Sliding onto Logan’s lap, I gripped his face and slanted my mouth over his.
Logan
The remaining weeks of summer came and went with little fanfare, the blistering weather eventually relenting, giving way to more bearable days and even cooler evenings. With the completion of the additions on the first round of cabins, another round was gearing up to begin. Meanwhile, Willow was readying for the upcoming fall harvest, after which the winter crops would need to be seeded.
While the seasons shifted, summer tumbling into fall, Willow and I were falling into a somewhat comfortable rhythm navigating the unfamiliar terrain of our new relationship. Comfortable for us, at least, not so much for the people around us. When we weren’t arguing, we were usually kissing, still unable to keep our hands off each other for any real length of time.
And as we fell into place with one another, so did everything else.
Willow and I began spending more time outside the wall; I’d teach her to drive in between scavenging through the nearby neighborhoods and, in time, she’d become quite good at both, amassing enough odds and ends to open a store of sorts—where people could trade for Willow’s scavenged goods. In true Willow fashion, none of what she scavenged and sold were necessities. They were always frivolous finds—entertainment items, along with decorations and knickknacks. While Willow remained the store’s gatekeeper, Leisel appointed Stuart in charge of daily management—a job that suited him better than working in the gardens. Headphones hanging around his neck, he was engaging with others for the first time; I’d even seen him smile once or twice.
And he wasn’t the only one.
With the completion of my bench turned shelf, currently housing Willow’s growing collection of books, I’d been busying myself with a variety of woodworking projects. Not only did it keep my hands busy and my mind occupied, but I’d also turned out to be damn good at it, too. Even better was the genuine pleasure on Willow’s face each time I completed something new.
We’d finally found some peace among the chaos. A real home in a godforsaken world. Some happiness to replace the hopelessness.
… or so I’d thought.
“Logan, Willow! Everybody up!”
A heavy fist beat against the cabin door, echoing throughout the small building, rattling the windows. Willow shot upright as I jumped out of bed, the blade I kept beneath the bed already in hand. While Willow scrambled for her clothes, I rushed to the quaking door, throwing it open.
Davey stood just outside, his hard features pinched twice as tight. He glanced from my blade to my naked body, his scowl quickly swerving back to my face. “Put some fuckin’ clothes on and get up by the gate,” he growled, turning to leave.
“What’s going on?” I called after him.
“Just get your ass to the gate!” he flung back. Jogging to the next cabin, he pounded on the door. “Wake up! Everybody up!”
“What’s happening?” Willow asked, shoving an armful of clothing at me. She’d already finished dressing and was in the process of winding her hair into a bun.
“No idea,” I muttered, shoving my legs into my jeans. “But you stay with me, alright? Don’t leave my side.”
After tucking several blades into my boots, and a few inside Willow’s boots as well, we hurried from the cabin, joining the growing drove of panicked faces moving quickly along the path.
Once everyone had congregated around the guard tower, Leisel and Joshua ascended the tower ladder, peering out at us from high above.
“Everyone!” Leisel called out. “Everyone, please quiet down. I’m going to get straight to the point—yesterday’s patrol ran into some car trouble and decided to spend the night in town, and it’s a good thing they did, because first thing this morning they spotted a sizable horde heading east on Main.”
As the crowd around us sucked in a collective breath, Willow and I looked at each other—her expression stricken. I knew what she was thinking—the same damn thing running through my mind. That maybe this was our horde—the same one that had stolen Lucas from us.
“How close are they?” a panicked voice called out.
Leisel held up a finger. “Now, we’re all aware that we don’t have enough resources or manpower to destroy a horde—certainly not one of this magnitude. Our strategy has always been to redirect them away from Silver Lake so that’s what we’re going to do, but we don’t have a lot of time. Yesterday’s patrol has already begun the process of luring them in a different direction, but it’s going to take a lot more people.” She paused, looking out over the crowd. “So, as much as I hate to ask this of you, I need volunteers.”
Several hands shot up, though not nearly enough. Unwilling to chance losing the first home we’d had in years, I grudgingly raised my hand. I didn’t particularly want to be involved, but neither did I like the idea of not being a part of the solution, and worse, not knowing what was happening. Beside me, Willow’s arm shot up.
