Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

“Ouch,” Matt says. “My mom is just glued to the TV. A bomb could go off and she’d never know. Unless, obviously, the TV told her it was coming first.”

“Mine is making pudding from scratch,” I add. They give me a curious look and I shrug. “She’s freaking out about my dad being gone all the time and totally stressed about my sister down in Atlanta, so baking is the perfect way for her to live in blissful denial.”

“Oh shit, Atlanta?” Matt asks.

I nod, jumping over a fallen branch. “Yeah, she’s in school down there. We haven’t heard from her in a couple of days. My mom is panicking.”

Atlanta has been placed under mandatory quarantine. No one is allowed to leave their homes and the National Guard has been set up there for days. Things seem under control but the E-TR virus spread fast once it made it from Florida to Georgia. Apparently the Atlanta airport is one of the largest in the world. Once it passed through those gates there was no stopping it.

“I saw they’ve been making, like, safe zones,” Liza adds. “Do you think she’s at one of those?”

“I have no idea. I mean, in the movies those are always the first to go down. Like Hurricane Katrina? The people in the evacuation centers were in horrible shape.”

Matt nods. “True. The government sucks.”

We cut through a small trail in the woods that Olivia says leads to the house of a friend. They own acres of property and sure enough, five minutes later I spot the lights and hear voices in one of the backyards.

“You think that’s it?” Liza asks.

“Yes,” Olivia says. “I’ve been to Amber’s house a couple of times.”

I grab Liza’s hand and stop the others. Nerves flare in my belly and suddenly I’d rather be anywhere else. “Are you sure this is okay? We’re not really friends with these people.”

Matt shook his head. “I don’t think clique lines matter much anymore, Alex.”

We step through the woods and snap off the flashlights. Dozens of kids mill around the yard—each of us in violation of curfew. All breaking the law.

A handmade banner made out of a white sheet hangs over the backside of the house. It’s huge with drippy spray paint letters. Ironically, the spla

tter makes it looks like blood.

“Congratulations Class of 2015!”

I smile nervously at my friends and Liza gives me a tight hug.

Apocalypse or not, we’re still having our graduation party.

Robert, a guy I’d known since elementary school spots us coming from the woods. His eyes widen and he shouts, “Hey look!”

The whole group turns and I see the wary faces of my classmates. They blink, staring at the four of us and I’ve got one foot back in the woods when Robert says, “It’s the valedictorian!”

A loud whoop from the crowd fills the air and Liza squeezes my hand. “Told you it would be okay.”

Cups are shoved into our hands, filled with some sort of sugary drink that smells faintly of rubbing alcohol. I have no idea what is normally discussed at a party like this but tonight it’s about the E-TR virus and everything going on. Worry lines mar the faces of my classmates. They should be thinking about summer and then college in the fall, but we’ve all turned that off a little bit. Everything is unclear. But one thing is obvious, despite the years of high school and drama and cliques, we’re definitely in the same boat now. Nothing like a possible world-ending outbreak to bring everyone together.

“Alex,” a girl named Erica says as she walks up to me. She’s sat next to me in homeroom for four years. This is the first time she’s ever spoken directly to me. “Did you bring your speech?”

I swallow a gulp of the syrupy liquid. “My speech?”

“Your valedictorian speech. This may be your only chance to give it!”

I think for a moment she may be kidding but there’s a seriousness, a desperation, in her eyes and I say, “I didn’t think to bring it with me.”

“Oh, that sucks,” she says and a couple of other classmates nearby shake their heads in disappointment.

Floored by their reaction I take a deep breath and say, “I, uh, well, I do have a speech of sorts I can pull up on my phone. It’s not exactly the one I was going to say at graduation but…” I shrug. “It may be a little more fitting.”

“Yes!” Erica shouts. “Please. Anything. I just want to salvage something from this whole disaster, you know?”