Arcadium by Sarah Gray
Chapter 12
LISS COMES TO the edge of the pool, just as the sun begins to dim. “Dinner’s ready,” she says, waving her hand. “Come on.”
Me and Kean follow her back to the first floor but instead of heading to our rooms she carries on up the stairs. I swap a curious glance with Kean and we follow without protest. Liss leads us all the way to the top floor and stops at a white door. She knocks twice and waits.
Inside I can hear a sudden whirl of shuffling and moving sounds. Something in me tenses. It’s like I’m hardwired to assume hushed sounds mean danger. I touch Liss’ arm and she looks up at me.
“Ready!” Henry calls out.
My moment of panic subsides. Liss is still looking at me, and she smiles, pushing the door wide open. I walk through first, followed by Liss and then Kean. The door closes behind us with a soft clunk.
Henry and Trouble look up.
We’re standing in the hotel restaurant. Light pours in from a wall of glass leading out onto a rooftop beer garden. The room is full of tables with white dusty tablecloths and neatly pushed in chairs. Henry and Trouble are beside a big table in the very centre. It’s draped with white and cream tablecloths, lit candles sit in tiny frosted glasses and there are five place settings with big round plates, wine glasses and shiny cutlery.
“What the…” Kean says.
Liss wanders over and stands next to the boys. Trouble takes the lid off a pot and starts ladling out steaming hot pasta.
“Oh my God,” I say, and I look over at Kean. “Real food.”
Kean stares back at me, just as shocked.
“Where did you get all this?” I say, walking over. I touch the tablecloth with my fingertips and feel like laughing.
“From the kitchen,” Henry says. “They had a portable gas stove, probably like a back up or something, and there was just enough gas left to cook with.”
I sit down and Kean takes the chair opposite me. I watch Trouble filling the plates. “What is it?” I ask.
Kean answers with a smile. “Tomato pasta. About the only thing Henry knows how to cook.”
Henry grins at us both.
“I made dessert,” Liss says, sitting next to me. “Well, I opened the tins of fruit.”
“This is amazing,” I say.
Henry is already sitting in a dining chair, not his wheelchair, and when all the plates are full, Trouble stands at the head of the table holding a fancy looking bottle of champagne. When he pops it open, Liss half screams, half giggles and claps her hands.
Trouble divides it between our glasses, just a few mouthfuls for Henry and Liss, half a glass each for the rest of us. Finally he sits down and nods, raising his eyebrows and doing a thumbs-up sign. We all give Trouble a thumbs-up back. It must look hilariously cheesy.
“I suppose we should toast to something,” Kean says, raising his glass. “To… good friends, good family, and… to surviving.”
“To surviving,” I say, and we all lean forward to clink glasses. Everyone crosses arms and stretches across until every glass has been clinked.
The champagne is sweet like strawberries, tingling on my tongue, with a slight sour after kick. I glance at Kean and he catches me. I smile and start eating my pasta. “Oh my God, Henry,” I say as I chew. “Nice work.”
I don’t remember the last hot meal I had. I don’t remember my last meal before the outbreak either. Sometimes I try but it just all comes up blank. I certainly never thought I’d eat in a restaurant again anyway, not in this lifetime.
This should all be impossible, but somehow when the five of us get together things just happen. We can survive running out of fuel in a crowd of infected people, and trekking through the pitch-dark Burnley Tunnel. We can survive the loss of friends and mums and dads and daughters. We can survive the hunger and the heat and the stupid mistakes. And somehow, when we’re together, it doesn’t just feel like surviving anymore. It kind of feels like living again.
We finish every morsel of pasta and every lashing of sauce. We sit with full bellies as the sun falls away and leaves us in dancing shadows cast by the candles. Outside the stars light up like a thousand strings of fairy lights.
“So, this place we’re going,” Kean says. “It’s a few hours walk from here?”
I run my finger over the rim of my glass. “Two hours, maybe.”
“Think we can get the car through?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. The roads are narrower this way. Might be jammed.”
“And when are we going?”
Everyone’s going to freak out; I just know it. I don’t want to ruin this night, but I might as well be honest. “I was thinking noon tomorrow.”
Kean nods and surprisingly Liss doesn’t complain.
“I hope it’s better than this,” Henry says. “Because this has to be hard to beat.”
Kean looks up at me. “If it’s not, we’ll come back here. So it doesn’t matter either way.”
Liss yawns and leans her warm forehead against my shoulder.
I smile down at her. “Is her highness ready to retire to her royal quarters?”
Liss nods against me. “She is.”
Kean looks across. “We should probably do the dishes then, Florence, since these guys cooked.” He turns to Henry. “Trouble can take you guys downstairs, right?”
Henry nods and gestures to Trouble. Trouble stands and lets Henry wrap his arms around his neck. Liss follows them out and suddenly I’m alone with Kean, one orange flame burning between us, casting warm shadows over his face. Everything else around us is dark.
Kean leans his elbows on the table and I sit back in my seat. “That was amazing, huh,” he says.
“Yeah.” I smile at the candle. “It was.”
Kean lets a few seconds pass, then drops one of his elbows. “There’s a whole table between us. I’m not going to bite you.”
I glance away to one side.
“Yes, you look that horrified,” he says.
I knit my fingers together and a smile traces my lips. “I’m not horrified.”
Kean arches an eyebrow.
“It’s just… if you’re on my mind then there’s no room for anyone else.”
“For Liss,” he says, nodding.
“And if all my attention is going somewhere else then she’s not safe, and I’m not doing my job.”
Kean takes a deep breath and leans his chin against his fist. “And that’s all?”
I nod.
“That’s the only reason?”
I roll my eyes and look away. “Yes. That’s the only reason.”
A smile flashes like lightening over his face. “Cool.”
We stare at each other for a few seconds, the flame reflecting in the dark part of his eyes.
“This place tomorrow,” he says. “What does it look like?”
I sigh, tapping my finger on the tabletop. I don’t know what it is exactly that makes me want to tell him. I mean, I’ve kept it to my self all this way and if we show up now and find nothing, I’m going to feel pretty stupid. But there’s something in the way he doesn’t bug me about every single second, and doesn’t try to force it out of me. He acts as if it doesn’t matter either way, which makes me feel like maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe I’ve been reverse-psychologised, but whatever.
“It’s a place called Arcadium. I heard about it on the radio at the start of the outbreak. I don’t know what it looks like, I don’t even know if it still exists. But…” I shrug. “That’s where I’m going.”
I watch for Kean’s reaction but he doesn’t really have one. “You know where it is?”
“Corner of Warrigal and Centre Roads.”
“Arcadium,” he says, rolling the word over his tongue like he’s tasting something new. “What is it?”
“I think it’s a government refugee centre type thing.”
“So it’s big.”
I shrug. “I remember a big empty building near that corner. One that was supposed to be made into a superstore or
Kean is still nodding and his eyes drop away; he’s thinking.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh.” He waves a dismissive hand. “It’s just… I can understand why you didn’t tell anyone about it. I want to believe in this Arcadium place so badly… if it’s overrun or non existent or something… it’s like, where to from there?”
“If it’s not there… if it’s not safety… well, I do kind of have another plan.”
“You’re always thinking ahead, aren’t you.”
“Or always expecting the worst.”
Kean lifts his gaze. “So, we’re good either way. If Arcadium is the answer, great. If it’s not, then on we go with the next adventure.”
“You’re more like Henry than you realise,” I say.
Kean looks at me, slowly blinks and then looks away. In the glimmer of candlelight I catch his tiny smile.