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Richie and Max stepped out into the street under the starless night sky. The blue haze that covered Hatchetfield left a dark blanket over the town. The images of their infected and dead classmates stuck in Max’s mind.
Richie looked around at the vacant and destroyed town. “Where do we go?” Clivesdale had raised the bridge and there was no way off the island. “Are we just stuck here? We need to get off the island.” Richie took a shaky breath. “But we can’t.”
The buzzing of a helicopter somewhere overhead filled the air.
Max and Richie walked down the abandoned streets of their once-lively town. They stumbled through the large green yards of the large houses of Pinebrook, the neighborhood where Stephanie Lauter lived. Max recognized her sleek black car sitting in one of the driveways. The purple and green LED lights she had in her bedroom shone through her window.
He tried to imagine that everything was normal. Steph was up in her room, listening to Fleetwood Mac and Taylor Swift in her room as she scrolled through Twitter and ignored her homework. Or maybe she was at a party with Stacy and Brenda, sipping cheap alcohol from a plastic cup while dancing around Kyle’s living room without a care in the world.
Richie seemed to notice Max looking up at Steph’s house. “I’m sorry about Steph.”
Max looked at him. “Don’t be. It’s not your fault.”
As they walked, they passed the large brick church where they had last seen Grace shouting from the steps. Max imagined that—just maybe—she was at her house, highlighting Bible verses in pink highlighter while coming up with a plan to get the next school dance canceled. Maybe she was in her room, pinning her hair back with those stupid pink butterfly clips she always wore. Maybe one day, Max could convince her to come to a football game for once.
Back at the football field, maybe Jason, Kyle, and Brad were all still practicing for the next game against Clivesdale or Sycamore.
In the school, maybe Ruth was finally able to get her time in the spotlight she ran for the school plays. Or maybe she was with Pete and Richie in the library, studying for their next geometry test while the jocks all drove around Hatchetfield in Jason’s car with the windows down.
A gunshot rang out from somewhere in Hatchetfield, snapping Max out of his thoughts.
“Where was that?” Richie asked.
They looked around for the source, but never found it.
“I don’t know,” Max said. “But I don’t want to find out.” He took Richie’s hand and bolted down the street, away from the town square. Away from the courthouse, the church, Beanie’s, the CCRP building, the Starlight Theater, and away from the faint sound of a snare drum.
As they ran, they saw Oakly Park just a few blocks away. The helicopter they heard before was sitting in the center and two people were sprinting to it before climbing inside. Richie swore they were that one barista from Beanie’s and the guy in the suit who always came in while Pete, Ruth, and Richie were in there.
Richie and Max ran past Oakly Park, hearing the deafening sound of the helicopter starting to lift off the ground from behind them.
“At least a few people will make it out of here,” Richie said through his heavy breathing. “Jesus Christ, I don’t think I’ve ever ran this much in my life!”
Not long after the helicopter took off, they heard the sound of a crash in the distance.
“Hey, we will make it off the island,” Max said.
“How?”
As they ran further away from the main parts of town, the dark waters of Lake Michigan came into view. The country club and the docks for the Hatchetfield Boating Society stood out under a few flickering lights.
“Richie, I have an idea, but you need to trust me,” Max said.
Richie stopped running to catch his breath. “You? An idea?” He put his hands on his knees. “Never thought I’d see the day.”
“ Richie, ” Max repeated. He wasn’t sure if Richie recognized where they were. “I think I know a way off the island, but you need to trust me.”
Richie looked up at him. “What do you . . .” Richie’s eyes finally glanced at the water. “. . . mean?” He shook his head. “No. Absolutely not. I’m not getting in that water.”
“You don’t have to, Richie.” Max put his hands on Richie’s shoulders. “This is where the Hatchetfield Boating Society keeps some of their boats. We can take one and get off the island!” He smiled down at Richie. “No need to get in the water.”
Richie’s eyes were fixed on the dark abyss that was the water of Lake Michigan. “What if I fall out of the boat? I told you, I can’t swim.”
“I’ll save you.”
Richie gave him an unimpressed look. “Really?”
“We’ll find you a life jacket,” Max said. “Just . . . trust me on this one. Okay?”
