Just as I’d suspected, Natalie’s building had a doorman. His maroon jacket and cap had gold braid that matched the stripe down each side of his pants. His name tag said “Hector” and his smile said that he had no idea he was giving me such bad news.
“What was that?” I asked with a gulp, hoping that I’d misheard him.
“They’re waiting for you in apartment 12-B,” he repeated. “You can take the elevator to your left.” Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’d heard the first time too.
“Thanks,” I mumbled as I began my walk of doom toward the elevator.
I hadn’t even thought to ask Natalie what floor she lived on. The message had her address and said to be there Saturday at four o’clock. I’d assumed we were going to meet in the lobby and go somewhere for my final exam. Now Hector was telling me the meeting was a full nine floors above my normal limit.
My knees got weak just thinking about it.
Confession time: While I wasn’t lying when I said I’d killed it during training, I may have glossed over the fact that my fear of heights had been a major problem. That’s because sometimes the only way to escape the undead is to go up into buildings high enough that the Manhattan schist no longer gives them power. That usually means about ten to fifteen floors. My instinct to do everything but go up was something I’d have to conquer. I knew this.
I just didn’t know I’d have to conquer it so soon.
But I realized that as much as I dreaded it, there was no way I could possibly pass my final exam without actually going to Natalie’s apartment to take it. So I got on the elevator, pressed the button for twelve, and held my breath.
I eventually made it to 12-B. Alex opened the door, greeting me with a big smile. “Come on in,” he said. Then he called out to an unseen room, “She passed the first part!”
“What was the first part?” I asked.
“We weren’t sure you’d make it up this high.”
“I’m still not sure,” I answered, only half joking. “Either you’re wearing makeup or it’s actually affecting my vision.”
“No, your vision’s fine,” he said with a laugh. “I am wearing makeup. It’s part of the test,” he added cryptically.
Before I could begin to figure out what that meant, he led me through an apartment that was so amazing, I almost forgot my fears. There was a music room with a grand piano and cello, and a library with overstuffed chairs and floor-to-ceiling bookcases. The living room even had a wall of windows with a balcony that overlooked Central Park.
“Crazy, isn’t it?” he said, shaking his head and pointing at the balcony. “It’s like something out of a movie.”
“Yeah,” I answered as I stepped back to avoid the dizzying view. “A horror movie.”
We reached a large bathroom with side-by-side sinks. Natalie was leaning over one to check the mirror as she carefully applied eye shadow. Grayson was at the other, rinsing his mouth with some orange liquid. The fact that all four of us fit comfortably in the bathroom is a pretty good sign it was nothing like our place in Queens.
“Look who made it,” Alex announced as we walked in.
“I told you,” Grayson half spoke and half gargled.
“Perfect timing,” Natalie said as she turned to us. “How does my makeup look? Be honest.”
I hoped this wasn’t part of the test, because she looked terrible. My experience with makeup was absolutely zero, but even I could tell this was bad. Luckily, Alex answered first.
“Awful,” he said. “You look like a corpse.”
I expected Natalie to slug him, but instead she smiled and asked, “You’re not just saying that, are you?”
Grayson spit the mouthwash into the sink and then patted a washcloth across his lips. “Nope. You look totally dead.”
“But still cute,” she added.
“Oh yeah,” Alex answered, rolling his eyes. “Dead . . . but cute.”
“What about me?” Grayson flashed a big smile, revealing that the liquid had turned his teeth the same blend of yellow and orange as the teeth of the zombie who had attacked me in the subway station. “Do I look cute too?”
“No. You look hideous.”
“Nice,” he replied. “Hideous is exactly what I was going for.”
I couldn’t have been more confused. “Let me get this straight,” I said, trying to hide my nervousness by sounding carefree and humorous. “For my final exam we’re doing really bad makeovers?”
Natalie gave me a finger wag. “You wish it were that easy. No, for your final exam, we’re going to a party. The makeovers are so we can get in.”
“What kind of party needs bad makeovers?”
“A flatline party,” Alex said.
“I’m guessing that’s not some kind of Sweet Sixteen.”
“Flatline parties are for the undead,” Grayson explained. “Their name comes from the flat line that appears on a heart monitor when a patient dies. These parties are their only opportunity to come together in a group and just be themselves.”
“They like to say that the only thing with a beat is the music,” Alex added. “Strictly zombies. No breathers allowed.” (“Breather” is undead slang for the living.)
“Which is why we need to look dead,” I answered, finally getting it. “So we can crash the party.”
“Exactly,” Natalie replied. “As part of your final exam, you have to pass yourself off as undead for thirty minutes.”
“Great,” I said halfheartedly. “Acting and makeup. My two favorite things.”
