Palimpsest (Book 2): Of One Skein

  I don’t even remember them enough to know which ones they were. The older kid is near, and even though it’s against my better judgment…

  “Dude, can you use a gun?” I ask.

  “Fuck, yeah,” he says.

  “Yes will do. What’s your name?” I ask.

  “Allen.”

  “Okay, Allen, go pick up that .38,” I say, pointing at Jem’s pistol. “Don’t shoot any of us, okay?”

  He smirks.

  He’s only a few years younger than me, but he seems like a spoiled, childish prick, and I really want to kick his ass just for that smirk, but it’ll have to wait for another time.

  I reach into Jem’s coat and pull out her .22. “Casey, how about you?”

  She shakes her head.

  “That’s okay, just stay close.” I hand it to Emily. “You know how automatics work?”

  She nods.

  I can’t believe I’m about to do this.

  “Casey, down here,” I say, pointing at the ground next to me.

  She kneels beside me, and then I gently lay Jem’s head in her lap.

  “Take care of her,” I say.

  She nods. She’s being a brave little thing herself.

  “All of you, stay here, I mean right the fuck here. I’m going to go look for your friends. Who are they?”

  “Timmy and Carlton. Carlton is in third grade and Timmy is in fifth,” one of the kids says.

  “Allen, you know them?” I ask.

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s go then, keep up; you guys, stay here. Pixie, protect them, got it?”

  Pixie barks.

  And I have no idea if she understands me or not, but she’s reassuring as fuck just the same.

  I try not to think about the battle raging through the houses, and me and Allen run back to the school and jerk the door open. The hallway is still deserted.

  I run back down to the cafeteria, throw open the door and…

  “Which one was he?” I ask.

  “Timmy,” Allen says.

  Timmy is being pulled apart, eaten alive by two of the tied up fuckers. He’s screaming helplessly.

  It’s too late for him.

  This is the first time I’ve actually seen them eating like this, not just biting, but ripping…

  I step forward and put two shots into Timmy’s face, and then take out the others one by one. That’s another rule for Jem. No matter what, never leave one of these things alive behind you — no remorse.

  I shove in a new magazine and head back the way we came.

  When we get to the parking lot, the battle for the neighborhood is even fiercer, but it’s also further away. I run back to Jem, she’s bled through my shirts, and is incredibly pale, but she’s still breathing.

  “Carlton’s on his own, we have to go. We’re going to the other side of that house,” I say, pointing. “Ready?”

  I slip my .45 into my back pocket and then pick up Jem, cradling her as best I can, and without looking back, run for it across the parking lot, past the school bus, across the sidewalk, through the street and the sea of abandoned cars, and into the shade of the trees on the far side of the street.

  As I turn the corner of the house, Emily aims her .38 at some poor kid, but holds off killing him.

  I stop, panting. “Carlton?”

  “Uh-huh.” He looks terrified.

  Emily lowers her pistol as the others join us. They’re all here.

  I don’t even know for sure which way we need to go. I’m hoping there’s a main street on the other side of this neighborhood that we can follow, sneaking from the shadows of one house to the next, staying behind the war ahead of us.

  But I’m pretty sure that one side of that battle is my people, Emily’s people — Sam. Who else would come for the kids? That’s probably why so many of those faces back there looked so familiar.

  I kiss Jem’s forehead as I lay her down in the grass next to Casey. A few other kids join her, kneeling beside Jem.

  Jem’s burning up, just like yesterday morning.

  Is that a good sign?

  Emily leans against me and I hug her. She hugs me back and smiles encouragingly.

  “We can do this,” she whispers.

  I grab a new sweatshirt out of my pack and a cigarette.

  I’m not sure how much more I have in my tank, but I guess I’m going to find out.

  §§§§§

  By nightfall, the battle for the neighborhood has left us behind. It’s quiet.

  The streets are deserted, and all of the dead we find are truly dead, Button Eyes or not.

  We’ve taken frequent breaks, and everyone has been fed and watered.

  I’m shocked that even the handful of survivors I’ve found made it.

  I can’t imagine the damage Jem suffered, but she’s hanging in there, the color has returned to her face and she’s breathing strongly again. She hasn’t woken up yet, but I think she’s going to make it. Apparently, one dose is all you need. Pixie is magical as fuck.

  She never leaves Jem’s side.

  I notice Emily is watching Pixie too.

  “It’s okay, you can pet her, she’s the best dog — ever,” I say to Emily.

  When Emily starts petting her, Pixie looks up at me, as if to ask if this kid’s cool.

  “She’s a good kid, Pixie, the best too,” I say.

  Pixie lays her chin over Jem’s shoulder and relaxes as Emily pets her.

  “Why are your eyes blue?” Emily asks again.

  “I don’t know,” I lie.

  “I didn’t know eyes changed color.”

  “They don’t, not normally anyway. You don’t like them?” I ask, acting wounded.

  “No, no, they’re pretty. But…”

  “Yeah?”

  “They look like…the dog’s,” she says, grinning.

  Pixie raises her head for a moment and then settles in again.

  “When we find Sam, we’ll get her to help us figure it out, how about that?” I ask.

  Emily’s absently unknotting a stray strand of thread from Jem’s blanket. “Will we find her?”

  “Of course we will. I found you didn’t I? You’ll remember, you’ll remember.”

  Emily leans over and I hug her again.

  I hope we can find Sam. The last week has been a total clusterfuck, here and back at the caravan.

  “Hey, Sir?” one of the kids calls, getting my attention. He’s maybe ten years old.

  I laugh at the Sir thing. “What?”

  “I found something,” he says.

  I let Emily take over caring for Jem and stand up. “Show me.”

  We walk through the backyard, around the next house, and then jog across the street to the other side of the block. We find an unlocked gate, and I follow him through.

  I stop at the back fence, resting my arms on the top rail.

  This neighborhood is on a plateau or something, because below us is a valley, and I’m guessing that it’s Freemont that’s filling it up. I can even see a river, running from one end of the valley to the other, cutting through a downtown full of churches — and I can see it all clearly because there’s lights.

  But it’s not really Freemont anymore, it’s a huge refugee camp; Red Cross banners are visible next to Crayton Industries and USA flags. Huge industrial lighting rigs are easy to spot between the countless strings of lamps and streetlights. They’re laid out in overlapping grids, forming streets and blocks and shit — civilization.

  I can see World War Two looking trucks and jeeps driving around the edge of the Camp below us. Big, old-fashioned generators are humming along. They got the power back on.

  I hear gunfire off in the distance. Is it the same battle we’ve been following all day? If the Cart People get down there, if the Button Eye plague gets loose down there…

  Jesus, crowds are dangerous.

  The lights stretch for miles and miles.

  I bet there’s millions of people down there…

  A
nd somewhere in the middle of all of it, is Sam.

  ♠♥♣♦

  PALIMPSEST

  FERAL

  OF ONE SKEIN

  COINS FOR CHARON

  YOUNG PARISIANS

  CARNIVAL OF SIGHS*

  COMING OF A WITCH*

  120BPM

  PIRATE RADIO*

  * Coming soon

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  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, bands, clubs, events and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.