“Damn.” I hug his neck, never happier to see the fucker. He hasn’t changed from what I can tell. I can’t believe that I found them. Honestly, I never thought that I would, but I had to keep trying. Priscilla gets out of the truck and we embrace. Though seeing both of them makes me happy I won’t feel my mission is complete until I see them safely to Paradise.
The girl travelling with them seems shy. Priscilla tells me her name is Lana as we all work quickly to get their items moved between our vehicles and get Asher’s trailer hitched to my truck. Only he’d survive a year with his beloved motorcycle. My damn nuts are freezing off by the time we load into my truck. Asher is driving and I am in the back with this Lana chick and the dog they picked up during their travels. Hope the animal isn’t rabid or doesn’t turn. It’s a bit on the skinny side. I pull off my ski mask and hold my hand out to the girl, officially introducing myself.
“Name is Stitch.” I hold my hand out to her.
She stares at me with curiosity but accepts my tattooed hand in hers. Her skin is cold. She’s chilled to the bone. I take off my leather jacket and wrap it around her shoulders hoping it gives her some warmth. I’m no gentleman but I’m not a complete asshole either.
“I like your tattoos.” Her smile is friendly as her finger traces the black stitches that are inked on my hands. I pull away liking her touch a little too much. “As you already know. My name is Lana. Are you and Asher in the same motorcycle club?”
“What would you know about biker clubs?” I chuckle but am intrigued.
She frowns. “My father used to ride in his younger days but then he had a bad accident and wasn’t able to ride anymore. He left that life and settled down with my Mom. They started a family. Had my brother and sister then me. But he still had friends in the club, and I’d listen to them exchange stories. The way his face would light up when he talked about that other life…well I know he missed it.”
“I take it he’s no longer…” I trail off sensing her unease with the topic.
Her fingers slide back and forth through the dog’s black and white fur, stroking along his back. Her gaze moves away from me and out the window, but I don’t think she’s seeing the snow blanketed scenery. Lana is far away from here. Her teeth worry her bottom lip, digging into the chapped skin. “All of them are gone,” she whispers more to herself but answering my question. “I’m all that’s left.” Sucking in a shaky breath her attention is back on me. “What about you? Any family left?”
“Just my brothers back at the clubhouse. They’re the only family I’ve ever known. But we’ve suffered losses like the rest of the world. You should probably try to sleep.”
“I can’t. Once I wake up that’s it. So…you’ve been driving around—alone?”
“Yup. How’d you end up with these two?” I can’t help but wonder what her story is. She has this innocence about her that I thought died with the rest of the world. She’s a breath of fresh air with her honey wheat colored haired and freckles on her nose. I can’t see her eye color exactly, but her eyes appear to be the palest shade of cool blue. I think it could be my new favorite color.
“Well, they helped my family and me get away from a cult. My father…he was shot during our escape and things went downhill from there. Prissy and Asher brought me along with them and here we are with you.”
“Cult?” I question, arching a brow at her.
“Yeah. We followed the signs to this place called Salvation. It was kind of like a settlement at a church. Anyway, this guy Felix was in charge. Him and his sister Magon. He had crazy ideas. Thought himself some sort of prophet. He kept his zombie brother chained up in the basement under the church and said he was reborn, and that God wanted him to take a virgin bride and procreate and start a new race. He was insane.”
“Wow.” I try to take her story in. Shit is fucked up. I know I should tell Priscilla about her father and how he hasn’t turned but she needs to see him with her own eyes. “Did this Felix guy ever try to make that happen?”
“Yeah…” Her voice drops low and soft with a hint of sadness. “He um convinced my sister, Lizzie, that she was the chosen one. He brought Phillip, that was his brother, up to the rectory and chained him to a cross. Claimed he was Christ reborn or something. I never could make sense of half the stuff he preached about. Anyway, Lizzie was in a wedding gown. She looked beautiful given the circumstances. That white dress fit her so perfectly. I tried to talk her out of it, but she was so headstrong, and she thought Felix loved her. He made her believe she was special. She was no different than the rest of us. The monster tore out her throat and feasted on her corpse. Then Felix tried to do the same with me. My father and Asher saved me from sharing in that fate.” Her hand slides up to wipe a tear from her cheek.
