I wonder if people will remember me. I hope not.
It’s better if they don’t.
PRESENT DAY
THREE MONTHS AFTER THE EARTHQUAKES
MASON
Cambie Street was quiet. Nothing moved.
The engine of the motorcycle destroyed all that beautiful silence.
It was late afternoon, possibly Sunday. Earlier, back at the house, Mason had noticed that someone had put a calendar up on the big stainless-steel refrigerator. They’d started crossing out dates with a neon pen. So many endless days had been lost. He couldn’t actually remember what day it was anymore. It’s not like he had anywhere to be or a certain date on which to do anything. He didn’t own a watch and he didn’t really care what time it was. Some of the others still paid attention to the time, but not him. As far as Mason was concerned, the world now worked in daylight and darkness. He’d have to assume that whoever was doing the marking actually had a clue as to what was going on. And according to the fuzzy-kitten calendar, it was Sunday and less than a week until Christmas. Funny how time flies. Only this year, there wouldn’t be any stockings hung by the chimney with care. No eggnog mixed with rum and partying in his friend’s basement. Last year Tom got so drunk he threw up candy canes and mincemeat tarts all over the snow-filled driveway. Good times gone.
It was so weird living in Vancouver now, since there wasn’t any snow. Back in Saskatoon everything would be buried under several feet of the white stuff at this time of the year and he’d probably be shoveling it while his mother baked the aforementioned mincemeat tarts and other Christmas treats. Not that he was complaining. Without the electricity, he couldn’t imagine what it must be like for any survivors still hanging around his hometown. They’d be frozen Popsicles. Was Saskatoon a complete ghost town now, or were there Baggers patrolling the streets like they were doing here?
So many holidays that meant nothing anymore. He’d completely forgotten about Thanksgiving and Halloween. So had everyone else. Once upon a time, October 31 had been his favorite holiday. No point in thinking about these things anymore. Dressing up. Candy. Still plenty of scary monsters though these days. They didn’t even have to wear costumes.
And luckily none of them appeared to be following him right now.
At the bottom of Queen Elizabeth Park, he pulled over in the middle of the road. He looked around to make sure the coast was clear before cutting the engine. He tugged at the helmet strap and pulled it off, leaving it to hang from the handlebars. His ears strained against the silence, listening for any sign he could interpret as a warning. Voices. Cars. Psychotic nut jobs running toward him. Anything.
From above, a group of Canada geese began to honk as they headed north, probably over to Stanley Park, where they’d be able to spend their afternoon baking in the sunlight, cleaning their feathers in one of the man-made ponds, and lounging about completely undisturbed. Not that the geese ever cared much about people anyway. They probably didn’t even realize the humans were gone.
So much easier being a bird.
He turned his attention away from the sky and to the back of the motorcycle, where the pretty girl with green eyes struggled to remove her helmet.
“So where next?” he asked.
Aries shifted on the seat behind him, trying to undo the strap with her fingers. Mason bit his tongue to keep from saying something along the lines of “I told you so.” It was impossible giving directions this way. Neither could hear each other over the engine without screaming, and that would only attract more attention. It didn’t help that Aries was insistent on them wearing the safety gear. Cracking his head open against the cement was the least of Mason’s worries. But he went along with her because it was better than arguing.
Easier to just nod and agree to everything these days.
“We can turn left here or keep going up to Forty-ninth,” she said as she pulled at the tangles in her hair. “It’s your choice.”
“Not my choice,” he said. “Remember, I’m the newbie. I know nothing about this city. As your boyfriend likes to say, I’m Tourist Boy.”
Aries frowned. “He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Then why do you keep crawling out the window to meet with him late at night?”
He was glad to see the shocked look on her face. She hadn’t realized he’d seen her the past few nights. She must have thought she was being secretive, and it probably worked for some of the others. But not for Mason. It takes a sneak to recognize a sneak. He’d been doing a lot of his own midnight walkabouts. It was impossible for him to get more than a few hours of sleep each night. He wasn’t used to sharing a house with so many other people, and when he did drift off, something always brought him back. There were too many memories being pulled to the surface when he dreamed, too many nightmares. Once the tossing and turning got to be too much, he’d sneak outside and go for a walk. He never went too far, just a few blocks. Enough space to give him room to breathe. Sometimes he’d hang out in the garden while watching the moon drag itself across the sky. He felt safer there. A guardian angel. He could watch over everyone while they closed their eyes and became utterly dependent on him.
Every single night he managed to talk himself out of leaving. Or was it the other way around? How many times could he convince himself to stay?
There were a lot of them now. A new family. So many people he felt responsible for saving. He didn’t want this again. He’d failed too many times. Too many people died as a result.
When he finally did sleep, he still dreamed of her.
Chickadee.
I want you to promise me something.
He’d stuck to that promise after they’d met on the road as fellow survivors—at least for a while. So why was he still here? He didn’t owe her anything. It’s not like she asked him to go and find new people to take care of. He’d come and he’d felt the ocean and in a way it had made him feel better. But he was still empty. And she was still gone. So were the others. Coming to Vancouver hadn’t changed anything. Reaching into his pocket, he closed his fingers around the small glass vial he now carried at all times. A bottle filled with sand. A little token he’d taken the morning he’d kept his promise to Chickadee and given his legs a good soaking in the ocean water. It comforted him. His good luck charm, not that he believed in such things.
