“So what happened with you and Remy?” Theo asked, scanning the road beside them for any approaching dangers. Everything was quiet and still, though; he didn’t think they’d have much to worry about in this area. He shifted his eyes back to Gray, but Gray was giving him a look so ugly, it could have soured milk. He gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and said, “Look, I can’t help you straighten out whatever the hell you’ve managed to cause now if I don’t know what’s going on.”
Gray heaved a sigh and shook his head. “It’s not something remotely fixable,” he argued. “I fucked up, okay? I found them together, and I overreacted. My temper got the better of me. I’m not with her, and I’m not supposed to care who she is with. It’s none of my fucking business. But I made her business the group’s business, and now she hates me—hell, I hate me—and it’s probably going to cause problems with group operations from here on out.”
Theo clapped him gently on the back and paused in mid-step to look at the house they approached. “I doubt it’s as bad as that,” he said. “Give it a week or so. everybody will have forgotten about it then.”
“Except Ethan and Remy, and they’re the ones whose view on it really matters,” Gray argued. “And somehow, I doubt we’ll all even be alive in a week.”
“If that’s your stance, then you shouldn’t worry about it,” Theo pointed out. “Because if we’re all going to be dead in a week, it won’t matter that you two got into a fight over Remy. None of us will even be alive to care.”
Gray nodded slightly to concede the point. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said softly. “Doesn’t mean I’m happy about it, though.” He ran a hand through his dark hair and looked at him with wide eyes, appearing several years younger than his current twenty-three. Theo was reminded of when Gray was a teenager and would come to him for girl advice; that time in their lives seemed like a century ago. “I don’t think she likes me, Theo.”
Theo scoffed and shook his head. “She likes you fine, Gray. Everybody here likes you. You’re a great guy.”
“No, she doesn’t. They don’t,” Gray tried to correct him. Theo squinted at him in the fading evening light, trying to decipher the expression on his face. He was largely unsuccessful. “They all think I’m an asshole. A useless fucking tool who always has to have his own way.”
“Man, you really have been kicking your own ass over this, haven’t you?” he observed. “It’s not really that big—”
“I don’t want to talk about it anymore,” Gray interrupted with a firm shake of his head.
Theo let go of Gray’s shoulder and put both hands up defensively. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll leave you alone about it now.” He started to walk toward the house again, his feelings hurt over his brother’s refusal to confide in him. He used to talk to him about everything. Ever since the Michaluk virus had caused them to throw their lot in with this group, though, his confidences had all but stopped, and now he was more secretive than ever. Theo wasn’t sure he liked the changes he’d witnessed in his brother; it just wasn’t the Gray he knew.
The two men were nearly back to the house when Theo glimpsed one of the most welcome sights he’d encountered in months, enough to raise his spirits and make him feel that much better about their current situation. It wouldn’t make up for Nikola’s loss—nothing would—but it’d certainly help with their moods. He put an arm out to stop Gray, nearly clotheslining him as he rested his arm across his chest. “Is that what I think it is?” he asked, almost breathless with a rush of excitement.
Gray squinted, approaching the white lattice crate that butted against the side of the house. It was approximately the size of a central air conditioning unit, and if it was anything but what Theo thought it was, he seriously believed he’d cry. Gray, thankfully enough, gave him a hesitant nod in response.
“I think it might be,” Gray said. He shoved his gun at Theo and climbed on top of the box, working at the padlock with the thin screwdriver Cade had loaned him. It took some work, but Gray finally snapped the lock open and tossed it to the grass. He dropped down from the box and flipped the lid open, leaning to look inside. A grin spread across his face.
“It is,” Gray confirmed excitedly. He fiddled with a cap on the top and managed to dislodge it, leaning to shine his flashlight inside. “With a full tank! This could last us all night, easily.”
Theo resisted the urge to let out a whoop of excitement. “Let’s crank this fucker up, then!” he exclaimed.
