This Isn't the Zombie Apocalypse

27. If It's the End of the World and You Know It, Clap Your Hands

Andrea was done with the pampering; didn't mean she was done with us.

Now she wanted to show me and Calvin the city—town, neighborhood, place where people lived together, whatever—that, yeah, existed! So Andrea packed us up and started hiking by the side of the road to somewhere, completely ignoring the light misting of rain that was blowing over us. I, on the other hand, was irritated. And cold. And why were these four people living out of an abandoned old gas station if they had homes all within a five-mile radius you ask? Well, they're those weird people that believe that the world it ending. All the time. And are therefore prepared for the end of the world. All the time. Doomsday preparers or whatever. Yeah, they were those kinds of people.

Isn't it weird that they believe the world is ending?

If only.

When Andrea had told me and Calvin their... views, Hunter's hand intertwined with hers, Denton and Darell trailing behind discussing the game that Denton had taught Calvin, I had given a bark of condescending laughter. "The world isn't ending," I scoffed. "That's melodramatic of you to even think such a thing. What—you believe in zombies rising from their graves?" I snorted derisively again, stomping ahead of everyone else despite the fact that I didn't know where we were going.

Calvin didn't laugh like I thought he might. Then again, I could see him as taking this whole end of the world thing seriously. He did live in a hospital where there were dead men walking because they didn't die when they should have. And dead kids. Dead teenagers. Might as well add babies to the list as well.

Though I acted otherwise, I did think the world was ending. Not that I would tell anyone that, because then I would have to explain about Life and Death and that whole shebang. Which would be a nightmare in its own right. Not even Ana had to know that I thought the apocalypse was pretty much at hand.

Now I sound like the drama queen—king. You know what? Whatever.

Hunter grunted, kicking a random rock angrily. "Well, the world is going south, no doubt about it. Armageddon might be too strong of a word, but that about sums it up."

"Yeah," piped Denton. "Seen the news recently? There was this one guy, died on his daughter's birthday. She was, like, five, and he was fine before the lights went out. But when they were flicked back on, what do you see? A dead man staring at me." He gave a goofy grin, like, hey, that was funny and not terribly morbid at all.

Well, I didn't know—maybe he had a dark sense of humor. I did. Do. Whatever. I mostly just barreled my way through life nowadays, not much time for jokes.

"No," I lied, and Calvin looked at me, puzzled. Guess he had a better memory than I gave him credit for, remembering how I mentioned watching the news before like that. Either that or he could see right through me. Neither idea was that great. "I've been busy." It wasn't stretching the truth that much.

"Doing what?" Denton asked.

"Stuff," I answered stiffly.

"What stuff?" He moved up next to me, smile irritatingly still in place, beanie crooked on his curly black hair. Sliding closer, Denton swung an arm over my shoulder, pulling me dangerously close. "Hm?"

I shoved his arm off, deadpanning, "A funeral."

That shut everyone up nicely. Nothing killed the mood quite like a dead person. Not me, obviously, though sometimes I wished it were true (because if I were dead all this wouldn't be a problem, but, then again, dying wasn't really my style). But the mention of a funeral put people in sympathetic moods faster than, say, killing them.