Richie agreed and followed Max to the shore. They found the building where some of the boats were stored. ‘ HATCHETFIELD BOATING SOCIETY’ was engraved on a large metal sign that hung from the roof with ‘Sponsored by Linda Monroe’ at the bottom.
Max pushed open one of the old wooden doors.
“Isn’t this, like, stealing?” Richie looked around at the boats that sat inside.
Max shrugged. “Is it stealing if there’s no one left to own them? I doubt that Linda lady is still out there—alive, anyway.”
After a bit of looking, Max and Richie found a small rowboat. It should be easy enough to drag to the shore and into the water, even if it was mostly Max doing the work. In one of the corners of the building, Richie found a cabinet full of lifejackets. He grabbed two of them and threw them into the rowboat before helping Max move the boat to the shore.
Richie stood a few feet from the water as he pulled on the life jacket. He could feel sand starting to gather in his shoes. His hands shook as he struggled to clip the lifejacket closed.
Max pushed the boat into the water, just enough to keep it onto the shore and not float away. He noticed Richie stepping back, away from the water every time the waves crept up onto the sand. He watched as Richie struggled with the clips on the lifejacket. Max walked over to Richie and grabbed his shaky hands. “Hey, it’ll be okay,” he said.
Richie kept his eyes fixed on the dark water. “I don’t—maybe I should stay.” Richie moved to slide the lifejacket off his shoulders. “You sh–you should go on without me. I’ll find somewhere to hide. You can go—get off the island and get help.” He shook his head as he let the lifejacket fall from his arms and into the sand.
Max picked up the lifejacket. “Nope.” He handed the lifejacket back to Richie. “I’m not leaving you.”
“Why not? You can just leave.” Richie looked up at him. “You can save yourself. I’m not worth it.” He held the lifejacket out to Max.
Max pushed the lifejacket back to Richie. “Literally, just get in the boat.”
Richie looked down as he pulled the lifejacket back on, leaving the clasps undone. His eyes darted from the water to the boat, then back to Max. “Look at you.” He chuckled. “Max Jägerman, trying to save a nerd. Never would’ve seen that coming.” His hands hovered over the clasps of the lifejacket, trying to get the strength to actually clip them together and trap himself in the bulky lifejacket.
“Well,” Max said, grabbing the lifejacket and clipping it together for Richie. “Maybe you’re more than just a nerd. Maybe you’re cooler than I thought.” He smiled. “Just maybe, you’re not too bad . . . for a nerd.”
Richie laughed. “And maybe . . . you’re not too bad for a jock.”
Max and Richie made their way to the boat. Richie hesitated before stepping into it and sitting down.
“You’ll be okay,” Max said as he pulled his own life jacket on. “You won’t fall out, and if you do, that’s what the lifejacket’s for.” He pushed the boat all the way into the water before climbing into it himself. “You okay?” He sat facing Richie. The boat was small enough that Richie and Max’s knees were inches away from each other.
Richie nodded. His eyes were fixed on the water.
“Hey, don’t look at the water,” Max said as he started to row away from the shore. “Look at me.”
Richie glanced up at Max as he flashed a charming smile at him. “Need all eyes on you, huh?”
“Only yours—I mean, like, you’re the only one here. So, yeah, the only eyes here are your’s.” Max looked away from Richie and his bright blue eyes.
The lights of Clivesdale shone across the lake.
“I do wish we were able to play the game against Clivesdale next week,” Max said. “I was looking forward to kicking their asses.”
Richie nodded. “Me too. Last year’s game was insane.” Hatchetfield had won by a single touchdown at the last minute and caused a giant fight in the parking lot between the students of both schools. “The fight after was a little scary.”
Max looked at him, confused. Nerds didn’t go to the football games. “How do you know? You don’t go to football games.”
“I’m a part of the cheer team,” Richie said. “I’ve been the mascot since last year.”
“That was you?” Max looked at him in disbelief. “I just thought it was one of the girls in that costume!”
“How did you not know?” Richie laughed. “Did you really think that Stacy, Brenda, or Sara would ever willingly wear that thing?”
Max shrugged. “I guess not.” He continued to row. “So you’ve been at every game, huh? And I just never found out?”
