Dead South | Book 4 | Dead Love

by Bohannon, Zach

  "There is room for all of us. We can work together and rebuild, and make a better world for all of us." He held up his finger. "One camp, and a better life." He looked around. "Now, this place… it's out in the open. Too obvious for raiders and gangs who pass by. But Freedom Ridge is secluded. It's safe. Yeah, much of it was destroyed, just like this place has been. But it can be rebuilt.

  "If you don't want to come back there with us, that's fine. You can stay here, or leave and go somewhere else. None of us will judge you, and you won't be harmed. You can even take enough food and water with you to get by for a couple of days. But for the rest of you, come back to Freedom Ridge with us. You'll be welcomed in with open arms, and I guarantee you of that. Right, Raylon?"

  "Absolutely," Raylon said.

  "Let's build one home, for all of us." He put his hands on his hips and scanned the group again. "So, if you don't like this idea, again, that's fine. But let us know now."

  Jon waited, looking into the eyes of all the people before him.

  No one raised their hand. No one left.

  36

  Jon set a box of supplies down in the storage house. He stepped out of the way so that the others could drop their stuff off as he wiped the sweat from his forehead. Then, he stepped outside.

  The day had shifted into late afternoon. The group had spent the morning at Black Hill, gathering as many supplies as they could before coming back to Freedom Ridge. It would likely take a couple more trips to get everything, but they could do that over the next few days.

  Jon stepped off to the side, his body aching. With all the adrenaline flushed out of his system, the aches from his fight with Malcolm had set in. He'd be sore for days, but at least he wouldn't have to worry about the crazy psychopath hunting him down. He walked to a nearby pickup truck, lowered the tailgate, and sat down to take a break.

  As he sat resting his body, Jon reflected on the events in the church. It had been yet another close call, and he'd made it out alive. But the one thing he couldn't shake was how he'd felt about breaking the pendulum. He'd still need more time to reflect on that, but he'd realized in that moment that revenge meant nothing. Yes, he felt a sense of justice having been served and, more than that, relief in knowing that the man who'd slaughtered his family and terrorized him and his friends for a time was now gone. But it didn't make Jon feel any better about himself or about not having Carrie and Spencer. Nothing would bring them back, and no amount of killing or suffering would make that easier.

  But Jon had to put the past behind him and live the best life he could. That's what Carrie would have wanted him to do, just like he'd have wanted her to do the same if he'd been the one who'd died instead.

  Looking up, Jon saw Raylon walking toward him. He had his hands in his pockets and no smile on his face.

  "Hey," Raylon said, little emotion in his voice.

  "Lennox going to be okay?" Jon knew Raylon had gone to check on his cousin, and the man's facial expression was worrying.

  "Yeah, he's going to be fine. He's sleeping now, but they said he'll make it."

  "That's good," Jon said, relieved.

  "You know, he's going to be thankful for what you did. I hope you know that. You saved a lot of lives, Jon."

  "We saved a lot of lives. The truth is, though, I don't know if all these lives would've been lost if I hadn't been around to begin with."

  "That's bullshit, and you know it. Brooke said you spouted that same stuff off before, about Hope's Dawn. And you know as well as I do what the truth is. If not for you, we'd be sitting around with our thumbs in our asses, still pretending like Malcolm wanted a truce. We both know that's bullshit, and it would've come to a head eventually."

  Jon looked at the ground. He knew Raylon was right—he just didn't want to admit it. Jon wasn't one to take credit for things, especially when he still struggled with the guilt of thinking that many people might not have died if he hadn't been around. He could go all the way back to the fight against the Vultures and how so many people from Hope's Dawn had perished then. And killing Judah had motivated Malcolm to come after Jon to begin with. But he held in his own pride and, for the sake of the conversation, agreed with Raylon.

  "Speaking of all this," Raylon said, "there's something I wanted to talk to you about."

  Jon glanced up. "Yeah? What's that?"

