Chapter 1: Feast

 

The sun beats down over Pleasance with all the fury and affection of an overattentive mother. The breeze blowing across the rooftop is hot, and searing. Several floors below, dozens of ravening zombies moan and stretch their broken limbs ever upward, clawing for the human flesh they can’t reach. To Jarod Samuels, things have never been better.

Life has been different at the Hive since the sighting of the second flare. Its appearance triggered something in the mall’s occupants, reawakening emotions and ambitions that had shriveled the day Paragon ravaged the city. The hunters sent to investigate the flare didn’t find much at the time, but they haven’t stopped searching. Now, even three weeks after the fact, everyone in the mall is still thrumming with excitement, with that special brand of buzz that only newfound hope can bring. Well, nearly everyone.

It’s especially evident up here on the rooftop, up here where the kids play and shriek with the reckless abandon children are meant to possess, oblivious to the things far below waiting to kill and to rend flesh. As optimistic as seeing the second flare has made the Hive, it still seems as if there’s been a silent agreement among the adults, this quiet contract of not telling the children exactly what the flare entails.

Best not to keep their hopes up. Just in case, just in case things don’t happen. But the kids are louder, more boisterous than ever, and that lifts Jarod’s spirits, and it’s all he needs. Things will be okay. Jarod knows it in the pit of his stomach. But if there’s anyone who’s been affected so strongly by the sighting, it’s Daniel Norwood, resident gardener, Hive medic, and all-around great guy.

“Push harder, Jarod,” he calls out, laughing the whole while. “You can do better than that.”

Jarod grins, the creasing of his brow forcing sweat down his temples, and he does exactly as Daniel says. He pushes harder on the enormous metal frame, this thing that’s meant to give the Hive a better chance at survival. Trust Danny to be this positive about everything. The guy’s sweltering, his T-shirt stuck to his body with sweat, but his spirit is burning hotter than the sun overhead, the light of him spilling through his skin. His eyes are clear, as blue as the sky, his joy so pure that it'd be cruel to dismiss it. Someone this happy can’t be wrong. Jarod takes Daniel’s joy for what it offers: solace, and hope.

Jarod looks up at the basket-like metal frame of the climbing garden. If he squints, he can almost see how this thing might look fully covered in leaves and greenery. Just the idea of it is encouraging. He wipes the sweat away from the bridge of his nose, smelling the faint tang of metal on his hand. This might work. Things might actually work out, after all.

“Almost there,” Daniel pants, pulling on his end of the frame. Jarod negotiates the structure across the floor, inching the monstrosity ever closer, until it’s by the edge of the patch of dirt Daniel’s come to call his vegetable plot. The kids look on curiously, half-formed questions sitting on their lips.

It’s a climbing garden, Magpie said, her latest creation. The Hive’s head engineer has dreamed up a bunch of conveniences for the mall, but this is definitely the craziest looking thing she’s made to date. Which isn’t to say that it’s useless. Far from it. Theoretically, they’ll be able to put edible plants in smaller pots that fit into the recesses built over the frame, the metal of it twisting and fraying like some huge, tentacled beast. It’s a structure Magpie devised specifically to take full advantage of what little space the rooftop has, potentially allowing Daniel and the rest of his team to grow more food. Maybe even enough to feed the Hive, just in case the flare meant nothing. Just in case.

It took six engineers just to haul the component parts all the way up to the rooftop, and a few more to put the whole thing together. Mysteriously, all of those men and women appear to be missing now, gone under the decks in search of water, or a nap. Jarod heaves as he gives the frame another nudge and then the sun a grudging look. He doesn’t blame the engineers for bolting, really, but what he wouldn’t give for some extra muscle.

A tinkling sort of melody brushes past Jarod’s shoulder, the telltale music of Magpie approaching, made by all the trinkets and knickknacks threaded through her hair and clothes. Even the sound of her moving around is enough to put a smile on Jarod’s lips these days, like her presence is a reminder that someone cares, that someone’s working as hard as she does to ensure that the colony makes it through this nightmare, at least until help arrives. It’s dopey, maybe, but he’ll take any reason to smile, and the thought of rescue is more than enough to make him grin like an idiot.

Magpie’s enormous cloud of hair looms into view as she gets into position, planting her hands on the frame. “Wipe that dumb look off your face, Samuels.”

“Never,” Jarod says.

Magpie laughs. “Good boy.”

Even Magpie, of all people, rational, clear-thinking Magpie has been swept up by the Hive’s palpable hope, infected with Danny’s cheerfulness. She’s channeling her feelings in different ways, it seems. She’s still a total smart-ass, at least when it comes to Jarod, but she’s finally been putting her workshop’s supplies and resources to use instead of hoarding them for no good reason. If somebody comes to help, then no harm done, she explained. And if nobody comes? Then at least the Hive will be better prepared and equipped regardless. Win, win.

She grits her teeth, her nose wrinkling, and she pushes. The climbing garden’s metal base scrapes loudly against the ground as they work and as Daniel guides the structure from his end. Then it grinds to a halt.

“Damn it.” Daniel scratches the back of his head. “It’s stuck. We’re gonna have to lift it.”