I am speechless. This girl has been through hell and yet there is a part of her I can sense is tough as nails despite her outward appearance. My leather jacket swallows her petite frame. I lay my head back and close my eyes leaving her alone with her thoughts and memories, escaping within my own.
—Lana
I can’t help but stare at this guy Stitch and his unique tattoos as he sleeps next to me. They remind me of a doll or teddy bear who has been stitched back together with thick black thread. His leather jacket is about three sizes too big, but something about having it wrapped around me makes me feel protected. I guess it reminds me of the worn one my father often wore. Sadness and grief grips me tight and I stroke Percy’s fur trying to cope somehow with the loss of both him and Lenny. The past year has been a never-ending nightmare. This virus and those things have taken everything and everyone from me. I have two choices before me. I can lay down and give up the fight or I can do everything I can to stop the killing of the human race. My Dad would want me to fight. Biting back my tears I close my eyes and hope sleep will take me from my dark thoughts and from this unbearable sadness that is threatening to drown me. I’ve made it this far, I know I can keep going, it’s forcing myself to do so that’s the hard part. Saying and doing are two completely different things.
I’m not sure how long I sleep for, but I only awaken when the vehicle stops, and I hear a door slam shut. Startling awake at the sound, I quickly jump up and look around. A disoriented feeling has hold of me and I have forgotten where I am and who I am with until I look down and see Stitch’s jacket in my lap. His name is embroidered on the back on the scythe of a grim reaper. Above the hooded figure is the word Sons and below is of Destruction. I pull the jacket on for protection from the cold air and get out to stretch my legs. I didn’t even notice that the dog had been let out. That’s how exhausted I was.
“Hey, if you need to go take care of business the area seems to be clear,” Asher informs me. He’s refueling the truck and Prissy is digging around in our supplies for food. The snow has let up but there’s a nasty bite to the wind and winter is not letting go. “But just in case.” He winks and tosses me a metal bat.
I test my grip on it and swing it a few times. “Thanks.” It’s a little heavy but I can manage. I don’t see Stitch or Percy they must be off doing their thing too.
“Oh, hey,” Prissy calls out, holding up a roll of toilet paper. I tear off a few squares and shove them in my back pocket. I step off the side of the gravel road we are traveling down and into the snow-covered grass that leads into the woods. I can see Percy’s paw prints and probably Stitch’s boot prints. I follow them halfway then veer to the left to find a private area to do what I need to. Surveying the area, I stand still, listening for the undead. There aren’t even any birds in the leafless trees or the pines. Satisfied that I am alone, I back up against a tree trunk and undo my pants, then I squat. Mid relieving my bladder I hear something crunch on the ground and I freeze with one hand on the bat and the other gripping my pants as I wait to see if I am going to be attacked in this awkward position.
Percy darts through the trees and licks my face, nearly giving me a heart attack. Luckily, I only let out a weak yelp. I quickly finish up, ho
ping that Stitch isn’t right behind him. The last thing I need is for him to watch me wiping my butt. “You’re a real pain.” I smile at the animal as he wags his tail. I lead him back to the truck and find everyone eating their fill of a box of toaster pastries. “Where did you get these?” My mouth is watering at the thought of the sugary goodness. I accept a baby wipe from Priscilla to clean my hands on. Accepting the foil package, I tear it open eagerly.
“Found them in a backpack in that car up there.” Stitch points ahead to the abandoned jeep.
“Nice find.” I haven’t had anything good like this in quite some time. I devour the brown cinnamon sugar goodness within a minute tops and wash it down with a diet soda. We finish up with our pitstop and get back on the road. This time I ride up front with Stitch and Prissy and Asher get in the back to get some rest. Stitch and I pass the time talking about the different types of zombies we have encountered since the outbreak of the virus sent the world to hell.