  "We're starting over here, Jon. This place… we're going to have to rebuild. It's going to take time and work. And not only to rebuild this place, but also these relationships. These people from Black Hill… yeah, they came. But they're the black sheep here, whether we want to think so or not. It's going to take time for them to fit in."

  "So, what are you saying?"

  "I'm saying that I think there's only one person who can lead this new version of Freedom Ridge." Raylon paused, keeping his eyes on Jon.

  Jon scoffed and shook his head. "No way."

  "I'm serious, Jon. You got all those people to come here from Black Hill. Not a single person turned away."

  "They were scared."

  "That doesn't matter. You gave them the option to stay there, but no one did. Any of them could have stayed at Black Hill and rebuilt there. But they all decided to come here."

  "That doesn't mean I'm the person to lead them," Jon said. "You and Lennox have done great things here."

  "But people respect you, Jon. Even Malcolm did in his own weird way. He put so much damn time into trying to track you down and get rid of you, and do you know why? Because you were a threat to what he was trying to do. He knew he couldn't rule this area if you were still in it. On the contrary, he wasn't scared of Lennox one bit."

  Jon considered Raylon's points. He looked off into the distance, unsure of how to respond.

  "You have to do this, Jon. You're the best person for the job."

  "I can't."

  "Why not?"

  Jon hesitated, but then he finally looked up at Raylon. "Because I'm leaving."

  37

  Brooke Tatum had known this day would come. But she hadn't figured it would come this soon.

  She'd known for some time now that Jon was unhappy where he was. Not only in the camp, but in the Smoky Mountains of East Tennessee. Not that he didn't like the place or the people—it was quite the opposite, actually. Jon carried a lot of guilt about all the things that had happened to others since he'd arrived at Hope's Dawn. And as much as she had tried to convince him otherwise, it had been no use.

  Because Brooke had sensed for a while now that Jon would want to leave. She'd had plenty of time to prepare for it, and for the inevitable pain it would cause. It wouldn't be easy for anyone, most of all her, but she had to accept his wishes. The man had been through so much—between losing his family, nearly being killed by the Vultures, the zombie bite, the close call in the prison, and now the war with Malcolm. If anyone deserved to choose how they wanted to move forward, it was Jon South.

  He'd earned that much for all his contributions.

  Brooke left the kids' area where she'd been hanging out with Lucas and the other children, and headed to the house where she, Jon, and a few others had been assigned to stay. She walked through the front door, greeting a man named Tom who was also staying in the house with his wife Miranda, and headed up the stairs.

  First knocking on the door twice, she entered the bedroom.

  Jon stood with his hands on the dresser, slightly leaned over. He didn't have on a shirt, and his back showed several fresh cuts and bruises that Brooke hadn't noticed before. She glanced down to the bed where his bag lay, unopened.

  Glancing into the mirror, Jon looked at Brooke. He grinned, letting out a small laugh as he shook his head. "People can't keep their fucking mouths shut."

  "I think Raylon was just worried about me." Brooke came all the way into the room, shutting the door behind her.

  Jon pushed himself all the way up and turned around. He had a large bruise on his chest and a couple of cuts on his stomach.

  "I'm sorry," he said
. "I should've told you first."

  Crossing her arms, Brooke scoffed. "You think you had to?"

  Jon raised an eyebrow.

  "You're not that hard to read, Jon South." Brooke sat on the edge of the bed, and Jon joined her, sitting next to her.

  "Still, I should've talked to you first." Jon clasped his hands together, staring down at his feet. "Hell, when I told Raylon, I was feeling pretty emotional. I'm not even sure if that's—"

  "I'm coming with you."

  Jon looked up and over at her. "What?"

  "Me and Lucas. We're going to come with you. I've already got our stuff packed and ready."

  "No, we can talk about this, Brooke. If you want to stay here, want for us to stay here, then—"

  "I know that's not what you want," Brooke said, cutting him off again. "This place, it's caused nothing but stress for you. There are too many terrible memories here. If you feel you need a fresh start, then I get it."

  Jon ran his hand through his hair. "But I just want to make sure you and Lucas stay safe. If that's here, then that's okay."

