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All of these meetings were exhausting. And in Major's opinion, were getting them nowhere. A lot of obediently turned faces, but not a lot of open ears, as far as he could tell.
Peyton seemed energized and optimistic, though, and he hoped she knew something he didn't.
The meeting broke for lunch, Major's office emptying out of the big brass. All except one. Major approached General Mills, who was waiting for him. "Lilywhite, I thought we agreed my daughter would be here."
"I hoped she would, General." For the sake of everyone in Seattle—and the rest of the world, for that matter. "But she chose not to come. For her own reasons."
"You know what this is, don't you?"
"It's a difficult situation." It hadn't been that long ago that Major had been estranged from his own mother. He understood, he thought, from both sides.
General Mills scowled at him. "It's a hostage situation. You zombies are terrorists holding half a million humans hostage until you get what you want. I don't even know why we're here. The U.S. government doesn't negotiate with terrorists. I've been biting my tongue a long time. But now—now that you couldn't produce my daughter? I'm going to walk through the rubble of Seattle."
Major considered his options. Nothing he could say would change this man's mind; nothing he could do would make the situation any better. Best to hold his tongue. "I believe there are sandwiches and drinks available in the commissary."
General Mills left the room, leaving Major alone. So. That attempt to find a creative way to gain friends and allies had failed. Now what?
The delegation left, without saying a word one way or the other. Status quo remained, at least for now. Which was a good thing in some ways … but left everyone still on edge, waiting for the hammer to fall.
Major supposed they were used to it now.
He went home to find Liv there, filled with nervous energy. "What's up?"
"I, um … Major. Major, I found my father."
"You what?" He stared at her. Of all the things he had expected to happen, that was the last. Her mother had spent a lifetime avoiding that topic, had more or less made it clear that she intended to take that secret to the grave. Liv had had her suspicions about a long-time family friend, but from the look on her face, the truth was much different.
"She told me. He was—he was a junkie. So I went to him and I told him who I was and we—we talked."
"Still a junkie?"
Liv nodded. He could see the pain in her eyes. All her life she had wished for a father, a warm and loving parent who could pick up the slack her mother had left. And now …
"Is he at least a nice guy?"
She smiled. "Yes. He seems to be. And he agreed to go to recovery."
"Well, that's great. I hope you guys have a long and happy life together." It occurred to Major that he hadn't asked if her dad was a zombie. Most people in New Seattle would have. But it didn't matter. He wished people like General Mills understood that.
They had a late-night snack together, and Liv went home.
She was back a couple of days later, nervously video calling her father in his recovery center. She'd brought bagels—asiago jalapeno. Major was opening the bag, squeezing brains out of a tube onto the bagels.
"I take it Ravi hasn't been feeding you," Liv said, sitting down next to him.
"You know, when we first met, he'd cook for me, he'd buy me pretty things … but now that he knows he has my heart … it's like the bromance is gone."
Liv forced a smile, but her heart wasn't in the banter. "When you kicked Utopium, what was the hardest part?"
"Why?"
"It's just … my— Martin …"
"Your dad?"
"That word still does not come naturally to me. I mean, it's like calling a pine cone Your Majesty. Anyway … he's three days in on this whole detox thing, and I know he'll survive, but I just hate to see him suffer."
Major handed her the top half of his bagel. "He should be past the worst part. It can be done. Look at me now." He picked up his phone, and Liv frowned at him good-naturedly.
"Yeah. Someone who 'grams their breakfast."
He chuckled, distracted. "Sorry. I'm just checking Sloane Mills' Instagram. She hasn't returned our calls, so I'm trying to figure out what she's up to." He showed the phone to Liv as he scrolled through Sloane's pictures. It was the last chance, he felt that deeply. If Sloane wouldn't help provide leverage over her father, Major didn't know where else to turn.
"Well, wherever she is, she's certainly keeping it classy," Liv said snarkily, looking at the photos over his shoulder. "Good luck getting her help."
"Yeah, I'll need it, especially since she's ghosting me."
"Must be a new feeling, Lilywhite."
He smiled. "Getting more familiar the longer I'm in this job. Suddenly no one wants to hear from me."
"You'll manage. On behalf of Seattle's zombies, and its humans, I thank you." Liv reached for his hand and squeezed it.
Major squeezed back. "And don't worry about your dad. He'll be okay. Just give him some time. This all has to be new and strange for him, too."
They returned to their bagels, chatting over inconsequential things, trying their best to keep their minds off the weighty problems at hand, at least for the space of half a bagel.