Tomorrow Land (23 page)

In fact, that was a lot.

Chapter Twenty-six

The sun beat down as the group continued to follow the highway’s path on the sixth day of their journey. By Chase’s estimation, they had reached about the two-hundred-mile point, which seemed like excellent progress until he realized that left two hundred miles to go.

Thanks to the storm, they were nearly out of food, which meant a trip to town very soon. They’d so far done their best to avoid the once heavily populated areas, only stopping at roadside motels or highway rest stops. If it were up to Chase, he’d stay far away from all former civilization for good. That way he could almost pretend that just off the next exit wrinkly grandmothers still sat on front-porch rocking chairs, sipping mint juleps and gossiping about their crazy neighbors. He could imagine that each morning businessmen in stuffy suits were shuffling into their Smart SUVs and heading to the offices where they’d be greeted by their secretaries. Soccer moms were pushing babies in strollers, and children were screaming as they played tag in the park.

He wanted to imagine that life had gone on and the whole plague thing was just a really long, really bad joke that someone had been playing on them. Heading into a real town would shatter that fantasy quick.

But towns were the best place to find food if they couldn’t hunt game, and they hadn’t seen any animals along this stretch of road. So when that afternoon they came across a sign for the town of Paradise, he’d made his offer. It was safer if he went in alone, just in case something was down there, he reasoned. He also imagined himself returning victorious, the conquering hero with his collected supplies. Peyton would realize she could trust him after all—that he was worthy of being part of her team.

He’d find a bottle of wine and cook her a gourmet meal, which they’d eat, just the two of them, after the kids had gone to bed. Heck, he’d even find some candles, maybe, to make it extra romantic. That idea alone was worth facing the horror of the suburbs.

“I don’t like it,” Peyton said, surveying the town below from her vantage point on the highway’s edge. “Something seems off here. Maybe we should keep going. Find another place down the road.”

“We don’t have enough to eat tonight,” he reminded her. “Just a few cans of SPAM and a couple of packets of stale crackers.”

“Well, I don’t have to eat…” she hedged.

“Yes, you do,” he said firmly. “You’re nothing but skin and bones these days.” It was true; as the nanos broke down, it was as if her body was being eaten from the inside out. She tried to keep a brave face in front of the kids, but he could see the cracks in her facade. “You need all the nourishment you can get to make it down to Disney. We’ve come this far. We’ve kicked zombie ass, survived a hurricane. You don’t want to succumb to something as silly as malnutrition, do you?”

“You’re right.” She sighed and ran a hand through her thinning hair. “I know you’re right.”

“Look, it’s going to be okay,” he assured her. “I’ll go down, find us some food, then come right back up. You guys can wait for me at that Motel 6 off the exit. I’ll be back in a flash.” He threw her his most cocky smile, wanting desperately for her to trust him. Needing for her to believe in him. “Tonight, we’ll eat like kings!”

She gave him a wan smile and he knew he’d won. Even if it was just because these days she was too tired to argue much. “Be careful, Chase,” she said, meeting his eyes with her silver lenses. “I’m serious.”

He felt a warm wave wash over at him at her concern. Was she really starting to come around? To admit she cared about him after all? “I will. I promise.”

He glanced down at the town below, a shiver working its way up his spine, though he didn’t know why. It was just a town, he told himself. Like any other.

“All right, kids, I’m out,” he informed the group. “When I come back we’ll have a feast.”

He said his goodbyes and headed down the exit ramp toward the town. The horses had been worn out from the day’s journey, so he’d decided to go on foot. Looking around, he realized Paradise was a bigger city than he’d expected—much larger than Monroeville back home. Not a Manhattan, obviously, but it did have its share of tall buildings. And he could see some kind of stadium off in the distance. He remembered watching his beloved Carolina Panthers win the Superbowl in 2025. Sad, there’d never be another game like that.

He walked out onto the main road, wishing he had Peyton’s ocular implants. She’d been able to access quite a few maps as they traveled, not to mention that neat-o trick of seeing the heat signals of trouble from far away. He’d have to depend on his old-fashioned eyes to do the dirty work.

