‘Hello, Archie,’ he says.
‘Hello, sir.’
‘You and Miss Greene are in love?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘That is wonderful. Have you discussed marriage?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Why delay? Why deliberate? These are the last days. Where do you live, Archie?’
‘Goldman . . . Field.’
‘Goldman Dome?’
‘Yes, sir. Sorry.’
‘What work do you do at Goldman Dome.’
‘Gardens.’
‘Does that work allow you and Nora to feed your children?’
‘We don’t have children, sir.’
‘Children replace us when we die. When you have children you will need to feed them. I’m told things are bad at Goldman Dome. I’m told you are running out of everything. It’s a dark world we live in, isn’t it, Archie?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘We do the best we can with what God gives us. If God gives us stones when we ask for bread, we will sharpen our teeth and eat stones.’
‘Or make . . . our own bread.’
Grigio smiles. ‘Are you wearing make-up, Archie?’
Grigio stabs me.
I didn’t even notice the knife coming out of its sheath. The five-inch blade sinks into my shoulder and pokes out the other side, pinning me to the drywall. I don’t feel it and I don’t flinch. The wound doesn’t bleed.
‘Julie!’ Grigio roars, stepping back from me and drawing his pistol, his eyes wild in their deep sockets. ‘Did you bring the Dead into my city? Into my home? Did you let the Dead touch you?’
‘Dad, listen to me!’ Julie says, holding her hands out towards him. ‘R is different. He’s changing.’
‘The Dead don’t change, Julie! They are not people, they are things!’
‘How do we know that? Just because they don’t talk to us and tell us about their lives? We don’t understand their thoughts so we assume they don’t have any?’
‘We’ve done tests! The Dead have never shown any signs of self-awareness or emotional response!’
‘Neither have you, Dad! Jesus Christ – R saved my life! He protected me and brought me home! He’s human! And there are more like him!’
‘No,’ Grigio says, abruptly calm. His hands stop wavering and the gun steadies, inches from my face.
‘Dad, please listen to me? Please?’ She takes a step closer. She is trying to stay cool but I can tell she is terrified. ‘When I was at the airport, something happened. We sparked something, and whatever it is, it’s spreading. The Dead are coming back to life, they’re leaving their hives and trying to change what they are, and we have to find a way to help. Imagine if we could cure the plague, Dad! Imagine if we could clean up this mess and start over!’
Grigio shakes his head. I can see his jaw muscles tightening under his waxy skin. ‘Julie, you are young. You don’t understand our world. We can stay alive and we can kill the things that want to kill us, but there is no grand solution. We searched for years and never found one, and now our time is up. The world is over. It can’t be cured, it can’t be salvaged, it can’t be saved.’
‘Yes it can!’ Julie screams at him, losing all composure. ‘Who decided life has to be a nightmare? Who wrote that f**king rule? We can fix it, we’ve just never tried before! We’ve always been too busy and selfish and scared!’
Grigio grits his teeth. ‘You are a dreamer. You are a child. You are your mother.’
‘Dad, listen!’
‘No.’
He cocks the gun and presses it against my forehead, directly onto Julie’s Band-Aid. Here it comes. Here is M’s ever-present irony. My inevitable death, ignoring me all those years when I wished for it daily, arriving only after I’ve decided I want to live for ever. I close my eyes and brace myself.
A spatter of blood warms my face – but it’s not mine. My eyes flash open just in time to see Julie’s knife glancing off Grigio’s hand. The gun flies out of his grip and fires when it hits the floor, then again and again as the recoil knocks it against the walls of the narrow hall like a ricocheting Superball. Everyone drops for cover, and the gun finally spins to rest touching Nora’s toes. In the deafened silence she stares down at it, wide-eyed, then looks at the general. Cradling his gashed hand, he lunges. Nora snatches the gun off the floor and aims it at his face. He freezes. He flexes his jaw and inches forward as if about to pounce anyway. But then Nora pops out the spent ammo clip, whips a fresh one out of her purse, shoves it into the gun and chambers a round, all one liquid motion without ever taking her eyes off his. Grigio steps back.
‘Go,’ she says, her eyes flicking to Julie. ‘Try to get out somehow. Just try.’
Julie grabs my hand. We back out of the room while her dad stands there vibrating with rage.
‘Goodbye, Dad,’ Julie says softly. We turn and run down the stairs.
‘Julie!’ Grigio howls, and the sound reminds me so much of another sound, a hollow blast from a broken hunting horn, that I shiver in my damp shirt.
We are running. Julie stays in front, leading us through the cramped streets. Behind us, angry shouts ring out from the direction of Julie’s house. Then the squawk of walkie-talkies. We are running, and we are being chased. Julie’s leadership is less than decisive. We zigzag and backtrack. We are rodents scrambling in a cage. We run as the looming rooftops spin around us.
Then we hit the wall. A sheer concrete barrier laced with scaffolding, ladders and walkways to nowhere. All the bleachers are gone, but one staircase remains; a dark hallway beckons to us from the top. We run towards it. Everything on either side of the staircase has been stripped away, leaving it floating in space like Jacob’s ladder.