Eve

Chapter 24

The world is a mess a few thousand feet under my zombie ass. By my side, Levon's all concentration, hands on the center stick, headphones around his head.

He'd look very sexy if he wasn't Levon.

"Look, Eve."

I look down at where he's pointing. A field of grass expands itself until the horizon, green and dotted in abandoned farmhouses.

"We're flying over Kentucky." He squints out the window. "I think."

I grunt back to leaning my back against my window. The plane shakes a bit in turbulence.

Patrick's marine friend was right. The twin engines were at the airport, gathering dust by the runway. No one in sight, zombie of survivors. Levon was happy. I didn't have the nerve to tell him there is no shelter. And so we took off, heading for New York. Heading for the loss of all hope.

Maybe I'll die, and then I won't have to tell him at all. Here's hoping.

My mind has been in perpetual haze mode ever since we left the CVS. I can't focus, I can't hold on to a train of thought for more than a few seconds... and I'm so hungry I'd eat at Jack in the Box.

"How about you, huh?"

"Huh?"

Levon turns to me. "What was your life like before all this? You never told me."

He smiles and offers me the pad. "I bet you were like a popular girl, right? You look like you were. Like you had guys all over you."

I chuckle a grunt.

"I mean it," he continues. "Not like that bitchy popular girl who gets the quarterback, but like that alternative hipster style. Like that kind of girl who's pretty but also cool. That wears band T-shirts and talks about fun stuff."

"Are you describing me, or your version of a perfect girlfriend?"

"Yeah... I bet you were cool. I don't think we'd be friends, though. I don't think you'd like me."

I try for a kind smile and fail.

"Come on, tell me about you. Can you write?"

I try holding on to the pen, but it slips from my fingers.

"What's wrong, Eve?"

"Nothing. Nothing." I push him away as he leans in front of my knees to grab the pen. "Stop it, Levon! I can do it!"

I grab the pen, but it slips again.

"I got it," Levon says, picking it up. "What's going on?"

I can't hold the pen. My hands – my whole arms – feel numb and weak.

I rest the pad on my lap and turn to face the window again. Down below us, a few scattered clouds curtain the view of torn apart buildings and cracked pavement snaking down highways and small town streets.

You know there was a name for all this, before it happened? It's called 'involuntary park'. When nature takes over a formerly urban area. Grass and vine growing on buildings and around cars and on the sidewalk. Hungry coyotes browsing around Hollywood Boulevard. Nature taking back what is hers.

Watching the little dots of rusted cars down below, I think of Aunt Meredith, and how she died. Of my mom, and how she died. Of Edgar, ditto. I think of Damian's face pixelated on a Skype screen, the last time I saw him. I want to tell Levon about all of them. I want to keep them alive inside someone else's mind, because I'm the only one who remembers them. Because if I die, they die with me, and I can't bear to watch them die again.

But I can't write. I can't talk to Levon anymore. I can't tell him about Damian and how he gave me the locket with the picture of his nose I still have around my neck, and I can't tell him about how Aunt Meredith once got drunk at my mom's birthday party and sang 'Radio Gaga' with the band (and fucking nailed it). I can't tell Levon about anything.

I feel a soft touch against my cheek. I realize I'm crying. Levon puts his hand around my shoulder and pulls me close.

"The plane, you moron," I say, waving my hand at the center stick.

"It's on auto-pilot," he says. I let my head rest against his shoulder and he closes his arms around me. "It's ok, Eve."

I close my eyes. The plane bumps a bit up and down as we sit like that, half our bodies leaking from out seats, our chests meeting in the middle.

"It's ok. You just have to hold on a little longer," Levon says. "Just until we get to New York."

"There's nothing in New York, Levon," I say, quietly.

"That's right, just a while longer and they'll save us," he says, and I let him think it's true. Maybe I let myself think it's true a little. "Just a while longer and we'll be in New York, Eve," he says. "Well, as soon as I figure out how to land this plane."

I open my eyes against his shoulder and pull back. "Wait, what!?"