This is Not a Test

“Grace. He. Is. Bitten.”

“But he hasn’t turned. If he turns—”

“He can do whatever he wants to me,” Cary says. He clutches his arm to his chest and I think—Cary’s going to die before me. We’ll lose Cary.

“Trace,” Grace pleads.

I stagger out of the library because I can’t listen to them talk about Cary’s fate like he’s not in the room, can’t listen to how he’s going to die before me. When I hit the hall, I run. I run upstairs, past the second floor, to the third floor. I rip the posterboard down and I stare out at Cortege below. The moon is bright enough to illuminate the street, but I don’t see Baxter and I think about how this day must have been carved out for him from the moment he was born, that he would live, find Madeline, teach high school, meet Roger, and end up in here with us, his death.

PART THREE

Cary won’t talk.

He lays on the cot while Rhys douses the bite in peroxide. It bubbles angrily and he doesn’t even flinch. Rhys dabs away the blood with a wet cloth until the wound is clean. Then salve. I can’t get over the damage, what human teeth can do. What Baxter’s teeth have done. It shouldn’t surprise me after everything we’ve seen, but it does. An actual piece of Cary’s arm is missing and that part of Cary’s arm was in Baxter’s mouth. I try to remember if he spit it out, but I can’t and then I think I’ll be sick.

“I don’t think you’re infected,” Rhys tells Cary as he bandages Cary’s arm. Cary doesn’t respond. “Cary, you’re not going to die. I mean, you’re not going to die from this.”

Cary grimaces and presses his face into his pillow. Rhys finishes with the bandages and Cary clutches his arm to his chest. He shivers. Rhys frowns and feels Cary’s forehead, just for a second. Three days. We are giving Cary three days. We figure if he hasn’t turned by then, he won’t. But I don’t think anyone believes he won’t. Three days.

In three days, it will be twenty-five days since the world ended.

Eighteen spent in this school.

It feels like years.

“Someone will bring you food. We’ll check on you by the hour. Cary.” Rhys waits for Cary to acknowledge him. He doesn’t. “Cary, if you’re still you three days from now, you’re going to be fine. So don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

Cary doesn’t say anything and I want to draw the blankets up around his shoulders, a gesture of comfort, but most of me is afraid to touch him. Rhys and I stand there and listen to him breathe and I wonder if Cary feels how sick people feel when they’re told they’re terminal, that their time on earth is going to be so much less than they thought. He must. This is the day that was carved out for him.

“Cary,” Rhys says.

Cary still doesn’t respond. Rhys stands there. I can tell he wants to do more but there’s nothing else he can do. We leave the nurse’s office. He locks the door behind him. I hate him for that, hate him for telling Cary he’s not infected and then turning around and locking that door. I’m about to tell him so when Grace appears.

“What do you want, Grace?” Rhys asks.

“How is he?”

“Well, let’s see—he’s been bitten and had a gun pointed at his face all in the span of like an hour. How do you think he is?”

“Can I see him?” she asks. Rhys sighs. “I mean alone. Not with you.”

“What do you want to see him for?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she says. “I saved him.”

He snorts. I’m amazed. I don’t know how she can say or do things like this and call me the strong one. She holds out her hand. Rhys doesn’t give her the keys right away. He stares at them for a long time, and when he finally hands them over, he’s clearly not happy about it.

“Thank you,” she says.

“Bring them straight back to me,” he says. Grace nods and moves to the door. “And Grace?” She pauses. “If I find out Trace is bothering Cary—shooting his mouth, threatening him, or just hanging around, whatever—I will beat the shit out of him. Okay?”

Grace’s face turns a furious shade of red but she wants to keep the keys more than she wants to borrow trouble, so she just nods. I want to watch her go to Cary but Rhys tugs on my hand. We walk down the hall. My back is to the nurse’s office when its door opens and closes. Rhys and I are quiet. It’s going to be weird to come back to the auditorium, just to Trace and Harrison.

“If you think he’s not infected, then why did you lock the door?” I ask.

“Because I’m the only one who thinks he’s not.”

“Why do you think that?”

“I’m an optimist, I guess.”

“Don’t bullshit me. Why do you think that?” He quickens his pace, trying to get away from me, but I stand in front of him. “You said that about Baxter too. Tell me how you know.” He clenches his jaw. “Rhys.”

“They were both bitten but they’re not … cold,” he says.

“What does that mean?”

“Baxter was bitten before he got here and he’d been in here for a couple of days. When people get bitten, they get cold. How fast it happens depends on the bite. If he was infected, he would’ve already been cold.”

“How do you know that?”

He looks away. “Doesn’t matter. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe it’s different now, I don’t know. Maybe they don’t get cold anymore. But if Cary doesn’t turn in the next forty-eight hours, I don’t think he’s going to.”

“So you knew Baxter wasn’t infected and you let him go out there to die.”

“Are you kidding me? I got him out of this school alive.”

“But you didn’t say about the bites—you knew and you let them—”

“And you held the fucking gun in his face! You were ready to kill him!”

I hate when people yell at me. Hate it. There’s been so much shouting lately, it’s hard to be totally bothered by it now, but this—this is at me. I storm down the hall, but he keeps pace with me and then he cuts me off before I can step inside the auditorium. Harrison’s and Trace’s voices drift into the hall and they sound normal. It makes everything worse.

“You had the gun on him too,” I whisper.

“I know,” he says. “It doesn’t matter if he was infected or not. He lied to us and no one wanted him here. No one would have believed me about the bites if I’d said it and I already put my ass on the line for Cary. Look—hey, look at me.” I look at him. “That whole thing happened way too fast. Okay?”

I swallow. “Okay.”

We step inside the auditorium. When Grace comes back, Trace rounds on her.

“What were you doing in there with him?”

“Don’t start.”

“What the fuck were you doing in there with him alone? Are you out of your mind?”

“I just wanted to talk to him—”

“There’s nothing you need to say to Cary Chen and if there is, it’s not going to matter soon anyway. Stay away from him, Gracie. I’m not kidding.”

“He hasn’t turned,” she says.

“Yeah, well, I’m counting the days till he does. Dibs on braining him—”

“Shut the fuck up, Trace,” Rhys says, “or I’ll shut you up.”

“Try.”

Rhys moves forward and then he stops. They stare at each other and a smile slowly stretches across Trace’s face.

“Where did you put the gun?” Rhys asks.

“Somewhere safe.”

“Tell me where you put it.”

“No.”

Rhys looks a second away from exploding, jumping Trace, something. Trace senses it. His smile vanishes at the same time Rhys recovers. It’s the most incredible show of restraint.

“Why not?” Rhys asks. “I went out there for your dad. I thought we were cool.”

“That was then,” Trace replies. “I don’t like how you put Baxter before us. I don’t like how you or Price there put Chen before us. I don’t think you should have the gun.”

“But—”

“That’s fair,” Harrison says, surprising us.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t,” Rhys says slowly. “But what happens to it after Cary comes back?”