The Dead Saga (Book 6): Odium VI

by Riley, Claire C.

  I was getting louder, my frustrations sending me hyper. I looked over at O’Donnell, recognizing the same look on her face as was likely on mine. Fear, desperation, anger. But she wasn’t doing anything. She wasn’t saying anything to help me convince Aiken and the rest of her people to help us. And that made me even more angry.

  “Nina?” Axe said from across the room.

  I looked over at him and he nodded his head at me, like he was telling me he agreed with everything I had just said and had my back. So it was just me, O’Donnell, and Axe. Fantastic.

  I shook my head again and gave an angry grunt as I turned and left the room, grabbing my machete from Timbo on my way out and giving him a mumbled thanks.

  “Screw this place,” I muttered, trying to not completely lose my shit.

  Outside of the house I paced back and forth, wearing a hole in the wooden decking in front of the house. I finally took a deep breath and forced myself to stop walking. Sitting down on the steps, I put my head in my hands and forced away the tears that were threatening to spill.

  I couldn’t cry.

  I wouldn’t.

  I didn’t even know why I felt the need to cry. It was just everything and nothing all at once. It was the sickness of it all. The sadness of what I had done to myself and Mikey. The helplessness of the situation. And the single-minded thought that I might never see him again and it would all be my fault.

  My fault for sending him away.

  For leaving him with the burden of Adam and Joan while I went on my one-woman mission to save him. How fucking obnoxious was I?

  I don’t know how long I sat there for, but the soft pitter-patter of warm rain on my skin stirred me from my dark thoughts. I looked up, turning my face to the sky and closing my eyes with a sigh as the light rain dripped onto my cheeks.

  God, if things were only that simple—just warm rain on dry cheeks.

  “Didn’t think we’d ever see you again.” Joan’s voice cut into my personal self-loathing and I opened my eyes and turned to her, a smile breaching the walls of my sadness.

  “I could say the same about you,” I said, my smile widening.

  I stood up quickly and went to her, throwing my arms around her shoulders as I gripped onto the last remnant of Mikey I had. She seemed taken aback by my affection, but after a moment or two she wrapped her arms around me and hugged me back.

  I didn’t cry.

  I wasn’t that woman anymore.

  But I felt the pain of everything inside me and I let it all come out in that hug.

  “There, there,” Joan soothed, stroking my hair, and I nodded like petulant child in agreement.

  There, fucking there indeed, my heart sighed.

  “It’s such a mess,” I muttered, finally pulling away so I could look into her face.

  There was a clarity in her eyes that I hadn’t seen before, as if she hadn’t been all there previously but was now. The wrinkles around her eyes seemed softer, less engraved upon her skin, and her normally wild mane of white hair that she usually wore in a tangled bun on top of her head was in a loose braid down her back. She seemed calm, cleared, and like the old woman that she perhaps once was—or at least could have been, once upon a time. Someone’s grandma, perhaps. Someone’s wife. Someone’s mother. And nothing like the wild and crazy woman I first met.

  And just as quickly as it was there, it was gone again. The clarity dulled in her eyes and she patted my head harder and harder, running her fingers through the knots in my hair as she cooed in my ear. Her pats become painful, so painful that I flinched and pulled away.

  “Ow, Joan, quit it!”

  “There there, my girl. It’s going to be all right,” she continued to coo with a gap-toothed smile, her eyes practically googly-eyed.

  I shook my head. “It’s not, Joan. You have no idea how not okay it is right now.”

  I took a step back, because for one, her hand kept moving toward me like she wanted to pat my head some more and I was not down with that at all. And two, she still smelled. Like, really bad. I guess you can take the woman away from the crazy, but you can’t take the crazy out of the woman—or something like that, anyway.

  “Mikey’s gone to find Adam. He’ll be back soon,” she said with a smile, and nodded. “He said I had to stay here and wait for him. That Adam needed somewhere good and safe to come back to and I was the only one left alive to be able to give that to him. So I’m here waiting like he said. But the people here, they’re not all that nice. One woman even told me that if I didn’t stop singing she was going to cut out my tongue!” She looked aghast. “Can you imagine? Back in the day I won awards for my singing, I’ll have you know.”

