David looked over to Will. He had white stubble growing all over his head. He looked like an elderly marine. Every student’s hair had begun to grow back, all of it white. Something bad had happened to their bodies. They were altered. Sick.
“I know this sounds crazy,” Will said, “but this isn’t that different from Wild-Trek.”
“Oh, yeah?” David said. He’d heard this already but was happy to go through the routine again. Anything to keep Will’s mood from spiraling down.
“It’s just a challenge we have to face. If we dig deep and push past our limits, we’ll make it,” Will said.
“I think you’re right.”
Will’s voice sounded more hollow than usual. It upset David that, each day, Will’s speech lost a little more volume, a little more conviction. At this point, it was less like a conversation and more like Will was reciting a prayer.
“To keep a lamp burning, you have to keep putting oil in it.
You know who said that?”
“Mother Teresa,” David said.
“Yeah, Mother Teresa,” Will said. A loud metallic klang made Will flinch.
Behind them in the hall, a tiny white-haired kid with raw, red knuckles sat against a dented locker with his head in his hands. Will’s eyes lingered on him. David was afraid he was losing Will.
“But you’re right, it’s the same situation,” David said. “It’s just a challenge.”
David readjusted his grip on the cold flesh of Mr. Meyer’s ankles and shuddered.
“It is the same, except…,” Will said.
“Except what?”
“Except I don’t know when this situation is going to end.” David dragged Mr. Meyer over to two seniors who stood by an open locker. They wore rags over their mouths, and they had duct-taped their shirtsleeves closed so their hands wouldn’t have to touch the dead bodies.
The seniors lifted Mr. Meyer without a word. They tried not to look at the body while they pushed it into the open locker and shut the door. They sealed up the vents and the seams of the locker with duct tape, to keep the stink in. A lock went on as a last step. David led Will back down the hallway and tried to ignore that the walls were stuffed with dead teachers.
David and Will lay in the quad. They’d been locked up for almost a month. Electricity and running water still flowed.
They had heat. It meant that they weren’t entirely forgotten, but it was a small consolation when there was no food left.
The cafeteria had been picked clean. They were all starving.
David thought he knew what it meant to be hungry. He was wrong. This wasn’t peckish, this wasn’t stomach-growling, this was a transformative, gnawing hunger. He felt as though
his brain was shriveling. His eyes would lose focus, his mouth was perpetually dry. He felt mean, like a rabid dog.
Hundreds of other kids lay scattered around in the quad as well. They were all limp, like dead fish. No one wanted to spare the energy to move around. The quad’s translucent cover deadened the sunlight slightly, but it was still the cheeriest place in the school. The grass was still green underneath them. The slight heat of the sun felt like a trickle of nourishment to David.
“We’re gonna get out of here, Will. You know that, right?” David said.
Will nodded. David made sure to tell him that at least twice a day, whether he listened or not. Will ignored him and looked up to the canopy. There was a distant sound, a light thudding.
Moments later, it was a thundering. Everyone heard it now, and everyone was looking up. A seam in the canopy opened that David had never noticed before.
It was the first time they saw the helicopter, the black angel that would drop food and supplies to them every two weeks from then on. When that first school bus-size care package slammed down to earth, its securing cords breaking loose and spilling out boxes and cellophane-wrapped bundles, all any of them could do was stare. After they tore away at the cheap crating and industrial wrap, they found canned food, military ration meals, freeze-dried meats and vegetables, drink powders, energy bars, plastic utensils, water bottles, water, blankets, camping rolls, sleeping bags, first-aid kits, second-hand clothes, soap, detergent, trash bags, and antibiotics.
Kids sprinted into the quad from the rest of the school after hearing the commotion. When they saw the supplies, they joined the surging horde, grabbing whatever they could get their claws into. David found energy he didn’t know he had. He and Will split up, running around the pile, through the colliding bodies, assembling armfuls of loot. David saw Will in little flashes as they would pass each other in the scramble. Will had a joyous, almost drooling, smile on his face that matched David’s.
David saw Will near the quad’s south wall. The supplies had all been scooped up, but kids were still pouring into the quad in droves. He and Will both had a great haul. David could barely hold on to everything as he ran up to his brother.
“Look! Look!” Will said, digging his hands through cans and packets piled up on the ground in front of him. “Can you believe it? They want us to live!”
David wanted to hug Will. But as he got close, Will’s smile stretched and contorted into something painful. David heard a gurgling rattle of air escape from Will’s clenched throat.
Will flopped to the ground. His face was the purple of a blossoming bruise. Veins popped out from his temple, and his eyes bulged, bloodshot. His hands were splayed and slapped flat against the ground. One leg was raised and bent while the other jerked away like it wanted to detach from his body.
“What’s up with him?” David heard a girl whisper.
David moved instinctively, dropping down beside his younger brother. He wrapped one hand gently around the back of Will’s head. David tore his belt from his pants and placed it in Will’s mouth. Will clamped his teeth down on the belt as he flailed. Urine darkened the front of Will’s pants.
David placed solid pressure on Will’s flailing arms, holding them in place. He stroked his brother’s head, doing his best to lull him.
“Sshhh…”
In his periphery, David could sense people moving toward him. Anonymous hands reached in and stole a package of blankets that David had snagged in the drop.
“Hey!”
More hands reached in. David couldn’t leave Will’s side, and the kids around him knew it. More were still piling into the quad, angry that they got there too late.
“Leave us alone!” David shouted.
David kicked and thrashed and yelled at the anonymous looters, but it did no good. They darted in, snatched Will and David’s things, and darted back out again. They took and took, and by the time Will’s flailing slowed and his breath became more regulated, David had only a lone can of beans left, sandwiched between his belly and the ground.
Will’s face was spattered with a froth of his own saliva. His eyes cleared and met with David’s. David was devastated by the confusion, the fear, the crushing embarrassment that he saw in Will’s eyes.
“You had a seizure, okay?” David said as calmly as he could.
“You’re gonna be fine.”
Will pushed David away and propped himself up on one shaky elbow. Kids stood around Will and David. Not one made a move to help or asked if anything was needed. They watched.
Will pulled himself up.
“Don’t get up. You need to-”
David tried to stop him, but Will batted his hands away. Will peered back at his audience and then glanced down to see his urine-soaked pants. Someone in the crowd snickered. Will opened his mouth to speak but didn’t. David saw what looked like tears in Will’s eyes. Will ran across the quad, through the white-haired crowd. David ran after him. He blocked out the smirks and the grimaces and the looks of pity from the scav-engers around him.
He had to catch up with Will. He had to tell him everything would be all right. He had to keep him calm, even though their worst fears had been realized. Will’s epilepsy medication had run out weeks before, and this, the first episode in well over a year, was bound to be followed by many more.