“Logan and Willow!” Leisel called out, before I’d had the chance to snatch Willow’s arm from view. “Thank you. Please head to the garage with the others.”
“You two can ride with me.” Joe gestured for us to follow him. “Was talkin’ with Davey—we’re gonna try an’ herd ‘em north using the fortified vehicles. Got a couple of trucks scoutin’ ahead already.”
“She’s not going,” I growled, pulling Willow to a stop as she turned to follow Joe. “You’re not going—no fucking way.”
Shaking me off her, she gave me a withering look. “You know you can’t actually tell me what to do anymore, right? If you’re going, so am I.”
“Like hell you are,” I growled. “You’re going to stay here and—”
“And what? Pick potatoes while you’re out there fighting a horde of Creepers? Fuck that.”
Meanwhile, Joe had pulled up beside us, seated behind the wheel of a double-cab pickup truck, an industrial-sized V-shaped plow affixed to the front end. Double rows of solar-powered floodlights sat atop the cab; a metal cage had been erected over the truck bed, and most of the windows had been reinforced with metal grating. The tires had been capped and equipped with metal plates; even the windshield had been fitted with protective wiring.
“She’ll be fine,” Joe called from inside the truck. “Look at this beast—nothin’ is gettin’ inside that doesn’t belong.”
“See,” Willow retorted. “I’ll be fine.” Storming past me, she wrenched the passenger door open and climbed inside the truck. Slamming the door shut, she folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead.
Joe leaned forward, peering around Willow’s resolute form. “You comin’, brother?”
Jaw locked and ticcing, I jumped in the back seat. Joe stepped on the gas and as we all lurched forward, my arm shot out, wrapping around the seat in front, pinning Willow in place while the truck barreled and bounced out of camp and into the woods beyond.
Willow’s hand covered mine, surprising me by threading her fingers through mine instead of pushing me away. I squeezed her, feeling an overwhelming surge of protectiveness. “You shouldn’t be here,” I gritted out softly. “If I’m worried about you, I won’t be able to concentrate.”
“Logan,” she replied, her quiet tone matching mine in grit. “Maybe I don’t listen very well sometimes, and maybe I occasionally do some reckless things, but when it comes to fighting, I can absolutely do what needs to be done. And you know it.”
“I do,” I conceded angrily. “But it’s different now.”
“How? I’m still the same girl, and I’m more than capable of killing Creepers.”
“You’re not the same girl—you’re my girl now. And what if something happens to you?” Left unsaid was what would undoubtedly become of me if something did in fact happen to her—a fate so bleak I couldn’t even bear to fathom it.
Twisting farther in her seat, she stared hard at me. “And what if something happens to you?” she shot back. “Why is my life more valuable than yours?”
And ju
st like that, I went from wanting to shake some sense into her to wanting to kiss the shit out of her.
Joe blew out an exasperated breath. “Hate to break up some damn good entertainment, but we’ve got a job to do. Now, on the off chance we get swarmed, it’ll be your jobs to get ‘em off us. You see the window behind you, just push it open and climb into the bed. Shoot ‘em, stab ‘em, do whatever you can to get ‘em off us.
“And there’re some kill bags under your seat, Logan,” Joe continued. “We might be takin’ out the stragglers by hand, so get yourselves ready.”
I reluctantly released Willow to dig beneath me. Dragging forth two canvas bags, one was filled with tactical gear and the other with weapons. Pulling on a plated vest and loading myself up with handguns, I handed a second vest to Willow, along with a serrated blade and a metal billy club, holding tightly to the club as I held her stare with mine. “Do you promise you’ll listen to me if shit gets out of control?” I watched a war play out across her features until eventually she gave a sharp nod. Only then did I relinquish both the club and her gaze.
Joe pulled us onto an empty street, save for one truck idling at the curb. Rolling up alongside the vehicle, we found Davey scowling behind the wheel and Britta bounced restlessly in the passenger seat beside him.
