Page 27 of Say You'll Stay

“Fucker won’t quit,” he growls when they fail to shake a stubborn one hanging onto the hood.

He taps the brakes, but it won’t budge until another gets thrown up there too and knocks him free.

They’ve left a gruesome trail in their wake and one last push has them flying through a wall of the dead and into a clearer, quieter part of town. He glances over at Olivia, the two of them locking eyes until she breaks into nervous laughter.

“Just like playing a video game, right?” she jokes.

“A game I regret buying and want a refund on, but yeah.”

She flips open the crudely drawn map of their route, pinpointing their location with a finger. “Almost halfway.”

“Should be pretty smooth sailing from here on out.”

“What do you think the Smithsonian will be like? They have to have living quarters for the staff, right? A place that big had to have overnight workers. I’ve heard there are some parts underground.”

“It’s a government building, so it’s bound to have some tricks up its sleeve.”

“Bet they’ve got electricity, water, plenty of food. Stockpiles of it,” she muses.

They’re heading to a museum on the word of an addict with a slim hope that it could be a safe place to rest and it’s got to be the craziest thing he’s done since this whole mess began. Still, he has to believe that it’s their best shot. For now. If whoeverruns that place even takes them in. At least no one can look at Lucy and shut the door in her face. Even if they don’t take him, and that’s a worry he’s not voiced yet, Olivia and the baby will have a place to ride this out. Right now, that’s all he cares about.

He’s so busy stuck in his head that he almost doesn’t notice what they’ve driven into as the car crunches over concrete rubble, glass, and whatever else is buried in piles that keep getting larger.

He’s forced to stop a block from their destination when everything ahead is smoke.

Gone.

Something bad happened here. An earth-shaking explosion destroyed all the surrounding buildings in its path, flattening them in a ripple effect from the source. They’ve rolled into the wasteland of a war zone and not even the dead walk it now.

“This isn’t a homemade job.” His heart sinks and all the hope he had only moments ago evaporates. “Whatever did this was government issue.”

There used to be a museum up ahead. Now, there’s only dust.

Olivia curls a hand around his forearm as they stare at what could have been their salvation.

Habit nearly forces a flinch. He hates being touched, but her skin is soft and her hold comforting. It’s a whisper of possibility in a single moment that makes him wonder if he could be the kind of person to enjoy this sort of thing outside of impending doom.

That’s all that’s on the menu lately, though. One heaping helping of impending doom after another.

“We can still go back,” he offers.

“No, let’s find that farm you told me about in the mountains. I want her to grow up somewhere like that. Not here. Not like this.”

This roadblock could be a sign urging them to reverse course if he believed in signs. He chooses to hope it’s only a detour to something better, puts the car in gear, and aims them toward what lies beyond the city.

Chapter 8

What’s left of the museum vanishes in their rearview mirror as their plans crumble and spiral down the drain.

They head toward an unknown destination with no place to stay and no guarantee of safety. Olivia should feel upset, afraid, and depressed, yet surprisingly, she’s happy. It doesn’t matter that the Smithsonian is gone. Her future still holds more promise now than it ever did before the virus took hold.

The end of the world, for her, marks a turning point that offers newfound freedom. That’s something she can embrace now that they have officially decided to stick together. She’s not alone in this anymore. So, instead of crying over the literal explosion of a good plan, she can’t stop smiling. Probably looks ridiculous, all things considered, but she’s seeing everything with fresh eyes today and each mile they drive further from the city only stokes her excitement.

Cole’s been sliding her curious glances now and then, catching her mesmerized at the passing scenery as if she’s never set foot outside before. Instead of waiting for the inevitable question, she offers up an answer. But first, she rifles through the glove box, digging through oil change receipts, to victoriously yank out a few shiny disks. She pops one in the old CD player and leans her head back against theseat when an upbeat, soft melody wraps around them like a hug.

He doesn’t comment on her music tastes. Despite her suspicion that this isn’t exactly his kind of song, he still taps his finger against the wheel.

“You know when I said I never did anything before all this?” she begins.

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