The Last Hour Read online

  When she appears in the doorway of the living room her face crumples for me. For us.

  “What happened?”

  “I wasn't fast enough,” I say, looking at my hand. I should cut it off. I should let the nanobots try to fix that. It betrayed me. It betrayed her.

  “Is she—?” she asks, though she already knows. She can’t hear the heartbeat.

  “No.” I close my eyes again. “She’s sleeping.” It’s a lie. I know it is but I need it. Even if I’m not fooling anyone.

  “Liam.” Leah folds her arms over her stomach and holds herself. “Oh honey.” She doesn't make me see it. She doesn't force that reality on me. She lets me sit in the quiet agony of my broken heart. She leaves me here, exploring the house for the bad people and the bad choices and what’s left of our house.

  Lester’s dog comes running out, jumping on the sofa and curling into me.

  I let her snuggle me as Leah tends to Lester.

  I close my eyes, lost and like an outsider in my own body again.

  If I hold Grace close and keep my eyes closed and pretend I can’t smell the blood, it’s not so bad. I tell myself she isn’t dead and the nanobots are working on her.

  My hand is healed. Surely her head is too.

  Chapter Fifteen

  “You have to give her to me,” Leah demands. Her amber eyes have lost the light they held before. Now they’re weary and angry and the compassion in them is not all for me.

  “Just give it time,” I plead.

  “Liam, it’s been two days. You have to let her go. You have to get up from the couch.”

  Lester grunts like he knows something about this and agrees with her. His face is swollen and more hideous than normal. His dog has new wounds to go with her old ones. Grace isn’t waking up but I can’t give up on her.

  We’re a mess.

  Leah comes to me, kneeling and putting her hands on my knees. “You have to see this is over. She’s died. Don’t you see that?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “The nanobots worked on me but I fell asleep. I woke up better.”

  “She isn’t going to wake up.” She sighs.

  “You don't know.”

  “You’re right. If you want I can examine her and see.” She stands again. “Put her on the table and let me examine her.”

  “No!” I shout, making her and Lester flinch.

  “Liam!” she shouts back after a second. “Now.” She isn’t scared of me. She flinched from surprise.

  “Fine!” I shout back and stand, not noticing the weight of Grace. I stomp to the table and lay her down carefully.

  Leah comes and pulls away the bandages, gagging and glancing back at me. She holds up the bandage, making Lester and I shy away. The smell and coloring of the bandage are disturbing.

  My brain tells me what it is. My eyes confirm it. But my heart begs me not to listen.

  I last a second longer until Leah removes the other bandage. Brain matter seeps from her head. Lester gags and staggers outside, gagging more until he finally loses whatever he’s been eating on the dried-up flower bed outside.

  My stomach twists and turns and groans and I face the facts.

  My Grace is never coming back.

  “Put the bandage back on.”

  “Liam!” she snaps, clearly grossed out as well.

  “I just want her to look nice when I say goodbye!” I snap back.

  “Fine.” She covers Grace’s wounds again and staggers outside to wash her hands.

  I take a step forward, brushing my hands against her face. It’s cold and soft.

  Our entire journey flashes before my eyes.

  Her so scared. Me loving it.

  Her so sure of herself. Me loving her.

  Her saving me. Me protecting her.

  Her loving me. Them ruining it.

  So much has happened in such a short amount of time.

  I’ve felt things with her I never imagined I would.

  But I did.

  I think I loved her and they took her.

  My heart cracks again.

  Tears don't fill my eyes.

  Sadness doesn't overwhelm me.

  Bitterness doesn't take up residence in my soul.

  Something else happens.

  Something I wish I could fix. I wish the nanobots could fix. But they can’t. Not permanently.

  Deep down I was always me, always had the potential to be me. I just needed a little push in the right direction, or in my case, the wrong one.

  This is the wrong direction.

  Killing the one good thing in my life, the one thing that made me good, is the step in the wrong direction.

  As the whole picture paints itself in front of me, I realize what’s gone on and what needs to change.

  However these nanobots changed me, they healed me too. They perfected the things that were wrong. They saved me. They made me better. They made me want to be better.

  Them and Grace.

  They do the same thing Grace did for me, but they also make me stronger.

  I am stronger.

  I heal as I’m being shot. I can run faster. I can lift more. I can do more.

  And the mess before me, a mess made from weakness and hate, is the result of a lower species. A lower race.

  The new beings like me and Leah, we’re the answer.

  We’re evolution.

  I brush my fingers against her cheek once more, and I lower my face to kiss where I touched, whispering, “Don't worry. I can fix this.” I press my lips against her cold, dead skin once more before standing up and turning to walk away.

  I know what I have to do.

  I know what I am and what they are and which is better.

  As I leave the house, Leah gives me a hug. The hum in us makes me happy. It’s simple. I need more like Leah. “You should come with us.”

  “Where?” she asks, confused.

  “I don't know yet. But we’re leaving."

  "I can't leave my family."

  "Then you can keep the food in the cellar but burn the house when you’re done. Let her burn too so her ashes can be free.”

