The Reverse of Everything Page 7

  Owen had warned me about it, that the sixties had died and things had started to change.

  Cars with people still in them were parked along the roads, not many but enough to be alarming. The first one had tricked me a little. I’d nearly checked on her to see if she was okay. It was a woman, likely in her sixties, and she’d been dead a week.

  The body removal hadn’t come.

  Or maybe they were behind.

  Or maybe no one had noticed her.

  Even worse, there was the chance that people saw her but it didn't register. She was just another dead person in a sea of them.

  I walked faster the closer I got, trying not to hear the loneliness in the whistling wind or see the shells of the people left behind. Spotting the library, I nearly broke into a run but a voice saved me.

  “Zo!”

  I turned to find Westley running to catch up. He smiled when he got closer as if this was a casual run in.

  “Hey, I heard you leave. I was worried. Where ya going?”

  “The library.” I pointed at the building at the bottom of the small hill. “I need to check and make sure it’s okay. I don't know if anyone else is going there anymore.” I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I hadn’t seen anyone at work the last time I was there or heard from any of them.

  “Oh cool.” He furrowed his brow, pausing and nodding along like we were having more of a conversation than we were. “I don't think you should walk alone.”

  “Why?”

  “A couple of the girls at the party the other night were saying some weird things have been going on. Not good things.” He was being cryptic, but I surmised what he meant.

  “Oh okay. Well, if you wanna meet me back at the library in a few hours, I’ll get it all cleaned and locked up and we can walk home together.”

  “Okay. Or I could help you close it up.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and started to stroll casually down the hill.

  “No, that’s okay.” How did I say I wanted to be alone with the books and not sound like a weirdo? “It’s a small amount of work, and I wanna make sure I do it the way the ladies liked it.” I started walking too, uncomfortable when he didn't answer me. He wasn't like Owen. Our silence wasn't easygoing. I assumed it was because he broke down in front of me. I wished I could tell him that I was the right person to break down in front of. I was the queen of them.

  “So—” I started again, not sure where this was going but needing noise.

  “Yeah,” he agreed to my lack of sentiment. “This is some shit. I can’t believe this is how it’s gonna happen. I figured maybe war or weather. I never imagined systematic deaths according to age.”

  I laughed, not just at the weird sentence but also the fact he knew the word “systematic.” I hadn’t seen that coming.

  “What?” He blushed and spun, facing me and fighting a grin.

  “No one saw this coming.” I laughed harder. My insides tightened, but I couldn't stop laughing. “Okay, maybe the religious did. But they never said it would happen like this.”

  “Are you laughing at me?” He chuckled and stared down at the concrete.

  “No-no.” I wheezed, trying to get ahold of myself.

  “Seriously, Zo.” He smiled wider, beaming with embarrassment.

  “I’m not. It’s just crazy.” I nudged him how Owen always did me and started walking again as the laughing died down. But it bubbled up, bursting from me all the way to the library.

  “You suck. I was only trying to make conversation,” he laughed but defended himself.

  “No, it’s awesome.” My face hurt from laughing. “It’s just such a funny thought. You know? Like in all the science fiction books, not one of them imagined this would happen? That’s crazy. Everyone always goes for the grid or war or global warming. No one thinks, what if God or nature or aliens decided to completely screw with us?” I managed to get ahold of myself, barely.

  “Right, that’s what I meant,” he lied, not trying to hide the fact.

  “I know.” I gave him that. “You wanna know what I think is weird?”

  “I do.” He nodded, though his cheeks were still bright red.

  “That I miss school and normalcy and I hate the whole YOLO thing. I wish things could go back, even though back sucked and the world was a mess. I wish we had a second chance to fix things and make it better.”

  “Me too.” The thought was too heavy for him. He didn't want to delve this deep, I could see it in his eyes. “But maybe we should try to live, find something worthy of our last few weeks. Ya know? Squeeze as much as we can in.”

