Harlow had been staring back at me, but she gave Blue a hurt look, as if he had betrayed her or me somehow. Really, he was doing us all a favor. If he were a more of a leader, he would’ve insisted that I stay behind, and I wouldn’t have fought him on it. I just wasn’t strong enough to insist I stay behind myself.
“Hey, I’m not dead yet,” I forced a smile. Harlow looked sadly at me for a second before turning around and sitting down.
Lazlo returned to his side of the car, sitting low in the seat. He reached over and took my hand. I let him, but I refused to look at him. I wouldn’t acknowledge any amount of comfort it gave me, or even the slightest bit of butterflies that overcame the nausea and fear that had swept over me.
I stared out the window at the graying world around us and wondered how much longer I’d get to enjoy the view.
As the day progressed, the sun burned off the fog, revealing scenery lush with grass and trees. It reminded me of back home in Iowa, and I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed it living in the desert for so long.
The sun also warmed the car, and I cracked the window, relishing the green scent of the earth around us. Everything smelled so sweet, but that might’ve just been because I knew this might be the last time I ever got to breathe it in.
Not that much longer, we came into another small town. This one looked like most of the other towns we’d seen, evidence of havoc and death, but not quite as devastated and volatile as the town with the marauders.
After our experience in the last one, Blue meant to just drive on through it, avoiding trouble as much as possible. But Harlow said she needed to go to the bathroom, so Blue looked for the nicest, least destroyed house he could find, and pulled in for a pit stop.
Butter yellow with shutters and a white picket fence, the house looked quaintly picturesque. The lawn and flower gardens had become overgrown from lack of tending, and some of the siding and shutters had splatters of dirt and blood on them.
Despite all that, it had something sweet about it, and that made it a little depressing. It stood as a sad reminder of what we had once been, what the American dream had strived to be, and now would never be again.
Ripley didn’t feel like getting out of the car, so I cracked the window for her before we went inside. Blue and I led the search, conducting a quick once over to make sure that nothing dangerous was hiding out.
The décor inside the house matched perfectly with the outside. Warm, homey furniture, books, and knick knacks, even a fireplace. Things had been disrupted, with shattered figurines on the floor and torn throw pillows, but in general, it didn’t look that bad. A layer of dust covered everything, and I suspected that the place had been abandoned for a while.
Once we determined that it was safe, Blue called in Harlow and Lazlo. Harlow went to the bathroom, and Blue went upstairs to see if they had anything of value that we could use, like weapons or medicine. I went to the kitchen to raid it for food.
Ever since the zombie attack, I had felt too nauseated to be hungry, and I hoped that was from nerves, and not a symptom. Either way, Harlow would complain of hunger pains as soon as she finished going to the bathroom, and it would be nice if they had some food here.
I didn’t even bother opening the fridge because it would just let out the awful stench of rotten meat and milk. I climbed up on the counter to rummage through the cupboards and happened upon a gold mine: graham crackers.
I turned around so I could sit down on the kitchen counter, my legs dangling over the edge. Determined to override any nausea, I opened the box of crackers and bit into them. Stale and sweet, I relished it more than I normally would have.
I did love graham crackers and always had, but somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew this might be my last meal. At least, my last real meal that didn’t involve biting and eating anything I could get my mouth on.
“Hungry?” Lazlo leaned on the doorway to kitchen.
I noticed that he’d changed into a different slim fitting tee shirt and jeans. This one had a panda holding a rainbow-colored umbrella, and I’m sure it cost a pretty penny at some fancy retailer. He and Harlow somehow managed to make the end times look fashionable.
“Not really.” I held out a cracker to him. “Want one?”
“Sure.” He walked over and took it from me, then leaned on the counter next to me.
“You changed,” I commented, setting aside the box of crackers. As much as I wanted to enjoy them, my anxiety finally got the best of me, and I gave up on the idea.
“Yeah, I didn’t really like the whole ‘covered in zombie blood’ look,” Lazlo said, and we both glanced down at my stained apparel. I’d wiped off what had gotten on my skin, but the bottom of my jeans had taken the brunt of the splatter. “But you totally rock that whole look.”