  “Liam.” Leah tilts her head. “You need some sleep and some food. You’ve been days like this and you’re running on empty. You’ll feel better after some rest.”

  “I feel fine, Leah.” I smile, trying to convey the message with my peaceful smile.

  “Good.” She smiles back, but her eyes don't light up. “Come and rest at the house for a bit, for me,” she insists.

  “Okay. A day of resting,” I agree. I’ll need a couple of days to finalize my plot anyway.

  I do love to plot.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Eight months later

  Lou

  Nothing prepared me for the moment the world changed eight months ago.

  It became something else and we've been left struggling to catch up, what's left alive, anyway.

  The trickiest parts aren’t the changes in this world, they’re the similarities. They try to convince us everything is as it was and maybe it will go back to normal. The similarities reek of hope. Lost hope.

  My hand reaching from the window, riding the waves of air as we speed to town feels the same as it did when my mom drove me to the city.

  The cool wind in my hair, brushing over my face, still feels amazing. It smells just like it used to. If I close my eyes I can hear my dad clearing his throat and joking with my mom. If I really try, I can smell her perfume and feigned indifference.

  But the vehicle swerves, reminding me of the bodies and broken-down cars and abandoned trucks. Between that and the silence on the highway, I lose the moment and the memory of my family going for a drive. A normal event before.

  Before.

  It's become the most important word to every single human left standing.

  This world is not something I’ve gotten used to.

  I don’t know that I ever will.

  I hope I don't.

  “All I’m saying is the
overpopulation problem is probably solved. India, Africa, China, South America, they were all going down fast when this started and taking us with them. A plague was going to come from somewhere eventually.” The man driving, a man named Adam who I don’t know if I like or dislike, natters to Kyle in the passenger seat, “I bet you this just halted global warming. I bet the skies are clearer and the world is saved. And now all the snowflakes who were so worried about petty-ass shit are dead. No more Instagram feeds and Facebook updates about stupid bullshit first world problems. The world just got a hell of a lot realer.”

  “Right, I get what you’re saying. I’m just also saying that culling the herd and leaving us with this mess isn’t a solution.” Kyle sighs. “You can’t just go and kill off ninety percent of the population. It’s disgusting. And who’s to say the best of our species survived?”

  “That ship’s sailed, bro. It’s done. We’re culled. Some tiny percentage of the population is left and everyone else is gone. Or they’re a Zeke.” He swerves and drives us through a ditch to avoid a large pileup. “The military guys who’ve been coming up to the hill have me convinced, this might not have been the worst thing in the world to have happen.”

  He says it as we pass bird-covered remains of a human I might’ve known. I gaze back at the bodies they’re picking at. The bodies don’t resemble people anymore. They’re the wrong color and the wrong shape and missing the important parts, the ones that make us human. Parts like eyes and smiles and animation.

  “Well, I don’t think we need to be happy about it. I’m not happy.” Kyle points to me in the back. “She’s not happy, trust me.”

  “I’m not happy about this. I just see why. I understand the point of the madness. The world would have imploded at the rate we were going. Now it won’t.” Adam drives us back up onto the road. “There’s probably something like ten to twenty percent of the population left, worldwide. And two winters from now the sludge of remains will be gone. Everything will be better. We’ll live more simply and on a smaller scale. The earth’s grateful for this, trust me.”

  Trust him.

  It’s a sentence I don't like.

  I don't trust him.

  I don't know him well enough for that.

  I don't like his opinion.

  The dead we’re passing, the ones who are becoming sludge, were people. They had rights and voices and hearts. They had love and joy, and they didn't deserve to have it all stolen away.

  No, I don't trust him. That’s become a fairly important part of my life, trusting people.

  Kyle glances back, giving me an attempt at a smile.

  Him, I trust with my life.

  He saved me.

  He tried to die for me.

  I won’t ever forget that.

  When we get to town, we don't talk anymore.

  They get nervous about the biters.

  I get nervous Adam will notice the biters don't want to bite me and realize I’m one of them. He’ll probably put a bullet in my brain and I’ll find out if I can die. I’ll become sludge too.

  The other problem I have is the feeling of being a betrayer every time I drop one of the undead. They feel like they belong to me, with me somehow. We hum the same. I don't want to kill them, unless I have to. And I don't want Adam to see me walking by them, not killing them. It's a conundrum.

  It and the strange sensation of belonging with the biters. I know it's the tiny robots in me. But I’m not a brain-dead zombie. I control my body and thoughts and emotions. The nanobots are nothing but a whisper, something that speaks to me in dreams and hums when I’m around other undead. And a medical team. A top-notch medical team that’s constantly enhancing and curing me.

  “You okay?” Kyle asks softly.

  “No.” I have a funny feeling. I’ve had it ever since we discovered I’m a mutant. I knew my hearing was better and my eyesight was off the charts, but the ability to run as fast as a car, lift a grown man over my head, and jump from a treetop has me wigging out. Not to mention, the instant healing. “How can there be so many dead who lived? Where are they coming from? Why didn't we see them all winter?” I change the subject from me.

