Razor Girl (5 page)

“Actually I was thinking you’re more like a saint,” Molly marveled. She couldn’t imagine any of her friends doing that. Especially not Drew. He’d probably rather commit hara-kiri than spend two minutes with someone over forty. And if he were reading romances, it’d only be for the sex scenes.

Chris blushed. “Thanks,” he said. “It means a lot coming from you.”

He was sweet, she’d give him that. And a real nice guy. But she had a boyfriend. And Chris had to get it through his head that there could never be anything between them.

“Why do you always do that?” she asked, feeling bad about having to break his heart. She reminded herself that it was better in the long run. The sooner he could get over his crush, the sooner he could move on to another girl—one who would appreciate how nice and sweet he was.

He cocked his head in confusion. “Do what?”

“Say things like that. Flatter me.”

“ ’Cause I like you,” he said. He gave an embarrassed little shrug.

She groaned. “Well, can you like me a little less, maybe?” she asked. “Please? At least just keep it to yourself. It can be embarrassing.”

“Oh. I’m sorry. I…I didn’t realize…” He sounded astonished, shocked that his unrelenting puppy love would bother her if he didn’t mind her continued rejections. “Yeah, sure. I’ll leave you alone.”

He looked so wounded, she felt a moment of remorse. “No, you don’t have to…I mean…” Now it was her turn to stutter. “You’re nice. I like talking to you. I just don’t like you like
that
. Like a boyfriend. I have Drew.” She realized it sounded like she was trying to convince herself as much as Chris.

Chris screwed up his face. “You sure do. And you can keep him.”

Molly found herself laughing, thinking of the fight she and Drew had just had. Of how she’d thought about getting rid of him. “He’s not that bad, you know.”

“Sure. If you say so.”

“Really! He’s a good guy.”

Chris held up his hands. “I believe you. You don’t have to prove it to me.” But he wouldn’t look her in the eye.

Molly found herself a little annoyed. “I mean, I know he’s not the brightest. And sometimes he can be kind of bossy…” She trailed off, realizing what she was saying, how she was defending herself, and for no good reason. “Anyway, he’s cool. I like him. We’re going out. End of story.”

“Okay, then,” Chris replied. “Understood.”

But Molly couldn’t let that be the end of the conversation. “If you want to be…friends, though…I think that would be okay.” It was, wasn’t it? Yes. As long as she wasn’t encouraging him in any way, making him think they’d ever be more.

“Friends,” Chris repeated. “I’d like that.”

Molly stared at the man in front of her, hardly able to believe her eyes. Chris Griffin.
Her
Chris Griffin? Okay, not hers exactly. Not anymore. But still! Of all the apocalypses in all the world, he had walked into hers. What were the odds? What were the chances?

He’d certainly changed since she’d seen him last. It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him. His once scrawny, gangly body had filled out. He now had broad shoulders and an impressive chest, narrowing to a trim waist. He was…handsome. Hot, even. Chris Griffin had grown up into a hottie. It was almost odder than the zombie she’d just fought.

“I can’t believe it,” she whispered, still not able to look him in the eyes. After the initial shock wore off, she managed to remember that he might not be all that thrilled to see her. Not after what she’d done to him. How they’d left things between them. She thought about the diamond still burning a hole in her pocket. She’d carried it around with her for years. And now here he was, the diamond-giver himself, standing not two feet in front of her.

Had the stone somehow worked as some kind of talisman, drawing him to her? That was stupid. Ridiculous. But still, what a coincidence.

“I thought you were dead,” she said.

“Yeah, well, I guess you never bothered to find out,” he growled.

She stopped, reeling a little. She deserved the biting comment, and she knew it, but that didn’t diminish the sting.

“No,” she said simply. “I guess I didn’t.”

“Anyway, it’d take a lot more than an apocalypse to kill me,” he said with a laugh. His smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Molly wanted to ask a million questions: where he’d been, how he’d lived, how anyone had survived. But she didn’t know how to do that without bringing up the obvious. And she wasn’t ready to do that. Mostly because she didn’t want to see the pain in his eyes and know how much she’d hurt him by her actions. How long had he waited for her? When had he finally realized she wasn’t coming? What had he done then?

“We headed up to the mountains,” he began, answering her unasked question. “As you might remember, that was the plan. We found a refugee camp set up by a group of former Boy Scout leaders, hung out there while the shit all went down. Not exactly cushy quarters like your daddy’s fallout shelter, I’m sure,” he added, and she winced a little at the dig. “Way too many people, not nearly enough food. Still, it got us out of the line of fire, which was good, I guess.”

He trailed off and Molly thought about her own experience. Sure, she’d had blankets and food and medicine, but it hadn’t exactly been easy living, stuck inside an 800 square foot box for six years, dealing with a manic-depressive mother. It wasn’t exactly the Ritz. But she knew better than to bring that up. Chase wanted to hate her, and she had little right to convince him otherwise.

“That must have been rough,” she said.

