“I salute your heroism.” She tapped the Containment ZoneEmergency Line icon, something she should have done at the top of the ladder. She hadn’t been thinking clearly, but that was no excuse. After putting the phone to her ear, she waited. And waited some more. “Why isn’t anyone answering the fucking emergency line?”
Chad gave the world’s tiniest, most uninterested shrug.
“Please state the nature of your emergency,” the attendant said after an interminable delay, her voice low and smooth.
“My name is Eden Brandstrup, and I live on Cloverleaf Drive in Zone A. My neighbor and I have just been attacked by two zombies. We heard more outside our shelter, so we assume the entire pack has escaped through a breach in Wall One.”
“How distressing.” The attendant paused briefly, and clicking sounds filled the silence. “I’ll alert the necessary parties.”
“How quickly can you sound the alarm? Because everyone in Zone A is at risk until they know what’s happening.” No response. “Hello?”
Edie lowered her phone and looked down at it. The call had been disconnected.
Well, that was…startlingly abrupt. But the attendant’s haste in ending the conversation made sense, upon second thought, because the sooner the woman stopped talking, the sooner she could activate the alarm. It should be starting any second now. Or maybe she needed approval from supervisors, in which case the warning sirens might not begin for another minute or two.
Either way, Edie had offered what help she could for her neighbors near and far. The rest was up to the government.
“Done.” She slid the phone back into her bag. “I feel terrible for waiting so long, but hopefully our Zone A neighbors are eithersafely indoors for the night or visiting their families outside the Containment Zone for the holidays.”
Still illuminated by his phone’s blue-white glare, Definitely Not Human Chad simply looked at her.
Bro Chad had been a much better conversationalist, which was saying something.
“So…here we are. Your underground lair. Chad’s Cave of Dreams.” She turned her head, but couldn’t see much. “Does your pit have electricity? Because my flashlight app will work for a while, but eventually—”
With a swipe of his forefinger against his screen, he turned on the overhead lights.
Her jaw dropped.
The place was freakinggigantic, with polished concrete floors stretching into the far distance and minimalist fixtures shining on them from above. An enormous kitchen gleamed to the right, all black-veined white marble and bronze, with an endless island and zero visible appliances other than a refrigerator. To the left, at least twenty feet distant from the kitchen or any other furniture, he had a seating area with chunky metal-and-wood tables positioned alongside long, low, sinuously curved cream-colored couches that belonged on a luxurious spaceship built a thousand years from now.
He watched her reaction with a faint, smug smile.
She closed her mouth. Then opened her mouth. Then closed it again.
“Wow,” she finally said. “This place ishuge. Huge and uncluttered and…”
“And…?”
“And…uh…aggressively modern?” When he frowned down at her, she raised her hands, palms out. “Don’t get me wrong. This is amazing, and my attic is basically a tiny, crowded, insufficiently insulated wooden tent, so your shelter is way, way better than mine. Just…damn. It’s like the Guggenheim Museum and a diamond mine had a baby down here. How did I not know this place existed?”
A single golden-brown brow arched, silently chiding her obtuseness. “Because I didn’t wish you to know.”
Well, duh. “But I work from home. How did I not see or hear anything?”
“Most construction occurred at night, after you secured your shutters. Any necessary explosions took place in your absence.”
A mysterious incident from three years ago, shortly after his arrival next door, suddenly made a lot more sense. She’d left for the post office, realized somewhere in Zone C that she’d forgotten her wallet, and driven back home. Only to experience what felt like a small earthquake in her own driveway.
She’d knocked on his door shortly thereafter to ask whether he’d noticed it too, because she couldn’t find any mention of a local tremor on the internet.
“I dunno, dude.” He’d offered her a bright, vapid smile and spread his hands wide in helpless confusion. “My edibles just kicked in a few minutes ago, so…”
“Okay.” With a tiny, silent sigh and a little nod, she’d turned for home. “Sorry to bother you, Chad.”
“No problemo, dude!” he’d shouted loudly enough to make her twitch. “Laters!”
“The earthquake?” she asked now.
