Broken World | Novel | Angus

by Mary, Kate L.

  Lucky bastards.

  Naya was more than fifteen feet in front of him, so he picked up the pace. She didn’t pause until she reached a doorway, which was partially covered by bushes and an old door—probably the very one that had once been mounted there. Even then she only stopped long enough to look his way, then she was ducking down, pushing through the small opening and disappearing from sight.

  “Wait,” he said and nearly jumped at the sound of his own voice.

  It had been louder than he’d intended, and above him a few birds squawked in protest and flew from the branches they’d been perched on. He looked back, watching as they soared around the room, chirping loudly like they were trying to get him to leave.

  “This way.”

  He turned back to find Naya poking her head from the hole she’d just disappeared through, her big eyes impatient and her mouth turned down.

  “Don’t know if I’ll fit.”

  “You will.” She disappeared once again.

  He sighed, then almost laughed. Here he was in the company of another person for the first time in much too long, and he was actually annoyed. He should have been kissing her ass. Should have been rushing to keep up with her. Instead, he’d sighed.

  This time, the smile that crawled through his body and up his throat actually managed to break free, and he felt his lips turn up as he ducked and prepared to follow Naya into the unknown.

  It was a tight fit, but the girl had been right, and after only a little squirming, he managed to squeeze his way through. Once he had, he found himself in a stairwell, and despite his earlier thoughts about how unsafe this building looked, he didn’t hesitate to get to his feet and follow Naya as she climbed. The steps were concrete, and thankfully sturdy, and he was more than a little relieved when she stopped on the second floor. Just like the one below, the door was no longer attached, and they had to climb over it so they could make it through the doorway.

  “Almost there,” she said, sounding slightly breathless.

  “You all right?” he found himself asking.

  She turned to him, her big eyes shimmering in the near darkness, and shook her head.

  He didn’t ask anything else.

  Light streamed in through the windows as they walked, illuminating the rooms. This had been an office building of some kind, and it looked like it had been disturbed very little after the initial outbreak. Every room they passed held a desk, the chairs still sitting behind them like they were waiting for someone to return and complete whatever mindless—and pointless—task that used to be performed here. There were dilapidated bookshelves and rusty metal filing cabinets. Old family pictures now too covered with dust to be able to make out the images of the long dead people. Lamps in corners and on desks, moldy papers waiting to be signed, leaves strewn about and dirt covering everything, and all of it was warped from age and nature. It was like a museum. A tribute to something that had gone extinct. Like the bones of dinosaurs people used to visit before the dead came back and the world went to shit. Only now, they were the dinosaurs.

  Halfway down the hall, Naya slowed. This room was on the inside of the building and had no windows, and the door was miraculously still attached—although twisted from age. It was pulled shut, and although there was a small gap, Angus couldn’t see inside, meaning he had no clue what to expect.

  In that moment, standing outside the door with the girl at his side, he found himself flashing back to the past. To times before the virus when people had screwed him over, to after when men had turned feral and taken advantage of anyone they came across. To the people who’d held him prisoner and poked and prodded him, who’d used his body like he meant less than nothing. Like his life meant nothing.

  Could he trust this girl? What if this was all a ruse? What if Naya pushed this door open and he found himself face to face with a group of maniacs? Men who’d gone mad and would do anything and everything just so they could steal the few meager supplies he had. Would he be able to fight them off? Was he strong enough?

  Did he even care?

  So many times over the last few decades as he’d wandered this wasteland that had once been the United States, he’d considered ending things. What did he have to live for now that everyone was gone? Nothing. Not anymore.

  He’d held on, though, trapped by the promise he’d made to her.

  “She’s in here,” Naya said.

  Then she pushed the door open, allowing light to stream in and illuminate the woman lying in the middle of the floor.

  Her skin was brown and smooth, her dark hair cut short and her lips full, her face heart shaped. Her eyes were closed, but her lids fluttered open when Naya took a step inside, and Angus’s heart nearly stopped at the sight of her big, brown eyes. He couldn’t move. At least not into the room. Instead, he was transported back in time. Back to another set of brown eyes. Eyes that had crinkled in the corners from laughter, eyes that had been lined with thick, black lashes. Eyes that had looked at him like he was the only person they ever wanted to gaze upon.

  “Parv,” he said, the name nearly getting stuck in his throat.

  The woman blinked, and the vision disappeared.

  She didn’t really look like his dead wife other than the fact that they were both Indian. At least he didn’t think so. It had been close to a decade since he’d been able to conjure up more than a few snippets of memories. Years since she’d come to him clearly in his dreams. Still, for just a moment, he’d felt as if Parv was alive again, or maybe even like she’d appeared to let him know that this, this moment, was why he’d had to live all these years in hell.

  “This is my mom,” Naya said, choosing to ignore his moment of insanity. “Samira.”

  She knelt beside her mother, her hand reaching for the woman’s.

  Angus cleared his throat and moved into the room.

  “What’s the problem?” he asked as he sank to his knees on the other side of Samira.