“And I’m sure we could,” Magpie says, “except Samuels here’s been hitting the powdered donuts too hard.”

Jarod grunts. “I wish.”

She pokes a finger at his stomach, raising an eyebrow when she makes contact with muscle. “I retract my statement. Point still stands, though. We’re not going to manage with just the three of us.”

No kidding. The climbing garden’s enormous, and Jarod may be in the best shape of his life but he’s no superhero. Though is it really appropriate to say that, he wonders, considering he’s only fit out of a combination of needing to ration the Hive’s remaining food and the daily exercise of slaughtering zombies? That first thing is the reason they’re trying to install this ridiculous pile of metal and pipes to begin with, and that second thing is the only way they’ve been able to survive out here for as long as they have. Hunting.

Jarod rubs his hands together. That’s technically what he’s supposed to be doing for the Hive, clearing a path through the city’s walking dead so that the scavengers can do their work of scouring the abandoned buildings for supplies. It’s how he and Gabriel have been proving their worth to the colony after all, defending its residents with life and limb – except Gabriel hasn’t been doing much of that in recent weeks. Not since the injury.

A week, maybe a couple more, and he should be mostly recovered. Jarod’s been happy to have Gabriel indoors most of this time, of course. It always filled him with anxiety when the two of them were placed on separate assignments, when he knew that Gabriel would be scavenging out in the city, far out in the further blocks, and too far out for Jarod to help him if the occasion called for it. Jarod worries at his lips. But isn’t that the exact reason Gabriel’s in this predicament? Because Jarod couldn’t help him when it mattered the most?

“Stop blaming yourself.”

He hears the words in Gabriel’s voice, and stranger still since Jarod’s pretty sure he isn’t up here with them. It’s just something he’s heard Gabriel say enough. Maybe Jarod’s too transparent. Maybe he says too much with his face, each time he unwraps Gabriel’s bandages to treat his wounds, each time he sweeps his hair away from his temples and ties it up himself, each time he gives him a sponge bath. Not that he’s had to give Gabriel a sponge bath for days now, but Jarod finds that it’s something he misses. Anything to make Gabriel feel good. Anything to make Gabriel feel better.

“Samuels,” Magpie says, a slight hint of irritation in her voice. “Did you hear me?”

“What?”

She shakes her head. “You’re far away in your head again. Daniel and I were saying that one of us should go down to get more people to help, and we decided it should be you.”

Jarod sputters. “What? Why me?”

Magpie gestures at Daniel. “Look at him, all sweaty and exhausted.” Daniel screws up his face, the curls of his hair tumbling over his eyes, pitiful as anything. Jarod scowls harder, but it’s hard to fight Danny when he pulls shit like this. “And look at me,” Magpie continues, her trinkets rustling and tinkling as she sweeps a hand down the length of her body. “I’m a frail, delicate woman.”

Jarod frowns even harder. “You fight zombies with a machete.” He throws a hand out against the climbing garden. “You hammered half of this damn thing together. There’s nothing frail or delicate about you.”

Magpie folds her arms and turns up her nose. “Rude.” Daniel chuckles. Jarod sighs.

He rounds his shoulders, then makes sure to throw each of them the sorriest pout he can muster. Neither of them budges. He sighs again. “Fine. I’ll go.”

“Go where?”

Jarod’s heart thumps, just once. He isn’t ever sure why, but Gabriel Anderson’s voice still has that effect on him. Maybe it’s the bond they share, the type of thing that comes from spending so much time in the other’s presence, the kind of thing that comes from killing together, for each other. It’s love, if Jarod has to put it in its simplest terms, but it’s still strange to him, how sometimes everything feels just like the first time all over again.

Take now, for example. Jarod’s seen Gabriel’s face enough to draw it with his eyes closed, kissed his mouth enough to have memorized its shapes and spaces, yet sometimes it’s still too hard to look at him directly for any given amount of time. It’s like staring into a fire, or looking into the sun, something too beautiful, too intense. The edges of his cheeks, his jaw, his nose, everything comes together to form the face Jarod has come to know and love all these months, yet sometimes he still finds his heart stopping at the mere sight of this boy who’s slept beside him all these nights. Sometimes he still blushes at the littlest glance of his smile, at the way the corner of his mouth hitches when he grins.

And now’s not a great time at all, but it comes rushing back, this thrill of beginning anew, and Jarod clears his throat and scratches at his face, hoping that’s enough to distract from how the blood is creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

“I was going to head down.” Jarod pokes his thumb over his shoulder. “We need help lifting this thing.”

Gabriel looks at each of them and shrugs. “I mean, I could help.”

Magpie winces.

“What?” Gabriel’s lip turns up. “You think I can’t? I can do it.”

Daniel raises his hands placatingly. “It might not be the best idea, considering.”

“What?” Gabriel laughs. Jarod can see through his body language, catching the precision of his breath, how Gabriel’s filling his lungs up just enough to sound haughty, but not quite enough so that it hurts his wounds. Jarod knows him too well. “I’m fine now.”

“No,” Jarod says quietly. “You’re not.”