Suddenly, I was worried. I’d thought my test was going to be about finding standpoints and breaking codes. Things I knew I could ace. I had absolutely no confidence I could convince a group of zombies that I was one of them. What if I failed? I wondered if any retakes were allowed.
The three of them took turns helping me with my makeup. They used foundation, powder, and eye shadow to give my face a hollow, bloodless appearance, and then rubbed some gel in my hair to make it look dried out and frizzy.
When they finished, they scanned me over to make sure they hadn’t missed anything.
“How do I look?” I asked.
Grayson smiled and then answered, “To die for.”
The others groaned as they turned to him.
“You’ve been waiting all day to use that joke, haven’t you?” Natalie asked.
“It’s funny,” he said. “Why should it matter when I thought of it?”
“Because it matters,” Alex said.
While they continued to give him a hard time, I stood up and looked at myself in the mirror. Surprisingly, I did look kind of dead. Maybe I could pull this off after all. “So, where is this party?”
“Good question,” Alex answered. “As part of the whole no-breathers policy, they keep that information pretty secret.”
“But we can find out,” Grayson added. “That is, if you know how to get to J. Hood Wright Park.”
He said it like a challenge, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Alex and Grayson had been trying to stump me ever since Natalie bragged that I knew the city parks better than they did.
“Is this part of the test?”
“Why?” asked Alex. “Don’t you know the answer?”
“Yeah,” Grayson said eagerly. “Don’t you?”
I paused for a second to get their hopes up and then said, “Actually, it depends on whether you want to enter by the rec center on Fort Washington Avenue or near the overlook on Haven Avenue,” dashing their hopes. “Personally, I’d recommend the rec center. To get there we can get on the C train at 72nd Street. Switch over to the A at 168th. Continue north toward Washington Heights and get off at 175th.”
Natalie cackled. “You only make yourself look silly when you try to stump her,” she said as she gave me a fist bump. “I told you she was a natural.”
A natural, I thought. My confidence was growing.
We got to the park at that time of day when the city is its most beautiful. It was just before sunset and the sky had an orange glow that made the George Washington Bridge look like a painting at the Met. I was able to admire it for all of about thirteen seconds before Natalie took charge.
“The test starts now,” she said. “Find the zombies.”
A lump formed in the back of my throat. This was really happening.
I tried to come up with a strategy. The park stretches for three blocks on each side. Because a cluster of buildings in the middle blocks your view, you can see only about a third of it at a time. I decided to start in one corner and walk toward the center.
“Don’t make it obvious that you’re looking,” Alex said. “Act natural.”
Yeah, I thought. Nothing’s more natural than hunting zombies in a park full of children.
On the playground, kids were chasing one another back and forth across a mini-size version of the George Washington Bridge. Their laughter filled the air, and I felt the urge to protect those children. I scanned the parents watching them play, but didn’t see anyone who looked out of the ordinary.
We walked through an archway to the other side of the buildings and came to a table where three white-haired men were playing an intense game of dominoes. One was singing along with a Spanish song that played on the radio. They may have been old, but they were very much among the living.
Trying to act “natural,” I pretended to watch the domino game. Meanwhile, I was able to scan another third of the park. A group of kids was playing baseball, a family was cleaning up after a birthday party, and a couple was pushing a stroller along the walkway. Once again, all were living.
I was stumped.
I turned to the others, who were also pretending to watch the domino game.
“Are you certain?” I asked them quietly.
Natalie nodded.
Then I remembered something.
“Schist,” I said.
All three of them smiled.
In the corner of J. Hood Wright Park is a large outcropping of Manhattan schist. In fact, it’s one of the largest aboveground formations anywhere. I looked toward the rocks and then toward Natalie. She nodded again.
The domino game ended, and I gave a little polite applause for the winner. Then I started to walk to the southwest corner of the park.
The rocks were the color of pencil lead, and had been smoothed by centuries of wind and rain. Two little kids were climbing on one corner of them, and on the opposite side were two couples.
At first glance you wouldn’t think there was anything unusual about the couples, but I remembered my field training with Natalie. The first thing I noticed was that despite warm weather, all of them were wearing long sleeves. The undead often do this to protect their skin. Then I saw that one of the guys was wearing makeup and had done a bad job blending it in along the neckline. Finally, when one of the girls laughed, I saw that her teeth looked just like Grayson’s.
I sat down on a bench across from them, and the others joined me. We acted normal, like a group of friends having a relaxing Saturday.
“Nice work,” Grayson whispered.
“Are they going to have the party here?” I asked.
Alex shook his head. “No. This is just where they meet before they go. We’re going to have to follow them to the party.”
And just when I thought the test couldn’t get harder, he added, “We’ll have to go down into Dead City.”