  Her eyes darted left and right like it was all some big conspiracy, and then they narrowed back in on me, her mouth pulling into a thin line to match.

  “Joan? You okay?” I asked, trying to follow what the hell she was saying, but it was hard because ya know, she was freaking crazy.

  “Would you like me to sing you a song?” she asked, patting me on the head because she had somehow gotten too close to me again and was in arm’s reach.

  “Oh no, no no no, but thanks,” I said quickly.

  “That’s a shame,” she said, her smile falling. “Hey, you’re dead,” she announced with a small shake of her head, her chin trembling as her smile disappeared completely. “You went back inside and we heard the gunshots. You’re dead, my dear. It’s not the first time I’ve talked to a dead person, I guess, but it is the first time that they haven’t tried to eat me when I talked to them.”

  She looked confused as hell, and I was about to explain that I didn’t die, that I had saved us, and that I was coming to find her and Adam and Mikey but that something happened: I got rammed off the road and I met a bunch of amazingly strong women and I gave them hope and life but mostly I gave them back their voices. And then I met a man. A man who I really liked, who I really cared about, that seemed to worship the ground I walked on, and we could have been really freaking happy together apart from the small fact that no matter what I did, I just couldn’t get Mikey out of my head.

  I couldn’t forget him.

  Because what I felt for Mikey was so much more. And yes, I was talking about real feelings. Emotions. And I didn’t care, because it didn’t matter how stupid it felt talking about feelings and emotions and loves and hates at the end of the world, because that was all we had left, goddamn it!

  That was all we had!

  But before I could say all that to her, Joan burst out laughing, insanity clawing at her features like it was trying to escape her face, and before I could say anything else she patted me on the shoulder and started to walk away.

  “Crazy Pants?” I called after her.

  She looked back over her shoulder. “Don’t give up. Never give up, dead Nina.” And then she continued to walk away.

  I dragged a hand down my face and turned back to the house, where the meeting was still going on. I swallowed the lump in my throat, and with a soft shake of my head I climbed back up the steps. Timbo smiled at me from his spot in his chair, the can of Diet Coke in his grasp.

  “What do you think?” I asked, gesturing toward the room where I could hear voices talking over one another. “You think I’m wrong for trying to convince Aiken to risk all your lives to save a handful of questionable people?”

  Timbo chuckled. “I try not to think, I just do. It’s easier that way.”

  “Easier isn’t always right, though.”

  He shrugged. “It keeps me alive, and that’s mostly what I care about, if we’re being honest.” He shrugged again and took a swig of the Diet Coke and moaned. “Miss having this stuff, you know?”

  I nodded. “I guess. I don’t know, I sort of stopped missing things, if I’m honest. Nothing good ever comes from reminiscing about the past. It just makes us sad.”

  “You wear guilt like shackles on your feet,” he said, and I blinked in surprise at him, stunned by how much of me he truly saw. “Depeche
Mode,” he added with a soft smile. “I miss them too. I miss a lot of stuff.”

  I rolled my eyes at him and handed him my machete before heading back into the room in the hopes of convincing Aiken he had to do it. But there was truth to that saying. I did feel guilt and it did weigh me down, worse than anything else. I felt guilt for everything. For loving, for hating, for killing, and even for not killing. But mostly, I felt guilt for being alive when I didn’t believe I deserved to be.

  All heads turned in my direction when I walked into the room, and I swallowed again and gave a bitchy wave.

  “Aiken, look—” I started.

  “I’ve made my decision, Nina,” he interrupted, and stood up.

  “Oh,” I replied. “And?”

  His matchstick moved from side to side of his mouth while he stared at me. My heart thudded in my chest, relentless in its desire to keep me alive. But regardless of my heart, I had a feeling that what came out of Aiken’s mouth next would either kill me or keep me going.

  I had to save Mikey.

