“Where did the regular folk stay?” I asked.
“East end.” Lee nodded his head to the right. “That whole side was houses. Nice places too. But we had to shut it down. Buildings took too much damage. Shitty weather and less people made sure we ain’t ever gonna get ‘em up to code again. It was safer to just move here and close off the entire east side.”
I shook my head. “That’s too bad.”
“It is.” Lee walked toward the door, turned, and flashed a grin. “But we get by, don’t we?” With a thumbs-up, he added, “I’ll see y’all at dinner. Oh, and if Nick asks, tell him I was a helluva tour guide.”
Mia left the comforts of her hospital bed and moved into our barracks. We had almost an entire floor to ourselves. Nick Rider said that before the captured wraith escaped and sparked a massacre within the City’s walls, the population was pushing capacity. Not so much anymore. And although lights illuminated most of the City, a darkness continued to hang around the heads of the people who remained.
I felt for them, but I couldn’t understand their grief, just like they couldn’t understand the grief I felt for losing Jonas, Helga, and Mikey. Some of the people were as cold to us newcomers as the snow outside. I understood that too. Of the near seventy-five who lived here, a few were bound to be wary of us. Most, however, treated us with respect and kindness. I eventually came to consider many as family, which was why losing them hurt so badly.
Still, besides Nina Hart and Nick Rider, our initial meetings with some of the City’s inhabitants weren’t anything to write home about. Polite waves, courteous head nods, more than a few “Hi, how’s it going?” encounters followed by: “Good, good, nice to have you here” replies.
I really couldn’t complain. Before the end of the world, I was mostly a guy who kept to himself, and though I longed for human interaction for most of my journey to the City, when I got there, I ended up exhausted during our first few weeks. All I wanted to do was lie in bed and recover from the mental and physical torment I’d experienced, and for a good portion of that time that was exactly what I did—what we all did.
We left the barracks to eat two to three times a day—good food, mind you, actual sustenance—and we explored the place, and we dropped in on one or two of the nightly movies they played in the hub’s entertainment rooms (Iron Man and 50 First Dates).
But other than that, we slept.
One night, Mia walked into mine and Ell’s room with Monica all bundled up and against her chest. The baby was fast asleep. Mia wore a big grin on her face as well as a heavy knitted sweater and a pair of jeans. The heat in the barracks allowed us to downgrade our extreme winter clothes to almost fall clothes—which, believe it or not, took some getting used to.
“What are you smiling about?” Ell asked.
“I just saw a calendar in Nina’s room. She’s been crossing off the days with a big purple marker, and you know what today is?”
Ell looked up at the ceiling, thinking; I shook my head. I had stopped keeping track of the date as soon as the sun stopped making regular appearances. Wasn’t much to look forward to, but then again, I’ve never been good with dates. Depending on how sharp I felt on a particular day, I may or may not be able to tell you mine or a relative’s birthday or an anniversary or anything like that.
There were only a few dates I could tell you with one-hundred percent certainty: July 4th, Christmas, and when the Cleveland Cavaliers won their lone NBA title (June 19th, 2016, for those not familiar).
Mia waited another moment. Ell finally shook her head and said, “I know it’s a Sunday. I only know that because Sundays are very glum. They always have been, even during the end of the world.”
I chuckled. She wasn’t wrong there.
“It is a Sunday,” Mia agreed. “Sunday, October 11th.”
I racked my brain, trying to find meaning behind this date. Of course, I found none.
Mia’s grin stretched wider; she was all teeth. “It’s my birthday!”
I shot up from the bed and grinned myself. “What? No way! Happy birthday!” I went in for a hug despite Mia being vehemently against hugs. But, realizing there was no stopping me, she waved the white flag.
Ell took the opportunity to do the same. “How old?”
“A lady never tells. And you shouldn’t ask either.”
“Girlllllll, what, it’s your birthday? We need to celebrate!” Ell turned toward me. “Think you can get Nick to unlock the liquor cabinet for us—wait, are you old enough to drink?”
“Does it matter?” Mia answered. “No one’s gonna arrest me or anything like that.”
“I guess you’re right.” Ell’s eyebrows climbed her forehead. “Grady? Booze?”
“I can try, but I don’t know why you’re asking me.” I looked at Mia. “Forget your age. Can you drink, you know, with…?” I tapped my chest.
Mia arched an eyebrow. “What?”
“That’s Grady’s subtle way of asking if you’re breastfeeding,” Ell said. “And no, Grady, she’s not. Monica’s on formula.”
“Yep, my ol’ fun bags ain't working like they should.”
“Jesus. Please don’t call them that,” I said.
“All right, the boob conversation is officially over.” Ell patted my shoulder. “Just see if you can get something for us to drink, babe. Nick seems to like you.”
I shrugged. “Well, what’s not to like?”
“Should we answer that honestly…or no?” Mia said in her usual deadpan tone. But instead of letting the insult linger, she winked to let me know
