This is Not a Test

This is Not a Test Page 9

I feel like there are bugs under my skin.

“What’s wrong, Sloane?”

“Nothing.”

“Yeah, you’re really acting that way.”

“Okay, everything’s wrong.”

“Now you’re sounding more reasonable.”

“It’s just—this is … it’s all…”

“It’s bad,” he finishes. I nod. “I get that but I feel like it’s more with you.”

A weird sort of laugh flutters past my lips, something bordering on hysteria. He doesn’t back away but waits for me to explain, to fill the silence. That’s such a dick thing for him to make me do.

“I’m tired, that’s all.”

“Everyone is.”

No, we’re not all tired, I want to say. Not like this.

“At night,” he says, “I wake up every five minutes thinking I’m at home. It’s like I can’t get this through my head no matter what.” He pauses. “Do you want to go back now?”

Before I can answer, the world explodes.

It’s a sound like a bomb going off. I don’t know if I felt it first before I heard it or if I heard it first and then I felt it. But I couldn’t have felt it. It magnetizes me and Rhys. We reach for each other and he pulls me down the hall as fast as he can and a thrill courses through me. They got in. We reach the landing at the same time Cary, Trace, Harrison, and Grace do. Their flashlight glares in our faces. I hold my free hand up to cover my eyes. They’re coming up and we’re going down.

“It’s outside.” Cary gasps. “I need to see—we have to know how close it was—we think it might—we think it might be—”

“It’s help!” Harrison bursts out. He pushes past Cary and Rhys and runs toward the window. Cary screams “Wait!” and tears after him and then after a stunned moment, we run after Cary, down one hallway and up the next and it’s dark because of the poster board over the window but I still make out a lumpy shape beneath it. Cary is holding Harrison, half-restraining him, half really holding him.

“Stop, Harrison, just stop—”

“But they won’t know we’re here—”

“We can’t draw attention to ourselves,” Cary says. “We have to think how we’re going to do this—we can’t just uncover the window, you know that—”

“But they’re going to leave us—”

“Jesus, you’re such an asshole—get off him!” Trace shouts. “All you have to do is take the poster board down and look outside—”

“Slowly,” Rhys interrupts. “We have to do it slowly—”

“Then fucking do it already!”

We surround the window and pull at the tape holding the poster board up. Cary says careful over and over while we’re doing it, but no one’s careful. Everyone is fevered with the idea of rescue. When the last of the tape releases, the poster board slides to the floor. We jump back and then stand there, terrified of what has to be done next.

Maybe we don’t want to see what made that noise after all.

“Someone has to look,” Harrison says, but he doesn’t move.

No one does for the longest time. Trace finally steps up. He stands in front of the window and leans forward, squinting.

“What is that…?”

We move in next to him so we can see what he’s seeing. An intense orange glow lights up the distance. Smoke billows into the night sky.

Fire.

I’ve only seen something like this once before when Cortege’s old feed mill burned down and the whole town left their beds in the middle of the night to watch the piece of local history get devoured by the flames.

“Where is that?” Grace asks. “Is it close?”

“I think it’s Russo’s,” Cary says. Russo’s Gas Station. “Shit…”

I let my eyes travel from the fire to the street below. Cortege is almost a parody of itself. Shadows move across the street, the illusion of a former life. Men and women stand in the school’s parking lot, the road, before hurrying away, like they have somewhere very important to be. They’re all moving that way. All in the same …

“God,” I whisper.

“What?” Grace asks.

I blink, try to make sure of what I’m seeing.

“They’re leaving.”

“What?”

Waves of dead are running to the fire. Of course. Of course they’d want to investigate, in case there’s something there to satisfy their hunger. Other survivors …

I want to tell them we’re in here.

Grace laughs in disbelief as the school parking lot clears.

“Oh my God … they are—they’re going—they’re going away—Trace, they’re going away!”

