World After (Penryn & the End of Days, #2)

by Susan Ee

But somehow, these guys seem to have a talent for going from joking to deadly in a heartbeat.

Welcome to the freak show.

stand. “Bones will keep you company while you wait for the doctor.” “And if any of you are doctors,” says Dum, “your patients are waiting for you.” “Is this all of us?” I ask. “We’re the only survivors?” Dee looks over at Dum. “Are zombie girls allowed to talk?” “If they’re cute and willing to do zombie-girl mud fights.” “Duuude. Right on.” “That’s a disgusting image.”

“You’re naming your collector’s-item, kick-ass sword that’s made to maim and kill, specifically designed to bring your ginormous enemies to their knees and hear

the lamentation of their women—Pooky Bear?” “Yeah, you like it?” “Even joking about that is a crime against nature. You know that, right? I’m trying desperately not to make an anti-girl comment right now, but you’re making it pretty hard.”

“I’m gonna be sick,” I say. “I’m ordering you not to,” says Obi. “Ah, don’t say that,” says Dee-Dum.

“She’s a born rebel. She’ll puke just to make a point.” “You’re here for a reason, Penryn,” says Obi. “And throwing up in my car is not part of it. Buck up, Soldier.”

I’m pretty sure I saw Zuckerberg digging the latrine ditch beside Raffe at the camp a few days ago. I guess a billion dollars doesn’t buy much respect in the World After.

I realize that I’m cradling my elbows like I’m hugging myself. I relax my arms and stand tall. Body language says a lot about your place in the world, and the last thing I need is to look vulnerable.

“Look at her eyes,”

“Come on, admit it, Pooky Bear,” I say to the sword. “You love your new look. All the other swords will be jealous.”

His last thought before he blacks out is that his Watchers would have liked this girl.

Can’t a girl be a girl for, like, five minutes?

She sees me once in a guy’s arms and she has us married already. I wonder what Raffe would think of my mom being his mother-in-law.

went?” “Gone.” Her voice

It’s more the way a tough guy who doesn’t like cats might look at a kitten and notice for the first time that it can be kind of cute. Sort of a reluctant, private acknowledgment that maybe cats aren’t all bad.

“The dead are being resurrected,” says my mother. She sounds excited, like she always knew this would happen. “He wasn’t dead, Mom.” “You were the first to be resurrected,”

says Mom. “The first of the dead.”

“I wasn’t dead either...

If I ever see the twins again, it looks like I owe them a zombie-girl mud fight.

Sometimes, a light switch is just a light switch. Until it isn’t.

But her condition has nothing to do with her intelligence. I forget that sometimes.

I look down and at first I don’t see anything. Then I realize that she’s not pointing at the shoe. She’s pointing at the yellow starburst sewn on the bottom of my jeans. I’m so used to these starbursts that I don’t even see them anymore.

Mom.” Kind of a disturbing eye-opener to realize that your own parent needs encouragement from you.

Baby birds are taught to fly and baby dolphins are taught to breathe air. Maybe baby monsters need to be taught how to be monster-like. Usually, babies are taught by their mothers, but these things don’t have mothers.

These have to be the worst minions ever. Whatever was bred into them, courage wasn’t on the list.

am dominant here. You live or die at my mercy and I say when you fight and when you don’t.

“Your human privileges are being revoked, asshole.”

“It really is you,” says Raffe.

“Stay with me,”

“Don’t talk. You’ll just spoil my fantasy of rescuing an innocent damsel in distress as soon as you open your mouth.”

Why bother attacking their strengths when you can go straight for their weaknesses?

“He should have been polite and just let us by,” I say. “Way to teach him some respect. I always wanted to meet a girl who fights dirty,” says Raffe. “There’s no such thing as dirty fighting

in self-defense.” He huffs. “I don’t know whether to make fun of him or to respect you.” “Come on, that one’s easy.”

wings spread out. Freedom in the shape of demon’s wings. I want to laugh and cry at the same time.

Maybe there’s no ocean in heaven.

“You humans are so fragile. If time doesn’t kill you off, it’s germs or sharks or hypothermia.”

blanket. “But we’d lose our heat shelter.” He raises a wing a few inches to demonstrate. Cool air immediately touches my legs. He lowers his wing back into place again. He shrugs. “I guess you’ll just have to not slip up.”

laugh along with him. “You are so great at creative solutions,” he says still chuckling. “They usually involve ripping, tearing, kicking, or stabbing, but they’re creative.”

“You look like a leopard-spotted Shar-Pei.”

“She’s drawn a heart on his chest in lipstick and is writing ‘Penryn and Paige’ inside the heart,” whispers Raffe in my ear. We circle back on our way to the pier. “Now she’s drawing flowers on his stomach.”

“I’m revoking your warrior status,” he says as he watches Clara and her family. “I had warrior status?” “For about thirty seconds.” “What heinous crime did I commit to lose my exalted status?” “A true warrior would have retrieved her sword first before doing personal business.”

“I’m all about personal business. Every battle I have is personal.” I lead Raffe toward the pile of broken wood and shingles where I hid the sword. “Hmm. Good answer. Maybe you’ll eventually regain your status.” “I won’t hold my breath.”

commenting. “Do you

know how many kills this sword has?” “It’s a perfect disguise, Raffe.” “This sword is not just an angel sword. She’s an archangel sword. Better than an angel sword, in case that’s not clear. She intimidates the other angel swords.” “What, the other swords quake in their scabbards when they see her?” I walk over to the pile of scattered junk by Captain Jake’s boat. “Yes, if you must know,” he says following me. “She was made for ultimate respect. How is she supposed to get that disguised as a teddy bear in a bridal gown?” “It’s not a bridal gown, it’s a skirt for her scabbard. And it’s cute.” “She hates cute. She wants to maim and scar cute.” “Nobody hates cute.” “Angel swords do.”

“Have you named her yet?” he asks. “She likes powerful names so maybe you could appease her by giving her a good one.”

I bite my lip as I remember telling Dee-Dum what I named my sword. “Um, I could rename her anything she likes.” I give him a cheesy smile.

He looks like he’s bracing himself for the worst. “She gets named once by each carrier. If you’ve named her, she’s stuck with...

D...

He glares at me as if he already hates it...