seven.
That was, to say the least, a shock.
"Okay, okay. We can't be too sure of anything just yet. These things are, like, 99% accurate, but that doesn't mean anything right now." Connor broke the winding silence. Arnold's breathing sped up, and his face got all red.
"You okay, buddy?" I asked. He took a few breaths before responding.
"Am I okay? Kevin, I'm gonna be a dad!" He grinned. Suddenly, everything else went away. If Arnold, awkward, chunky, manic Arnold Cunningham could be happy about his girlfriend being pregnant in times like these, then maybe things weren't so bad. But Zelder, always the realist, cut into his happy moment.
"Well, remember that there is still a 1% chance that she isn't pregnant…" He explained, but it appeared that Arnold wasn't listening.
"I'm gonna be a daddy! I'm gonna be a daddy!" He sang, picking up Naba by her middle and spinning her around, earning a loud giggle. "I'm gonna be the best daddy in the whole world!"
I wasn't sure why, but, out of all of the moments in the past month that my external pride could have come through, that was the one. I was proud of Arnold. I was proud of Nabu. I was proud of Michaels and Poptarts and Church and Gotswana and everyone, in the van or not. And in that moment, my pride was manifested into words and actions.
I jumped up and took Arnold in a hug. "Yes! Yes, buddy! You're gonna be the best daddy that ever was. And Nabu," I tore away from Arnold to embrace her, "you're going to be the best mommy ever!"
She laughed, and I smiled. Connor smiled. Everyone smiled. Things were looking up.
We checked the radio one last time. The transmissions from Morocco were still coming.
I woke in the dead of night to some rustling outside. I gently grabbed Michaels' wrist and checked the time on his watch. It was 2:57 AM. Grabbing a lantern from the back, I gingerly exited the van and approached the figure that was slumped against the outside of the van. I lit the lantern. It was Nabu and she was crying.
"Nabulungi?" I whispered, "What's wrong?"
She looked up at me. "Oh, hello Elder Price. I'm just thinking."
I sat next to her. "Nabu, we're friends. No, fuck that. We're family. You can call me Kevin. What are you thinking about?"
"I don't know if I can be a mother." She sobbed, "My mother died when I was very young, and I was raised by so many different people. I don't think I could do it alone."
"But you won't be alone," I set down the lantern and took her hand, "You'll have Arnold. And Church and Poptarts and Mafala and Gotswana and Connor and I. You will always have us."
She smiled her lovely, wide smile. Some tears followed the deep canals of her dimples into her mouth. "Thank you, Kevin."
"You're welcome. We should get back to sleep, we have a big day tomorrow." I sighed. She nodded and we went back into the van. I gave her a goodnight kiss, as always, and crawled back to Connor.
The next day, the sky was thick and grey and threatened rain. We officially crossed into Morocco. According to the radio, the dock was in Casablanca. The ride supposedly took six hours, but it felt like at least twelve. After driving for hours in the conversation of our new lives, we sped past a sight that said 'CASABLANCA PORT- 45 MILES'
"Holy shit," Schrader gasped, "45 miles."
"45 miles," Zelder squealed, making a song out of it, "45 motherfucking miles, miles, miles!"
I gripped Connor's hand tightly, refusing to look anywhere but out the window. I felt like a kid on his way to Disneyland, giddy and breathless and excited. I was so enthralled with the scenery rolling by that I almost didn't notice the huge monstrosity standing between us and home.
There was what appeared to be a collapsed bridge in front of us, obviously protecting the port. There was a ramp a little bit off, too steep to walk up but not too drive. This wouldn't have been a problem if it weren't for the hundreds of Sick milling around it.
"How do they expect us to get through?" Schrader asked.
"Maybe they don't." Zelder whispered.
Michaels crawled into the middle seat with us. "This is what it's all about, right?" He said breathlessly, "Being a hero? Being selfless?"
"What are you talking about?" Poptarts asked, but I could see the look in his eyes. I reached out to grab him and I tried to shout out but I couldn't, because ding! Ding! Ding!
The van is reminding us to shut the door.
"Shit," I uttered, grabbing the pole from beside Mafala, the pole that we used to kill off the Sick. I left. I could hear Connor screaming behind me, but I try to block him out. If I thought about him too much I'd have gone back. I left The senses hit me like a brick wall as soon as I left the car- the smell was awful, and the noise was deafening. I ran up behind Michaels.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" I asked.
"No, Kevin, please go back. I'm giving you a chance. Just go." He urged me, but I pushed him by shoulders. A few of the Sick had smelled us, and begun to peel off from the seething mass and lumber in our direction. I took one look at them and huffed. I veered myself into the monstrous pit.
"Kevin, get out of there!" He yelled at me, but I shook my head. I was beginning to rain.
"No, this is what you wanted, right? A big, heroic death to wipe out all of the bad things you've ever done? Maybe if you sacrifice yourself, all of the bad stuff you've ever done will just magically disappear, right? If you do this, it's guaranteed that we'll make it, right? Maybe a rescue team or jesus Christ himself will come down from the sky and carry us across on the backs of angels." I scream.
"You know I don't think that… Christ, on your left, your left!" He shouts, and i turn to my left just in time to smash the pole into the face of a Sick. But as more and more of them begin to surround us, I realize that maybe this wasn't such a good idea. I'm whacking the pole about wildly, and blood is flying everywhere. I reach behind me and grab Michaels' arm, dragging him through the crown until we reach the sloping embankment of the bridge. The rock face is just uneven enough that we could climb it. I handed Michaels the pole, and he whacked viciously at the surrounding Sick as I began to climb up. I could see the van, and it drove towards the ramp then back around to where Michaels and I exited, unsure if they should wait for us. Michaels tapped on my leg, and I grabbed the pole from him, tossing it on top of the bridge. I then grabbed onto a piece of rebar that was stuck to the top, and used my other hand to grab Michaels by the wrist. I tried to hoist us both up, but for whatever reason, I couldn't. We were almost at the top and I just couldn't do it. I looked down to see that a few of the Sick have grabbed his legs. I gave one last long tug and my hand slipped from his with a scream. I watched as he fell back and disappeared into the sea of the Sick. I scrambled up onto the embankment, expecting Michaels to crawl up any second, panting and laughing as he plopped onto his back and caught his breath. But no, there's only empty air where he should have been.
I looked to my left; the van has made it up, effectively toppling the ramp. I could see the ramp to the port just a little to the right, out of the corner of my eye. I wanted to jump back down, to search for Michaels until I found him. But I couldn't. I've made my choice.
I grabbed the pole and dropped it over the edge of the embankment. It bounced across the rock face a few times before landing on one of the Sick's heads. I could imagine Michaels, dead or dying. "Thank you," I said. "Now I have to go. Our friends are waiting."