* * *
Cade sat comfortably on the living room sofa behind Remy, braiding her hair by the light of a skinny flashlight clenched between her teeth. Remy had her eyes closed, her head tilted back and nearly lolling on her neck with the soothing feeling of Cade’s fingers in her hair. Ethan and Brandt were at the coffee table, poring over the Georgia map and arguing softly over what they found. Avi lurked by the front door with a look of apprehension on her face, waiting for Gray and Theo’s return.
“I still think this would be the best route,” Ethan said, shining his flashlight over the map spread out on the table. His finger tapped the paper, and Cade leaned over to look at the map for herself. She followed his finger with her eyes as he traced it along the route in question.
“It’s not. There are roadblocks here, here, and here,” Brandt argued, jabbing his finger at the paper. “And unlike the one we dealt with yesterday, they aren’t ones we can easily climb over. I’ve been through right here.” His finger landed on a fourth spot. “It’s as clear as we can hope for. I think it’s our best chance to get through without having to go off road.” He grabbed the pen on the table beside him and started writing in the margins of the map. “What I am more concerned with is where we’re going to go after Atlanta if we don’t get picked up.”
Ethan let out an exasperated breath and shook his head. “Brandt—” he started, but before he could continue, the room flooded with light. Cade let out a startled gasp and threw her arm up to shield her eyes against the brightness. Remy stiffened, her shoulders squaring and her back straightening, fingers finding and gripping the hilt of her bolo knife tightly enough to turn her knuckles white. Cade put a free hand on her shoulder soothingly.
“What the fuck?” Brandt snapped. He tilted his head back to look at the ceiling fan, watching its blades spin lazily, casting rotating shadows across the ceiling. He got up and hurried to the light switch, slapping at it to turn the light off. The room fell into darkness once more as he drew his gun and stood by the door.
There was a sudden commotion at the front door, and Cade abandoned her spot behind Remy to point her rifle in the direction of the noise. Avi scrambled back, her machete in her hands, as the door burst open. Cade barely managed to stop herself from squeezing the trigger as Gray and Theo burst into the house.
“That fucker had a generator!” Gray yelped happily. Theo gave him a cross look and kicked the younger man’s ankle, but he didn’t seem to notice as he charged toward the kitchen. “I’m going to see if the water heater’s electric and if there’s water pressure.”
Remy sat up even straighter, if that were possible, looking highly interested in Gray’s words. “Wait, you mean we might actually get the chance to take hot showers?”
A slow smile spread across Cade’s face as she thought of the luxury. A hot shower would be the most wonderful thing in the world; she hadn’t had a hot shower or bath since shortly after the Michaluk virus broke out. It was too long to go without a nice, warm bath, and the lack of one was beginning to make her feel a little less human every day. But she had a feeling that something of that nature would be far too much to ask for. She was proven right when she followed Brandt and Gray to the kitchen, lurking in the doorway as Brandt turned the faucet on. It only gave out the occasional splutter as he turned it on full blast.
“No dice,” Brandt announced. “Best-case scenario, there’s air in the pipes. But I wouldn’t get my hopes up.” Cade let out a disappointed sigh, and he gave her a smile in return.
“I, personally
, am going to see what this guy does have that we can use,” Ethan announced. He headed down the hall leading to the back of the house. Cade watched him go, frowning as she skimmed her eyes over the straight set of his back and shoulders. Her worry for him made her feel completely helpless.
A moment of silence lingered over the rest of the group. Remy let out a sigh of her own and rose off the couch. She casually smoothed her hands over her shirt and jacket before following Ethan down the hall. “I’m going to make sure he’s okay,” she said over her shoulder.
Silence continued after her departure, and Cade tore her eyes from the dark hallway to Gray. He was watching the hall, too, his eyes narrowed; she could read the jealousy on his face as easily as she could read an open book. The expression was enough to make her grit her teeth in irritation, and the simmering feeling boiled over when she saw Theo pat Gray on the back.
