Warm Bodies Page 0,41

her hand reaching out from the thicket.

'Sorry,' I say again and fumble for that hand, nudging it out of her jeans pocket. It's warm. My cold fingers wrap around hers, and my mind conjures an unwelcome image of tentacles. I blink it away. 'No more evil talk.'

The kids gaze at me eagerly, huge eyes, spotless cheeks. I wonder what they are and what they mean and what's going to happen to them.

'Dad.'

'Yeah?'

'I think I have a girlfriend.'

My dad lowers his clipboard, adjusts his hard hat. A smile creeps into the deep creases of his face. 'Really.'

'I think so.'

'Who?'

'Julie Grigio?'

He nods. 'I've met her. She's - hey! Doug!' He leans over the edge of the bulwark and yells at a worker carrying a steel pylon. 'That's forty-gauge, Doug, we're using fifty for the arterial sections.' He looks back at me. 'She's cute. Watch out though; seems like a firecracker.'

'I like firecrackers.'

My dad smiles. His eyes drift. 'Me too, kid.'

His walkie-talkie crackles and he pulls it out, starts giving instructions. I look out at the ugly concrete vista under construction. We are standing on the terminating end of a wall, fifteen feet high, currently a few blocks long. Another wall runs parallel to it, making Main Street into an enclosed corridor that cuts through the heart of the city. Workers swarm below, laying concrete pour-forms, erecting framework.

'Dad?'

'Yeah.'

'Do you think it's stupid?'

'What?'

'To fall in love.'

He pauses, then puts his walkie away. 'What do you mean, Pear.'

'Like . . . now. The way things are now. I mean, everything's so uncertain . . . is it stupid to waste time on stuff like that in a world like this? When everything might fall apart any minute?'

My dad looks at me for a long time. 'When I met your mom,' he says, 'I asked myself that. And all we had going on back then was a few wars and recessions.' His walkie starts crackling again. He ignores it. 'I got nineteen years with your mom. But do you think I would've turned down the idea if I'd known I'd only get one year? Or one month?' He surveys the construction, shaking his head slowly. 'There's no benchmark for how life's "supposed" to happen, Perry. There is no ideal world for you to wait around for. The world is always just what it is now, and it's up to you how you respond to it.'

I look into the dark window holes of ruined office buildings. I imagine the skeletons of their occupants still sitting at their desks, working towards quotas they will never meet.

'What if you'd only gotten a week with her?'

'Perry . . .' my dad says, slightly amazed. 'The world isn't ending tomorrow, buddy. Okay? We're working on fixing it. Look.' He points at the work crews below. 'We're building roads. We're going to connect to the other stadiums and hideouts, bring the enclaves together, pool our research and resources, maybe start working on a cure.' My dad claps me on the shoulder. 'You and me, everyone . . . we're going to make it. Don't give up on us yet. Okay?'

I relent with a small release of breath. 'Okay.'

'Promise?'

'Promise.'

My dad smiles. 'I'll hold you to that.'

Do you know what happened next, corpse? Perry whispers from the deep shadows of my awareness. Can you guess?

'Why are you showing me all this,' I ask the darkness.

Because it's what's left of me, and I want you to feel it. I'm not ready to disappear.

'Neither am I.'

I sense a cold smile in his voice.

Good.

'There you are.'

Julie heaves herself up the ladder and stands on the roof of my new home, watching me. I glance at her, then put my face back in my hands.

She makes her way over, cautious steps on the flimsy sheet metal, and sits next to me on the roof edge. Our legs dangle, swinging slowly in the cold autumn air.

'Perry?'

I don't answer. She studies the side of my face. She reaches out and brushes two fingers through my shaggy hair. Her blue eyes pull on me like gravity, but I resist. I stare down at the muddy street.

'I can't believe I'm here,' I mumble. 'This stupid house. With all these discards.'

She doesn't respond immediately. When she does, it's quiet. 'They're not discards. They were loved.'

'For a while.'

'Their parents didn't leave. They were taken.'

'Is there a difference?'

She looks at me so hard I have no choice but to meet her gaze. 'Your mom loved you, Perry. You've never had to doubt that.