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Major had to hand it to these Fillmore Graves people: They knew how to get things done. Within minutes of Liv going downstairs and finding her, Vivian Stoll had taken charge. She had men moving everywhere, and had brought all the zombies down from Vaughn du Clark's office and was having them looked over. She gathered Major, Liv, and Clive together in a little worried knot.
"Okay. We all have to get our stories straight," she said, raising her voice to be heard above the approaching sirens. "Here's mine: Max Rager employees were knocking back cans of Super Max, lost their minds, began attacking each other. Vaughn's armed guards started spraying them down with bullets. Chaos ensued."
"We should go with something close to the truth," Liv urged.
"Zombie outbreak?" Clive asked dubiously.
"Major had information about Chaos Killer victims locked in a secret basement lab. We used the party as a cover to check it out, and we found the Chaos Killer victims."
Vivian Stoll seemed to agree. "You guys are the heroes here!"
"Not sure that'll be the takeaway." It seemed a bit too much to hope for.
Behind Major, a school bus pulled out, and Stoll gestured to it as it went. "We're taking the survivors to the medical facility on our campus. We'll debrief them, make sure they're all on the same page before they have to talk to the press or the authorities."
Clive held up his hands, cautious as always. "I hate to rain on the parade here, but there's probably a hundred dead bodies downstairs. Forensic evidence will be everywhere."
He had barely finished his sentence when two soldiers came running up the ramp from the garage where the party had been held, shouting "Move! Move! Move!"
"Get cover!" Stoll shouted, diving for some herself. The rest of them hurried to follow, crouching behind one of the SUVs.
"Fire in the hole!" Major heard someone shout, and then a ball of fire burst out, accompanied by the sound of breaking glass. So much for Clive's forensic evidence.
Stoll turned to them with a cocky grin. "We think of everything."
Major, Liv, and Clive were debriefed as well, and sent home by Stoll. Back at Liv and Peyton's apartment, they found Ravi and Peyton already there, learning the story of Peyton's abduction by Mr. Boss's men, and her subsequent—and bloody—rescue by Blaine. Peyton was shaken and exhausted, Ravi was beating himself up for having let it happen and not being the one to rescue her, as well as nursing a big goose egg on his head where he had been struck by the kidnappers.
They were a silent and morose bunch, sitting in separate spots, lost in whatever thoughts they could muster in their current drained state. Liv, caretaker that she was, poured drinks and brought them on a tray. White wine for Peyton, Guinness for Ravi, a can of beer for Clive, and glasses of spiced whiskey for herself and Major. She sank down on the couch between Major and Peyton. Like old times in college, the three of them together. Major was too tired even to miss those simpler, happier times.
He couldn't bear to think of what had happened tonight—the zombie outbreak, the death of Vaughn du Clark, killing Rita … not finding Natalie. It was too much, too painful. So instead he thought about Peyton's night, held hostage by Mr. Boss's men to flush out Blaine. Which was weird, he thought.
"There's just one thing I don't understand," he said. They all turned to look at him, although no one expressed any interest in what he might not understand. "Why would Mr. Boss think that Blaine would show up to save Peyton?"
Peyton and Ravi exchanged looks, bitter on Ravi's end, distressed on Peyton's.
Liv had seen the looks, too, and she jumped in before one of them had to say anything. "The important thing is that Peyton's safe."
Lifting his beer, Clive said, "It sounds to me like Miss Charles here was romantically involved with Blaine." Everyone turned to look at him while he was sipping from the can.
"What?" Major exclaimed. That couldn't be. Peyton and Blaine? Not possible.
Clive and Peyton exchanged looks this time, and Clive shook his head slightly. "I'm sorry, was that not it?"
Liv broke in again. "I've got a proposal."
But Major had to hear the answer directly, or he wasn't going to believe it. Looking at Peyton across Liv, he said, "You and Blaine?"
"Major," Liv said loudly, to cover Peyton's silence, "this is important. I propose that from this day forward, no big secrets between the five of us. From now on, we're all on the same team, working in the same direction. I'm a zombie. Major is a zombie."
"Peyton's sleeping with Blaine," Ravi added. Bitterly.
"Slept with. Once!" Peyton corrected.
"Is it too late to say that I kind of liked being out of the loop on some of this?" Clive asked quietly.
Liv was not daunted by the rest of them and their issues. "It's in the spirit of this new honesty that I want to tell you about a moment I shared with Vivian Stoll."
"Who's Vivian?" Ravi asked.
"The private military contractor lady," Peyton explained. "The one that saved their asses."
"Right. When I went back down there, she and her mercenaries were snacking on Rob Thomas's brain."
That got everyone's attention.
"They were zombies, too?" Clive asked.
"Yeah. And she knew that I was one."
"You don't do much too hide it," Ravi pointed out.
Liv ignored that bit, probably because it was true. "She told me that Seattle was going to be the capital of a zombie homeland."
"A zombie homeland?" Clive echoed.
"People weren't gonna want to see that happen."
"Yeah, I can see a few closed-minded people objecting." Like, all the people, really, Major imagined.
"She wanted to know if I was with her or against her," Liv went on.
"With her or against her how? What does that even mean?" Peyton asked.
"Well, I think it means that Fillmore Graves wants to make Seattle a zombie-friendly city."
"Zombie friendly? Like, 'eat all the brains you want, we'll make more'?" Clive looked distressed by that. And, really, who could blame him?
"I didn't get details. They were in a bit of a rush to get out of the building before they blew it up."
"I don't think I can roll with this," Clive said, agitated. "I mean, what if in the history of the zombie wars, I'm the human who had a chance to say something, and I sat on my ass?"
"I mean, bright side," Ravi put in, "the writer of the history of the zombie wars will very likely be a zombie and you would be viewed as a hero."
Clive didn't seem to find that outlook comforting.
"I'm not saying that we should just roll with it," Liv assured him. "We should go visit Vivian tomorrow. You, me, Major. Find out exactly what she means about Seattle being a zombie homeland and then we can decide what we want to do with that information."
After a moment's deliberation, Clive raised his beer can. "Fine."
"I'm in," Major promised.
"And now, I think everyone needs a shower and to get some sleep. Ravi, Peyton, one of you want to go first?"
"Let Peyton. I have to set up the couch."
Peyton nodded, getting up and taking her wine glass into the bathroom. Clive got up, too.
"Will you be all right? You saw … kind of a lot, tonight," Liv said.
"I'll be fine."
She watched him go, worried. Ravi was setting up the couch, not looking like he wanted to talk. Liv turned to Major. "I won't be sleeping much; you can have my bed if you want."
"Liv. You need to rest."
"I can't, Major. I shot Drake. I can't—" A spasm of pain crossed her face.
"Hey." He put an arm around her shoulders. "Why don't we both sleep in your bed tonight? I get the feeling it might help us both to get some rest, just … having someone there."
Liv rested her head in the curve of his arm, nodding. "It's worth a try. Thank you, Major."
"Thank you, Liv. I could never have gotten to them all without you, and they would have died down there."
"We did a good thing tonight."
Neither of them asked the question on both their minds: What will we do tomorrow?