“Well, hey there, lovebirds,” she sang, waving animatedly. “So glad you could join us on this glorious Monday mornin’.”
“It’s Monday?” Willow asked. “I thought it was Wednesday.”
“Not a clue, sugar. Not a dang clue. It’s all relative though, ain’t it? ‘Sides, Monday feels like a better day to be dealin’ with the dead, don’t it?”
“It’s fuckin’ Thursday, ya goddamn idiots,” Davey interjected. “Now, listen the fuck up—horde’s ‘bout half a mile that way.’’ Davey gestured ahead. “We’re fixin’ a barricade to turn ‘em ‘round, and we’ll be usin’ the trucks to keep ‘em turnin’ the way we want ‘em. But shit could get real messy out there—”
“Don’t it always?” Joe replied dryly.
Britta grinned. “That it does, Joey. That it does.”
Another vehicle was noisily approaching—a rusted-out school bus whose sides had been built up with metal cladding, with sharp spikes welded around each of the windows. Much like the trucks, each window was dressed in metal grating.
“We’re doing it just like the last time,” Davey continued loudly over the noise. “We’ll keep ‘em going for a mile or two and then cut the engines and get out of sight. Xavi’s team is already up ahead laying the explosives to keep ‘em moving north.”
“How many times have you guys done this?” I asked.
Over the years we’d run into enough hordes to know that they were impossible to cut through and impractical to fight against. Up until now, stumbling onto the path of a horde meant you turned tail and ran like hell in the opposite direction, hoping they didn’t follow. Either that, or you found somewhere to hide and prayed they didn’t find you.
“Why? Ya’ scared, Eddie?” Britta mocked. When I only stared at her, she laughed harder. “Alright, alright—I’ll stop pulling your dick.”
“Woman, you could pull mine,” Joe said. “Anytime you want, anywhere you want.”
“How about, only in your dreams?” Britta blew him a kiss.
Davey cleared his throat loudly. “If y’all are ‘bout done actin’ like hornball teens—we got a job to do. Everybody ready?”
“I’m ready,” Britta said, flashing a brow-waggling grin. “Y’all know me—I’m always ready to be killin’ somethin’.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Joe said.
Willow glanced back at me, her determined expression unwavering. “Ready.”
I said nothing. Redirecting an entire horde was a foreign concept to me, and I wasn’t entirely sure it would work. Especially not once the Creepers got wind of our scent. Neither could I willingly agree to ever be ready to send Willow headfirst into danger.
Together, both trucks pulled onto the road, Davey taking the lead. As the stench of the dead grew more pungent, I began spotting stragglers dragging themselves along the crumbling road. Each Creeper we passed fixed us with its milky gaze and I found myself checking each rotten face, searching for familiar features, and thankfully finding none. Soon, a noise, much like the distant roar of a rock concert, began to vibrate through the air around us, just the tail end of the horde came into view.
Ahead, Davey swerved his truck left and Joe followed suit, bringing us smack dab against the wall of walking dead. The Creepers immediately turned their attention to us, growling and snarling as they clawed, some even throwing their bodies against the side of the truck. I squinted into the distance, trying to locate the other end of the traveling mob, only there appeared to be no end in sight. Bodies remained tightly compacted as far as the eye could see, shoulder to shoulder as they shuffled slowly along the road.
We continued inching along beside the horde, the sounds of the dead growing immense and unnerving. Dead eyes watched us through the windows, decaying hands pawed at the truck, the Creepers close enough that we could see each torn fingernail, each shattered tooth and every shard of broken bone protruding from their rotting flesh.
The sound of screeching tires had me tearing my gaze away from my window. Up ahead, Davey’s truck was crawling in Creepers and weaving dangerously in and out of the horde. Flooring the gas, Davey plowed into the center of the road, slamming on the brakes and dislodging the dead. Following closely behind him, Creepers were flung onto our truck, some managing to grip hold.
Willow released a shaky breath and I reached for her, squeezing her arm, while my other hand clenched tighter to the pistol in my grip.
“When I stop, we’ll need to get out of sight,” Joe said. “Xavi’s team is gonna be makin’ all sorts of noise to keep the horde moving in the right direction. After that, it’ll be our job to get rid of the stragglers.