“Let’s go up to Forty-ninth,” Aries finally said. “Take a left there and then we head down a few miles.”
“You’re the boss,” he said.
From somewhere not far enough away, a recorded voice filled the air.
“WARNING. WARNING. THE CITY IS CLOSED. NO ONE IS ALLOWED IN OR OUT. THERE ARE GUARDS POSTED. TRESPASSERS WILL BE SHOT. DO NOT TRY TO LEAVE THE CITY. DO NOT STAY IN YOUR HOMES. IT IS NO LONGER SAFE. SURVIVORS ARE INSTRUCTED TO GO TO THE PLAZA OF NATIONS IN THE DOWNTOWN CORE. THERE ARE PEOPLE WHO CAN HELP YOU.
“WARNING. WARNING. THE CITY IS CLOSED . . .”
The recording started in on its second loop.
The Baggers were more organized these days.
Scary.
Mason grabbed his helmet. “Time to go. Come on or they’ll see us this time.”
Aries wrapped her arms tightly around his waist as he started the bike.
The recordings were coming from white vans with tinted windows. There were several of them touring the streets. It was almost as if the Baggers had gone in and cleaned out the entire inventory at Budget van rentals. No one knew who was driving, but they had a good enough idea.
And the Baggers were looking for them.
Not just them. Any survivors in general.
He didn’t want to imagine what they might do if they caught Aries and him taking this particular joyride.
Mason didn’t know if the recordings were true. He hadn’t tried to leave the city. But he didn’t doubt for a second that the Baggers would try to kill anyone who didn’t take the warning seriously. They’d already destroyed most of the world. What were a few more people?
What was ev
en scarier was the bit about sending people into the downtown core. They were rounding up the survivors. And Mason was positive there were some scared, exhausted, and confused people who would willingly walk into their trap. It was a clever ruse, offering help and salvation to those still alive despite all the odds. What were the Baggers planning?
He figured in the next few days he’d have to go down and check it out for himself.
* * *
Half an hour later Mason pulled the bike over to the side of the road and killed the engine. They were parked in front of a two-story house in the middle of what once might have been a nice neighborhood. The street was quiet and lined with skeletal trees with leaves rotting on the grass beneath them.
Mason glanced down the road, checking for signs of life. It was hard to believe no one lived here. On any other day, he could picture people. Teenagers grudgingly raking up leaves or doing some other sort of weekend chore. People would be out talking to their neighbors or cleaning the debris out of the gutters. Mothers might be chasing after their children or pushing babies in strollers. Others might be taking the family dogs for walks or getting ready to do some grocery shopping.
But this street was dead. No amount of wishing could change the eerie empty feeling that curled along the base of his spine as he climbed off the bike and put the kickstand in place.
Aries wasn’t paying attention to the street; her attention was set on the house in front of them. It was a split-level house with a wrought-iron fence around the front. There was no car in the driveway.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he asked. “You don’t have to.”
“Yes, I do,” she said. “I should have done this ages ago. But I couldn’t bring myself to. And time just kind of flew by. But now I have no excuse. I’m here. Might as well go in.”
They left their helmets on the bike and walked toward the gate, which squeaked when Mason pulled it open. Their feet echoed on the concrete as they moved along the path toward the door. He could feel the waves of stress pouring off Aries’s back. He wondered if he would have felt the same way if he was back at his own house in Saskatoon. But that wouldn’t happen in a million years. He’d burned the house down before he left so many weeks ago. Part of him was glad he’d done it. At least now he’d never have a reason to go back.
You can’t ever go back. Never again.
Aries had a key chain with a little stuffed toy of a dog with buttons for eyes. She had pulled it out of her pocket before realizing she wouldn’t need it. The front door was open a few inches. Both of them raised the police batons they now carried wherever they went. Michael and he had taken them from some dead cops they’d found sitting in a car in Kitsilano. They’d been searching for guns, but those were long gone. At least batons were easier to carry than baseball bats. It was a shame they hadn’t found enough for everyone to use.
Good weapons were hard to find. It seemed that someone had already claimed all the guns.
“They’ve been here, haven’t they?” she asked, referring to the fact that the Baggers had been doing house-to-house searches. Aries herself had witnessed the results when she and her friends hid in a garage in the early days of the change and watched as the Baggers forcibly removed people from their homes, killing them in the streets.
“I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe. It’s pretty clean. I don’t see any blood. But that doesn’t mean anything, right? It’s been raining lots.”
Her shoulders hunched forward and he instantly realized he’d said the wrong thing. Up until that moment, she’d still had hope that she’d come home and find her parents waiting for her. There would be hugs and tears and things would return to the way they were supposed to be. But seeing the open door and hearing Mason’s casual words had crushed that particular fantasy.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She turned to look at him. “Why? You didn’t cause this.”