  The older woman turned her gaze on him, and right away he knew. She didn’t have to say a word, because he could see it in her eyes. Could see she was at her end and knew the truth even if her daughter hadn’t accepted it. What was more, he knew what she was going to ask. God help him, he knew, and just thinking about it exhausted him.

  Angus and Samira stared at each other in silence for a moment that seemed to stretch on longer than the decades of solitude had. In that time, he found himself asking one question. Could he do it? He’d been alone for so long, and while he’d craved the company of another person, this was different. This was a child, a teenage girl, and he was an old man now. What if he didn’t have the energy? What if he didn’t have the time? What if he didn’t have the strength?

  It didn’t matter, Angus quickly decided. While he had no idea how much time he might have left on this godforsaken planet called Earth, he knew he had to do this. No matter how exhausting and difficult it was going to be, he couldn’t turn his back on someone who needed help.

  Naya was the one who finally broke the silence. “We startled one of them this morning.”

  Gently, the girl extracted her hand from her mother’s, then reached for Samira’s sleeve. The shirt she wore was dark and the room cast in shadows, but Angus could still see the shimmer of blood soaking through the fabric. Naya pulled the sleeve up her mother’s arm, almost to her elbow, and the injury came into view. Two jagged, crescent shaped cuts. Still oozing blood. Even if he hadn’t seen the same thing on his own body dozens of times, he would have known what it was. Everyone—assuming there were more people out there—on this planet did. A bite. A death sentence.

  At least for Samira.

  Naya looked at him, her eyes wide and brimming with the same knowledge, but her expression pleading. “Please.”

  He swallowed because he couldn’t find his voice. How was he supposed to tell this girl her mother, who was no doubt her whole world, was dying?

  His own mother had been a bitch. A drunk and abusive, he hadn’t shed a single tear whe
n she’d died. Hadn’t missed her, either. His only regret had been his brother. His sentimental fool of a brother who’d still been young enough to think an abusive mother was better than no mother at all. Not Angus, though. He’d always known that when she was finally gone, he’d raise a glass to the heavens and thank the Big Man for finally doing something right.

  Naya, however, would miss this woman.

  He was still thinking things through, still trying to decide how to respond, when Samira’s gaze turned to her daughter.

  “You know what this means,” she said, her focus intent, her tone firm. “I told you.”

  Naya swallowed twice before she was able to say, “You also said I wouldn’t be able to find anyone to help.” She didn’t look away from her mother when she waved a hand toward Angus. “I found help. I did.” Her gaze snapped to him. “It has to mean something.”

  “It don’t,” he said, although he wasn’t sure.

  All these years of walking aimlessly, of being alone. Of feeling cursed. He’d never allowed himself to really dwell on the things Parv had said that last day, but they’d stayed with him, and now it was all he could think about.

  “You’re special, Angus, we all know that. I can’t imagine the things you’ve gone through, or what you still might face, but it was all for a reason. Believe that.”

  “Don’t start spoutin’ off ’bout God and all that bullshit,” he’d mumbled, barely able to talk through the emotion clogging his throat. “You know I ain’t a believer. Hell, I don’t even believe in myself, which is damn ironic considerin’ the state of the world.”

  She’d smiled then, a shaky and pained smile that had to force its way out of her because she’d been in so much pain. “I don’t know if God is real, my love, but I do know one thing for certain. I believe in you. All of this has to be for a reason, a purpose. Something bigger than us. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it?”

  She’d been raging with fever, and part of him had wondered if she was delirious. Parv had always been so logical. Not flighty and emotional like his first love, Darla, or calculating like Jane, who’d been the second woman to steal his heart. Three times he’d been in love, three very different women, but Parv had been the greatest, and the only one he’d gotten to spend what had felt like a lifetime with. When she’d gone, he’d thought he might just die from a broken heart. It had felt like that. Had felt like someone had reached into his chest and squeezed until his heart exploded. It had been difficult to breathe, to think, to eat or sleep or move. He’d only gotten through it because of Vivian. She’d understood, because she’d lost, too.

  Then she was gone, and he’d been left alone.

  It occurred to Angus that Samira was talking, and he forced himself to focus.

  “…will be okay. I know it. I’ve raised you to be strong, to be tough. I’ve taught you to look out for yourself. I know you can do this.”

  “Not without you.” Naya was crying, her sobs silent as the tears streamed down her cheeks, her shoulders shaking. “What am I going to do without you?”

  “Survive,” her mother said, the word hissing from between her teeth.

  For the first time, Angus noticed the beads of sweat collecting on her upper lip and the perspiration on her forehead. The whites of her eyes had begun to yellow, and in the short time he’d been in the room, the brown of her irises had dulled. Soon they would turn milky, clouding over until it seemed impossible that she’d be able to see anything at all. Then her skin would pale, and her veins would darken, and she would turn into a monster. A killing machine with only one goal. Wiping out humanity.

  “Get back.” He pulled his knife from its sheath.

  Naya’s head snapped his way, her eyes wide. “No.”

  Her mother forcefully extracted her hand from her daughter’s and turned her hazy eyes on him. She was struggling to focus now. Swallowing from the pain or the effort to maintain control.

