PART II

The squirrel stopped, turning its eyes towards me. It looked around a bit, sniffed, then resumed its climb, disappearing between the branches up above.

Leaning against the rail, I sipped the coffee. The house was quiet, and the first chill of early morning burned my nostrils when I breathed. No sound except for the hungover birds still awake from bird parties last night.

"Eve?" The voice was Aunt Meredith's, and it came from downstairs.

"Over here," I replied, stepping away from the balcony and crossing into the house. "Edgar still asleep?"

"Yes. Do I smell coffee?"

"By the stove."

Aunt Meredith was a tall woman. Tall and broad-shouldered. Growing up, I remember getting vertigo whenever she picked me up.

"Fell out of bed?" Meredith asked, as we took opposite seats around the coffee table.

"Didn't sleep."

Meredith fished a flask from her purse and poured some on her coffee. "No calls from Damian, huh?"

I scoffed. "Nothing."

There was a lot to like about Aunt Meredith -- and not just the fun, functioning-alcoholism. She had never married – something I've always admired. She also held a pretty respectable position at an advertising agency back in Pasadena – something I found profoundly boring, but still, respectable. And she disagreed with pretty much everything mom said – probably the most blatant trait we had in common.

"Don't worry, darling," Meredith's voice rang, as I lowered my eyes to my phone again. "I'm sure he's fine."

The house was Meredith's and, like its owner, was big and tall. All wooden from walls to decoration, it reminded me of the insides of a very large boat. Stuffed fishes hung from the walls, big wooden cabinets nested dusty books by the fireplace, and an old grandpa's clock ticked imposingly by the front door.

The place looked like it was owned by an eighteen century war general. Which it kind of was.

"Did you eat, yet?" Meredith asked, bringing my eyes back up to her.

I raised my coffee mug.

"That? Come on." She got up and took me by the hand. "Let's go buy some real breakfast."

It was now four weeks since the first confirmed case of the Philly Flu. Three since mom and I left L.A, and about three and a half since I'd been depressed like a satanist kid on Christmas Eve. No word from Damian, not since that half-call when Mom and I were still on the road.

The first two weeks, all we did was watch the news. It pretty soon became clear that leaving LA had been a good idea. What started as riots and fire quickly turned into chaos: Forums and message boards online were flooding with videos of looters, murders, fights... zombies being gunned down by the army, the whole deal. On Friday, a curfew was established. On Sunday, Martial Law was declared all over the country.

Philadelphia was gone. I stopped watching the news when they reported the first hundred thousandth death. There were talks of bombing the city, and counter-talks of people saying the very thought was absurd. And then more talks saying the idea that the very thought was absurd was absurd.

I had no idea if Damian was still in Pennsylvania. And I was afraid to find out.

In Big Bear, though, things were relatively calm. It was pretty far from ski season, and I doubt people were looking to ski anyway, so it was empty. The only lights in the houses were from people like us – families who fled from the main cities into their holiday huts, waiting for the storm to blow over. If it ever did.

Days went by really fast, the first two weeks in Meredith's house. Wake up, buy food at one of the only two stores still being kept open, cook, eat. Sleep again. Watch the news. Me, mom, Aunt Meredith and Edgar -- Aunt Meredith's boyfriend for the season. We talked very little about the virus and the whole apocalypse-situation thing going on just a few miles from us. Edgar tried bringing us together to play board games a couple of times. He abandoned the idea after a particularly bleak round of Scrabble where I claimed victory for spelling 'ZombieBrutalDeath'.

That was the day-to-day – oscillating between boring and horrific, depending on whether you were keeping up with the outside world.

"How about eggs? Do you like poached eggs?"

I moved to the side, my eyes running past the groceries on the shelf. "Sure."

Aunt Meredith grabbed a carton of brown eggs. "Can you make poached eggs?"

"Nope."

"Well, then why are we even talking about it?" She put the eggs back in the shelf. We kept going.

"What else? Milk. Hey, powdered chocolate! We can make chocolate milk! That I can make."

"Woah, Aunt Meredith – did you learn that Paris?" I smiled.

Aunt Meredith kept grabbing things. "Cereal. Protein bar? Carrot Cake. Scotch!"

She rushed to the end of the aisle, looking left and right like a child at Toys R Us between the bottles in the spirits section.

I tuned my eyes back to the shelves in front of me, my mind in another place completely.

Maybe I could try calling Damian again. It's been what? A whole eleven minutes since the last time? Yeah, maybe we –

"Eve?"

I looked up. Basket in hand, staring at me from the other end of the aisle was...

Oh, boy.

Yes. The queen of Pradaland. The high witch of DolceandGabannaville. All dressed in black skirt and white top and Ugg boots.

"Innara."

"I didn't know you had a place here." She took a careful step towards me.

"You wanna get me expelled from Big Bear too?" I turned back to the groceries. "Pretty sure I can kick your ass with no repercussions here."

Innara paused. From the corner of my sight, I saw her brushing her blonde bangs away from her face. "Did your family run away too?"

"No one's running away," I said, grabbing a can of baby carrots. I hate baby carrots. "We're just spending a few days in my aunt's house until this whole thing is over."

"How long have you been here?"

I turned to face her. "Three weeks."

She looked pretty much the same as always – makeup like the world was a red carpet, expensive clothes, posture of a Spartan warrior. But her eyes were different – or so it seemed. Like, the sides were slightly bent down. Less sparkly and bitchy, maybe. "We came last week," she said, "after the whole thing at the school."

"What thing at the school?"

"You didn't hear? They closed indefinitely after a sixth grader bit a girl to death in the science lab."

"What!?"

"Apparently the parents didn't know he was infected. Or they did, but tried to hide it so he wouldn't be quarantined. Some students said he was wearing makeup to look more... normal."

"Quarantined?"

Innara raised her eyebrows. "Wow. You really have no idea what's going on, do you?"

"Fill me in, bestie."

"Seriously, where have you been? The whole country's going crazy. The army's all over the place looking for infected. Locking them in hospitals and camps, all guarded by guns and stuff. Aren't you watching the news?"

"I stopped because of Da – no. Not really."

"Well, it's getting pretty messed up, out there," Innara said. "Mom and Dad are looking into private jets to get us out of the country."

"Too special to fly coach, the Hitchens?"

Ok, that was a cheap shot. Innara was talking about the end of the world and I was busy coming up with zings. Oh, well...

What? Yeah, yeah, I said I was sorry, didn't I? The girl got me expelled, I was still upset. Jesus...

Innara sighed. "Well... take care, Eve." She went past me, heading for the cashier, where her parents waited.

Ugh. Why can't she be a bitch so I can hate her with a clean conscience?

I watched as the Hitchens disappeared through the sliding glass doors into the morning outside. Aunt Meredith returned, a bottle of scotch in her hands.

"So? Found anything good?"

I put the can of baby carrots back on the counter. "I don't think I'm hungry anymore."