  “I don't know. We heard that in the South there were tons of them. Maybe winter slowed them up here. Maybe they were asleep, hibernating while the food was frozen.” He shakes his head. “Or maybe some of the dead have woken up, if that makes any sense at all.”

  “Oh God, you’re probably right,” I groan. “Gross.”

  “Super gross.” He grins as if he isn’t talking about dead people. “Ready to get some supplies and get outta here?”

  “Yeah. The faster the better.” I grab my gun, though I don't need it, and walk toward the grocery store, tucking it in my pants.

  Adam and Kyle are nervous when we get closer to the building. Their heart rates increase.

  Besides the wind that never really dies down here, there’s nothing. No sounds. Just us. Heartbeats. Sharp inhales. The wind tickling the earth.

  For whatever reason, hearing nothing makes us all uncomfortable.

  “The Littles asked me to get them some more crayons. Can you find some?” Kyle laughs.

  “Yeah, I heard them. They’re funny. Still coloring and laughing and playing like the world didn't end.”

  “It’s good. We’ll wait out here for ya.” He leans in and kisses my cheek softly.

  “You sure she should go in alone?” Adam scowls at Kyle.

  “Yeah. She’s smaller and quieter and no one will see her as a threat. She’s a girl.” Kyle says it shitty, like he’s mocking me with Adam in their stupid boy club. Something Adam buys.

  “I guess, huh? They’ll try to attack her, not kill her. Scream if you see anyone and we’ll come in.”

  “I’ll be fine,” I answer for myself.

  “What if there’s biters?” He isn’t convinced of my sneaky capabilities.

  “Then I’ll shoot them. You hear any shots or screaming, you come running.” I grin, confident in the fact I won’t have to shoot anyone.

  I won’t even pull my gun out.

  “I’ll be back here in thirty minutes,” I call back at them.

  Kyle gives me a thumbs up.

  I stroll along, ignoring the smell and the decay and the ruin.

  I hate how dirty it is down here and how people are melting like the snow did.

  They’re becoming puddles and eventually drying out. Soon they’ll become husks and the wind will blow their bodies away.

  When I get inside, I pull the list from my pocket and grab a cart. Without being quiet, I shop like I once did. Only now it’s dark and there are animals scurrying in the shadows.

  In a far corner of the store I see one, a zombie. A Zeke, as everyone up the hill has started calling them. It’s a man, it was a man. He’s got funny-colored skin, noticeable even in the shadows. He’s grayish and gaunt.

  But his appearance is a lie, he’s strong and fast and furious.

  He’s so much more than he was.

  The tiny robots have made all of them more.

  The same way they have me.

  More and less.

  The Zekes are fast now, merciless. And they eat every bite, they waste nothing.

  We eat the same way now too.

  Nothing is wasted. Not when the shelves of the warehouses and stores are almost empty and everyone is starving.

  When I get all the groceries in the carts and drag them outside, Adam appears shocked. “You weren’t even quiet?” He scowls.

  “There wasn't anything in there,” I lie and toss the crayons at Kyle who helps load the supplies.

  Supply runs are new to me. I volunteered because it’s easy for me. I don't like it, but the Littles need food and I am invincible. Plus, I wanted to see what the towns looked like. This is my third supply run in a week and I don't feel better about the world, not at all.

  Towns are empty of life and filled with death. Remains. Another important work in the after.

  We load up the
truck and hit a few more places before we’re finally on the road back.

  We’ll have to reconsider moving back to Laurel, something the mayor wants us to do.

  But he has no idea what he’s talking about. The town is a mess and the food is essentially gone. We might have to move somewhere else, become nomads. Or better, become farmers.

  Apparently, there’s a capital being built. It’s not in Washington this time. It’s closer. We could go there.

  But I don't know how I feel about that. A capital and a country and a people trying to move on.

  How do we move on after this?

  The good is gone and the will to live is defined differently.

  Even my reasons for living and how I do it are different.

  I close my eyes against the fresh air, wondering how we’ll ever move back to the ruins of civilization or to a new civilization, forgetting what we’ve seen and done and been.

  I never understood how whole civilizations moved on, leaving a perfectly good place to decay into ruins.

  But now I do. Become nomads. Leave it all behind.

  I don't want to go back to the old world.

  Maybe no one does and that’s why the new capital city.

  A new America.

  A new world.

  Not something built on the ashes of the old.

  When we get back up the hill, we have guard duty.

  Kyle and I check on the Littles before heading halfway down the hill to relieve the early watch. We climb the tree and sit on the branches, listening.

  It’s not comfortable after a few minutes of swaying in a massive tree, but the conversation is always amazing.

  “What do you miss the most this week?” I ask.

  “Rice pudding. The way my mom smiled when she wanted to get mad at my dad but she didn’t. She never did. And the feeling I had every time we got off the phone.” Kyle’s answers make me light up, even if they break my heart at the same time. “What about you?” He gives me a look from the branch he’s lying in.

  “My mom, everything about her. I couldn’t pick just three things. But more than that, I hate the way I felt about her. I wish I’d loved her just as she was.”

  “Flawed and all?”