“Like that one,” he continued, pointing to one of the Creepers holding fast to the plow. Bald, with sunken, hollowed features, its eyes were little more than shriveled grapes inside concave sockets. “That motherfucker is staring at me like my number is up and he’s the grim reaper come to collect. He’s the first to go, ya’ hear me? And that bastard is mine.”
We continued on in silence until the clear sky ahead exploded in color—a cloud of orange smoke shooting straight into the atmosphere. “That’s our cue,” Joe said, slowly bringing the truck to a stop and cutting the engine. “Mountain pass is up ahead; Xavi’s team should be threading them through it like a needle. Hopefully the ugly fuckers’ll just keep on goin’.”
“And if they don’t?” Willow asked.
“Like I said before, then we’ll be killin’ whatever’s left by hand.”
As soon as we’d stopped, the Creepers began to crawl over one another in an attempt to get to us until they covered us completely, their wriggling bodies pressed tightly to the truck, darkening the interior. Engulfed entirely in living death, the truck rocked to and fro, as the growling and groaning intensified outside, echoing around us until it was all I could hear.
As the tension thickened to unbearable levels inside the cab, Joe began to mutter what might have been a prayer. Willow, though she tried to appear unaffected, was trembling slightly. Leaving the pistol on the seat beside me, I wrapped both my arms around her, holding her tightly to me.
A loud boom in the distance caused everyone to jump; the Creepers crowding the truck appeared to pause and turn toward the noise. “Trigger one,” Joe whispered. “Everyone in the back—out of sight, out of mind, and all that.”
“Willow,” I whispered, shaking her arm. “Willow, come on, get back here.”
Still trembling, Willow climbed into the back and Joe followed, the three of us sinking to the floor, crouched on our knees.
Bodies continued to slam against the truck, groans and growls renewing with vigor. We sat there, uncomfortably crouched, barely breathing for what felt like forever, un
til another explosion rang out in the distance.
Joe’s wide eyes clashed with mine. Trigger two, he mouthed.
Slowly—excruciatingly slowly—the bodies covering the truck began to thin. Light filtered inside the cab once again.
“It’s working,” Willow whispered. “It’s fucking working.”
We remained crouched, merely listening to the horde as they moved around us. The truck still rocked as bodies continued to bang against us. Another thirty minutes passed by in agonizing silence when a third explosion shook the earth.
“Time to finish this shit,” Joe said, maneuvering himself back into the driver’s seat. Pulling a shotgun from the overhead gun rack, he reached for the door. “Hardly any out there now—should be easy pickings.”
As Willow moved to follow suit, I grabbed her arm, holding her still. “Logan, I’m going to be okay,” she said, taking my face in her hands. “I promise.”
My nostrils flared. My breath sped up. I grabbed her face and kissed her hard on the mouth, brutally stroking her tongue with mine. She kissed me back with equal measure, breaking away far too soon. Breathing hard, and with a look of sheer determination on her face, she pushed open the door and jumped headfirst into the fray.
Climbing out of the truck behind her, I found myself momentarily frozen, blinking against the harsh morning light. The sounds of death sang loudly from every corner of the highway—the whistles of sharpened blades slicing through the air, the grunts and groans of exertion, the inhuman growls of the dead, while sweat and rot made the otherwise cool air feel hot and heavy and stinking of smells far worse than the mind was capable of conjuring.
All around me small battles were being waged—Britta stood on the hood of her truck taunting Creepers, distracting them while Davey, wielding a gleaming machete, beheaded them from behind. Headless bodies littered the ground surrounding their truck, and a short ways away, a pile of heads was quickly amassing. Joe was even farther out, closer to the tree line, swinging his ax in large rolling sweeps each time a Creeper dared get too close, leaving each of his would-be attackers in literal pieces. Willow—only a few yards from me—had gotten straight to work, gripping the closest Creeper by its stained and tattered jacket and rapidly striking its temple with her blade. It slumped upon impact and Willow promptly released it.
The Blood that Binds (Thicker than Blood Book 3) Page 25