Writing on the Wall s-1 Read online

  “Here,” Ryan says, stepping close to me and wrapping his arms around me lightly. The iPod is pressed between us, the light of the small screen now mostly trapped. “Better?”

  “Better.” I mumble, keeping my head down over the screen as I scroll through it. I can feel his heat coming up out of the neck of his jacket. His chin and cheek are brushing against my temple and his breath is in my hair, warm and ticklish.

  “Do you have batteries in the speakers?” he asks, his voice rumbling right beside my ear.

  I shake my head slightly and hook the speakers to the belt loop on my jeans. “No. They don’t need power. They’re not very good, but—“

  “But it’s better than nothing.”

  “I think so.”

  I pick a song to play for him. My favorite, because why not share them all with him tonight? Why not let the things I love out to breath and exist for eyes and ears other than my own? I’m finding that it makes them fresh and new to me again. Brighter and shinier than they’ve ever been. Myself included.

  I’m waking up to ash and dust

  I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust

  I’m breathing in the chemicals

  I’m breaking in, shaping up, then checking out on the prison bus

  This is it, the apocalypse

  “What is this song?” Ryan whispers.

  I dare to glance up at him and see his eyes are closed. I look down again quickly, feeling like an intruder on something sacred.

  “It’s called Radioactive.” I whisper back. “Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  I smile. It’s getting easier.

  All systems go, the sun hasn’t died

  Deep in my bones, straight from inside

  I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones

  Enough to make my systems blow

  Welcome to the new age, to the new age

  When the song comes to an end I feel Ryan take a deep breath. I look up at him again and see he’s smiling, but his eyes are shining in the darkness.

  “It’s so… full.” he whispers. “I’ve heard people play guitar or sing, but not like that. Not so many voices and instruments all at once. Not in a long, long time.” He chuckles at himself and closes his eyes again. “Can we listen to it one more time?”

  When the music begins again his arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. We’re not hiding the iPod anymore. It’s flattened between us, our bodies pressed together from head to toe, only my arms folded up between us keeping us apart. He’s holding me to him and I have to fight the overpowering urge to rest my head on his shoulder. To free my arms and wrap them around him as well. I’m at the tip of the arc, at the closest point where the comet travels by the earth. I want to reach out my hand and trail my fingers through its shimmering tail of gray dust and starlight. I want a piece of it to stay with me, to cling to me and be one more thing I carry with me forever. One more load I happily bear.

  But I don’t because it’s all an illusion. The star that looks so close, close enough to touch, is really millions of miles away. It’s only passing through. It’s lighting up my night and my life for one brief shining moment and then it will be gone and I’ll have to forever make due with the memory. And that’s okay. That’s what’s safe. What’s smart.

  When the song ends I pull away with a wan smile. Ryan looks at me over the light of the iPod glowing like a candle between us. He leans toward me, only slightly. My heart hammers in my chest.

  If you don’t have anything, you don’t have anything to lose.

  The light blinks out.

  I step away, making him frown.

  The arc is ending. The comet starts its return to space.

  Chapter Five

  “Are you asleep?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you lying?” he asks with a chuckle.

  “No. I talk in my sleep.”

  There’s silence. I think he’s given up and gone to sleep, but then there’s his voice filling the empty room again, making it feel small.

  “Why do you live alone, Joss?”

  I close my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose. I wish he’d stop saying my name. No one says my name anymore, not even Crazy Crenshaw. It’s foreign and familiar. It’s soothing and it hurts like hell.

  “I told you why.” I answer warily. “I got sick of watching people die.”

  “Not everybody dies.”

  I can’t help but laugh at how absurdly wrong that statement is. “Yes they do.”

  “Okay, yes, eventually everyone dies. But you know what I mean. Not everyone is going to die that way.”

  “And what way is that?”

  “Violently.”

  “Everyone I know who has died, died that way.”

  I hear him sigh heavily then shift under his blankets. I can feel his eyes on me.

  “You shouldn’t be alone.”

  “Says who?” I ask sharply.

  “Says logic.” he replies just as sharply. “No one should be alone like this.”

  “It’s been working for the last six years. Don’t try to fix what’s not broken.”

  “I’m not saying you’re broken, I’m just saying I wish you weren’t alone.”

  “I wish a lot of things, Ryan.” My voice is growing hard, hot. “I wish my parents hadn’t died. I wish zombies didn’t exist. I wish I could have ice cream. But most of all, more than any of that, I wish you’d never shown up outside my building.”

  Because then I wouldn’t remember what being alone really is.

  “I wish that too.” he agrees quietly. “Now I have to go back and know you’re out here alone.”

  “I won’t be here. Tomorrow I will be so far away from here.”

  “Where are you going to go?”

  I laugh again, but this time it’s brittle and angry. “I’m not telling you that. That’s the point of leaving. So you can’t ever find me again.”

  “Are you being a bitch right now so I won’t want to?”

  I turn my head and glare at him. He watches me passively and it pisses me off more than anything else.