Gabriel throws him a look that could strip flesh from bone. “I’m fine. Seriously, you guys are too much.” He raises his arms and flexes, his biceps bulging. “See?” And in spite of his annoyance at this display of bravado, Jarod’s heart thumps again, just the once.

Magpie laughs. “Fine. Let him help out.”

Daniel shakes his head and braces himself by the frame. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“It’s cool,” Gabriel says, bending at the knees and getting into position. He nods at Jarod. “I promise. I’m cool.”

Jarod bends down by the climbing garden and grips at the metal, watching Gabriel warily. “If you say so.”

“Okay,” Magpie says. “One, two – lift.”

The climbing garden eases up and floats easily over the ground as they maneuver it to its final home, a couple of feet from Daniel’s garden plot. It goes into place with a last dull thud against the cement, like the hammer fall of industry. It sounds like a job well done. Jarod squeezes his fingers, working the strain out of his wrists and his muscles, taking in the faintest scent of flowers as he pants.

“You really shouldn’t overextend yourself. You know what Daniel says about taking things slow.” Jarod shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

Gabriel dusts off his palms and grins. “Never better.”

And again, Jarod can see that there’s just the slightest hint of pain, if not discomfort sitting behind the hundred-watt smile that Gabriel wears so well. There’s a trace of a wince on his lips, in the corners of his eyes. He knows how the kid must feel, coming from being one of the Hive’s strongest fighters and being struck down by his injury. Jarod wishes he could force him to stop thinking like that, to fully rest until he’s recovered so he can rejoin the field workers out in the city.

It’s not Gabriel’s fault that Paragon orchestrated that horrible encounter with his father, that their unholy reunion resulted in those three horrible wounds that are forever going to scar his chest. And if Gabriel’s to be believed, it isn’t Jarod’s fault, either. He knows he shouldn’t mention it, that an argument’s going to flare up between them if Jarod is so much as caught thinking it, but his eyes fall on Gabriel’s torso, examining what skin is exposed under his flimsy tank top. He studies the bandages wrapped around his chest, the center of his shirt, constantly worrying and searching for spots of blood. What if the strain of helping to carry the frame caused his wounds to reopen? What if –

“Jarod. Stop.” Gabriel’s voice is soft, almost defeated. “I’m okay,” he says. “I promise.” This time his smile is softer, genuine, not at all forced.

Jarod returns his smile. “If you say so,” he says, nodding gently.

Magpie kicks at the frame lightly with one booted foot. “Great job, boys.”

Daniel looks up at the climbing garden, his body scarcely containing his excitement. “This is awesome, Magpie. So awesome. I can’t thank you enough.”

“Pssh,” Magpie says, waving a hand at the air in front of her face, something Jarod can tell is her way of hiding the self-satisfied grin she’s making. “If this works out, we’ll make more. Who knows, maybe we won’t all starve to death after all.” She gives the three men a mock salute, turns smartly on her heel, then heads for the stairwell.

Daniel bounds over. “And thanks for helping, you two.”

“Any time,” Gabriel says.

“We’re just around if you need – ”

“Okay, thanks,” Daniel says, already zipping to the opposite end of the rooftop, eager to gather his tools and start filling out the climbing garden. Jarod watches, bemused, and shrugs.

Gabriel chuckles. “It’s okay. He’s just really excited about this.” He gestures at the garden. “But can you imagine? This might actually work. We’ll have real food, real, fresh food, in case the flare – oh.” He covers his mouth.

Jarod looks around, as if there’s really anyone to even hear the two of them. Daniel’s still busy gathering up his dirt and his trowels, and the kids are concentrated in the center of the rooftop, swarming over the playground.

“It’s okay,” Jarod says quietly. “I know what you mean.”

Gabriel scratches at the back of his hands. “It’s just, you never know, right? It’s been three weeks, Jarod. If anyone was coming, they would have found us by now.”

That’s exactly the kind of thing Jarod was hoping he wouldn’t have to mull over, especially not now. This positive thinking schtick is new to him, and his ability to keep his gloomy nature in check is tenuous as it is. His mind sorts through all the things he can say, and he settles on the most reasonable explanation he can grope for, the one that Magpie swears by.

“Listen,” he says, reaching for one of Gabriel’s hands and pulling him close. Gabriel lumbers up to him, his gaze on the ground. “If somebody comes, then great. That means we’re going to be okay. If help doesn’t come, then great. We’re still going to be okay, especially now that Magpie’s doing all this stuff to support the Hive.”

Gabriel toes at the dirt, his lashes fanning as he blinks. “I mean, I guess.”

Jarod cups his chin and raises his head. “Listen. Things are better no matter what happens. It’s going to be okay. You, me, all of us, we’re going to be okay.”

He closes in and presses a quick kiss against Gabriel’s lips, softly, chastely. The expression comes slowly, but the light comes spilling back into Gabriel’s skin, and he grins. “Yeah. You’re right. We’re going to be okay.”

Jarod links their hands, threading their fingers together. He pushes his other hand into his waist, staring up at the climbing garden and nodding at a job well done. He squints up at the sun, at the light glinting against the twisting metal frame. He squeezes Gabriel’s hand, then gives him a little smile.

“We’re going to be okay.”