We strap on our packs and walk.
I wear my mom's shoulder holster. I don't imagine I'm going to get in trouble for carrying a gun in the city right now.
When it's stuck in my waistband I become obsessed with the idea it's going to shoot me in the butt, however unlikely that may be.
I chew an old energy bar until it feels like my jaw is going to give up and die.
It's hard to swallow over the lump in my throat, and I sluice it down with gulps of water.
Every so often the woods open up, and we're treated to a gorgeous view of the Hudson River moving along under the imposing rocky cliffs. It seems like it should have reversed direction or stopped moving entirely on a day like today.
I'm surprised that the sun can shine down from such a beautiful blue sky on all this madness.
The glimpses of the city we get now sports countless columns of twisting black smoke. It looks as if all of New York is on fire.
My chest tightens as I think of the best parts of the city: The gruff, gold-hearted Brooklyn guys who won't hesitate to help someone out.
The way New Yorkers pull together when they need to.
The museums I grew up in, where I stared for hours at the mummies or fossils.
Prospect Park. The library. The train cars and neighborhoods full of not only every shade of skin imaginable, but also every country, every language, every dress, every food.
Then there are the worst parts: The cashiers who completely ignore your outstretched hand and throw your change on the counter. The people who think lines are merely suggestions. The hipsters. The grime. The F train. The DMV.
My city, the city I love, the city I sometimes hate, which has both energized and exhausted me since I was born, is going up in smoke.
I stop and stare one last time, because it was my home, a place to go back to if I wanted or needed it.
But I'm pretty sure it's gone now, the good and the bad wiped out in one fell swoop.
Malfoy stares out at it too, like me he has no family left in the city, but that's the sad part isn't it?
I have my friends with me now, but he has no one.
I give him a watery smile, trying to let him know I understand.
He stares back at me, with slate colored eyes full of loathing.
He spins on his heels and leaves without a word.
We find a map at another signpost.
The wind shakes the empty branches of the trees. It blows the smoke from the city this way, but it's high enough that it doesn't touch us.
Only the smell of burning makes its way down to where we stand.
Booms and sirens and loud noises carry from far off.
Some of them I can place: a fire engine, gun shots. Others are guesses: A grenade? Gas line explosion? Godzilla?
There's a Park Headquarters with a police station several miles ahead on the map.
We decide to head that way in hopes of finding a safe place to rest.
We walk slowly, our packs and fatigue weighing us down.
Luna and Pansy look paler than normal. I know they're worried about their father being in the city.
It's late afternoon when we reach Park Headquarters, a stone building with leaded glass windows and imposing chimneys.
We walk around it until we find the well-lighted police station entrance.
There's a tall counter inside, but it's vacant.
Fred opens the door and calls, "Hello? Anybody here?"
Silence.
Neville sets his pack down and creeps behind the desk to check the hallway. He comes back shaking his head.
A computer monitor sits on the counter, and I walk around to check it out.
A cup of coffee and half a sandwich sit in front of the monitor.
I feel the side of the mug. "Well, the mug's cold," I say. "Whoever was here has been gone a while."
"What else, Sherlock?" Fred teases.
"Well, I can deduce by the various keys hanging under here that we may also have a ride, smart-ass. If we want to steal a police car, that is." I wave a set of keys at him.
"Which we do, of course," Pansy says.
I guess she's gotten over her whole not-wanting-to-steal-a-car thing.
I nod. "Of course." We settle on an SUV with Parkway Police written on the side. If someone sits in the way back behind the cage it might almost be comfortable.
We buy food from the snack machines outside the office. I guess we could steal that, too, but we feed money into the machine.
"We can use it in our defense if we're arrested for stealing the car," Neville jokes.
"We may need more food if we get waylaid again."
"Not that you can really call this food," I say. Our found duffel bag crinkles with chips, cookies and fruit snacks.
Neville grins through the smudged dirt and tired creases under his eyes. "Hey, speak for yourself. I live on this stuff."
We take off onto the Palisades with Fred driving and me in the way back.
Unsurprisingly, no one fought me for the honor.
Tracts of suburban houses appear through the trees, and a few cars join us on the road.
We're sticking to the main highways because the smaller roads travel through the main streets of towns along the way, and those may be impassable.
The Palisades turns into the New York State Thruway, and within minutes it's a sea of brake lights. There's a toll booth for commercial vehicles ahead but nothing that would block the passage of cars.
It must be stopped for miles.
"Well, kids," Fred says, "I guess it's back the other way, once we get to the next exit."
"I don't imagine it's going to get better," Neville agrees. "People are getting out, just like us."
