The hours passed as they worked to make the place habitable, and Angie was grateful when Elise called a halt. They were all hot, sweaty, and hungry. Gathering in the dining room of the old restaurant, everyone relaxed as Elise sent cans of cold drink and bottled water around.
Angie cracked open a Fanta Orange, grimacing at the sweet, sticky taste of the warm mixture, but she was thirsty, and it went down fast. Packets of chips and biscuits followed by a few cans of beans and viennas went around. Nobody seemed happy with the food, but without a working kitchen, it was the best they could get.
After their makeshift supper, the talk wound down as people sought their beds. Everyone was tired. Only the kids were hyper, and Angie blamed all the sugary food.
“Thanks,” she murmured as Julianne gathered up the rubbish in a black bag.
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just—” Meghan ran up and grabbed Julianne around the waist, giggling.
Little brat, Angie thought as Julianne scurried away. She scooped up her bedroll and lay down in a corner, hoping to sleep.
She struggled.
The sight of Armand’s face drifted before her closed eyelids. She couldn’t stop thinking about him. From the first moment she first saw him, she knew he was the one, but it was like she didn’t exist at all. After everything they’d been through, she’d believed they shared a bond. They’d grown close over the weeks of running and hiding, fighting for their lives together, and now he was acting like a stranger, cold and distant.
After hours of obsessing, Angie finally fell asleep. The next morning, she rolled out of bed just as tired as when she turned in. An unappetizing breakfast was followed by more back-breaking labor. Today, there were no giggles, but by noon the building was spotless. After a brief break, they set to work on the bungalows.
A truck had arrived with a load of building material, and a team was engaged in building up the inner walls. All except Armand, who still worked on the solar system. Angie watched him from underneath her lashes. He’s so handsome.
Sweat pearled on his forehead, and his blond hair stuck to his neck in the cutest way. She pictured his muscled arms cradling her at night. A giggle distracted her. Frowning, she noticed Liezel pointing at Armand and whispering to Rosa. What the Hell?
Angie calmed herself and flashed the two a dimpled smile when she noticed them staring at her in shocked surprise. She forced herself to turn away and return to work, but the rest of the day passed in a haze of red anger.
That night, supper was as dismal as the previous evening. Nobody talked to her, put off by her sullen mood. She felt lonely and rejected.
Once again she struggled to sleep and woke up exhausted. Washing her face, Angie stared at her reflection in the mirror, noting the dark circles under her eyes. She looked worn out, haggard.
She could feel something moving deep inside of her, like a worm burrowing into her heart. All the stress and strain, made bearable only by her love for Armand, was threatening to overwhelm her. Something had to give. Pressing her lips together, she marched outside to join the others.
“Angie!” Looking over, she saw Armand waving at her, and her stomach did a back-flip of delight.
Hurrying over, she flashed him a huge smile. “Hey, there. Looking for me?”
She cringed at the fawning note in her voice. So much for acting cool.
“Yeah, Morgan showed up with the truck. She wants us to join her on a scavenging trip.”
Angie’s heart dropped as she realized the excitement on his face wasn’t because of her but rather the prospect of spending time with Morgan.
“Sure. I’d love to.” She gritted the words out between clenched teeth, her fingers curling into fists.
“Great. We’re leaving now.”
She followed Armand on legs that felt like lead. Her hands shook. Blinking back tears, she shoved her trembling hands into her pockets. Up ahead, she spotted the familiar figure of Morgan. A surge of jealousy suffused her mind. She shot a glance at Armand and saw the worship written there, moments before it turned to disappointment and anger. Looking back, she was treated to the sight of Morgan throwing herself into Logan’s arms. They kissed with passion, not caring who saw.
Smirking, Angie stepped up and greeted the two lovebirds with a fake smile before jumping into the back of the truck. A forlorn Armand joined her and stewed in anger. The trip passed in loaded silence. Men are so stupid.