  “I’m being a bitch because that’s what I am. I don’t play well with others, okay? I don’t want other people in my life just so they can disappear. I’m tired of finding things just so I can lose them. Like my home and everything in it. I’m losing all of that tomorrow because of you, do you get that? You’ve cost me everything. My home, my safety. And all for what? Revenge you didn’t even get. Against an animal!”

  He looks at me with his large brown eyes and I see the regret in them. The sadness. The pity.

  “I’m sorry.” he says earnestly. “You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  Tears sting my eyes and I can’t stand it. I leap up, grabbing my sleeping bag.

  “You already said that. It didn’t change anything then and it certainly doesn’t change anything now. I’m going to the roof to get some sleep and in the morning when I come back down I expect you to be gone. Take what you want with you, I can’t carry all of it out and it will save you and your boys some trouble later when you loot the place.”

  I turn to leave. I hear him hurriedly stand up behind me.

  “Joss, wait.”

  “Stop saying my name!” I cry, my voice cracking and I hate myself for it. For being weak, for being cruel, for being so, so, so angry. Angrier than I ever realized I was but with him here now I can feel it. I can nearly taste it. I take a deep shuddering breath, willing the tears back. I haven’t cried in years and I can’t start now. I’ll be like an addict taking a hit of heroine for the first time in a decade. I’ll never be able to stop. When I speak, I will my voice to be even and calm. “Just go, please. It’s almost dawn. You’ll be alright. Take a weapon with you. Or two or five, whatever. Take anything, but please just go.”

  “I’ll go.” he answers, his voice deep and low. “I’m leaving.”

  I nod, my back still to him. “Good. That’s good.”

  “Just promise me something.
One thing.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t leave. Please trust me when I tell you that I won’t ever tell anyone you’re here. I’ll never tell anyone about you at all. Just don’t go. I can’t stand the thought of you having to start over.”

  I don’t respond. I don’t have words, not any which are true. So I duck my head down, feel the angry heat of a single tear on my cheek and I climb the stairs to the roof.

  I don’t sleep. I also don’t hear him leave but I know he’s gone. He’s quiet as a mouse, quieter even than me, and it’s no surprise that he could slip out without being heard. My world slips back into place, back into the gray numb of pure survival that it’s been in for the last however many years. Maybe all of them. Maybe since Christmas and my Cabbage Patch Doll. Since the end of everything.

  When dawn comes I creep back into the loft but it’s not my home anymore. Mentally I’ve already moved out. I’m trying to decide where I’m going to go, which part of town I should try to find shelter in or if I should cut my loses and finally take the plunge and move into the woods. That’s when I see the writing on the wall.

  7th/Boren

  red brick

  I know urs, u know mine

  don’t go

  “Oh my God.” I breathe, my hand against my mouth.

  He’s given me his address. It’s his toothbrush, his underwear, the key to his diary all wrapped up into one. His crew, if they knew, would beat his ass and throw him out on the streets for this. This is a dangerous thing he’s done. I search the room, looking for a rag to wipe it clean with. I can’t leave it here. Anyone who finds it will know right where they live. I can’t believe he left this!

  I see the red brick lying on the ground beside the gray cement wall. This is what he wrote it with. He used the edge like chalk. I grab the brick and prepare to scrape the words out, to draw over them until they are unrecognizable. But I freeze, my hand holding the stone hovering over his writing.

  I know urs, u know mine

  He gave up all he could to try and make us square. To try and make me stay.

  I look around the room to do a quick inventory. It’s all here. Everything. Even the tire iron he used to fight with last night. He didn’t take anything to help him get home and that realization makes my gut clench with guilt. I’m worried he might not have made it home last night. I’m sure he left immediately after I asked him to which means he left in the dark. In an unfamiliar neighborhood. With only a knife and a huge gaping wound on his hand.

  “Son of a—“

  I drop the brick and grab my coat, throwing it on as I pocket my ASP and sheath my knife on my hip. I quickly whip open the door and blindly run into the hall.

  I should have looked both ways.

  I immediately trip and fall flat on my face.

  “Owwww.” I groan, clutching my elbow.

  “Are you alright?” Ryan asks, reaching out for me.

  I roll away from him onto my back and clutch my arm to me, riding out the crazy weird tingles and shocks passing through it.

  “I hit my funny bone and it wasn’t funny.” I moan. I kick my foot at him and catch him in the hip.

  “Ah, what!?” he cries, scooting away. He grabs hold of my foot as it comes back for more.

  “You tripped me! Can you even function without screwing with my life?”

  “Actually, you stepped on me and fell. I’m more the victim here than you are.”

  I kick vainly at him again. “Why are you lying on the floor in my hallway?”

  “Because I couldn’t lock the door.”

  I lift my head up and stare at him. “What?”

  “Your door, it only locks from the inside. I went to leave and realized I’d be leaving you defenseless but you wanted me gone so I camped out here. I was going to go once I heard you moving around inside but I fell asleep.” He picks up a chunk of rotted out carpet and chucks it at me. “Then you stepped on me and started kicking me. So, you know, you’re welcome.”