  "As long as we're together, we'll be safe." Brooke put her hand on Jon's face. "Wherever you want to go, I'm going to come with you."

  Jon stared into her eyes as she ran her hand over his leathery face. Both of them were still dirty from the fight at Black Hill, but it didn't matter. He leaned in and kissed her, slipping his tongue into her mouth. Brooke grabbed the back of his hair and gripped it hard. Jon let out a moan, and he nibbled her bottom lip. Brooke moaned in response, and the nibble on her lip was enough to push him back onto the bed.

  She went to the door and locked it, and then she took off her shirt and the black bra underneath. Her hands moved down to the button of her pants after that, and she unbuttoned it and slid the jeans off her waist. She wore no panties, leaving her naked as she slid back onto the bed.

  Kissing him, Brooke ran her fingertips gently down his chest and over his stomach before she unbuttoned his pants. Squeezing her breast with one of his hands, Jon used his other to push his jeans off.

  Brooke got on top of Jon and ground against him over his boxer briefs, and she looked into his eyes as they rolled back. She felt him get harder, and then she slipped down and kissed him on the chest, working her way down to his stomach and inserting her fingertips into the waistband of his underwear to pull it down.

  Taking him into her mouth, she assured that he was ready to be inside of her. After pleasing him for a time, she slid up his body and mounted him, her legs straddling either side of his body. Reaching down, she guided him into her. She could feel him swell as she did, and she ground on top of him, pushing down on his chest.

  Jon grabbed her breasts and squeezed—causing her to grimace, but in a good way. He could see it turned her on, and he pushed harder into her.

  Their eyes never left one another's.

  Sweat pouring down his cheek, Jon said, "I love you, Brooke."

  She didn't hesitate. "I love you, too, baby."

  Brooke never wanted the moment to end.

  38

  Jon stood up from the side of the bed and looked at himself in the mirror again. Though Malcolm had beaten his face to hell and it would likely be sore for days, he still smiled. It hurt when he did, but he didn't care. He had plenty to be happy about.

  He didn't know what the future would bring, but for once, that felt like a good thing. It was going to be challenging out on the road and wherever they ended up, but that was fine by Jon.

  Turning around, he grabbed his hatchet and bat off the bed. He'd taken time to clean Malcolm's blood off the blade, and he studied it for a moment before mounting it to his back along with the bat. Next, he stuffed the pistol into the holster and threw his bag over his shoulder before heading out the door.

  Going down the stairs, the march of his boots echoed through the house. When he arrived at the bottom, he looked around to see if anyone was there, but the house appeared to be empty. Brooke had left earlier to go finish gathering her things and fetch Lucas, and the others who'd been in the house must've gone outside, as well.

  Jon turned the handle and pushed the door open to move outside. Keeping his head down as he faced the door, he pulled it closed. When he turned around again, though, he looked up and saw everyone—all the survivors from both Hope's Dawn and Freedom Ridge—standing out in the middle of the camp, looking in his direction. They were all standing near the pickup truck that he, Brooke, and Lucas would leave in.

  Raylon stood out in front of the group, and as Jon walked toward him, he was the first one to clap. Soon after, everyone else followed, piping in with hoots and hollers, as well.

  "What the fuck is this?" Jon mumbled to himself, cracking a smile even though he hated moments like this. For him, it was like being at a Mexican restaurant on your birthday and having a mariachi band come to your table to sing for you. It made him uncomfortable.

  But he gave in this time.

  As he approached, Raylon hugged him, patting him on the back. The rest of the group surrounded him, too, the crowd mostly comprising the people he knew from Hope's Dawn. Jon went down the line and hugged them all, starting with Leslie and ending with Jada. He didn't know the people from Freedom Ridge so well, but they showed their appreciation of him, many of them shaking his hand.

  After they'd all made their rounds, Raylon put his hand on Jon's shoulder. "There's someone else who wanted to see you off." Raylon looked off to his right, and Jon followed his gaze to the makeshift hospital.