He glared at her, and she realized her tone might have been misinterpreted as patronizing. She began to speak again, but Chase cut her off. “It’s no big deal,” he said, then fell silent and shuffled his feet.

She watched him, a wave of sadness washing over her. He was not only different on the outside, but on the inside as well. The years had hardened him, and the man before her now was cocky, confident and had a dark edge. He scared
her a little. Which seemed ridiculous. How could sweet, geeky Chris Griffin scare her? Easy. When he had become Chase.

She considered again if she should apologize for standing him up, leaving him in the lurch, choosing her father and not being able to let him know. But was it really worth going there? What good would it do, opening up old wounds—and all to what purpose? She was only going to have to leave him again. She had her mission, after all. She’d made her choice long ago and she had to stick with it. Now more than ever. So much was riding on her.

“What’s with the new name?” she asked, trying to change the subject to something safer.

He snorted. “Oh, that. Yeah. Well, my friend Stephen was bored one day and came up with tribe names for all of us as a joke. And well, they kind of stuck, I guess. Trey’s called Tank—’cause, well, he’s built like one, what with all the bench-pressing he does. We call Stephen Rocky ’cause stuff around him never goes smoothly. Spud’s our resident gardener…”

“And they call you Chase because…?”

He beamed with bravado. “ ’Cause there ain’t no zombie out there who can catch me.”

She offered him a half-smile, considering this. He certainly was cockier than she remembered. “What made you come back here?” she asked, looking around. “Why not stay up in the mountains?”

“Ran out of food,” Chase replied—too quickly. A dark flicker in his eyes also made her wonder if there was more to it than that. “Trey and I and a few others headed back here to see what was left to salvage.”

“Makes sense.”

“Problem was, when we got back, we ran into the Others. They’d pretty much taken over the town by that point. They attacked immediately and killed most of our little group. We weren’t prepared back then. We had no idea.”

Molly thought back to the monster she’d fought, and she
shuddered. She didn’t want to imagine fighting off a group, didn’t want to picture what he’d gone through. “But you escaped,” she concluded. She was feeling an urge to spit.

Chase nodded. “Yeah. Most of the credit goes to Trey. He’s a born leader, that guy. After we fought our way out…well, he dredged up all the survivors and herded us to the local Wal-Mart. He even collected others who’d been hiding around town.”

She raised an eyebrow, half-amused. “You all live in a Wal-Mart?”

“Hells yeah, we do,” Chase declared. “And it was a good idea, too. Wally’s world has everything you need to survive an apocalypse—canned food, camping supplies, first aid, bedding, even toys for the kiddos. You can live in a Wal-Mart for a long time. We even grow our own vegetables in the Garden and Patio section.”

“You grow your own food?” She’d been wondering how they were eating. How many years’ worth of canned food could a Wal-Mart hold? She supposed it depended on the number of survivors.

Chris nodded. “Sure. In addition to the stuff in our building, we have some corn growing out in Washington Park. We also hunt. Neighborhood’s overrun by animals these days. Deer, rabbits—we even keep a cow around for milk.”

“Nice,” she said. And she meant it. She hadn’t had a glass of milk in years. “So…what about the others?”

He looked annoyed. “Oh, yeah, we have to compete with them for the deer and stuff. But they really aren’t into the whole vegetarian thing, so they don’t mess with our corn. And they’re lousy at opening cans.”

“No, no,” Molly corrected. “Not the
Others
. I mean the other survivors.”

Chase shook his head. “I told you, we all live in the Wal-Mart. Or do you mean others outside of the tribe? There aren’t any. As far as we know, we’re the last. Everyone else either died, was eaten or…well, you know—became one of
them
.” He looked ill for a moment then shrugged it off.
“That’s why I was so surprised to see you today. I haven’t seen anyone new for probably three years.”

Molly spat. Everyone was gone. “How many are you?”

“Not that many anymore,” Chase said, looking at the ground. “We’ve had a lot of casualties over the years. And not just from the Others. We have no doctors. No hospitals. Two years ago there was a bad flu going around. We lost seven with that.” He raked a hand through his hair. “So that leaves twelve of us. There’s an even dozen of our tribe, holding on, waiting to die. Nice, eh? You’d make thirteen. Lucky.”

She wanted to cringe at his bluntness. His bitterness. She didn’t blame him, but it hurt all the same. She wondered if she should invite him to come with her. It’d be nice to have the company and maybe safer to travel in a group. Still, she had to get to her destination quickly. Before her nano-enhancements broke down and she was weakened.

Chase looked up at the sun, which was setting, and shook his head as if clearing it. “I can’t believe we’ve been standing out here talking all this time. Stupid. We’ve been lucky. Why…why don’t you come back with me?” he asked. “I’m sure Tank would love to see you. And you can meet the rest of the tribe.”

Surprisingly, there was no warmth in his voice. No softness. He might as well be extending the offer to a stranger. In a way, she guessed, he was.