  “You’re right. We should,” I agreed but I didn't know what that would mean. What would be worthy of the last few weeks? “Thanks for walking me,” I said as we reached the door to the library. “I really appreciate it.” I smiled politely as though I hadn’t just laughed at him for most of the walk.

  “It’s my pleasure”—his lips lifted in a grin—“to be the butt of your jokes.”

  “Oh my God, you weren’t,” I lied.

  “Whatever,” he said with a sigh, feigning hurt feelings. “But I’ll see you after. Okay?” He stood in front of me, not moving. His eyes locked on mine, holding them hostage. He swallowed hard like he might say something crazy again, or maybe he wanted to explain his outburst of grief and agony.

  Whatever he wanted to say, he stopped himself. I watched the thought leave his eyes as he shoved the emotions back down. “Have fun,” he offered.

  “Thanks.” I didn't have the heart to tell him this wouldn't be fun. It would be my last time coming to the library. That I was closing it up, not opening.

  Breaking away from the weird silence, I spun and put the key in the lock. His reflection in the large glass door haunted me, wounding me with whatever the emotion was that instantly came back the moment I turned around.

  “See ya in a bit.” I opened the door and stepped inside, leaving him there with his hand up in a weirdly frozen wave. I mimicked him until he pointed at the lock.

  “Lock it.”

  Turning it, I waited for him to walk away before I spun around and leaned my back against the glass door, hoping he would get over his embarrassment and over the whole crying thing. I needed his weird tension thing to go away.

  Fortunately, the library was the same and the smell of books and shelves and spots we hadn’t dusted recently filled my nose. There was something calming in it, though we hadn’t been open in a week and most of the staff had passed on. We hadn’t had funerals or ceremonies. There were too many, even in our small community.

  And now because of it, stores and services in town were dwindling to nothing as the population decreased. I’d never noticed how much of my life and our population was made up of old people until there weren’t any.

  The fifties were dying tonight, taking the last of the gray-haired, wrinkled people with them.

  “Zoey, I didn’t think you’d come in today.” Mrs. Henry, the head librarian, smiled wide in surprise, but her voice cracked a little as she hurried into the main area where I was.

  “Hi!” I smiled back, not telling her I hadn’t expected her to be in either. I sort of assumed she would be spending her last weeks somewhere better than here, like her beach house. It was a trend in town. A lot of people had left, gone to the ocean. “I know we're not open, but I thought maybe I could make sure the books were where they’re supposed to be.”

  “Then you and I think alike.” She continued to smile but there was something in her eyes. Fear or upset. “How are you?” She rushed forward, hugging a lot tighter than normal. It was more strength than I imagined she had with her thin arms and bony fingers. She wasn't old, just thin.

  “Good, thanks, Mrs. Henry,” I lied. It was easier. “How are you?” I couldn't recall a time I’d asked her that question.

  “Good. Great.” She said it in a way that was its own answer; she wasn’t great. She was upset but she was trying to be strong. Maybe for me. Or for herself. Or for something I didn't k
now about. “My husband—”

  “Oh my God. Right, I’m so sorry.” I’d forgotten Mr. Henry, the principal at our school, was a lot older than her. It had been a scandal. Elaine told me that Mrs. Henry was in high school and Mr. Henry was her teacher and they fell in love. When she graduated, they married.

  “It’s okay. I’m just—anyway. Is it true your mom is out of town? I saw Owen yesterday, and he said he was staying with you because your mom was out of town.” She pulled back and zeroed her gaze in on my eyes, no doubt searching for lies. But I was the one seeing the truths in her eyes. She was tired, maybe she hadn’t slept in a week. And there was none of the usual mascara and blush or highlighter. Her hair didn’t smell like almonds and peaches. And her shirt wasn’t pressed. It was wrinkled like she’d slept in it. “You’re okay, right?”

  “Yeah, she went to see an aunt. She’ll be back soon.” It was harder to lie with her staring at me so intently, with eyes swimming with so many harsh truths of her own. I didn’t know if she saw them in herself.

