Scott Westerfeld - The Last Days

I wasn’t sure yet which way Moz was going to take me. I knew that both halves of me wanted badly to take him under the ground, but I was pretty certain they had different ideas about what to do with him down there.

I gnashed another clove of garlic, swilled another shot of tequila, just in case.

The stairs creaked… Moz .

I stood up, crossed to the door, and pressed my ear against it. He was down at the very bottom, making his slow way up. My thirsty hearing swept through the house: Max’s heart beating in the room next door, Daddy snoring low and even, no pages turning from my mother reading late in bed. Silence, except for the slow, cautious feet creeping up the stairs, the occasional crinkle of the house cooling down.

Zombie did figure eights around my feet.

“No purring,” I hissed. “Mommy’s listening.”

I slid my cheek along the door, put my nose up to the crack. Sniffed.

Moz was still too far downstairs to smell. I counted my own heartbeats to a thousand, spread my palms out on the door, pressed my anxious weight against it, groaning. Even shiny Pearl didn’t climb the stairs this slowly.

Finally he reached the top floor and I caught his scent, nervous and unsure.

And hungry . I smiled.

He turned the hasp free, the faint vibrations traveling through wood and into my thirsty skin. The metal bolt slid across.

I took a step back, dizzy. Being rescued was much better when it was Mozzy doing it.

The door opened the tiniest crack.

“Min?” On a little puff of air, smelling of yummy Moz breath.

I didn’t answer, just stood there behind the door, Zombie warm against my ankle. Everything was tingling.

The door pushed open another nervous inch. “Minerva?”

“Mozzzz,” I buzzed.

“Jesus.” His face peeked through, shiny in the candlelight, expressions squirming across it.

I put my hand out to stroke his cheek. Brought it back and licked my fingers. Nervous-tasting, but Mozzy.

He pushed through into my room, leaned back to softly shut the door. Closed his eyes. “Jesus, Min. Those are some creaky-ass stairs.”

I giggled, slipping a hand through the unzipped top of his jacket, pressing my palm against his chest. His heart was pounding deliciously. If he hadn’t been breathing so hard, I could have heard the warm blood rushing through his veins.

Don’t think naughty thoughts , I scolded myself.

“You made it, though.”

His eyes opened, a relieved grin making his face shimmer. “Yeah.”

I pulled my hand back from the hothouse of his jacket, pressed fingers against the door. “No one heard you. Relax.”

Mozzy nodded but didn’t relax at all. His expression was so naked, tension transforming into excitement, his own hunger rumbling. His eyes rolled across my tight black dress and boots, growing wider, about to burst.

“You’re all dressed up.”

I smiled. “Well, we’re going somewhere special, you know.”

“Oh.” He glanced down at himself: T-shirt under leather jacket, jeans. “I didn’t think… I mean, it’s two in the morning.”

“Shush, Moz. You look delicious.” I bent down and swept up Zombie. “Come on. Time for the creaky-ass stairs again.”

“Okay…” He frowned. “The cat’s coming?”

I sighed. Why was everyone always giving Zombie funny looks? He never stuck his nose into their business. Zombie had things to do, places to be. Zombie needed rescuing too. And he knew things.

If he could talk, Zombie would’ve told us what was coming.

But all I said was, “He’s got a date with a tree.”

“Oh, sure.” Moz smiled and softly opened the door.

With no smelly sun wrecking everything, outside was much better.

In beautiful soft starlight, I could see the dead leaves scattered on the ground, the spiderwebs sparkling in the grass, captured insects making them dance. The unburnt air was moist, thick with scents and sounds.

I put Zombie down, watched him slip in among the glistening piles of plastic bags. Those garbage mountains were alive in the darkness, the steady breeze carrying messages from deep inside.

I put my hand against one, felt its cool slickness. It had a scent like my room, my bedclothes, like something that Zombie and I shared. Little tremblings were rampant in the pile’s depths, answering my presence.

“Family,” I murmured, rustles of understanding moving through me.

“Um, yeah. Your family,” Moz whispered, glancing nervously back at my house, as if the porch light was about to pop on, Daddy emerging with a shotgun. “Where’re we going anyway?”

His anxious smell made hunger bubble up inside me again, and I wished I’d brought more garlic. I turned and took his hand, pulling him down the street. “This way. I’m taking you where I can show you things.”

“Oh, okay.” He followed in a silent trance, obedient in my grasp. As we neared the first intersection, though, my steps slowed. Everything was muddled.

I’d grown up on this street, but somehow things had changed. A new world had descended on my old neighborhood—a terrain of smells, skittering sounds, and territorial boundaries. The old maps inside my head had crumbled over the last two months, turning the street signs into gibberish.

“Which way’s the F stop, Moz?”

“We’re going somewhere by subway ? It’s, like, two-thirty, Min!”

I frowned. “We’re not getting on a train. Just need to remember.” I squeezed his hand, looking up into his bulging, thirsty eyes. “I’ve been locked up for a while, you know.”

“Oh, right.” His throat rippled with a swallow. “Sure. It’s back this way.”

I followed him, familiar landmarks seething with the new reality—the vacant lot one block over, alive now with shivering forms; my old preschool, playground swings creaking in the breeze; the best Lebanese restaurant in Brooklyn, its garbage smelling of rancid honey and chick-peas, trembling with movement.

Luz has been robbing me of all this , I thought. She wanted to cure me of my new senses, to lock me away from this sumptuous half-lit world. Every step I took, I was finding out more… I still had enough crazy left to understand.

Moz took me to the F station down the block, and I pulled him to the lip of the stairs, breathed in the subterranean hum for a dizzy and exultant moment, like when la musica traveled through me. The beast rumbled, twisting happily in my guts.

“But I thought we weren’t—”

“We’re not taking the train,” I said. “This is just a shortcut.”

“A shortcut?” he said, not quite believing.

“You can only get what you want underground, Mozzy. But believe me, you’ll love the way it tastes.”

He blinked, then nodded. I smiled, covering my eyes as I pulled him down into the fluorescent lights, his pulse fluttering under my fingers.

Every step we took, the pull was getting stronger.

Moz could sense it too, as if its influence traveled through my skin and into his, an electric current of desire. Or maybe he could smell it on me—here underground I felt myself glowing with it, the beast inside me doing back flips, screaming that it was almost loose. Whatever was down here had freed it from Luz’s restraints. My tongue ran across my teeth uneasily.

Must… not… eat… Mozzy.

But I couldn’t stop moving forward either.

Behind me Moz was panting, eyes glittering like wet glass. When I jumped down from the platform onto the empty subway tracks, he didn’t say a word, just paused for a moment before following. His lips were full of blood, and I could see his heart racing in his throat. It was all I could do not to take him right there, but I knew it would only get better the farther down we went. I pulled him into the darkness of the tunnel.