  If not for him, then for myself.

  Because if I didn’t save him, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to live with myself.

  Chapter Twenty

  Shooter

  Red-hot anger burned through my chest. “You let her leave?” I growled out, my teeth almost breaking as I clenched them together.

  “We didn’t let her leave—she left, Prez,” Gauge replied, pulling the cigar from between his lips.

  “Yeah, she left all on her own,” Balls added. “She’s sneaky, like a fox. Or like, what are those things called? You know, the long furry, brown things. They stink and squeak and shit and sneak around, being all sneaky and shit.”

  “A skunk?”

  “Fuck no, not a skunk. Those are black and white, fool!” Balls yelled.

  “Badger?” Gauge scratched at his beard, his cigar smoke trailing up past his face.

  “No! And badgers aren’t long enough animals for what I’m talking about. My sister used to have a couple of these things, and she had this weird run-around tube system that went through her house so they could run and play. I mean, they were stinky but they were pretty cute too.” He smiled at Gauge, who only grunted in reply. “Well, that Nina chick of yours, she’s like one of those sneaky things. Whatever they are.” He nodded his head, seemingly pleased with the fact that he’d just called the woman I loved a stinky, sneaky animal. Motherfuckers were going to end up shot in the face if they kept on that way.

  Gauge and Balls stopped and turned back to stare at me, their faces full of fear when they realized the full depth of my fury. I was surprised they couldn’t see the steam coming out of my ears, but as much as I respected those brothers, they could both be dumb motherfuckers when they wanted to be.

  “Ferret,” I growled out. “You’re talking about a ferret.”

  Balls clicked his fingers and smiled. “A ferret! Yeah, that’s it, man. I wonder if any of those things survived? I mean”—he laughed—“other than your wom—” He stopped talking when he saw my glare. “I meant no harm, Prez,” he said with a swallow.

  I reached over and grabbed the front of Balls’s shirt, and dragged him up close to my face until we were nose to nose and the brother was practically cross-eyed as he tried in vain to hold my stare.

  “You ever, and I mean ever, call my woman a motherfucking ferret or anything that I find even remotely not nice and I will cut your dick off and shove it up your ass. Is that understood?” I gritted out with a snarl.

  “Completely, Prez,” Balls agreed.

  I let him go, shoving him backwards until he stumbled, and he held up his hands in surrender. Balls wasn’t a pushover by any means. None of the brothers were, but they knew who was in charge and when to back the fuck down.

  And right then was the time they both needed to back the fuck down.

  “Why the fuck would she just leave?” I bit out. “She has everything she needs here.”

  Gauge made a noise in the back of his throat and I glared at him.

  “You got something to say, motherfucker?” I barked out, my nostrils flaring.

  Gauge pulled his cigar from his mouth and licked his tongue across his teeth casually. “Well, Prez, what I’m thinking is, she’s like one of those animals that people used to import from all over the world.”

  I growled loudly and he chuckled, a smile quirking his lips. Fucker better be careful.

  “Hold up, hold up, Prez. Okay, so let’s imagine for a minute that she’s a parrot, okay? So, people would import them and bring them into their homes, treating them like every other type of pet they ever owned—trapped, caged in, looked after. But the thing with these wild animals is that they’re still wild. They may have their wings clipped, but they ain’t tamed. They just playing at being tamed until one day they see that cage door open, and the breeze blowing in from the outside, and they take their chance and fly.”

  I pulled out my cigarettes from my cut and lit one. “Is there a reason we’re talking about birds?”

  “Yeah, Prez. And you know there is. Nina, she’s like one of those parrots. You tried to tame her, bringing her in from the wild and treating her the same as all the other women, when in reality she’s fucking wild, brother.” He put his cigar back in his mouth and stared at me.

  “The wildest,” Balls agreed.

  “You tellin’ me my woman can’t be tamed?” I said, my chest feeling heavy.