  “You’ll look after her?” Samira managed to get out.

  Angus nodded. Just once. It was all he could manage.

  “Thank you,” she said and turned her focus back to her daughter.

  Naya hadn’t moved, and her tears were coming faster now.

  “Listen to me,” her mother said. “Listen carefully. Don’t give up. You will find it. I know you will. Just keep moving and stay alert. Understand?”

  Naya’s head bobbed several times.

  “And remember,” Samira continued, “I love you and I’m with you. Always.”

  A pained hiccup broke out of Naya as her mother pulled her close, wrapping her daughter in a firm embrace.

  Angus’s hand tightened on the hilt of his knife until his knuckles ached. Already Samira’s complexion had begun to change, her skin lightening before his very eyes and turning ashy. Unhealthy.

  “Get back,” he hissed, sounding almost feral. “Now.”

  Naya acted as if she wanted to hold on longer, but her mom pulled free and pushed her away. The girl fell back, landing on her ass and sending a puff of dust into the air. The veins around the bite were already darkening. They rose until they looked like they were trying to force their way through the skin, then began to spread up her arm to her neck. Even in the shadowy room, her veins stood out, black against her now grayish skin.

  She looked at her daughter for two seconds longer before turning her focus to Angus. “Do it.”

  He nodded as a million memories flashed through his head.

  He’d killed too many people in his life, and not all of them had been enemies. The memories of those moments slashed at his heart, and he wished he could push them away. Could forget them like he’d forgotten so many other things. He couldn’t, would never be able to. Until the day he died, Angus would remember with painful vividness the final moments of each of the loved ones he’d had to kill. And he did not want Naya to suffer the same fate.

  “Don’t look,” he said as he moved toward her mother. “Close your eyes.”

  He didn’t know if she listened because he couldn’t afford to look away. The virus was moving fast now, the change coming. Veins had snaked their way up Samira’s neck to her cheeks, and her eyes had clouded over. The woman she had been was gone, replaced by something that was blank. It wouldn’t last for more than a few seconds, though.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  He put his hand on her forehead—it was cool to the touch and marred by black veins—and held her down as he lifted the knife. The blade was inches from her head when she blinked, and he knew the transformation was complete even before she snarled and snapped her teeth. He held fast, not giving her the chance to throw him off, and brought the knife down. Hard and fast. The blade sank into her eye, cutting through the milky iris that only moments ago had been brown. It drilled into her brain, destroying it and severing whatever it was about this virus that made her want to sink her teeth into her daughter. Then she went still.

  Angus sat back, breathing heavily even though he’d had to exert very little effort. If you caught them at the beginning, killing them was easy. It was later that they became lethal.

  He tore his gaze from the now dead woman and focused on her daughter. Naya was leaning against the wall, her knees pulled up to her chest and her arms wrapped tightly around them. Her gaze locked on her mother, her face smeared with tears and snot.

  The sight of her twisted his heart almost as much as the memories of the past did, because the anguish on her face was so raw, so familiar. He’d felt the same more times than he could count, and if he did nothing else in this world before he died, he wanted to make sure this girl never had to feel that way again.

  He cleared his throat. “Sorry.”

  Naya finally looked away from her mother and focused on him. She swiped her hand across first her left cheek, then her right, and swallowed.

  “I’ll be okay.”

  The assurance in her voice startled him. She was young to be so certain of herself. Then again, it was necessary in this world, because there w
as no room for doubt or hesitation. You stood tall or you died. Those were the only two options.

  “We can bury her,” he said, although he wasn’t sure it was true.

  Where would he find a shovel, and why did it even matter? It was a custom from the old world. A world where mourning was a right, a thing that was expected when you lost someone you loved. No more. Grief got you killed. It distracted you, made you do stupid things, make stupid mistakes. It was a luxury no one could afford unless they were willing to pay with their lives.

  “No.” Naya unfolded her body so she could drag herself to her feet. “We can’t waste the time or energy.”

  Angus nodded in approval. So, her mother had taught her well.

  He pulled his knife from Samira’s head and wiped the blade on her shirt, slipping it back into his sheath before standing. “All right then.”

  Again, Naya nodded.

  “What now?” he asked when she said nothing.

  “We walk,” the girl replied.

  “’K.” His gaze moved to the door. “I was headin’ south for the winter. We can—”

  “Not south. West. We need to go west.” She slipped her hand into her pocket and pulled out a small compass.

  Angus blinked, confused. “Why’s that exactly? What’re you hopin’ to find?”

  Naya’s brown eyes rose to meet his. “Safety.”

  Safety?

  Was he hallucinating? Hearing things? He’d been sure this girl was real, but the certainty began to slip away, because no real person would still believe in safety. It was impossible.

  “There ain’t nothin’ safe out there,” he said. “This is it. I wish it weren’t true, but it is.”

  “There’s more,” she said. “I know it.”

  “No, there ain’t,” he said, his words bitter and sounding more like the old him. Like the asshole he’d been before all this began. The one who’d pushed and pushed until other people hated him, until he’d hated himself.