She glanced at her wrist. It was a crazy habit, since actual time had lost its meaning long ago and she hadn’t worn a watch in years. “Well, I’m actually in a hurry,” she hedged. “I’ve got to start a journey down to Florida.”

She caught a flicker of emotion in his eyes, felt a mixture of plea sure and angst. Had he thought she would just stick around? Pick up where they’d left off? She supposed that made sense. After all, how would he know about her mission? She’d never told him her father’s plan, so he couldn’t know how important it was. How it had to take precedence over everything.

“You’re not going anywhere to night. It’s almost dark,” Chase reminded her. “Trust me, you don’t want to be out alone
in the dark these days. And you’ve got to be hungry, right? We’ve got plenty of food. And sanitizers for those…fingers.” He looked down at her razors and she wondered why he didn’t ask her about them. “We can hook you up with supplies for your trip, too. And tell you about what we know of the area.”

He had her there. There was no way she could embark on the journey without some basic necessities: food, a sleeping bag, maybe a tent. Stuff to make a fire. That sort of thing. Items Wal-Mart would have in high supply. And she’d been planning to collect them anyway. And hearing what ever information the survivors had to offer would probably be a good idea.

“Okay,” she relented. “But I need to leave first thing in the morning.”

“Not a problem.” Chase smiled. “So, um, I’ve got to go…grab something. Some…stuff. And then we can go on our way, okay?”

“Okay. Want me to help?”

“No. Stay right here. I’ll be back in a flash.”

Molly Anderson. Molly fucking Anderson. Chase couldn’t believe it. How many nights had he thought of her as he lay on his old creaky cot in that overcrowded, filthy, stinking refugee camp? Where she was, why she hadn’t shown up on that last day. Wondering if something had happened to her, if she was dead. But, no. Here she was, alive and well. And mostly unfazed, too, by the looks of her. While he and his brother had suffered, while they’d watched their friends and family die, she’d prospered, living it up in some cushy hideaway set up by her crazy father.

He wanted to be furious at her, to abandon her to the darkness and the zombies, to leave her to fend entirely for herself. But at the same time, he was just so goddamned happy to see her alive. To know she’d survived. It was all he could do not to grab her and pull her into his arms and kiss the life out of her, to finish what the apocalypse had so rudely interrupted.

But he couldn’t do that. She’d betrayed him. She’d left him
high and dry without a thought. She hadn’t even apologized after seeing him again! He remembered waiting in the rain until dark, waiting until Trey finally returned and dragged him away. The thought was like a knife in his guts.

And so, while, sure, he was happy to learn she was alive and well, he knew in his heart there could never be a happily-ever-after for the two of them. He’d let her stay the night at the Wal-Mart and get her what she needed; then tomorrow he’d see her on her way and try to forget he’d ever run into her. It was better that way—would be better that way even if they were the last two people on Earth.

Anyway, he had more pressing things on his mind at the moment.

He stole down the street and slipped into the vacant house he’d originally been casing. Fading light filtered through its half caved-in ceiling, allowing him the luxury of not wasting the precious battery power remaining in his flashlight. He stepped over a decomposing body sprawled out on the floor—he hated when they weren’t tucked away in their beds—and made his way up the creaky stairs to the master bathroom.

Man, the way Molly had taken on that Other was un-fricking-believable. Sure, he’d seen people turn and fight before. Most of those people were dead. Molly had made it look effortless. She’d sliced through the creature with razors that appeared to be fused to her fingertips: some kind of cybernetic enhancements, he guessed. Her dad had been into that stuff. It looked like he’d messed with her eyes, too. Upon closer inspection he’d seen the sunglasses she was wearing looked almost permanent. Weird. Hot, too, but definitely weird. He hadn’t dared bring it up.

He hadn’t been prepared for his body’s betrayal, the tightening in his pants as his eyes roved her scantily clad body. The reaction wasn’t surprising, he supposed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen a grown woman, never mind an attractive one, never mind an attractive one who was his first-ever love. He involuntarily remembered her curvy hips, long shapely legs, her baby-powder scent. God, how did she
smell like baby powder six years after the apocalypse? She was too much. It was a good thing she wasn’t sticking around.

He shook his head, desperate to get sex off the brain. He had to grab the stash quick and get out of there. Leaving Molly alone had been a stupid, selfish idea. What if that injured Other came back, this time with buddies? Not that they were usually very organized, but you never knew. And while she’d done a great job taking on one, how would she fare against four or five? It’d be better to get back to safety, especially with darkness coming on.

He considered turning back, returning tomorrow alone, but the raw need churning his stomach wouldn’t let him. He couldn’t play protector, not even to Molly Anderson. Not that she needed it. She’d abandoned him, all those years ago, and she looked like she could take care of herself now. And nights were long in the Wal-Mart. Nights without medication were even longer.

Just grab the goods and get the hell out
.

He reached the upstairs bathroom, pawing away the cobwebs across the medicine cabinet. A disturbed layer of dust filled his lungs and he coughed. Yanking open the cabinet, he checked the contents.