About fifteen minutes later, they pulled up to an Engen garage just outside of town and got out with caution. They surveyed the parking lot and determined it to be clear. The girls headed to the shop while the men siphoned gas from the underground tanks with a pump.
Inside the building, all was quiet. The place had been raided before, but there was still some stuff left. Picking through the rubbish, Angie shoved any useful items she found into her bag. Glancing at Morgan, she asked, “So, why did we come on this raid exactly? I thought we had enough supplies to last us a while.”
“You know Max. He’s always worried about not having enough, and besides, I thought a break from all that work would be nice. Have some fun instead.”
“I think you’re the only one who would consider this fun,” Angie grumbled. “Are you sure you’re not a psycho?”
Laughing, Morgan shook her head, “Nope. I just feel like this is my second chance, you know?”
Angie shook her head, mystified. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“I guess it would be hard to get. I mean, not everybody would see the apocalypse as a chance to live actually.”
Angie frowned. Morgan was right. It was hard to get. Who on earth would choose to live like this? Before, life had been perfect. She’d had money, clothes, attention, anything she wanted. Now?
A shout resounded outside before she could reply. Running to the door, they saw Logan jump into the Nyala and start the engine.
Armand stood with one foot in the passenger door, clinging on while Logan raced closer. “We’ve got company. Get in!”
They slung their bags into the back and tumbled in, slamming the door shut as the first runners entered the parking lot. Angie clenched her hands into fists. “Why do those things have to be so damn fast? And why do some stay fresh for longer while others deteriorate in no time? And where do all the new ones come from? I thought we were the only survivors in the area? In fact, why did any of this have to happen?”
A note of hysteria had crept into her voice, and Morgan laid a soothing hand on her arm. “Hey, sweetie. Calm down. I don’t have all the answers either, but we have to make the best of this.”
Angie stared at Morgan’s hand. Hatred boiled up inside. Don’t pretend to be nice. You’re just a slut who parades around for all the men.
Focusing on her rage, she calmed down enough to act normal. “I’m sorry. It’s just so overwhelming, you know?”
“I know. Look on the bright side. At least, they’re still stupid,” Morgan replied. “Think how bad it would be if they were smart.”
They drove around for a while before entering a quiet suburb on the outskirts of town. Stopping, the group got out and looked around.
“We haven’t been here yet, and Max thought it might be a good place to look for supplies. The people here used to be well off,” Logan said.
“So we go in together?” Armand asked, edging closer to Morgan.
A look of irritation flashed across Logan’s faced, not missed by either Morgan or Angie.
“I think we should pair up. That way we can search more houses, and we each have a partner for backup,” Morgan said.
“Sounds like a plan. Why don’t you and Angie start over there? Morgan and I can go that way,” Logan said.
Hope flared in Angie’s chest at the thought of spending time alone with Armand but died when she saw the disappointment on his face. He gave a curt nod, slinging his rifle over his back and gripping his crowbar. “Fine. Come on, Angie. Let’s go.”
He marched to the nearest house, a
nd Angie followed dragging her feet. She stared at the rigid muscles of his back and wondered where it all went wrong. She dashed at the tears forming in the corners of her eyes. I don’t know what to do anymore. Why can’t he see me? I’m right here, I’ve always been right here.
At the first house, they paused and listened for any sounds. Angie pushed her feelings aside for the moment, concentrating instead on her surroundings. Inattention caused death. Inside, they checked the front of the house before moving to the back. All was quiet.
There weren’t any cars in the driveway, and the garage doors stood open which they took as a good sign. Usually, that meant the occupants were gone. After a thorough search, this turned out to be true, so they turned their attention to supplies. Filling their packs with items, Angie tried to strike up a conversation. “Good thing we don’t live in America.”
Frowning, Armand asked, “Why’s that?”
“Don’t they all have basements and attics, like in the movies? That would be scary. Wouldn’t you hate having to go into some dark and creepy basement with zombies waiting to ambush you?”