  “And you have enough to eat and you’re safe?” She reminded me of one of those small dogs that could sniff out anything.

  “I do.” I smiled, forcing it hard for her. And for me. And maybe for things I didn’t even know about yet.

  “Well, I’m really happy you came in.” That was the truth. Her hazel eyes softened with the words and her smile spread naturally. She was so beautiful. She was one of those naturally beautiful women who still glowed though she had to be getting close to fifty. “I’m glad to have some company.”

  “Me too.” That was another truth. I was glad to be able to be with her.

  “Was that Westley walking you to work this morning?” She cocked an inquisitive eyebrow.

  “Yeah. Westley came to stay with us.”

  “At your house? With you and Owen?” She cracked a grin. She was an astute woman who knew Owen well enough to see the flaws in that plan.

  “Right.” I chuckled a little. “So it’s nice to be here.” I missed talking to her and being real.

  “I know what you mean.” Her eyes flickered again with that weird emotion. It had to be fear. “Too many adults are making crazy choices. Abandoning their loves and kids and racing off to enjoy those last couple of weeks. If I hear the term ‘bucket list’ once more, I might choke someone.”

  “Right!” She got me. “Everyone my age is like that. Except West. He’s not into it either. But he can pretend better than I can. So instead of hanging out or partying or whatever, I sit in the tree house, read, watch the few streets I can see from there. And honestly, if you don’t pay too close attention, it looks like any old normal October. There are people in their yards. Kids playing outside constantly. I even saw Mr. Holland seeding his grass yesterday like he does every fall. And it would be normal but then there’s something that’s not. A sense of urgency in people’s tone or a dead person sitting in a car. And it’s so quiet in town.”

  “I know. The body removal crew is really behind.”

  “And then there’s the people who are still alive, but they have this blank stare.”

  “Walking dead.” She understood.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ve seen it too. It’s such a contrast, blank faces or tightened expressions.” Mrs. Henry smiled but there was no replacing the fear in her gaze.

  “And my mom left so much food and stuff that I haven’t had to go to the store, but Owen and West said when they went yesterday, it was starting to get weird. Like you can see the near breakdown in the martial law. It’s coming.”

  “Speaking of which, what’s your plan for when things get bad?”

  “Bad? I don’t know.” It was a lie. I wanted to go to the bunker in the Cheyenne Mountains, find it, and hide there. But Owen said the military presence there would be brutal.

  “Can you promise me something?” She stepped close again, her eyes bursting with worry. “Something really important?”

  “Okay.” I was scared of what she was about to ask.

  “If things get scary, you run. No matter what. Run and hide and stay away, even if it means your mom or Owen or someone else is alone.”

  “Sure.” I nodded but I didn't think I understood what she meant.

  “There’s a lot of things that can happen to a person that doesn't kill them, Zoey. Especially a young girl.” She sounded like she was drowning in the fear, struggling to breathe. “So no matter what, you’ll hide? You’ll run and hide?”

  “Yeah.” I was more of a hider than a fighter so it was an easy promise.

  She swallowed hard, glancing to the left and pressing her lips together. “The reason I’m saying this is—” She paused again, making a knot form in my stomach. “The last six weeks have been scary for the world, but we have banded together. That won’t last forever. We’ve had power, water, food, and government control. So it seems like they’re taking care of us. And none of this has been sudden. The deaths and loss have been slow and steady, so no one has been panicking. But also, people are creatures of faith. We believe the scientists will figure this out and save us. We are immortal in our own minds.”

  “Right,” I whispered, completely seeing what she was saying. I was guilty of it too. There was a piece of me, a large chunk, that didn't believe I would die. Or that there would be survivors.

  “The changes haven’t been drastic yet. So far only the weakest, sickest, wisest, and calmest have died. But now, our infrastructure is overwhelmed although it’s lasted fairly well. After the passing tonight, the wise and the calm and the rich will be gone.”