He points to a blue sedan in front of us, with beat-up boxes and bags attached to the roof with double-knotted twine, just as it bumps into the SUV ahead of it. It's barely a nudge, but the door of the SUV flies open and a man with a graying crew cut jumps out.
His chinos and t-shirt stick to him with sweat. He leans into the car and comes out holding a metal flashlight.
"What the fuck!" he screams. Spit flies from his mouth as he storms the sedan.
A lanky, dark-haired man hops out. He raises his hands and gestures toward Chinos'car.
Fred rolls down the window so we can hear.
"Sorry. Hey, I'm sorry," the guy says in a calm voice, and takes a step back.
Chinos advances, his face well on its way to purple. His hand is white-knuckled as he lifts the flashlight menacingly.
"Look, man, nothing happened to your car. Take a look!" the lanky man says. He points to the SUV.
"You should be looking. Looking at the goddamned road!" Chinos yells. "You should be taking care, goddamn it!" He lifts the flashlight higher.
There's a dark spot on the underside of his arm. A purple wound with red streaks. Round like a bite mark.
"Did you see that?" I ask. Everyone nods and stares at the scene.
The the dark haird guy shuts his door and backs around the car as he talks to Chinos.
He uses a quiet voice, the voice you would use to soothe a wild animal.
He doesn't realize this guy has nothing to lose.
He stops and Chinos moves quickly, the flashlight in the air.
"Oh, fuck," Fred says. He grabs the shotgun he's placed in the holster of the police truck and steps out. He cocks the gun and points it at Chinos, who freezes at the sound.
"Officer," he says. He smiles like he's been waiting for him to show up, instead of planning to beat the other party to death.
"We just had a little accident. Nothing to worry about."
Neville gets out of the car and stands behind the open door.
Suddenly it seems like a really bad idea for me to be trapped in the back of the cop car.
Fred walks closer to Chinos. "Drop the light," he orders.
Chinos does and lifts his hands into the air. "Where did you get your wound?"
Chinos looks from side to side and his tongue darts out to wet his lips.
He lowers his arms a bit in an effort to hide it. "Doing some work in the garage. Screwdriver slipped."He gives a high-pitched laugh. "Not a good time to go to the hospital, as you know, so I figured it'd be fine. Putting lots of ointment on it. Nothing to worry about."
He licks his lips again and takes a step back.
"Sir." Fred sounds so official and calm I almost believe he's really a police officer. "You need to be seen by someone. Let's go to the toll booths right there, and we'll find you some help."
"You're right." Chinos nods wildly, eyes darting. "You're exactly right. I should have someone look at this. I—"
He jumps the median and gallops across the oncoming lanes.
Fred lowers the shotgun and looks at the wiry man. "You okay?" he asks.
The guy nods mutely and watches Chinos disappear into the trees.
Finally, he speaks. "He was infected?"
Fred nods, and his eyes widen. "Thanks for stepping in." He pumps Fred's hand and looks him up and down. "Officer?"
Fred smiles. "No, not quite. We need to get this guy's car out of the way. Maybe over to the tolls there. We can use the siren."
"I'll get it. My wife can follow us in our car."
Neville switches on the siren.
Cars inch and scoot out of the way until we make it to the shoulder.
We head to the right of the tolls, into a lot for highway trucks.
The man comes up to our window once he's parked Chinos' car. He looks to be in his late thirties, well dressed, and the face of a man accustomed to working long hours.
But the weariness disappears when he smiles and thanks Fred again.
He holds out his hand, and Fred and he shake.
"Name's Remus. Remus Lupin."
"Fred Weasley. No problem, man. Where are you going?"
"North. Doing some long-term camping at a spot we know until things calm down."
Remus hooks his thumb in the general direction.
"We're heading back over to the Palisades. Northeast. If you want to follow, you can have a police escort," Fred offers, his mouth half lifted.
"I'd appreciate that. I'm just trying to get my wife and son somewhere safe. Have you heard anything on the police band?"
"We didn't even get a chance to turn it on," Neville says, and turns the knob.
A woman's voice repeats that she needs officers in the vicinity of somewhere. Other voices ask for help. "Shots fired." "Officer down." One man screams something I can't make out, but I understand the rawness in his voice. He sounds like someone who thinks he's going to die, and it makes my stomach clench.
Neville switches it off quickly, but the screams continue to reverberate even after it's gone.
Pansy points a shaky finger, her voice cracking. "Oh, God. They're here."
A few dozen Lexers come out of the tree line and disperse between the cars down the road. They have different wounds, different clothes, different faces, yet they all look the same with their slack-jawed hunger and shuffling gait.