“Yep.” Richie didn’t take his eyes off Max. It was better than worrying about the pitch-black water around them. “I’m the only nerd to ever go to a full Hatchetfield football game.” Sure, the small marching band was there, but only until half-time. As soon as half-time was over, all the band kids got the hell out of there before anyone could harass them. “Well, only one to stay for a full game.”
“Do you like being on the cheer team?” Max asked. “How do you even see out of that costume?”
Richie laughed. “I don’t. I can only really see right in front of me, so I run into everything.”
“So that’s why Zeke—well, you , I guess—is always stumbling around the track!”
“Yeah, I can’t see shit!”
“So, you miss all the action? You can’t even watch the game.”
Richie nodded. “I only see what’s directly in front of me.” He chuckled. “I don’t mind, though. It doesn’t seem like there’s much to see, anyway.”
Max scoffed. “There’s a lot to see during the games!”
“Like what? A bunch of guys beating the shit out of each other?”
“No, stupid,” Max said. “Like me! Also, football is not just a bunch of guys beating each other up. That would be wrestling. Those guys just beat the shit out of each other.”
“All while wearing practically nothing,” Richie added. “Seems pretty gay to me.”
Max’s eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong with being gay?”
“Oh, no-nothing.” Richie shook his head. “There’s nothing wrong with it. I mean—it’d be pretty hypocritical of me to say so.”
“Why would it be hypo-critical?”
Richie stared at him. Max seemed way to chill about that for someone who’d been bullying people for years. “Because I’m gay, Max,” Richie said, matter-of-factly. He thought for a moment that Max would go back to the mean kid he was before and push Richie into the water for saying that, but nothing happened.
Max just looked at him, no trace of judgment in sight. “I didn’t know that. Cool.”
“Is it? I thought you of all people would be, like, weirdly homophobic.”
“What?” Max shook his head. “No, not at all.”
“You’re telling me you’ve never made fun of someone for being gay?” Richie asked.
“No. Why would I? Gay people can’t help that shit,” Max said. “I only make fun of people for stuff they can change. Like being a huge nerd.”
“You’re not helping your case, Max. You shouldn’t make fun of anyone .”
Max didn’t say anything. He just nodded. “Yeah . . . I’m sorry. I know I’m an asshole and I’ve done some fucked up things.” He looked up at the starless sky. “And it sucks that it took all of this . . .” He glanced back at the dark ruins of Hatchetfield. “To realize it.”
“Well,” Richie started, “I don’t think it’s too late to try and work on it.” He looked at Max. “Sure, it took all of Hatchetfield being destroyed and taken over by singing zombie things to realize, but I do believe that you can be a good person if you tried.”
“What if I’m just meant to be an awful person?” Max asked. “What if all of this hadn’t happened and I just continued to be . . . continued to be me ?”
“I don’t think you’re a truly awful person, Max. If you were that bad, you wouldn’t have stuck with me, Ruth, and Grace the whole time when you could’ve easily left us for dead. At any point, you could have abandoned all of us to save yourself.”
Max looked into the black water. “Well, someone had to look out for you nerds.”
Richie was sure that, without Max, he would be left in Hatchetfield with the rest of his friends, classmates, and everyone else. “Thank you,” he whispered. “And . . . I think you’ve just proved to yourself that you’re not as bad as you think you are.”
As the boat got closer to the shore of Clivesdale, Richie, and Max saw the shadowy figures of people watching on the beach. When they got a closer look, they were wearing military-like uniforms.
It wasn’t long before the boat stopped on the shore and the people stepped closer to the boat. Their eyes cautiously scanned the boys.
“We’re human!” Max called out. “We’re from Hatchetfield!”
The boat was swarmed by the uniformed people. They grabbed a hold of Max and Richie and pulled them from the boat.
“Hey, let go!” Max yelled as the two were dragged to the shore. “We’re not infected!”
The boys were pulled into a large black van. It looked like one of those secret military vans you see in movies. Tinted windows in the front with large, heavy doors on the sides.
Once the doors were shut behind them, they were faced with a stern-looking woman with curly red hair in a black uniform.
“Wha-what’s going on?” Richie asked. He moved closer to Max as the van started to move.
The woman looked at the two boys. “I apologize for all of that, you can never be too careful. Could you boys tell me your names?” She asked.
