven’t heard my argument yet as to why it’d be a good idea.”

“I don’t need to hear it. It’s not a good idea. In fact, it’s a very bad idea,” she said. Her voice was quiet.

“But why?”

She made a pained face. “I’m sorry. It’s just… well, I have… a schedule to keep,” she said. “I need to get down there quickly, and there’s no way I can do that if I’m dragging a bunch of kids along. Maybe if it were just you… maybe. But even then…” She trailed off, and he realized she was trying not to be insulting and was finding it difficult. Did she find him to be such a pathetic tool—fine to use when she needed stuff, but easily dumped afterward? It was just like old times. She hadn’t changed a bit.

“Oh, I see.” He gritted his teeth. “I forgot. You’re better than us. You’re all cyber chick, what with your implants and stuff.”

“You don’t understand…” He could see the apology in her face, but he was too angry to accept it.

“Oh, I understand perfectly, don’t you worry. And don’t let me stop you. I can take care of these kids by myself. Maybe we’ll take our own little field trip to Disney. We don’t need you to play tour guide.”

She frowned. “That’s a bad idea. It’d be dangerous.”

“And it isn’t for you? Please. You, Super Girl, have been out and about in this brave new world for exactly one afternoon. You may be all rawr-rawr razor-hands girl when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, but do you know anything about surviving day to day? Do you know when the Others are most likely to hunt, or that their eyesight is weak and how to take advantage of that? Did you know that they hate high-pitched noises and that whistles can sometimes save your life? I make sure the kids always have them when we go outside. Are you going to take one? And how about the fact that sometimes they work together, a small one baiting you into the open before a larger one jumps out of the shadows?”

“No. I didn’t know any of that,” she said quietly, bowing her head.

“No, of course you don’t!” he cried, triumphant until he realized she had just admitted it, which stole a tiny bit of his thunder. But he had to continue. “So while you may be stronger, faster and deadlier, out there by yourself, you’re also probably going to be lunch by the third day. And then none of that cyber strength will matter.”

“You’re right.”

He looked at her sharply. “What?”

She raised her chin. “You’re totally right. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound insulting. I was just worried about time. I don’t have much time to get there.”

“What’s the deal with this not-much-time thing?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve waited four years. What’s the hurry now?”

She paused, looking pained. “Let’s just say that I’m… sick. The nano computers inside of me, the ones that make me stronger and faster—well, they’re not working right. They’re malfunctioning. Breaking down for some reason. And as time passes I’m going to get weaker. Eventually I’ll be so weak that I won’t be able to walk.” She looked miserable admitting her secret. That she wasn’t as tough she pretended to be.

“What about once you get there?” he asked, hating how anxious his voice sounded. A moment ago, he never wanted to see her again. Now he couldn’t shake the image of her breaking down… all alone in the wilderness. Her systems failing, one by one. Her once-strong, able body no longer able to lift itself. She was ready to die alone. But he wasn’t ready to let her.

“My dad would have the technology to fix me. He could cycle my blood and get rid of the nanos and make me as good as new. But I have to get there first. And the sicker I get, the more I break down, the less chance I’ll have to make it.” She paused, then added, “Hence the hurry.”

Chase felt like an idiot. No wonder she didn’t want to take them along. It wasn’t about her being selfishly unwilling to commit to him and the kids; it was about staying alive. He kept picturing himself standing in the rain, waiting for her all those years ago, but he didn’t know what had happened back then. Maybe she’d had a good reason for that, too. Maybe it was something he could ask her. Maybe… but not now.