Two of them pound on the windows of a gold hatchback a few yards behind us, and the mouths of the couple inside open with screams I can see but not hear.
The occasional honk becomes a chorus of blaring horns and screams.
But there's nowhere to go.
One man leans out of his truck and yells at the traffic to move. He rolls up his window when the only response is for the infected to move his way.
A heavyset woman throws her car door open and leaps over the median to the other side of the highway. And in that instant an entire lane becomes useless.
A car bumps over the shoulder and heads for where we sit. The truck behind it follows.
This lot is going to be as jammed up as the road in a minute.
"I know a back way to Bear Mountain," Remus says quickly. "Follow me?" F
red looks at the advancing Lexers and nods.
Remus jumps into his car. He straddles the curb to fit past the posts that block cars from entering from the street. We follow him onto a street of suburban homes.
A Lexer, his bloody abdomen scooped out like a bowl, stands on one of the neat lawns and watches us pass.
The houses all look the same; I don't know how Remus knows where to go in this maze. But he must, because we hit a main road and make another left.
A few Lexers move down one block, and a tense group of men armed with pipes and bats rushes to meet them.
I watch out the back, but a turn throws me off balance, and then they're out of sight.
I pick myself up and hang on to the hatch.
I hope this guy knows where he's going.
We follow Remus to two adjacent campsites in the back of an empty campground.
There's a picnic table and metal fire pit at each site.
Luna releases me from the cargo area, and I walk on the packed dirt to work the cramps out of my legs.
A woman and a kid jump out of the sedan and follow Remus to where we stand.
"This is my wife, Nymphadora."
"You can call me Tonks though." Her blue hair is striking against her pale skin. Her smile is warm.
When she speaks I hear the soft lilt of something European in her voice.
"I can't thank you enough for helping us. I was sure that man was going to murder my husband."
"Have you no faith in me?" Remus teases her, his eyes full of adoration.
They have that quiet kind of love about them, the kind I can't help but feel a little envious of.
Remus drags his eyes away from his wife as a small form shuffles between them.
He places his hand on the shoulder of of the little boy. "This is Teddy."
The boy is small, like the rest of his family, but he lacks the compact strength of his father and the vibrancy of his mother.
His hair is short and dark brown, which makes his glasses and the eyes they magnify look even larger.
At first glance he looks frail, but when he says hello he looks me in the eye.
I get the feeling he doesn't miss much.
"Thank you for leading us here," I say. "We wouldn't have made it without you."
"No problem," Remus says. "A couple of times there I thought I was lost, but somehow we made it."
He's so relieved that he beams at me, and I can't help but smile back. After the last twelve hours of jaw clenching, it almost hurts to do so.
We decide to stay the night and figure out a route in the morning.
Our two tiny tents set up quickly.
I'm not sure how all six of us are going to fit into them.
I head to the water spigot a few campsites over, but it's too early in the season for the water to be on.
"Dry?" Remus asks from behind me.
I nod.
"There's a stream over on the other side of the campground. We should go before it's too dark to see."
"I've got a hiking filter," I say.
We grab every bottle and his two collapsible containers.
It's a small creek, but he heads right for a spot where it widens into a swimming hole.
I sit down on a rock beside it and dangle the filter in the water.
"I take it you've been here before?" I ask.
"We camp here every summer. Swim in this very creek. It's strange to be here this time of year."
It's still a winter landscape, minus the snow. It's getting cold, too. The creek water is freezing.
"Why did you decide to leave today?" I ask him.
He crouches next to me and wipes a hand across his forehead.
"I work at the university, so I usually leave early for work to beat the traffic. I didn't know how bad it had gotten. I figured I'd be just as safe in that building as at home. The curfew was only in effect until dawn, and I left just before the sun came up. I didn't get the paper or watch the news before I left. Once I got to the campus Tonks called me on the landline and said we had to leave. She told me about the bridges being bombed and that some of the neighbors were infected. That there were people who looked like they were out of their heads walking the streets. If Tonks says it's serious, then it's serious. So I left right away. We live in an apartment complex, the kind with lawns and parking?"
I nod. My hand pumps the filter faster, and I realize I'm getting nervous for him.
"I pulled into our spot, when out of nowhere people started rushing me. I could tell they were far gone, all bloody, so I backed up. I hit one behind me. That thunk, oh, man." He closes his eyes briefly.