“Rich-Richie Lips–Richard Lipschitz, ma’am.”
“Maxwell Jägerman.”
The woman nodded. “Thank you, boys. My name is Colonel Jaimie Schaffer of the United States Military, special unit P.E.I.P.”
“What’s going on?” Richie asked.
“P.E.I.P. has been tasked with cleaning up messes of a certain nature, not unlike what you had over in Hatchetfield. We were told there were no survivors, our agents led us to believe the entire population had been infected,” She said. “But, we were keeping an eye on the shore and were quite shocked to see two young boys out on Lake Michigan.”
“So . . . we are,” Richie started, “the only ones left?”
Colonel Schaffer nodded. “Yes, Richard, as far as we know. Everyone else in Hatchetfield is gone.”
“So, what now?” Max asked.
“Well, Maxwell, at this moment, you two will be transported to one of our headquarters where you will be under supervision until we can confirm you’re not infected.”
Max scoffed. “We’re not infected.”
“It’s like I said, Maxwell, you can never be too careful,” Schaffer said before moving to the front of the vehicle, leaving the boys in the darkness alone.
In the darkness, Max felt Richie’s hand brush up against his own. Max took Richie’s hand and weaved their fingers together. “I told you we would get out of there,” he whispered.
It didn’t take long for Richie and Max to drift off to sleep, still holding the other’s hand.
- • •
After two weeks of being kept at P.E.I.P.’s headquarters for observation, Max and Richie—along with another survivor, Emma—were finally able to leave and carry on with their lives as if nothing had happened.
The destruction of Hatchetfield had been blamed on the meteor as well as a ruptured gas line. The rest of the world was led to believe that not a single person had made it out of Hatchetfield.
But now, Richie and Max sat at a small table in a dimly lit office in front of two cups of coffee that had gone cold because neither had it in them to drink it. Even though they could see that the coffee was black, Richie could’ve sworn he saw hints of blue reflecting in the light.
Emma, who was now going by the name Kelly, had been dismissed this morning and was headed off to somewhere in Colorado. Max and Richie overheard her ask Colonel Schaffer about some guy named Paul a few times in the past two weeks. Emma even recognized Richie from the many times he walked into Beanies with Pete and Ruth.
One of P.E.I.P’s agents walked into the room with two backpacks, followed closely by Colonel Schaffer.
“Jonathan, William, how are you boys doing?” She asked as the agent handed them each a backpack.
Max cringed at his new name. “Why’d it have to be William?” He pushed the coffee cup away from him. “You couldn’t have chosen similar names?” He asked. “Like Matt or something”
“Or Ricky?” Richie unzipped his backpack and looked inside.
Schaffer shook her head. “No can do, boys. I told Kelly just this morning, we can’t have anyone making connections between you two, Richard Lipschitz, and Maxwell Jägerman.” She handed the two each a large orange envelope with their new names written on the top. “Inside these are new passports, social security cards, and the address to a house over in Minnesota. One of our agents has agreed to let you two stay with them. We’ve also enrolled you in another high school.”
Before they knew it, Max and Richie were sitting in the backseat of a government vehicle on the way to Minnesota. The front was separated by a divider so they never got a chance to see the person driving.
“Minnesota, huh?” Max chuckled. “They give us different names and they won’t let us leave the Midwest?”
“Hey, they could’ve sent us to—I don’t know—like, Kansas or Iowa or something. And at least we won’t be staying in Clivesdale,” Richie said.
“Fuck Clivesdale,” they both said.
The thought of having to leave their hometown and never being able to go back—or even talk about it—was a hard concept to grasp. Both Max and Richie’s whole lives had been in Hatchetfield. All of their friends and families were still on that island, in a way. And now, not even the memories of the people of Hatchetfield got to live anywhere but their minds.
Now, they were beginning their lives as new people with new stories and new futures. The only three survivors of the Hatchetfield disaster weren’t even able to share their stories. Those three survivors didn’t exist. They, too, died in Hatchetfield with everyone else. Emma Perkins, Richard Lipschitz, and Max Jägerman were all just as dead as the rest of the town.
If only things were different. If everything just went back to normal. Maybe in another life, but not this one.