“Well, my clothes weren’t as nice as yours to begin with,” I shrugged. It’s weird how accustomed I had become to having zombie blood on my clothes. “Are all of your outfits designer?”
“Not designer. This isn’t an Armani suit or something.” He shifted uncomfortably, as if I had been saying something negative about him. “These are just my regular clothes.”
“I know. But you used to be pretty rich, right?” I realized I knew very little about his life, other than what I had seen on TV before all this. He’d said very little, and I never bothered to ask. “You used to be a rock star.”
“Yeah, I did.” Lazlo looked almost wistful for a moment, then shook it off and lowered his eyes. Something he had been proud of now made him look ashamed, and he let his hair partially cover his face.
“That’s pretty awesome,” I said honestly.
In another life, hanging out with Lazlo Durante would’ve been a high point. It still was, except now it had nothing to do with the infamy of it.
“I used to think so.” Lazlo stared at the floor. “That’s all I ever wanted to do, and it started happening. The music videos and the money and the fans and the fame. And I was so wrapped up in it all, but even when I had a chance to think, I still thought, ‘This is it. I’ve really made it.’ But now… it’s all so fucking useless.” His forehead scrunched up, and he shook his head. “It didn’t mean anything, and I don’t have any skills to do anything.”
“Nobody’s life really prepared them for this,” I said. “And at least you got to do stuff with your life before this happened. I grew up in Iowa, and I’ve traveled more in the past year than I ever did before. I haven’t seen or done anything. You got to see the world.”
“I got to see airports and hotels when we were on tour,” Lazlo smiled sardonically. “That’s not really seeing or living. I had a normal life, and then it was all just constantly touring, recording, and selling myself. And then zombies took over the world, and I lived underground for nearly a year.”
“That doesn’t sound so bad. I mean, until the zombies part,” I said.
“You know something?” He lifted his head, and when he turned to me, he had this strange look in his eyes. Almost as if he was really seeing me for the first time. “I don’t think I ever really lived until this. I’ve never done anything that mattered before, but now I’m fighting to save my life, and yours. And I know it sounds really cheesy and lame, but I don’t think I ever really felt alive. Not until I met you.”
“You were in a hole for nine months. Your definition of ‘feeling alive’ has got to be a little skewed right now.” I rolled my eyes to keep from blushing.
“I don’t think so.” Lazlo moved so he was in front of me, and he chewed his lip. “You’re pretty much the most amazing person I’ve ever met.”
“I’m really not that amazing,” I shook my head.
My heart thumped in my chest, and my mouth felt dry. His dark eyes latched onto mine, and I wanted to look away, but something compelled me to stay.
The butterfly way he made me feel reminded me of who I used to be before. I’d been trying to push him away, but I always gave in because the only time I really felt like a normal teenage girl was when I was with him.
“There’s something I have to do, that I’ve wanted to do since I met you, and I have to do it before it’s too late.” He put his hand on my cheek, so his thumb rested on my cheek and his fingers nestled in my hair.
“No, I can’t,” I said, my voice barely audible over the pounding of my heart. “I might be infected.”
“Do you feel sick? Headache? Fever?” he asked, rubbing his thumb gently on my skin.
“No, but-”
“Then I don’t care.”
Before I could protest further, he leaned in, and his lips pressed firmly against mine. There was something unexpectedly hungry in the way he kissed me. His mouth searched mine, and I found myself returning it with equal fervor. He knotted his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer to him, and I wrapped my arms around him.
Harlow’s gasp broke the spell. I pulled away from Lazlo, and I had to put my hands on his chest to keep him from coming with me. His eyes were fixed on me, and I don’t think he’d heard her.
Harlow stood in the kitchen doorway, her jaw slacked. Guilt washed over me when I saw her.
At thirteen, she was too young to be a real love interest for Lazlo, but that hadn’t stopped her from nursing a pretty major crush on him. I hadn’t exactly stolen him from her, since he’d never been hers, but I had betrayed her trust.
“Harlow,” I pushed Lazlo back further, and he realized we had an audience.