Laughing, he said, “Okay, I get your point.”
After that, some of their old camaraderie was restored. For a time things went well. The next two houses both proved to be empty of life, and the raid progressed smoothly.
Angie wondered about the people who used to live there. Where were they now? Did they make it? Were they still alive? These questions milled through her head as she rifled through their belongings and stared at old photos.
Angie didn’t know if her own family was still alive or not, didn’t care really. She rarely gave them a thought. An only child, she had no siblings to worry about. As for her parents, she had nothing but contempt for them. Her father only cared about money, spending every waking hour at work while her mother was weak and easily manipulated.
As they approached the next house, the first sign of trouble revealed itself in the form of the family dog. Its carcass was stripped of flesh, and the desiccated remains were pathetic to behold. A car stood in the driveway with the boot open. It held suitcases and a few bottles of water.
They shared a look, readying themselves for a fight. Angie took the lead, her boots crunching on the gravel underfoot, followed by Armand’s heavier tread. The kitchen door stood ajar, and dried blood smeared the handle. She pushed it open and winced when it creaked. Inside, the walls and counters were splashed with old blood.
Angie tried to steady her breathing and wiped her sweaty palms on her jeans. This was something she’d never get used to. The anticipation that something lurked around the corner, ready to pounce. She reassured herself that she had a backup in the form of Armand and a gun strapped to her hip.
They moved into the open-plan dining and living room, and it was evident a struggle had taken place. Furniture lay tossed about with more blood splashed across the walls in a horrid display. A doorway to a second living room beckoned. With a gesture to Armand to follow, she moved forward.
Angie rounded the corner and came face to face with a living nightmare. Inside stood at least a dozen zombies. They weren’t doing much, swaying from side to side as they waited for someone like her to activate their hunting instincts. Angie’s heart slammed against her rib cage so hard she was sure they’d feel the vibrations. So far they hadn’t spotted her. She needed to move before they did.
Holding her breath, she backtracked and placed each foot with infinite care. Angie trusted in Armand’s savvy, hoping she wouldn’t bump into him. She kept moving, her eyes trained on the doorway the entire time. Each step felt like she was about to set off a landmine. She stretched out a hand and touched the walls to guide her.
Every instinct screamed at her to run, but she knew that’d be a mistake. Her head brushed past a picture frame. She swallowed as it scraped against the wall, dust trickling down. Her nerves were stretched to their limits.
Once back inside the kitchen, Angie turned around and motioned to Armand to go. He recognized the direness of their situation by the look of terror on her face and moved without hesitation.
The doorway loomed ahead. Safety beckoned. They stepped out into the midday sun, and Angie took a deep breath of oxygen. Dear God, we made it out alive.
“Go,” she mouthed.
They jogged along the path and rounded the corner to the driveway. Without Angie noticing, Armand stopped abruptly. She slammed into his back with a thud, stifled a voluntary cry before she peered around him. In front of them stood another group of infected. Ice water flooded her veins. We’re trapped.
In an instant, Angie realized they’d never be able to fight off the lot in front of them before the bunch in the house behind them were alerted. They’d be caught between the two groups and ground to mincemeat. Or rather, chewed.
Armand must have reached the same conclusion. Instead of fighting, he dropped his crowbar, gripped her by the waist and heaved her up to the roof of the carport. “Climb!”
Grabbing onto the edge of the zinc roof, she pulled with everything she had, motivated by the hunting cries of the infected. From the house, an answering roar rose. They had only a few precious seconds to get to safety. Levering herself up, Angie swung her legs over and turned, flinging out her hand.
Armand jumped, caught the edge with one hand and gripped her forearm with the other. Together, they inched him to safety. Small as she was, Angie possessed an iron grip. He got one elbow onto the roof and prepared to swing up his legs. Angie stared into his face, still holding his hand.