  “Right.” I realized what she was saying: youth and craziness would be left.

  “The next five weeks will be some of the worst this planet has seen. I need you to understand that.” She widened her eyes as if she were looking through me. “While the military and government have tried to seal up anything they don't want left to the young, there will be misses. Unmanned armories. Walmart’s gun and weapon section will be without guards. Vigilante justice. Young people with no one to guide them. Young guys who just want to blow things up. Criminals with no checks. And unprotected children everywhere.”

  The fear in her eyes made sense.

  I hadn’t given much thought to that.

  “No matter what, you hide. I know you’ll see a kid you want to help or have a moment where you would risk yourself to save another person.” She stepped closer, taking my arms in her bony fingers. “That time is gone. And it’s never coming back.” Her words became a whisper that, combined with her eyes, terrified me.

  “I promise,” I whispered back.

  “That’s a good girl.” She forced a fake smile and hugged me tightly. “Now, let’s stop being so morbid and clean this library up. Just in case.”

  I wondered if Mrs. Henry meant in case there were survivors or it stopped or they found a cure.

  “Okay.” I pulled out of her arms and hurried to the desk, desperate for a distraction. I grabbed the returned books. There were tons of them.

  We put them back, eventually letting the conversation naturally flow.

  Hours passed and one minute we were speaking about a book she read a week ago by Stephen King, and the next, her eyes narrowed and she turned her head as if she were listening to something I couldn't hear. “What time is it?” she asked absently. Before I could answer, she looked up at the ceiling of the library and whispered, “I didn't know that, Mom. I’m coming.” It was a moment of clarity or something similar to that. Then a single tear slipped from her eye as her face went slack and she dropped to the floor. She was dead before she hit it.

  It only took a second for her to die, but the sight of her falling felt like an eternity. I swore the earth did a full spin around the sun in the time it took for her to hit the thin covering of red carpet. She became a shell.

  “Mrs. Henry!” Trying to stay calm, I hurried to her, reaching for her warm body. “Mrs. Henry,” I said, completely stunned. “Mrs. Henry.” I squeezed her, noting the differen
ce already. She was empty. “What do I do?” I asked her as my mind swam in the fuzzy feeling.

  I lifted my head, my eyes trying to focus on the clock on the wall.

  8 p.m.

  The time people died.

  How had the time flown by so fast?

  How had we missed that was passing time?

  My mouth soured and my hands sweated and trembled when I pulled my cell phone from my pocket to call Owen but nothing happened. My phone had no bars, and apparently, it wasn’t connected to a network. I didn't know what to do about that.

  Was the network gone too?

  Did it end along with everyone who died tonight?

  Did the world depend on people in their fifties to run everything?

  The TV cut out yesterday and my cell phone was gone now.

  What would shut off tomorrow?

  The water or the sewer or the power?

  The world was ending and it felt real for the first time.

  I continued to grip her arm when my fingers went slack and the phone dropped to the ground as I leaned forward. The reality of her dying in front of me hit like a bat to the face.

  With my eyes closed, I forced myself to remember her face a hundred different ways. Different from how it looked now, so empty.

  Mrs. Henry had insisted I read Pride and Prejudice after I had told her I loved Persuasion. After that she convinced me to read Henry James and Salinger. She taught me that books such as Jim Crace’s The Pesthouse could teach us what it meant to be human, searing the aching pain of tragedy in my heart. She taught me to love and slow things down so you could see them better, dissect them and feel every small emotion.

  Deep down, I think she loved me more than Elaine ever did.

  Deep down, I was scared I might have loved her more than I loved anyone except Owen.

  The evening played in reverse and I saw it.

  She knew she was going to die. She stared at me so many times, lost in a glance and thoughts as they danced silently in her mind. She told me to be careful and stay with my friends. She kept hugging me.

  She knew.

  I’d assumed she was in her forties, so I hadn’t been prepared, but she was.