“You may not find what you’re looking for. Just remember that certain things you see, you can’t take them back. And no amount of wishing will make them go away.”
She paused, looking him straight in the eyes. He held the gaze as she studied his face. “Is that what happened to you?” Glancing downward, she studied his hand, the fingers of which had been broken by one of the Baggers. “Does it still hurt?”
He flexed his hand a little and dull pain shot up his arm. There hadn’t been much he could do. It’s not like he could have gone to the emergency room and had it fixed up. In the end, Clementine strapped it with some bandages they found at a Safeway pharmacy. “Yeah, a bit. Usually when it’s raining. Guess it didn’t heal properly.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
He shook his head. What had happened that day was between Daniel and him. The important thing was that they’d stopped the Baggers long enough for everyone to meet up and stay alive. They were safe for the time being. Aries was a tough girl and he had no doubt she’d understand what they did to survive. There was blood on everyone’s hands. There had to be, otherwise they never would have made it this far. But he wasn’t ready to share. She knew nothing about his past and he intended to keep it that way. No one would ever know about his background, what happened to his mom and most definitely not about Chickadee.
“I understand,” she said. But he could tell she didn’t.
“Do you want me to wait out here?” It seemed like such an invasion of privacy. He never would have allowed someone to come with him. He’d have had to do it by himself.
She shook her head. “No, it’s not safe. And I’ll be okay. You don’t need to worry. I’m not going to fall apart and drop to the floor or anything. I’m just as strong as you, you know.”
“I may not know you well, but I know that’s true,” he said.
“Let’s do this.” Turning back to the door, she gave it a soft shove. Immediately a blast of foul decay hit their faces. Now that was a bad sign.
But Mason could tell Aries was determined not to let anything stop her. She held her head high and stepped past the entrance. He paused and then followed her into the house.
Inside, Aries lost some of her control. She tore down the main hallway and disappeared around the corner. Mason followed her, his police baton poised and ready. The living room was dark and cold, dust particles floating in the small slivers of light that beamed through the closed blinds.
“Mom. Dad?” Aries’s voice was barely more than a whisper.
No one answered her call. The room felt empty. Unused. Wherever Aries’s parents were, Mason was 100 percent positive they weren’t there.
At least not in any shape that would be considered alive.
In front of the fireplace, a not-so-fresh splatter of dried blood stained the fine cream carpet.
Aries turned and pushed past Mason, running around the corner. He heard her feet on the stairs as she climbed. Sighing, he walked over to the blinds and opened them a crack with his fingers. The street was still clear. A good sign, but they couldn’t spend much more than five minutes in the house. The motorcycle may have been small, but it still made noise, and that attracted not-so-nice people. There was a good chance they were already being watched.
Safety first.
He went up the stairs carefully, listening to Aries as she opened doors and checked out bedrooms. At the top, the long hallway branched out several directions, each blocked by a white door. He wasn’t sure which one she was in, so he started by opening the first. Inside he found a master bedroom and more carnage. A torn and rust-stained shirt. A bloody handprint on the wall. A series of drips that led through another door, which opened up to a small peach-colored bathroom. A broken mirror.
But no bodies.
He found Aries in what used to be her room. She stood in the middle, close to her dresser, holding a hairbrush in her hands. Posters on the wall, a laptop on the desk, a large bed covered in pillows and stuffed animals. It looked like the room she should be living in, instead of the house she was currently surviving in with
a group of strangers. She deserved so much better than the hand she’d been currently dealt.
He had a flashback of the night he’d stood in the middle of his house, the moment before he set it on fire and burned it all down.
“You okay?” He didn’t know what else to say.
She didn’t turn as he approached her. Up close he could see her hands trembling. She stood a little straighter and walked over to the closet. “I thought maybe I could pack a few things,” she said. “You know. Take something back. A girl can always use some makeup right? Would be nice to look good again. I’m sure some of my clothes will fit Clementine and Joy. Eve too, but she’s a bit smaller than us. Too bad I didn’t have a younger sister. Maybe we can find a way to get into some of the shops on Robson. I’m sure she’d like to go shopping with us.”
“You don’t have to do this to yourself,” he said.
From inside the closet she pulled out a gym bag. Opening it, she dumped the contents onto the floor. Some old shoes. A pair of sweatpants. A bottle of liquid soap and a small travel towel. She began yanking clothes off the hangers, some of which she discarded on the floor; others went into the bag. There didn’t seem to be any reasoning behind it.
“Aries.”
She ignored him. Went over to the dresser and pulled the drawer right out and onto the floor. Got down on her knees and started digging.
“Aries. Don’t do this.”
The heel of a boot got tangled up in a tank top. She yanked hard, tearing at the fabric until it ripped clean in half.
Mason got down on his knees and grabbed her arm. “Stop it.”
“No!” She pulled away from him, smashing her back on the bedpost. There were tears in her eyes. They rolled down her cheeks and splattered onto the carpet. She looked at the torn tank top and turned it over in her hands before tossing it on the floor.
Mason sat on the floor beside her, leaning back against the blue-and-green bedspread.
“My parents are dead, aren’t they.” It wasn’t a question.