  I sit up, still cradling my angry arm. “Is that really your address? That’s where your gang lives.”

  “No, I lied for the hell of it. Yes, it’s where we live.”

  “Why would you do that?” I ask incredulously. “That is so dangerous to put that out there like that. And not just for you, for all of them.”

  “I know. That’s why I told you. I knew you’d understand.”

  “Understand what? That you can’t be trusted?”

  He frowns. “Wait, what?”

  “They trust you to keep that information on lock and you go writing it on walls in random rooms across town? You knowing where I live, that’s one thing. But putting it out for the world where your entire crew lives, that’s crazy. And reckless. And so stupid.”

  “You’re missing the point. We’re square. Now you don’t have to move.”

  “No, I still have to move. But thanks, now I know what part of town to stay away from.”

  “No, you don’t move. That’s why—How are you not getting this?!”

  “Oh, I get it. You make terrible decisions. That’s what I’m getting.”

  He pauses then puts his hand up, silencing me. “Hold up. Where were you going in such a hurry?”

  “What?”

  “You. You came slamming out of the apartment without even glancing in the hall or you would have seen me lying here. Where were you going in such a hurry?”

  I don’t answer but I don’t look away either. I hold his stare, keeping my face impassive.

  He grins. “You were going after me, weren’t you?”

  “I was coming to look for your corpse.”

  His grin becomes a smile. “You were worried about me.”

  “No. Kind of. You didn’t arm yourself before you left and I didn’t want that on my head so, yes, I was going to look for you to make sure you were alright.”

  “That’s nice of you.”

  I roll my eyes and look down the long ugly hallway. Anywhere but at him.

  “I’m not a complete bitch.” I mumble.

  “I shouldn’t have said that.”

  “Well, you did.”

  “I know and I wish I hadn’t.”

  I shake my head. “We need to stop wishing for things.”

  “How ‘bout we start doing things instead.” He stands and offers me his hand. “Walk with me. I’ll show you where I live.”

  Chapter Six

  The rain has left the world looking shiny and bright. When we hit the sidewalk outside my building, I’m pleasantly surprised to find no evidence of the zombies we killed out here last night. Since no more showed up later on, I’m assuming the rain took care of Ryan’s blood too. Everything is as it should be, aside from the eight corpses now rotting in a nearby room inside. But that actually works to my advantage. They’ll mask my scent and keep zombies and animals both away. Animals don’t like the dead when they’re walking and they certainly don’t like them when they’re rotting for the last time. If it weren’t for Ryan knowing about me, I could stay here.

  I’m not crazy and I’m not so stubborn that I can’t entertain the idea that he’s on the up and up. He may very well be able to keep me a secret, no matter what happens with him and his crew. But it’s a big question mark and one too dangerous to gamble on. I want to stay, I really do, and honestly I want to trust him. But I don’t. I can’t.

  “You should get a rain system started.” he whispers, poking his head around a building and scanning the road.

  “I’ve got one.”

  “The bucket?”

  I shrug. “Among other things.”

  “In other places?” he asks, looking at me sideways. I return his stare but I don’t answer. Eventually he nods. “It’s smart. It’s better than going to the holes.”

  “I never go to the holes.”

  “Good.”

  I frown at him. “Why do you care?”

  He chuckles and shakes his head.

  “What?” I ask, annoyed at being laughed at.<
br />
  “It’s a weird question.”

  “No it’s not. It’s a good one. Why are you so concerned with me and how I manage?”

  “Because I’m a human being.”

  “I’m human and I don’t care how you survive.”

  “Really? Is that why you ran out of your apartment after me this morning?”

  He has me there and I don’t feel like talking or thinking about that so I look away, scanning the crumbling buildings around us. There’s no movement. No animals or otherwise. I remember enough about life before to know it should be weird, but these days, it’s really not. There’s not enough of us out here, dead or alive, to make a lot of noise.

  “I just…” He hesitates, running his hand over his face once. “Don’t get mad, but you’re a girl. There aren’t many women left around here and even fewer young, pretty ones. I worry what will happen if the wrong person sees you.”

  “I make it a point not to be seen.”

  He looks at me, his face serious. “I see you.”

  I hold his eyes, seeing how golden they are in the morning light. How warm.

  “I made a mistake.” I whisper.

  “By helping me?” He doesn’t sound hurt. Only curious.

  I shake my head and shrug, looking away. I don’t know. I don’t regret helping him, even with what it has cost me. I don’t regret letting him into my home and letting him fill the empty space. I don’t regret showing him the movie and the music. But most importantly, I don’t regret telling him to go.

  “Promise not to get mad again?”

  I laugh and shake my head. “No.”

  “Okay. I’ll say it anyway. Come with me.”

  I take a deep breath, knowing where this is going. It’s going where it always goes when people find me, the lost little lamb out in the wild all alone, and they want to save me. And years ago, I would go with them. I would let them help me and I would watch them die and I would be alone all over again.