  Lennox came walking outside, Sarina on one side of him and a doctor from Freedom Ridge on the other. He walked with a limp because of the multiple gunshot wounds in his leg. His button-up shirt was open, revealing the wrap around his abdomen and another over his left shoulder. Every step appeared to be painful from the grimace in his face, Lennox gritting his teeth.

  Seeing how hard it was for him, Jon and Brooke stepped through the crowd and made their way to him instead. The rest of the group followed, clearly wanting to show appreciation for the man who'd led Freedom Ridge and nearly died trying to protect it.

  As they got to him, Lennox glanced back and forth between Jon and Brooke. He coughed, his daughter patting him on the back to comfort him.

  "Thank you," he said, his voice weak. "I'm not sure I'll ever be able to give you two the amount of gratitude you deserve."

  "You don't owe us anything," Brooke said.

  Lennox found the strength to let out a small laugh, and then nodded toward Jon. "Tell him that."

  "It's fine," Jon said. "Brooke is right. You don't owe us anything."

  Lennox shook his head, bowing it. This man who had projected such immense confidence in Jon's previous meetings with him looked like a shell of his former self.

  "I'm sorry about what I did," he said, not even able to look up at Jon or Brooke.

  Jon said, "You don't have to be—"

  "No, I do," Lennox said, finally looking back up. "I was ready to turn you over to that bastard, and all because I was delusional in thinking he actually wanted to keep the peace. I do owe you an apology." He then looked at the rest of the group. "I owe all of you an apology. I thought I was doing what was right for the camp, but I was wrong."

  Jon put his hand on a clearly shaken Lennox's shoulder. He then hugged the Freedom Ridge leader, letting the gesture do all the work in letting him know that everything was alright and he was forgiven. Brooke then did the same, hugging Lennox even as tears began coming from his eyes.

  "I hate that you're leaving," Lennox said, "but I understand. I respect your decision, and you know you're welcome to come back here any time."

  "We know," Brooke said.

  Raylon approached and hugged his cousin. He patted him on the back several times, and the two men shared tears. When Raylon turned around to Jon and Brooke again, he wiped his eyes.

  "There's still one more person you need to say goodbye to."

  Terrence sat in a lawn chair near the back of the camp, his hands at hi
s chin in a praying position as he stared off into the distance. Jon and Brooke approached him from his right side, but he didn't look over to acknowledge them until they were around ten feet away. He glanced at them, then looked back off for a moment before looking down at the ground.

  "We thought you were mad at us," Brooke said with sarcasm in her voice.

  "Yeah, well, you aren't far off." Terrence cracked a smile and shook his head. "Nah, you know that's bullshit." He shrugged. "I'm just not so good at goodbyes."

  "It wasn't a simple decision to make," Jon said. "But we just think it's the best thing for us."

  "I get it. You don't have to justify it to me."

  "You know, you could come with us," Brooke said. "We've got enough space in the truck."

  Terrence didn't reply at first, possibly considering the offer. "I'm tired, Brooke. And hell, I'm lucky to be here. You think my busted ass wants to go on some sort of adventure and deal with all those dead folks walking around out there? I'm good." He stood up then and approached Brooke. "I am going to miss you, though."

  "I'll miss you, too."

  The two hugged, and Brooke had tears come to her eyes. Jon knew how close Terrence and her had been. Since the end of the world, he had been her best friend.

  After the hug, Brooke wiped her eyes and smiled. "There's someone else you need to see."

  Lucas ran to Terrence as he opened his arms. They hugged for several moments, and Lucas cried as he held his friend.

  "I'll miss you, Uncle Terrence."

  Running his hand through the boy's hair and crying now himself, Terrence said, "I'll miss you, too, buddy." He got down to the boy's level and put his hand on his shoulders. "You take care of your mom for me, alright? And for that matter, Mr. Jon, too."

  "I will. I promise."

  Terrence stood and approached Jon. He stuck his hand out. "You take care of yourself, too, South."

  Jon removed his hand from his pocket and shook Terrence's. There was a jingling sound as their hands hit. Terrence's brow furrowed as he took hold of what Jon handed him.