After turning a corner he came across a small curio shop, the only building on the street with a glass window that hadn’t been shattered. The window held photos of elegant jewelry being presented by dashing men to their beautiful girlfriends. The girls gazed adoringly at the gift givers, radiant smiles on their faces, and Chase thought of Peyton, always fingering that piece of glass in her pocket when she thought he wasn’t looking, as if she truly believed it was a diamond. He was embarrassed that this was the only thing he’d ever given her. She deserved so much more than some busted piece of a beer bottle.

A thought occurred to him. Maybe he could get her something, some small token to show her what she meant to him. An apology for letting her down. A thank-you gift for not giving up on him. He didn’t think he’d be able to find any real jewelry that hadn’t been looted, but perhaps there was something else that could adequately demonstrate how he felt.

Entering the store, he scanned the glass cases looking for just the right thing. A lot had been taken, but a few offerings remained. He wanted something strong, but delicate, just like her.

And then he saw it: a small music box, covered in layers of dust and sitting on a shelf. He opened it and turned the knob. To his surprise, a hologram of a princess appeared—it kind of looked like a Disney princess, actually—twirling in a pirouette while the box played its little tune. Was that “It’s a Small World After All”?

 It was perfect. After all, where were they headed but the Magic Kingdom? And Peyton was certainly the princess of his fairy tale—even if things hadn’t worked out quite right just yet. But maybe this gift would convince her that there was still time for a happily ever after.

Tucking the box under his arm, he headed back outside. A strange feeling came over him. The street was totally quiet. He didn’t even hear any birds in the trees. Weird. And then he saw the footprint.

He stared at it, long and hard, trying to figure it out. It looked fresh. It also didn’t look like a footprint of one of the Others. They usually shuffled, and this was clean, a perfect imprint. He could even see the Nike logo embedded in the sole.

He drew in a breath. Were there humans alive in this town?

Half of him wanted to turn around and run back to the kids, to get Peyton and tell her the news. The other half said he should go and investigate these survivors himself. Maybe they had stashes of food. Maybe they had knowledge of other groups. Maybe they’d seen Peyton’s father.

He walked in the direction the footprint pointed, searching for others but seeing none. But soon he came across something else: a small pharmacy, its front door wide open.

I should just keep walking
, he scolded himself.
Find the guy who made the footprint. Find the grocery store. I don’t need anything in there.

But he did. And while he told himself he was only thinking about antibiotics, Neosporin, and vitamins, he knew deep down his pathetic, weak body had a different idea. The promises of the prescription counter drew him in like a tractor beam and, a moment later, he found himself walking through the front door, his forehead and palms damp with sweat. The itch in his stomach grew stronger the closer he got to the counter.

He gritted his teeth; he thought he’d been doing so well, ignoring the itch that crawled up his spine every morning when he woke up and kept him awake every night. He hadn’t realized how dependent he’d been on the drugs until he’d attempted to stop taking them. But he really thought if he could just go mind over matter, eventually the desire would go away. And Peyton would see that she could believe in him. Rely on him. That his love and devotion to her was stronger than any drug.

But as his feet led him over to the prescription counter, almost of their own accord, he wondered, not for the first time, if that were true.

Just a few pills
, he told himself.
No one’s supposed to go off cold turkey. It says so right on the bottle. I need to wean myself off slowly. It’ll be better that way in the end.

It wouldn’t be a big deal. He’d just take them at night before bedtime. On nights he didn’t have the watch. When no one was depending on him. He was allowed to sleep, right? No big deal. He’d start taking half the dose. Then a quarter. Eventually he wouldn’t need them at all.

He scanned the racks, feeling a little sick to his stomach as his brain hopped around his head in nervous anticipation. Allergy medicines, stool softeners, emergency contraception. But the spot where the good stuff should be—the painkillers—was all cleared out.

Of course. He should have known. An aching disappointment settled in his stomach like a rock and suddenly he wished he hadn’t come. He tried to remind himself he was supposed to be down here gathering food. And that he needed to get on with his mission. It was for the best anyway. He didn’t need the drugs. He was stronger than that.

Except he wasn’t. And he knew there was no way he was going to be able to leave now without finding what he suddenly realized he’d been looking for all along. The real purpose of his visit to Paradise. The one he hadn’t been able to admit to himself before now.