“You ever come across a screamer?”
“I don’t think so. What’s that?”
“A zombie that lets out a high pitched yell that attracts anything infected for miles.”
“There was a little girl like that,” Priscilla says, drowsily from the backseat.
“Sounds awful. You ever see a boiler? They have these oozing sores that pop open if you are too close.”
“Sick. I’ve seen them with blisters. I was out on a run for supplies a few months into the end of the world and there was this big motherfucker. I’m talking six foot five and a good three fifty in weight. Bastard was like a damn tank.” Stitch shakes his head. “Took four of us to take him out.”
I shudder and pray I never meet a tank. This coming from a girl who used to go to graveyards for fun. Though the dead stayed dead and they sure as hell weren’t trying to eat my brains and innards.
——
We travel for what feels like forever, but it’s been one day. Passing by rolling farmland and abandoned highways. There has been no sign of life. Stitch says he hasn’t run into anyone lately and that he was surprised when he met us on the road. I am thankful he found us when he did. Our group only stops for basics. There is no seeking out shelter or setting up camp. They are all eager to reach Paradise. It’s their home and I am the outsider despite how welcome they attempt to make me feel. They grew up together and share history. Asher and Priscilla are definitely a couple and I don’t even know how old Stitch is, but if I had to guess I would say he’s at least five years older than me. And in his early twenties.
We are currently stopped on the side road Asher thought would be a shortcut and blocked from going further by the wreckage of an accident. It appears as though two cars met in a head-on collision. Stitch and Asher are currently working out how much fuel we have and if we should turn back or try to push the cars out of our way. It’s freezing and I wish they would make up their damn minds already. I have a bad feeling about this spot we are in.
We’ve tried radioing Paradise but either their radio is down, the signal is blocked, or they too are now dead like everyone else.
“There’s a driveway up there. See that mailbox?” Asher points and I nod even though he is talking to his girlfriend. “I say we lock up the truck and go see what we can find,” he suggests.
“Sounds good to me,” Stitch answers him. So it’s decided. We lock up and arm up while the dog eats his can of potted meat.
The walk to the residence takes longer than I thought it would based on the distance between the driveway and the truck but I find I move much slower in these cold temperatures. The snow on the ground crunches loudly under our shoes. I wish I had boots. My toes feel as though they are going to freeze off. The wind blows, whipping my hair across my face, the strands stinging my dry skin.
The driveway and house both appear desolate and not in a good way. This place gives me a Texas Chainsaw Massacre vibe. The siding of the house is faded, and the paint is peeling away revealing the grey of the wood underneath. Junk is piled up on the porch blocking the front door. The windows are bare. No curtains or blinds. I tighten my grip on the bat and stay close to Stitch.
“You two find a way inside. See if there is anything of use. Prissy and I will check around back and see if there is a tractor or something that we can use to push those cars off the road.” They leave us near the back of the house. The dog follows them.
“Let’s see if we can find a way in,” Stitch tells me.
“Okay,” I try to keep the fear out of my voice, but I am sure it is written on my face.
He winks. “Just in and out.”
There isn’t a back porch. Only three cement block steps leading to the backdoor. Stitch puts his hand on the knob and starts to turn it when I stop him. “Wait. Do you hear that?” He pauses and goes still. A faint melody plays from inside the house. “I think there’s someone in there.”
The music cuts off and we hear a man talking. “How’s Miss Holly this morning? I’ve got your breakfast.”
Stitch and I share a look before moving to peek through the four-pane window on the back door. An older man is at the counter with his back to us and at the table sits an undead woman with her arms restrained to the chair with zip ties and bungee cords. The man moves and we both duck out of view.
“What are we going to do?” I hiss.
Stitch smirks at me. “Knock?”
“You can’t be serious!”
“You have a better idea?”
“No,” I mutter as my brows draw inward. My idea is to find our friends and get the hell out of here before this freak decides to chop us up for his friend’s next meal. Distracted by my morbid thoughts I am too late to talk Stitch out of making our presence known.
