Pitch

“He’s a little… moody,” I decided.

Travis’s voice dropped to a whisper as he said, “He’s a little more than that, Lola. Are you sure you can trust him? I mean, the guy came out of nowhere. He hasn’t told you anything about himself. He could even be one of them for all we know.”

The idea was so preposterous I laughed. “He’s not one of them, Travis.”

“How do you know?”

“He killed one of them. I saw it with my own eyes. If he was a Drinker he would be killing us instead.”

“How did he do it?”

“You mean how did he kill the Drinker?”

“Yeah.”

My fingers began to tap along the edge of the bureau. “He shot it three times and it just went poof. Vanished, like nothing was ever there. It was a boy, or at least it looked like a boy. Not much older than you and me. Do you think…” I hesitated. “Do you think they used to be people? Like us?”

“Maybe,” Travis said after a long pause, but he didn’t sound very convinced. “I mean, a long time ago or something. People don’t do this to other people, Lola.”

“People kill each other all the time.”

“Not like this.”

“No,” I said, remembering the bodies. “Not like this.”

The mattress squeaked again as Travis stood up. He crossed the room and sat next to me on the bureau. I leaned against him, resting my head on his shoulder. He held my hand. We were quiet for a while, just two kids trying to make sense of the impossible.

“Lola?” Travis said finally.

“What?” I murmured.

“I’m sorry about your dad. I never knew… I mean, I never…”

I squeezed his hand. “It’s okay, Travis. You don’t have to say anything.” And he didn’t. It was just enough that he knew. That finally, someone else knew. It was funny, ironic even, but sitting in the dark in an old abandoned hotel holding hands with my best friend who I thought had been eaten by a vampire, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders. “Travis?” I said.

“Hmmm?”

“We should probably get some sleep.”

He instantly sat bolt upright and there was a nervous hitch in his voice when he said, “Sleep? You mean… uh… here? Sleep together in here? Because, you know, you could go in with your dad. That would probably be best. And I’ll, uh, stay in here.”

“Travis,” I sighed, “you are such a drama queen sometimes. The bed is big enough for both of us. Just don’t try to spoon me or anything in my sleep, okay?”

His skin felt hot where it still touched mine. “O-okay,” he stuttered.

“Just think,” I said, springing down from the bureau and landing with a quiet thump on the carpet. “If the world wasn’t falling apart you never would have gotten me into bed with you.”

“Lola.”

I grinned and tugged on his hand, guiding him to the edge of the bed. He went on one side and I went to the other. We climbed on top of the mattress gingerly, and for all my cockiness I felt the same flutter of nerves dance in my belly that I was sure were doing the Macarena in Travis’s.

There weren’t any… feelings between me and Travis. Not of that sort, anyway. Still, I had never exactly slept next to a boy before unless you counted a sleepover in the third grade, which I didn’t because the boy in question smelled and picked his nose in front of all the girls.

Settling onto my back I folded my arms neatly across my chest and closed my eyes. Surprisingly, I was asleep within minutes.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

An Unwanted Pen Pal

Over the next few days we developed a routine. It went something like this:

Sunrise Wake up, take freezing cold showers

Morning Work on barricading our rooms

Afternoon Search the town for supplies and survivors

Evening Meet back at the hotel an hour before sunset, go to bed

By the end of the week we had a considerable stockpile of clothes, food, flashlights, batteries, and water sitting in the hotel lobby. We had yet to find any other survivors. The bodies were gone, snatched up in the middle of the night and taken God only knew where. Only the blood remained, staining the sidewalk and glistening like red paint on the grass in the early morning.

On the third day Dad had taken a car and tried to go for help. He had returned four hours later, discouraged and drunk. Similar holes in the road existed at all exit points, he had explained before he went into his room and slammed the door.

The electricity was still out. The water pressure was waning. Travis and I had discussed trying to walk somewhere, but why would we leave when we had everything we needed right here? Besides, who knew what was still out there? With no television, computer, or radio, I had never felt more cut off from the outside world in my life.

Maximus came by at least once a day. He ignored Dad and Travis and spoke only to me, which I didn’t mind. Often he bought his version of a ‘present’ in the form of another gun or a knife and spent an hour or so teaching me how to use them. Soon the big oak tree behind the hotel was riddled with bullet holes and I had become a rather good shot, something I was inordinately proud of. The knives were a different story.

Maximus was still secretive and danced around my questions with the expertise of a hot shot lawyer, but I managed to get bits and pieces out of him. He was working with a select few who where fighting back against the Drinkers. No, I could not meet them. No, I could not join them. Stay at the hotel, he said constantly. It was the best possible place we could be for now.

He had known about the Drinkers for a while, but he wouldn’t tell me how long, or how he knew. I also couldn’t ferret out where he came from and the one time I asked him about his family he said flatly, “dead, they’re all dead,” and I didn’t ask again.

The weather was exceptionally hot for mid August. The one thing I had not been able to find during my daily excursions was sunscreen, and my fair skin had paid the price. I was somewhere between tomato and lobster red, and my shoulders were peeling like crazy. It wasn’t a great look for me, but vanity was one of those things you weren’t really allowed to have when the world was ending. Like money, it had become irrelevant.

On the morning of the thirteenth day – or was it the fourteenth? I was beginning to lose count – I woke up and reached over to poke Travis as I usually did, except this time there was nothing there on the other side of the mattress.

Immediately I knew something was wrong. Travis had never been an early riser, and he never would have gotten up without waking me. I felt his pillow. It was cold to the touch, as if he had left hours ago.

Rolling out of bed I flew across the room and ripped apart the blinds, flooding the room with light. I called Travis’s name as I peered under the bed, looked in the bathroom, opened the closet door. Nothing.