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Later that night, exhausted by the stresses of the day, the week, the month, the year, Major considered his options. He should stay in his office and file paperwork and make plans and try to figure out how to get the zombie population of New Seattle through another day. But he wanted to go home, to stretch out on the couch, to eat a pizza, to talk to Ravi, to sleep.
Sadly, sleep was a commodity scarce as brains these days. He'd close his eyes, he'd toss and turn, he'd see people's faces, he'd try to work through the problem of the moment—or worse, problems of a world long-gone, continuing arguments with people he'd never see again, who were probably dead by now.
No, going home was no option. And staying in the office really wasn't one, either.
Suddenly, it came to him. He'd go to the safehouse and check on the kids, make sure they were settling in okay.
Neither Michael or Jalen seemed all that happy to see him, which was fair. They must associate him with the loss of their sister. Rightfully so, in Major's opinion. But they accepted his presence, as did the other kids, and he sat down on the couch and watched TV with all of them for a while. They settled on an old black-and-white movie, which none of them had ever seen before, chatting a bit.
Major enjoyed the peace and quiet, the presence of people who didn't expect him to fix their problems—although they probably should have—and the knowledge that no one knew where he was or how to find him.
Except Liv, of course. She came in after he'd been there hanging out with the kids for half an hour or so, squinting at him to be sure it was really him. "Major?"
"Hey." He got up and left the kids watching the movie. "I was just checking on Jalen and Michael. But … did you hear their favorite teacher got outed as a zombie and fired?"
"Mr. Moss?"
"It's the Dead-Enders."
Both Major and Liv turned at the sound of Curtis's voice. Major hadn't even known Curtis was there.
Curtis went on, "They've got this website where they post photos they take outside zombie clubs, brain dispensaries, tanning salons."
Another thing that needed to be fixed. Just what he'd needed. But this couldn't stand—teachers were scarce enough outside the walls, damn near impossible to replace inside the walls. Major wasn't about to let a good one lose his job because he happened to have contracted a virus. "I'm going to visit their principal tomorrow, get the school fixed."
"And what is 'school'?" Liv asked.
Major frowned at the apparent non sequitur.
"Merely an indoctrination into a system of acceptable thoughts," she went on.
"Hmm. Liv, is this some kind of brain you're on?"
"What are our decision points? Being bullied at school, favorite teacher fired, security issues going in and out? Occam's razor suggests the simplest answer." Major started to speak, but Liv cut him off. "Hire Mr. Moss to tutor them here."
As one, all the kids shouted, "Yes!"
She wasn't wrong—the kids here did need a tutor, and Mr. Moss seemed like a good, and popular choice. But the overall problem remained, and the other students at the school were now down a good teacher because of willfully blind prejudice.
Before Major could put any of that thought into words, Liv folded her arms over her chest and said, "And yes, I am on a bit of a brain."
He smiled at her. Brain or not, it had been a good idea—a very Liv kind of idea. "All right. I'll track down Mr. Moss and speak to him, and I'll bring him here—if he agrees," he finished before the kids could get too excited. "It's his decision. But I'm still going to speak to the principal. We can't afford to lose good teachers."
Liv nodded sharply. "Agreed."
Major turned to the kids. "So, no more mindless TV for you guys. Enjoy yourselves tonight, because it's back to the real world—studying, and homework, and mean lunch ladies—tomorrow."
They groaned, but they were grinning, too, arguing amongst themselves which one was going to take on the role of mean lunch lady for the first day.
"You're really good with them," Liv said softly. There was a wistfulness in her eyes that made Major wonder if he was thinking what he was thinking—what their own children would have been like, if everything was different. Liv, the real Liv, would have made a really good mom. Whatever happened with New Seattle, and with zombieism, and with the two of them, he hoped she had a chance to become one someday.
"Good-night, kids! Liv, I'll let you know what the teacher says."
"I'll walk you out." She stopped at the closet, holding the door open for Major. "I'd say you're welcome anytime, but you appear to have figured that out."
"Sorry if I overstepped, I just—I needed to be sure they were going to be okay."
Liv glanced over her shoulder at Michael and Jalen, watching the movie with rapt attention. "Thanks to you, they will be."
"Thanks to you," Major corrected.
"Both of us. We make a pretty good team."
"I've always thought so." For a moment, he hesitated. What if he spoke to her now, told her that he had never stopped loving her, never—
No. Not while she was on some weird brain. If she had been fully herself, maybe. But even at that—life expectancy for the commander-in-chief of Fillmore Graves was not long. He couldn't afford to start over knowing there was every chance he might not live through the day.
Instead, Major nodded at her and stepped through the door.
Halfway through the next day, he got a cryptic text from Liv. "Plans in motion. Class in session tonight."
Major frowned over the text, puzzled. What could she be getting at? Then it came clear. The teacher. Mr. … what was his name? Moss. He was going to be at the safe house tonight. Major had forgotten all about him in the daily chaos of meeting after meeting, but he was more than happy to cancel a few now that Liv had taken the initiative. He'd rather be at the safe house with the kids than in some boring old meeting anyway. He texted Liv back: "Ready to get schooled."
He was waiting with Liv when the teacher was brought in, a bag over his head so he couldn't find his way back here—assuming he decided not to stay, which Major thought was a decent possibility. Then again, he was out of a job, and wasn't likely to find another teaching position in New Seattle, so maybe he really just didn't have another choice.
Curtis removed the bag and turned Moss's chair around, and the teacher frowned as he tried to get himself oriented.
"Sorry about the cloak and dagger, Mr. Moss," Liv said.
"Renegade. Wow," Moss breathed. Clearly he hadn't expected this was where he was being taken.
"So," Major began, "what we wanted to see you about is—"
"Whoa. The Fillmore Graves guy." Moss's eyes were wide, and he was grinning like a maniac. Apparently they were celebrities now, which Major thought felt … weird.
"Yes," Major confirmed, before continuing what he had been saying. "Is a job. We have five zombie kids here who need tutoring."
Liv spoke up. "Ideally an open curriculum, conducive to independent thinking and creative problem solving."
"You— You mean me?"
Both Liv and Major nodded.
"Yes, I'm in!" The decision had been made with very little hesitation.
Major wished he didn't have to be suspicious of that kind of thing, that he could just take people at face value and believe that a devoted teacher was just that … but that wasn't the line of work he was in. And even devoted teachers could get themselves deep into something without having any idea what they were promising. "Before you commit," he said, "know it's not just about teaching. This is the hub of Renegade's operation. Secrecy is key. You have to follow very strict security protocols."
He was glad to see the smile fade from Moss's face as he took in the gravity of what he was agreeing to. "Of course. I understand." He nodded, looking from one to the other seriously, wanting them to see that he was aware of what was at stake.
"Good. Lives depend on it." Major couldn't help looking at Liv. It was her life that depended on it. Much as he cared about Jordan's brothers, much as he felt protective of the other kids and respected the coyotes … it was Liv's life that his was tied to, irrevocably, and his job to make sure she was safe.