“You’re not going to win any points with Remy by acting like a brat every time she shows attention to someone other than you,” she spat out. Everyone’s eyes swiveled to her as she turned on Theo and took half a step toward him. “And you, stop validating his damn behavior. It’s pissing me off.”
She felt the others’ eyes on her as she let out a huff of irritation and marched straight to the stairs. Ignoring them all, she began to climb, intent on seeking a room in which she could hole up for the night and get away from her companions. She’d had enough of them for the day.
Chapter Fourteen
Remy’s search for Ethan didn’t take as long as she expected. She found him sitting on a dark green sofa in the office at the back of the house, his eyes closed and a pair of earbuds in his ears. He didn’t hear her as she stopped in the doorway and examined the room. It was decorated in dark colors, reds and greens and browns, leathers and soft fabrics covering the assorted furniture littering the office. It reminded her of a lawyer’s overdone office, one of those where they rented books by the foot so they could look more intelligent with their shelf décor. Or maybe it was like a doctor’s office—not the exam rooms, but the actual office where doctors did their thing away from their patients. The thought was a bit unsettling; she’d never liked either. She wandered to the dark mahogany desk and looked over the office supplies there, picking up a silver letter opener and tapping it over her knuckles as she turned to face Ethan.
She frowned as she stepped toward him, slipping the letter opener into her pocket. He hadn’t reacted in the slightest to the noise she made. She wasn’t making an effort to keep quiet, either. It was a sign of how upset Ethan was that whatever music he’d chosen to listen to was too loud for him to hear his surroundings. That was incredibly dangerous. It opened the door for one of the infected to attack and kill him before he realized they were even there. She wondered if he secretly hoped that would happen. The thought was more unsettling than the idea of being in a lawyer’s or doctor’s office.
Remy moved forward more slowly and leaned to pick up the music player on the couch at his side. It was one of those old school iPods, the ones with the little clickwheel and no wi-fi. She bumped the touch-sensitive controls just enough to see the track name. Before she could read it, though, Ethan’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist. She nearly dropped the music player in shock, and her eyes darted to meet Ethan’s. He looked up at her, and she swallowed hard as she saw the expression in his eyes. She set the player back down on the cushion and gave him a reluctant smile, pulling one of the earbuds out of his ear. “What are you listening to?” she asked casually, sinking down onto the couch beside him and ignoring the way her heart raced from the startle he’d given her.
Ethan wordlessly passed her the music player, and she finally got a glimpse of the device’s screen. “Simple Man,” she read out loud as she fingered the edge of the player, tracing her nail along the metal casing. “Lynyrd Skynyrd?”
“Yeah,” he confirmed.
She smiled. “I didn’t even know you liked them.”
“I like almost everything that’s at least a little listenable,” Ethan replied. Remy smiled again and scooted closer to him, blatantly cuddling against his side. She stuck the earbud she still held into her right ear, resting her head against his so they could both listen. “I didn’t know you liked them either,” he commented.
She shrugged. “I’m a lot like you. I’ll listen to pretty much anything.” She ran her fingers absently along the hem of her jacket and added, “My dad—my birth dad—he was a musician. Used to play guitar. He was amazing at it.” Ethan gave her a sad look, and she found his hand and squeezed it. “It’s okay. He died a long time ago, when I was eight,” she assured him. “And everyone else is gone, too. I’m coming to terms with their deaths. Hell, I’ll join them sooner or later anyway. Most likely sooner.”
He leaned back to look her in the face. “What makes you say that?” he asked, his eyes scanning her features.
Remy shrugged and averted her eyes as she said, “I don’t know. I just have this feeling, right here,” she touched her stomach, “that I’m not going to live to see the end of the week.”
“Yes, you will,” he said immediately with a firm shake of his head. “You’re one of the toughest people I know. You’ll make it through Atlanta fine.”
“Just because I’m tough doesn’t mean Atlanta isn’t tougher,” Remy said. “I don’t think I’m going to live to see Luckie Street.”
“If you think that, then why are you going?” he asked.