Without warning, a bubbling volcano of emotions erupted within her chest. Love, adoration, obsession, and despair, but most of all, hate. Pure and undiluted hate. I could have given you everything. My heart, my soul, my entire existence. Yet, you chose her. Her!
Angie gripped him by the collar of his shirt with her free hand. Instead of pulling, she leaned forward and whispered in his ear, “Goodbye love.”
He stared at her in confusion. “What?”
She shoved him off the roof with all of her strength. Armand fell with a cry, landing with his left foot bent inwards. His ankle snapped with a loud crack. He stared at her, one hand stretched upwards in a futile gesture.
The first infected fell on him. They swarmed across his body like ants, ripping and tearing. His screams of agony rang out with awful clarity, every millisecond of suffering etched in unrelieved sound.
Angie leaned over the edge, and her pulse raced with excitement. Her dark hair hung down like a flag, reaching to him like black tendrils of death. She watched them render Armand into a shapeless, quivering mass of flesh. His blood spattered the stones.
The feelings that welled up inside her defied description, but one stood out above the rest. Power. The power of life and death over another.
Armand’s voice grew fainter, gurgling through the fluid that filled his lungs. Silence fell. Disappointed it was over, Angie watched a little longer, prolonging the pleasure, before she assessed her situation. She was stuck on the roof of a carport with a crowd of zombies below. Not ideal.
Scooting over, she glanced at the Nyala. Beyond that, she spotted the figures of Morgan and Logan moving closer. They must have heard Armand’s screams. Waving at them, she got an answering wave.
Working her way over to the other side, she cursed as the hot zinc roof burned her skin, raising blisters. Until now, she hadn’t even noticed the heat. The opposite edge of the roof bordered the neighbor’s yard. Checking that the zombies were still occupied with their meal, she lowered herself down and huddled behind the wall. From there, she made her way to the Nyala using what cover she could and giving the zombies a wide berth.
Logan and Morgan were there before her, faces pale, and Angie stumbled to a halt. Her breath staggered with raw, untapped panic. Oh God, what if they know? What if they saw what happened?
“What happened? We heard screams,” Morgan said, her eyes winging in Armand’s direction.
Angie slumped, relief coursing through her veins. T
hey don’t know.
Bursting into tears, she cried “Armand’s dead.”
Morgan gasped. “Oh, no!”
Logan stepped up and ushered them both into the Nyala. “I’m sorry girls, but we’ve got to go. Get in the truck.”
They clambered into the vehicle with Angie sitting in the middle. She sobbed, blubbering her story while they drove. “I’m so sorry. I tried to pull him up, I did, but he was too heavy.”
Morgan placed her arms around her shoulders, pulling her close. “It’s all right. You’re safe.”
“It’s all my fault. I let him die!”
“No, sweetie. It’s not your fault. You did everything you could.”
Angie pressed her face against Morgan’s shoulder, hiding a smile. Her shoulders shook as the fake tears continued to flow. She allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction at her ability to act. If you only knew.
The rest of the drive passed quickly with Angie huddled on the seat, allowing herself to be comforted. Basking in all the attention, she reflected that it had been an excellent day. Not only had she paid Armand back for his betrayal, but she could look forward to several days of pampering as the victim in this horrid tragedy. Of course, it wouldn’t last, but that didn’t matter. She was already planning her next murder.
Chapter 21 - Morgan
Morgan scrubbed the floor with ferocious intensity. The brush in her hand swept back and forth in a rhythmic manner, loosening the dirt ingrained into the dark tiles. The soap frothed around her chapped fingers, burning the torn cuticles. It was soothing, though. It helped calm her mind.
Ever since the disastrous raid during which they lost Armand, she felt…unsettled. Or maybe the real word she was looking for was guilty. We shouldn’t have split up. We should have stayed together.
She hadn’t planned on taking him along. It should have been just her and Logan. But Armand had been so eager, so insistent, that she hadn’t been able to say no despite Logan’s visible irritation.
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