They walked to Charlie’s house, passing lots of cafes where people sat drinking, smoking, and talking loudly. Then they turned a corner and came to a house that looked just like all the other houses in the neighborhood, with one notable difference; the front gate was made of wrought iron and topped with a big black bird whose eyes—made of copper—seemed to stare at Josh menacingly.
“My dad made it,” Charlie said, as if she was used to explaining the bird. “He’s a sculptor. Iron, mostly.”
“It’s cool,” Josh said, but the truth was that he found the bird more than a little creepy.
They went up a short flight of steps to the front door, and as they stepped inside Charlie called out, “Dad?”
There was no answer.
“Come up to my room,” Charlie said, heading for a set of stairs.
Josh followed her. The wood of the stairs was old and well worn. Centuries of use had made the wood smooth, and there were deeper indentations in the center of each step where people had most often placed their feet.
“This is my dad’s studio,” Charlie said as they arrived at the second floor. It was one huge space, with bare brick walls and a floor covered with white canvas cloths. A workbench cluttered with tools lined one wall, and in the center of the room stood a sculpture made of bits and pieces of metal, all welded together to form what looked like a human figure. But something was wrong with it. It was twisted, the arms seeming to reach out to grab something.
“My bedroom is on the third floor,” Charlie said, walking past the sculpture without looking at it. They went up another flight of stairs and down a hallway. “That’s my dad’s room,” Charlie said as they passed a closed door. “This is mine.” She opened a door on the opposite side of the hall and went inside. The room also had bare brick walls, and at one end, farthest from the windows, a huge bed made out of iron stood against the wall.
“Another of my dad’s creations,” said Charlie. She went to a console on the wall, pressed some buttons, and music began to play. It was a song Josh had never heard, with lots of loud guitars and wild drumming.
“What is this?”
“It’s old,” Charlie said. “A band my grandmother used to listen to called the New York Dolls. I’m kind of into it.” She danced around as the music played, throwing her head from side to side. “Sorry,” she said, falling on the bed. “You must think I’m nuts.”
“No,” Josh said, laughing. “I think you’re cute.” Immediately he realized what he’d said. “I mean, um, we should go over the maps,” he said quickly.
“Did you just say you think I’m cute?” Charlie asked.
“No,” Josh said.
“So you don’t think I’m cute?” asked Charlie.
“No,” Josh replied. “I mean, yeah. But I didn’t mean it to come out that way.”
“It’s okay,” she said. “I think you’re cute too.”
Before Josh could respond, Charlie jumped up. “Stay here,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
Josh felt his cheeks flush as he tried to process what had just happened. He did think Charlie was cute, but he hadn’t meant to tell her that. It had just slipped out, and now he couldn’t take it back. Now what? he thought.
Charlie returned to the room carrying a box. She brought it to the bed and set it down. It was made of black metal, and the surface was scratched and dented. In the center of the top was a logo Josh recognized at once—a simple circle with flames in it.
“That’s the Torcher symbol,” he said.
Charlie nodded. “My dad was a Torcher,” she told him as she lifted the lid. “He kept some stuff.”
She reached into the box and pulled out a small cyphoto album. Starting it up, she showed Josh the screen. On it was a photo of seven men all wearing Torcher uniforms. They grinned happily at the camera.
“That’s his squad,” Charlie said.
“Which one is your dad?” Josh asked.
Charlie pointed to a short man with black hair. He was the only one not smiling. “There,” she said.
She scrolled through the pictures. Mostly they were of the men from the first photograph. Then they came to a picture showing a beautiful woman. She was leaning against a railing. Behind her Josh could see the tracks of a roller coaster, and to one side three little kids ran by in a blur, balloons bobbing on the strings in their hands. The woman was holding a cone of bright pink cotton candy.
“That’s my mom,” Charlie said.
“That roller coaster looks familiar,” said Josh.
“It’s Happy Time,” Charlie said quietly. “My dad took her there when he asked her to marry him.” She stared at the picture for a long time without saying anything.
“What happened to her?” Josh asked finally.
Charlie turned the album off. “She died,” she said. She put the album back in the box and took out something else. It was a medal. “My dad got this for torching a thousand z’s,” she said, handing it to Josh. “Isn’t it cool?”
Josh examined the medal. It was round, and in the center was the Torcher logo. Beneath it was the Torcher motto: SAVED BY FIRE.
“He must have saved a lot of people,” Josh said, impressed.
“You mean zombies,” Charlie countered.
Josh looked at her, not understanding.
“Think about it,” said Charlie. “Zombies used to be people. By killing them, the Torchers saved them from having to be monsters.”
“I always thought that by the time z’s turned they were pretty much not human anymore,” Josh said.
“You don’t know that,” Charlie said, her voice oddly sharp. “Nobody really knows.” She took the medal back and returned it to the box.
“Can I ask you something?” Josh said.
Charlie nodded.
“How come when you play the hologame, you always play a meatbag?”
“It’s good training,” said Charlie. “It helps me learn to think like a zombie, so when I play the game for real I get inside their heads.”
“I don’t think I want to be in a head like that,” Josh told her.
Charlie looked at him. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it,” she said. “You might even like it.”
Charlie got up and walked to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she rooted around and pulled something out. When she came back, Josh saw that she was holding a small silver vial.
“What is that?” he asked.
Charlie unscrewed the top of the vial and poured two small, white tablets into her palm. “This,” Charlie said, “is Z. It’s something that will help you think like a zombie. At least for a little while. I take it whenever I’m playing the game.”
Josh eyed the pills doubtfully. “I don’t do drugs,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Charlie said. “It’s totally safe. It’s not a drug drug.” She took one of the pills and put it in her mouth. She swallowed and stuck out her tongue. “See? Now it’s your turn.”
She handed Josh the second pill. He held it between his fingers, looking at it. Was it really safe? What was it going to do to him? He looked at Charlie, who laughed. “Come on,” she said. “You won’t regret it.”
That’s what they all say, Josh thought. Right before you do something stupid. But he had to admit, he was curious. Also, he didn’t want Charlie to think he was afraid.
“It will make me think like a zombie?” he asked.
Charlie nodded.
“And that’s a good thing?”
“Just trust me,” said Charlie. “It’s like nothing you’ve ever done.”
Josh looked at her face. She was grinning. How bad can it be? he thought. Before he could answer that question, he put the pill in his mouth and swallowed.