She shrugged again and ducked her head. “Because I need to. I’ve already explained that to you.”
Ethan sighed and leaned his head back against the sofa, closing his eyes. He stayed silent for a few songs, for so long that Remy wondered if he’d fallen asleep. When he finally spoke again, his voice was strained, as if he struggled to hold back a strong surge of emotion. “I swear to you now, Remy Angellette, I will not allow you to die in Atlanta. I won’t let anything touch you. Not as long as I’m breathing long enough to stop it.”
She smiled at his words. “Aw, Eth, that’s the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me,” she joked with a little laugh. The laugh caught in her throat as he lifted his head from the sofa, the expression in his eyes hard and serious.
“I mean it. I’m not kidding, Remy,” he said. His voice was just as serious as his eyes.
Remy drew in a slow breath and closed her eyes momentarily before leaning her head back against Ethan’s. “Let’s not think about it right now,” she suggested. “Let’s just enjoy the music and relax and just…be.”
He let out an exasperated breath and ran a hand through his shaggy blond hair. “I don’t want to just relax,” he said. “We need to talk about this. I want to know what the fuck’s going on in that pretty little head of yours.”
Remy pulled the earbud out of her ear, dropping it between them. “Do we really? I don’t think we do.” She sat up straight and started to work her hair out of the braid Cade had put it in. “Why can’t we just enjoy our fucking free time? It’s probably the last chance we’ll have to do it.”
“Remy, please,” Ethan said. She closed her eyes slowly at the heavy pleading in his voice, not knowing how to respond to that. “I lost Nikola. I never got the chance to talk to her about any of this shit. I never knew what she thought about Atlanta.”
“She was a teenager, Ethan,” she said patiently, sliding a few inches away from him. “Nobody knows what’s going on in their minds.”
“Yeah, well.” He sighed and slid an arm around her waist, tugging gently at her. “Come here.”
“What for?”
“I just want you to sit here with me, Remy,” he said. His fingers rubbed slowly at her ribs. “I want your company. Is there something wrong with that?” He offered her the earbud she’d dropped. “Music?”
Remy stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. Perhaps Nikola’s death had unhinged him more than the rest of them had realized; she wondered how clearly he was really thinking. He seemed so easily distracted and, quite frankly, absolutel
y depressed; she didn’t see how he’d manage to make any serious decisions. This sort of attitude could get them all killed. It was the same careless attitude he’d often admonished her for.
She touched the back of his neck, running her fingers lightly over the bones of his spine as she watched him closely. “Are you okay?” she asked, twisting to face him on the couch, sitting sideways with one foot on the floor and the other tucked underneath her.
Ethan hesitated, looking down at his lap. Then he seemed to crumble. He leaned forward and buried his face in his hands, his shoulders hunched and his head bowed. “Oh hell,” he said, his voice muffled. “Oh fuck, I’m not,” he admitted softly.
Remy swallowed hard. Ethan looked seconds away from a total breakdown, and she felt a pang in her chest. She quickly wrapped her arms around him and held him close, resting her head against his back and rubbing her hands soothingly over his sides and chest. “Shh, Eth, it’s okay,” she murmured. “Shit’s hard, I know. This whole mess is just…it’s all gotten so fucked up.”
He let out a slow, shuddery breath. “How did everything get so turned around? We were all fine and happy. And then she showed up, and everything’s just…wrong now.”
“It’s because she showed up,” she agreed. She closed her eyes and added softly, “Is there anything I can do for you to at least see you happy again? Anything at all?”
Ethan was silent for a moment before he spoke. “Yeah. You can live.”
* * *
Brandt decided to go after Cade once a neutral thirty minutes had passed. He’d thought maybe she needed some quiet and privacy, but the house made him nervous, despite the uncommon comforts it offered. He didn’t want to leave the woman alone in it any longer than necessary. He picked up both their rifles from the coffee table—it was a testament to Cade’s anger that the Israeli woman had left her beloved rifle on the table an entire floor below her—and slung hers over his shoulder by the strap.
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