Chapter 4
—Stitch
Lana looks ready to bolt but we need to get back on the road and if this crazy fucker has a tractor, I’m going to pacify him for a few minutes. If he is a threat, I will take him out without hesitation. I knock on the door. “Is anyone home?”
I hear the old man quickly shuffling inside and he appears at the door and smiles when he sees Lana. Great. I can already tell he’s going to be trouble. The moment he sees me that happy expression fades fast. That’s right she’s not alone. I shoot him a warning look. Recovering quickly, he glances behind him then motions for us to step back so he can exit the house. Guess he isn’t going to invite us in.
“What are you folks doing out here? Don’t get many visitors in these parts not since the new freeway was put in.” The door closes behind him and the sound of that thing, Holly eating it’s breakfast turns my stomach. The man has greying hair with some black still dusted on one side of his comb over. Specks of blood pepper his crisp white shirt and khaki pants. The scent of Old Spice cologne comes off him in strong waves.
Lana gives me a cross look and yeah that’s not what I expected him to say either. Thought he’d say since the world has gone to shit. “Traffic is blocked. We thought we’d pass through here but there’s been an accident and we can’t get around it. I was hoping maybe you’d have a tractor or something so we can push the wreckage out of the way.”
“Have you called 911 yet to report the accident? Was anyone hurt?”
“Not sure. The cars look like they have been in the road a while. When was the last time you left your house?”
He ignores my question completely. Scratching his head, he glances between Lana and me, eyeballing the baseball bat in her grip. “Little cold for baseball.”
Lana winces at the observation and I shake my head at her not to bring up the current state of our environment. I think this dude has completely lost touch with reality. “Do you live here alone?” Lana asks him a question instead of replying to his comment about the weather.
His head tilts sideways and he looks back at the door. “Just me and Holly.”
“Is that your wife?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “She passed last year. Holly is my niece. She was caretaker to my wife during her il
lness. Now it’s just us.” Poor old bastard probably lost it when his wife turned. “About that tractor. Got one in the barn, but it doesn’t run. I can make a call for you to the police but doubt they’d get to it today. They’re a bit slow to respond. I called them about a break in and they never did show up.”
“Mind if I take a look at the tractor? I’m pretty mechanical and we really need to keep traveling toward home.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Thanks. You and your niece take care.” I grab Lana’s free hand and pull her with me in the direction Prissy and Asher set off in.
We find Prissy and Asher gawking at the barn doors. I can hear the moans and they are doing their dandiest to break out as they knock at the door. “Let me guess. It’s full of walkers.”
Priscilla rolls her eyes. “Yup.”
“What did you find at the house?” Asher questions.
“Freaky old dude who was cutting up something or someone to feed to his zombie niece,” Lana says in less colorful words than I would have used.
“I’m pretty sure he sent us out to the barn hoping we’d join his food supply. Do you know how many are in there?”
Asher lifts his shoulder in a shrugging motion. “Maybe six or seven.”
I unsheathe my blade and Lana swings her bat. “We can take them,” I tell him.
“You sure.” He looks to Lana.
She lets out a breath. “I can do this.” Percy barks like he agrees with her.
“That’s my girl.” Priscilla winks at her and pulls her knife from her boot.
“Okay then. Get ready. On three.” He moves to the door and places his hands on the wooden slat that has been serving to keep the doors shut. “One. Two. Three.” He lifts and steps back quickly, brandishing his weapon. Five zombies rush us. Percy runs off into the woods and I can’t say I blame him. These fuckers sure are ugly. Priscilla allows one to get close then she pikes it under the chin and snaps his neck. Asher fires a shot in the eyeball of another. I look to Lana and she’s holding her own, pushing the fucker back with the bat. She’s breathtakingly beautiful and yet savage as she kicks the zombie in the stomach and brings her bat down on top of its head. She’s tiny but fierce.
Paradise Lost: Wasteland (Sons of Destruction MC Book 2) Page 3