He dove into the racks, grabbing medicine and reading the labels and tossing them aside. His heart pounded in his chest and his trembling hands found it difficult to grasp on to the bottles. Antacids, hemorrhoid creams, cough medicine. Where were the pain killers? Hell, he’d take a high dose of aspirin if he had to.

No. He forced himself to stop. Trying to still his heart and steady his breath. He didn’t need these. He didn’t have to succumb. He could just walk out of this store and never look back.

He took a tentative step, willing his feet to obey him.

“Looking for something, boy?”

The scratchy male voice nearly made Chase jump out of his skin. He whirled, whipping out his knife. Sunbeams shone through the broken glass storefront window, silhouetting the intruder. All Chase could tell was that he was big.

Mr. Footprint, he presumed.

“Stay where you are,” he said, trying to keep fear from filling his voice. “I’ve got a knife.”

“Yup. Can see that.” The man stepped forward, evidently unconcerned. Chase could now see his wild black hair and scruffy beard. He was dressed in a pair of jean cut-offs and wearing a t-shirt that claimed pirates were way cooler than ninjas. The shirt also listed reasons why. Over the t-shirt he wore a tan leather jacket, out of place in the sweltering heat.

“I said don’t move!” Chase was beginning to wonder if coming to Paradise had been a bad idea.

“Oh, fine. Have it your way,” the man said, shrugging his shoulders. “Y’all might as well put down the knife, though. Ain’t aiming to hurt you none.” He held out his hands, showing they were empty.

Chase lowered his knife, though he kept it in his hand. “Sorry,” he said. “Just don’t run into many people these days.”

“Not many left to run into, I reckon,” Mr. Footprint replied. “I was pretty surprised when I saw you outside. Figured I’d follow you in, see what you were up to.” He scratched a pus-filled boil on his right cheek, making Chase think of the Others. But this guy wasn’t a zombie. He was just… dirty.

“Nothing much,” Chase replied, not wanting to admit his true purpose. He could barely admit it to himself. “Just checking things out.” The jewelry box felt heavy under his arm, and he gripped it tighter. Not that there was any reason in the world this guy would take it.

“Name’s Luke,” the stranger said, holding out a hand. His fingernails were caked with dirt and Chase wondered when he’d last taken a bath. Back home, Tank had made them all bathe at least once a week, and on this trip they’d washed up every time the interstate passed a river. The kids didn’t like it, but Chase thought maybe they would change their minds if they saw the state of this guy. “Don’t think I’ve seen you ‘round here.”

“Just passing through,” Chase replied. His instinct said it’d be better not to mention Peyton and the kids, just in case. “Was looking for food.” He shrugged his shoulder. “No luck though.”

Luke laughed, a little unkindly. “Think you’re going to find food in the local pharmacy, do you?”

Chase felt his face heat. “Um, no, no,” he said, not knowing why he’d bothered to lie. Who cared what this derelict thought of him? “I was just looking for some… Band-Aids.”

“Ah, Band-Aids. Of course.” Luke smiled lazily, looking around at the mess Chase had made in the prescription aisle. “I shoulda known.” He paused, shuffled his feet, then looked askance at Chase. “So, since you ain’t had any luck finding food, you want to come back to my place for some grub? My girlfriend can cook you up something real nice.”

“No, that’s okay,” Chase replied, feeling nervous. Not that Luke seemed like a bad guy, necessarily, but you couldn’t be too careful. Besides, he shouldn’t be hanging out, filling his stomach while Peyton and the kids were waiting for him to return. And if this guy cleaned his house as rarely as he cleaned himself… “I’ve got to get going.”

“Suit yerself,” Luke said with another shrug. It was almost as if he had a nervous twitch. “I was just thinking I might have some of those… yeah, let’s call ‘em Band-Aids… back the house.” He gave Chase a knowing grin and glanced at the empty shelf behind him. “If yer still lookin’ for them, you know.”

Chase’s heart leapt in his chest and his hands started shaking all over again. This guy had drugs? Drugs he was willing to part with? The itch tickled up his spine again, like a thousand hungry spiders. He could almost feel the pills scratching down his throat, silencing the pain. Dulling the itch. Lulling him into the first good night’s sleep he’d had in a week. He opened his mouth, ready to say yes…