  “Fuck, no—what I’m saying is that she’s what us and every one of our brothers have been searching for our whole lives. She’s the epitome of that feeling we get when we ride our bikes out on the open highway with nothing in our way. She’s wild, free, and dangerous. And if you want any chance of her staying, then you need to keep the cage door open, permanently. Because if she feels like she can’t go, she’ll always want to go. If you want to keep her then you need to let her choose for herself. You can’t force it. It has to be her choice.” Gauge shrugged. “And shit, it might be too late already, for all I know.”

  I hated that I agreed with him. Hated that he knew me—and clearly Nina—so well. But I guess that was why I had him as my VP. He saw everything. Even the things I didn’t want him to see. Wished the asshole would have said something earlier, though.

  “So I should just—”

  “Leave her to come back,” Gauge interrupted.

  “And what if she doesn’t?” I dropped my cigarette to the ground and crushed it under my heavy boot.

  “Then it never would have worked anyway.”

  I glared at Gauge and he laughed darkly before turning and walking away.

  “That’s right, motherfucker, you better go get some work done,” I barked after him.

  Balls patted me on the shoulder but I shrugged him off. “How many weapons we got now?” he asked.

  “Not enough, not yet. Gauge thinks the nomads should be coming in sometime tomorrow, though. They’ve been up in the hills building spears and shit.”

  “Good. I know they had a big stash of guns they’ve been holding for us, and they’ve been working on spears and combat knives up in the hills.” He grinned like a fucking horse that had just seen the biggest bale of hay.

  “Well, the Rejects have explosives—big fucking pile that they’ve brought with them. Normally I’d be a pretty fucking unhappy camper knowing those bastards brought explosives to a knife fight, but hey” —I laughed darkly— “it turns out that we left behind some pretty huge homemade explosives too, so it looks like we’re even. Especially if I can get them to use theirs and then after this shit is over we head over to their compound and blow their base apart.”

  Balls grinned even wider. Fucking smile almost split his face in two and he reached out, meeting my hand halfway as we slapped palms and laughed. Scar took that moment to walk past us, his glare burning holes in the side of my head.

  I watched him pass us, my chin tipping in his direction to let him know I was watching him. Fucker had a death wish to keep staring at me like
that. Once he’d passed, I looked back at Balls to see he was glaring in the direction Scar had gone too.

  “We’ll need to do something about him,” he said.

  “Fuck yeah, we will,” I agreed.

  “He needs to go to ground. Not just because he’s a disrespectful fucker, but for the shit that went down before.” He turned to look at me again. “He needs to pay for that. They all do. And I don’t mean just blowing up their shit.”

  “I hear you,” I agreed. And I did.

  The Rejects had fucked us big time way back in the day. The beef between us ran deep and we might have been waving the white flag at the moment, but that flag was going to be bloody real fucking soon. Bloody, torn, and on fire, with Scar’s head fixed to the top of it.

  I smiled, the first genuine smile I’d had in weeks. No, make that months. It fell just as quickly, though, at the thought of my woman out there in dead man’s land without me by her side.

  “Gauge know the plan?” Balls asked.

  “Course he does. He came up with it.” I started to walk and he fell into step beside me.

  “’Sup, Prez?”

  “Nothing,” I grumbled. “Nothing at all.” I sighed.

  Fucking Nina.

  Fucking Nina and her stupid bullshit.

  Fucking Nina and her stupid bullshit ex-boyfriend who’d gotten himself caught by a bunch of psychotic bitches hungry for human flesh.

  Goddamn it and him. And her.

  But mostly her. That woman was driving me crazy.

  I shook my head as we walked back into the clubhouse. Place was busy. Crowded with sweaty bodies and voices carrying over voices. It was damn good to see it like that again. It was what the MC life was about: brotherhood, bikes, bitches, and beer. It had been a long time—too damn long—since it had been like that. Even if half the men and women in there weren’t part of my club, they mostly had been at one time.

  It was the part of the apocalypse that I hated the most. Not the dead sacks that walked the streets; I could handle those bastards. It was the way the club had fallen apart. Divided and then scattered across the bleak fucking planet like it was nothing. Like we were nothing.