"But I couldn't get out of the car. I knew I'd get bit if I did. I pulled back, hoping she was okay. Her foot was crushed, completely crushed, but she got up with her leg dragging behind her. Didn't stop her at all, didn't even act like it hurt. I called Tonks and told her to be ready at the back windows and drove on the grass. I wasn't taking any chances by having the them walk. She already had everything packed; she'd called me and then got ready. They were coming around the building, making these terrible noises. Have you heard them? I don't know how to describe it."
When he looks up his eyes are red and frightened.
I know exactly what he means. It's unearthly, hungry; there are many words to describe the sound, but none does it justice.
A crying baby awakens an instinct to comfort it; its cry has been carefully calibrated by nature to force nurture.
These sounds do the opposite. Some primal part awakens, scratching to get out and take over, like a little rabbit running for its life from a hawk.
I shiver as I nod at him.
"Thank God the streets were clear for the most part. We didn't have a plan, until we drove past our self-storage place. We used the code to get in, and for a few minutes I thought about staying there. It's got a fence and the units have metal doors, but then I realized we might end up surrounded. So we got out our camping stuff to head upstate. The thought of watching my wife and son starve to death was stronger than the fear of leaving."
Hearing Rumes talk about his family I'm absurdly thankful for a second that my life's gone the way it has these past few years.
Ron and I might have had a baby to protect against this.
I bite the inside of my cheek before my eyes can fill.
"Do you know where you're headed?" I ask.
"I spent a lot of summers at YMCA camps. We're heading to one that's pretty out of the way." Heblooks at me then, his eyes suddenly very serious.
I can see the inner professor in him. "What about you kids? Do you have a safe place to go?"
I tell him about my parents' house and how we hope to stay there.
"Sounds like the smart place to go." He takes over the pumping of the filter and speaks again.
"Teddy has seen so much in the last few hours. I worry about him. He has some pretty interesting ideas about what's going on. You wouldn't believe it if I told you."
"I bet I would."
He gives me a look that says there's no way.
"He says they're dead. Like zombies. I mean, they look like it, but it's impossible."
"He's right."
Remus looks up sharply. "But how can that be?"
"I don't know. Luna and Pansy's father is a doctor. He made us leave New York last night. He knew about the bridges."
I tell him everything Mr. Lovegood told us and how the CDC still denies it.
His face is grim when I finish.
Back at camp, our table is cluttered with ramen noodles, freeze-dried hiking food and junk from the vending machine.
The latter items are being eyed by Teddy, who jumps to inspect the packages when Luna invites him over.
She's started the backpacking stove and put on a pot of water.
Tonks also cooks dinner on a two burner camp stove.
We decline her offer of fresh food though. We have plenty, even if it's mostly vitamin-free.
She watches Teddy take one treat from our junk food and nod her approval when he says thank you.
Tonks is quiet and has a soft smile, but underneath that is a woman who isn't going to let things just happen to her family.
I like her.
The solar radio reminds us to stay calm and remain home. It repeats the addresses of treatment centers in an endless loop but doesn't say anything about the infected being dead or how long this will last.
Neville curses and spins the tuning knob for some real news.
We catch the tail end of an announcement that all government offices are closed until Tuesday before it turns to static.
"Chicken a la king or ramen noodles?" I ask our little group.
Ramen noodles win.
Fred puts out the little tin plates he's been carrying in his pack. I spoon noodles onto the plates, and then the only sounds are slurping.
It's warm and filling.
Even Malfoy, who's a food snob, seems to be enjoying his.
"I'll clean up," he offers, when everyone's finished.
Everyone stops slurping to look at him in surprise.
It's the most he's said since we left the army camp.
Plus offering to help clean up is very out of character for him.
He glowers back at everyone.
"I'll help you," I say, trying to diffuse the situation.
I follow him to one of water containers that we had filled earlier.
He scrapes and rinses plates and pretends I'm not here.
"Listen, Malfoy," I blurt out. "I'd like to be friends."
I know it's lame, but there's no other way to say it.
The beam from the flashlight leaves his face in darkness, but I can hear the scowl in his voice.
"I don't really want to be friends, Granger."
I wince.
"Is it really so hard to understand that?"
I don't see much of an option at this point.
Unless his plan is to hate me forever.
"Well, I'd rather be friends than fight. I'm sorry about back at the house." I can't think of anything else to say.
Usually when you break up with someone you get to leave and lick your wounds, not live with them in a tiny tent.
He doesn't answer, and we finish the dishes in silence.
Remus insists on taking first-watch shift, since we've barely slept.
Fred, Malfoy and I squeeze into our tent.
When I accidentally brush against Malfoy he recoils like I've stung him.
I make myself as small as possible and curl into Fred.
What I wouldn't give for that third tent we had left behind in the van.