Love in an Undead Age by A.M. Geever (good non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

It was too weird, all of it, like being in a time warp. Phones, cars, electricity. People didn’t shut and lock doors and forget to turn the lights off when they left a room. It wasn’t as if things hadn’t changed; of course they had. Just not enough. It creeped Connor out.

“What are the crosses for?” Seffie asked.

They stood in front of the Mission Church. Two clusters of simple wooden crosses were staked on either side of the central walkway that led to the entrance.

“Oh,” Connor said, looking more closely at the names painted on them. “The ones here on the right are for the Salvadoran Jesuit martyrs.”

“Martyrs?” Seffie’s voice brimmed with skepticism.

“As in died for a cause, yes. The ones with S.J. after their names were Jesuit priests who taught at the University of Central America in El Salvador. The other two crosses are for their housekeeper and her daughter. The Salvadoran military murdered them.”

“Huh,” Mike said. “That’s pretty harsh.”

“This other group is also priests,” Seffie said, having moved away to inspect the other cluster of crosses. “They have the S.J., too. What does S.J. mean?”

“S.J. is for Society of Jesus, the name of the Jesuit order,” Connor explained. “I don’t know these names except for Gilbert Martinez. He led SCU before Father Walter did. These must be the people killed when the City attacked SCU.”

Seffie nodded. “That was about the vaccine, right?”

“Yeah,” Connor replied. “The Jesuits said they wouldn’t supply the City with food from the vertical farms if they reneged on the vaccine being free. The City had a huge crop failure that year, so they attacked the Jesuits. The raid didn’t succeed, but things got out of hand.”

“Doug, Father Doug, was telling me about it last night,” Mike offered, his voice tinged with amusement. “He said your girlfriend was a big part of the reason it failed.”

Connor rolled his eyes. Mike had been teasing him without mercy since hearing about his dramatic reunion with Miranda.

“She’s not my girlfriend, and yes, that’s what I heard, too. Apparently, Doug was no slouch himself.”

Mike ignored Connor’s deflection. “But you’d like her to be your girlfriend. Don’t lie, Connor. God hates a coward.”

Connor shot him a disgusted look. “You suck, Mike.”

“You got him!” Seffie crowed, giving Mike a high five. Mike’s friendship, including his many amusements at Connor’s expense, seemed to be the only thing that smoothed out Seffie’s abrasiveness.

Connor endured their combined laughter. “So, do you two want the campus tour or not?”

“I’m only teasing, man; don’t be so defensive,” Mike snorted, then added, “Tthe ladies don’t like it.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Connor deadpanned.

“These roses are great,” Seffie said, stopping to smell a flower at one of the hundreds of rose bushes that lined the paths. “And they’re everywhere! I’m surprised they kept them. They must use a lot of water.”

“I don’t think they use that much,” Connor answered. “Besides, they’re kind of a tradition. Anyone who’s been here remembers the roses.”

Connor led them under the long wisteria arbor adjacent to the Mission Church. There were bullet holes and scorch marks, but not one new beam.

“What is it?” Mike asked him.

“I don’t see any beams that look like replacements,” Connor said.

“So it hasn’t changed much.”

“No, it hasn’t,” Connor replied, uneasy. “All these gardens were lawns before, and nothing was fortified like it is now. A few buildings are gone. But no, it’s so much like I remember that it’s kind of creepy. It’s almost like the ZA didn’t happen here.”

The Mission Church bell began to toll. Almost immediately, people began coming out of buildings in twos and threes.

“Must be lunchtime,” Seffie observed. “Do you want to show us the rest later? I’m starving.”

“Sure.” Connor nodded. “Lunch will be at Benson Center. It’s that way,” Connor said, pointing after the groups of people.

“Good enough for me,” Seffie declared. “You guys coming?”

Mike nodded, but Connor shook his head. “I’m going to go by the Jesuit Residence first. I want to see if Miranda’s around.”

Mike smiled. “Just don’t make the poor girl keel over again,” he said as he and Seffie started off. “Causing concussions is no way to win her heart.”

Connor laughed, finally getting into the spirit of things. “Fuck you, too.”

He headed in the opposite direction, butterflies rising in his stomach. He had not been foolish enough to think that he and Miranda would have a fall-into-each-other’s-arms sort of reunion. But he had not expected her to be sick, and so shocked at seeing him that she passed out and whacked her head. He realized that she was injured already and on painkillers but even so. Not an auspicious sign.

And then there was his cousin Emily. He, Mike, and Seffie spent the better part of the morning with Walter and Doug, debriefing about the trip and what the situation had been in Mazatlán when they’d left. After Seffie finished up, he and Mike filled them in about scouting lab locations.

The conversation had turned to other matters and he tried to find out more about Emily: where she lived, how he could contact her. He knew she was local, but that was it. Both Walter and Doug had been noncommittal to the point of evasiveness. When Connor got more insistent, they outright begged off, citing a pressing engagement that required their presence elsewhere. There was something they didn’t want him to know or did not want to be the ones to tell him, but he didn’t know who else he could ask. If they weren’t talking, it was a sure bet no one else was, either. Maybe if he patched things up with Miranda, she might be more forthcoming.

He crossed the street, then slid the Access card he’d been given and opened the Jesuit Residence door. He headed down the hall to the spacious living room and there she was, sitting on one of the couches. She was by herself, no book, no people, just petting her dog. The dog heard him first and turned her head, then started thumping her tail against the floor.

The dog seems to like me, he thought, that has to count for something.

He took a deep breath and continued forward. Miranda turned toward him. Her face lit up.

“Hey, I’ve been looking for you!” she exclaimed as she made a beeline for him. And then she was in his arms, holding him tight. Time seemed to distort, stretching slow and thick around them.

“I still can’t believe it. I can’t believe you’re alive!” she said, her voice giddy.

She started to laugh. Connor kissed the top of her head and pulled her closer, surprised at how small she seemed. Her hair smelled of soap, and he inhaled the scent like a suffocating man would oxygen. He pulled back to look at her. She glowed. A delighted smile stretched across her face and arced up to her eyes. She was so goddamned beautiful.

“I was so afraid I’d never see you again, Miri.”

His voice wavered, struggling to get through a throat that had become tight. She laid her head on his chest, sighing, and he could feel her smiling against him. He realized he was trembling; he didn’t care. He knew it could not be this simple, but he wasn’t going to worry about that now. She was alive, happy to see him, and in his arms, and that was enough. All the rest—the history, the hurt, the misunderstandings—none of it mattered in this brief, sweetest moment.

Then he felt her stiffen, just a little. She loosened her grip and stepped back. They were still in each other’s arms, but Connor saw an almost calculating look beneath the genuine happiness on her face. She was about to unleash one of her damn-I’m-hilarious-but-I’m-not-really-joking zingers.

“So you’re not a priest,” she said as she stepped away from him. “Nothing like some desperate the-world-is-coming-to-an-end fucking to make you rethink your career path.”

Connor blinked like