The announcement is slow to sink in but when it does, it really does. Rhys and Cary grin at each other like idiots and Harrison keeps asking, that’s good, right? I know he knows it’s good but he needs to hear someone else say it because it’s not real for him until someone else says it. Trace punches him in the arm and goes of course it’s fucking good! Everyone is so happy. I turn back to the window and push my hands against the glass.

When we get back to the auditorium, the thudding has stopped.

“—Soon. This is not a test—”

“Blow. Me. Tina T.”

Trace says each word loudly into the radio speakers. I push my breakfast away.

Today we’re having juice over cereal.

“Tina T?” Harrison asks. “Is that her name?”

“It’s what I’m calling her,” Trace says over Tina T’s voice. “This Is Not a Test.”

“Would you turn it off?” Grace asks. “Please?”

He turns it off. Today is subdued, relaxed. Something that could pass for good, I guess.

Everyone is so glad the gas station exploded.

“I can’t remember the last time I ate breakfast,” Grace says, finishing hers.

“How about yesterday?” Trace reminds her. “And the day before and the day—”

“I meant before all this started.”

“Really?” Rhys asks, but the way he asks isn’t like he’s actually interested. More like there’s a conversation happening and he might as well participate because there’s nothing better to do. “It doesn’t take that long to eat.”

“It does when you’re—”

“Student government president,” Trace finishes. “An hour and a half in the bathroom every morning, just to get ready for school.”

Harrison stares at her. “Why would you do that to yourself?”

“She’s got this convoluted makeup routine,” Trace says. “Like, every inch of her face had to be covered in product before she was ready to face most of you douchebags.”

“One of us should care about our appearance.”

“You’re just insecure because I’m the better looking twin.”

The affection Trace has for his sister makes his voice sound like honey to me. The way he teases her makes her eyes light up in a way I haven’t seen anyone else’s light up since we got here and in a way no one else’s will. He notices me staring and my mouth does something it can’t help—it smiles at him. He gives me a small smile back.

Rhys yawns.

“Tired?” Cary asks.

“Had a hard time getting to sleep last night. Almost too quiet.”

“Don’t jinx it,” Harrison says.

“I’m jinxing it. Seems like there’s jack all to worry about today.” Trace gets to his feet and stands in front of Cary with his hand out. “Gimme LaVallee’s keys. I want to go exploring.”

Cary’s hand goes to his pocket protectively and he tries to pull a face like he’s doing anything but intending to keep them from Trace. “I don’t think—”

“I don’t give a fuck what you think. Keys. Now.”

“He has as much right to them as you do,” Grace says before Cary can protest. Her voice is soft but her eyes meet his and they’re steel, daring him to disagree. Cary sighs and takes the keys out of his pocket. Throws them at Trace.

“If you happen to see anything useful lying around, feel free to bring it—”

“Get one of your two bitch boys to scavenge for you, Chen.” Trace points at Rhys and Harrison. “Because I’m not.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Rhys says.

Trace flips everyone off and leaves. Cary sits there, cracking his knuckles. I can tell he wants to bitch about what an utter asshole Trace is and how much he’d like to punch him, break his teeth, whatever, but Grace’s presence keeps him from doing it. He glances at her a few times.

“You know, just because we’ve had one good night doesn’t mean it’s time to dick around. I saw a pair of bolt cutters in the custodian’s office. We should do a locker raid.”

“Sure,” Rhys says.

They get to their feet. Harrison gives them a five-second head start before running after them and then Cary turns back to me and Grace.

“Coming?”

I want to, but Grace shudders and shakes her head.

“That’s like grave-robbing.”

“Sloane?”

Grace looks at me. I get the feeling she wants me to stay.

“I’ll pass,” I say.

And then it’s just Grace and me and it’s quiet. She doesn’t talk at all and after about ten minutes I’m annoyed I stayed. I guess she doesn’t have to speak to me. It’s probably not high on her list of priorities. She’s got Trace.

“Sloane?”

“Yeah?” I cringe at how eager I sound.

“Will you come to my locker with me? I left my purse in there before everything happened and I want it but I…” she laughs, self-conscious. “I don’t want to go alone.”