Chapter 5
Once we were a street. Grove Avenue. Just one street in a pretty stuffed New Jersey town of about one hundred thousand people.
Now, during our weekly roll call, our community can barely top four hundred. Babies are born and people die. Some can’t cut it living in our secluded community anymore. Lurkers eat the rest.
Of course, having such a small population does have its advantages.
You know everyone, and usually everyone’s business, too.
We have to rely on each other so trust is absolutely essential.
That also means that there’s no violence in the Grave, and no crime; when the alternative is being abandoned to the lurkers, it’s surprising how well the threat turns us all into law-abiding citizens.
We don’t have any concept of money. Each week we get our rations from whatever non-perishables are left at the grocery store located in the old shopping center on the corner of Ridgemond and Grove.
Some of the survivors are growing fruits and vegetables in the grounds behind the church.
Others make bread and sweet cakes out of the flour and sugar stores. No one goes hungry.
Some people are hunters and border patrol—like I am, and Chase—whose job it is to kill the monsters.
Some are sensors, those who send out warnings to the hunters when they sense lurkers; that was Hallie.
Jack’s our leader. Mrs. Baker teaches. Eddie and his group of boys are our version of law enforcement, keeping the Grave safe while extending the boundaries and securing any supplies from abandoned houses that we absorb into our settlement.
We all have our jobs here, we all have our purpose.
All of us together are the reason why we’ve survived so long. I just… I just wish Jack would let me be useful again. I’m not so naive to believe his words back in the kitchen this morning are anything but a ploy to keep me in line.
That’s what I’m thinking about. As I walk alone into the old high school, I’m stewing over how I’ve been nothing but a drain since the accident.
My eyes dart upward as I pause just inside the front doors. The motto scrawled in paint is still visible in the anteroom: enter to learn, depart to serve.
Huh, I scoff. If fucking only.
Most of Madison High is closed off, big metal gates blocking the paths that lead further into the school. No one with access or keys survived the Turning, and we only managed to break in and disengage the alarm with the help of a couple of hammers and some wire cutters.
It was worth it, though, because there are still four main areas in the center of the school that are not blocked off and very useful: the library, where we can go for peace and quiet and a good book; the gym, which doubles as an indoor playground during the day, and a place to sleep at night for those who feel safer inside; the cafeteria, where we took all of the non-perishable food and are stockpiling it for the future; and, lastly, the auditorium, the only room large enough in the Grave for everyone to assemble for meetings.
By the time I get inside, the auditorium is nearly full. I cast one quick glance around, exhaling when I can’t pick out Chase right away. Thank fucking god. I looked, don’t see him, and now I can use that as an excuse for finding my own seat.
I take one on the aisle behind the last full row. A handful of survivors follow after me, providing me with enough cover that it’s not so obvious I’m sitting on my own. I sink low in my chair anyway.
Sorry, but I’m not just avoiding Chase. I know better than to let Jack spot me before the meeting starts, either.
There’s no sign of him yet. The stage up front is empty except for a podium and two folding chairs waiting for occupants. One of our precious bottles of spring water is perched on top of the podium.
That catches my attention.
Who are we waiting for? Who deserves such a gift?
Who is ‘he’?
No idea, but I decide that I might as well stick around and find out—and that’s when someone reaches down and taps my shoulder.
“Sorry. I’m gonna need a little help squeezing by.”
Part of me wants to snap that there are still plenty of other seats around, that if he can’t slip past me, that’s not my problem, but I swallow the nasty retort an instant later. What the fuck, Xandra? Don’t take your crap mood out on everyone else just because you have your own problems.
So, with a faint smile, I scramble to my feet and come face to face with Tony Morello.
Shit.
His eyes brighten when he takes me in. “Thought it was you. Wasn’t sure with your hair hiding your face, but I’d know those pretty green eyes anywhere. How’ve you been, babe?”
Before I can answer, he grabs my upper arm, pulls me close, and presses a kiss to my cheek.
My stomach curls in on itself.
Tony Morello was the linebacker on Madison High’s championship football team, a brawny jock with slicked-back dark hair and a single dimple in his left cheek.
He’s also this guy I grabbed by the hand and fucked in a locker room during senior year so that I could brag to Hallie that I wasn’t a virgin any more, either.
Since then, whenever I was lonely or needed a little affection and didn’t have a guy I was seeing, Tony was always willing to ‘catch up’ for old times’ sake.
I made it clear at seventeen that I wasn’t interested in anything more than a FWB sitch.
He seemed a little disappointed back then, and decided after the Turning that his being in town when the world went to hell meant we were supposed to survive the apocalypse together.
And maybe the old Xandra gave him the idea that she might be willing to at least keep him as her fuck buddy before the lurkers ate us all, but that was until the attack that cost me my sister.
Since then, the idea of losing myself in meaningless sex makes me sick to my belly, especially when I remember that the only guy I’ve fucked after has been Hallie’s lover.
The same lover who is somewhere in this auditorium…
I shake my head, shoving my hands in the pockets of Rory’s jacket before I shove Tony away from me. At least he releases my arm, even if he makes no move to take a seat. “I’m as good as I can be.”
“Yeah. I heard about your sister. Shit. I’m so sorry. She was good people.”
She was the best. And, no shit, he heard. In the Grave, everyone knows what happened that night.
“Thanks. I… yeah. Appreciate it, Tony.”
That should’ve ended it. He gave his condolences, now he can move on. Take your seat, Tony. Leave me alone.
He doesn’t seem to be able to read my mind because he stays right where he is.
Instead, he stays where he is, crowding me while blocking the row.
“It’s good to see you’re doing okay, though.
And I meant it. You’re looking good.” His deep brown eyes look me up and down.
“Real good. You know, maybe when this meet is over, we can go for a walk or something. Get some air. Talk or… whatever.”
Whatever, huh? Why do I get the feeling that he’d be more than happy to bend me over one of the rusty bleachers and occupy the both of us that way?
I open my mouth, but before I can figure out how to refuse one of the only guys I’ve never said ‘no’ to, I catch movement out of the corner of my eye.
For a second, I think it’s someone on the stage, but it’s not.
It’s coming from the front row instead as a sandy-haired figure stops glaring over at me and begins to make his way past the crowded row.
My heart starts pounding.
Chase.
That’s Chase.
He must’ve somehow seen the way that Tony’s cornered me, and based on the furious look on his face, he’s going to do something about it. As I watch him go, he keeps his eyes on us. From across the room, Chase smiles at me. He looks at Tony like he’s mentally picking out a grave.
Shit.
I hurriedly mutter something to Tony about maybe, then give him a gentle shove on the side to get him to move along. With the vague promise that he might get lucky later, he’s happy to disrupt the other survivors nearby so that he can take one of the empty seats in the center of the row.
Meanwhile, I watch as someone grabs onto Chase’s arm, stopping him before he can get too far. They’re seated so I don’t know who it is, but Chase bends his head to listen to whatever they’re saying before he jerks up, turning to look at the stage.
Jack has just walked out onto it.
Chase hesitates, but after only a quick look in my direction, he drops down to his seat. I do the same, shifting slightly so that I can avoid Tony peeking my way.
Come on, boys. The leader is approaching the podium, and that’s more interesting than having two guys I’ve fucked fighting over me like a chew toy, right?
Here’s hoping.
Bracing his hands on the podium, Jack leans forward, speaking into the microphone. “Good afternoon. I want to thank you for all coming out on short notice—”
Someone upfront starts to applaud. Someone else calls out a question, asking what’s so important they got yanked off their boundary check. Jack quiets them with a sharp jerk of his head. “Let me speak. What I have to tell you… it concerns all of us.”
It does?
Forget slouching. I lean forward in my seat.
“For close to eight months now we’ve come together, worked together, lived together.
The Turning was hard on all of us… we’ve lost so much…
but, as a community, we survived. That’s all we can do.
However, I know I’m not alone when I say that I wonder what’s really going on out there.
Past the lurkers, in the rest of the state. Hell, in the rest of the country.