He swallowed, trying to get his emotions in check. It didn’t work.
“How the hell can you even think that? Look ’round.” He waved to the crumbling room, to the body of Naya’s mother, barely cold and still at their feet where it would stay until it decomposed. “The world’s gone. There ain’t nothin’ left.”
“I can’t believe that,” the girl replied, her tone exact and firm. “I’m going west with or without you. It’s your choice.”
He sighed and ran his hand down his face, suddenly exhausted and ready for bed even though he’d been up for less than an hour. “Why don’t you tell me what’s goin’ on.”
He didn’t believe her, still doubted she was even real, but she’d piqued his curiosity enough that he was willing to listen to her tall tale. It wasn’t like he had anything else to do.
Naya sucked in a deep breath as if preparing for a long story, then began.
“I grew up in an underground compound,” she said, “It’s where I was born. Where my mom was born. Where my grandma was born, even. It was from before, back when the world was real.” She waved to their dilapidated surroundings like she thought he might have forgotten where they were.
“Underground?” Now she had his undivided attention, because her words had tickled a memory, one he hadn’t thought of in a long, long while because there had been no point, and because so much time had passed that it barely felt real. But it had been.
An underground shelter, a bunker…
“Yes,” she said, nodding, excited now. “It wasn’t huge, but there was enough room for our group. The numbers changed over the years. There were times when we had as many as fifty people, and other times when there were fewer than thirty, but it always kept us safe.”
“It was an old silo?” Angus asked. “Thirteen stories down?”
“No.” Naya shook her head, and her hair swished across her shoulders. “It was only one story deep, but I know what you’re talking about.”
Angus felt something surge through him, something he hadn’t felt in a long, long time. Hope.
“Tell me more,” he prompted.
“It had bedrooms for all of us and a communal kitchen and living area. It wasn’t perfect, and things could get stressful living in such close quarters, but it kept us alive.
“I don’t know who found it or how or anything like that,” she went on, “I only know I was born there, like I said. So was my mom. My grandma. That’s how long it had been around. It was safe, secure. We could go out during the day and get the things we needed, then go back at night when the creatures came out to hunt.” Her expression darkened, turning sad and angry. “It was all I knew.”
“What happened?” he asked, suddenly desperate to find out more about this bunker.
“A storm,” she said. “After all these years, we had limited power, just enough to keep things running, really. But a storm came in and destroyed everything on the surface. A tornado, I think, although we were asleep when it happened. We’d had damage before, but it had always been something we could fix. Not this time. This time, we had to leave.”
His body seemed to slump from the inside out. There had been something safe, something good and real, and he’d missed it. All these years he’d wandered this desolate country by himself, and somewhere people had been living what was almost a normal life. But he’d missed out, because now it was gone. He couldn’t believe it.
“It wasn’t the only one,” Naya said.
He lifted his head, his eyes focusing on her as he rolled her words around in his head.
She was right, but she was wrong, too. There had been another shelter once. He’d been there, had lived there for a brief time. Had laughed and loved there, had even almost felt safe. But he’d also been there when those assholes from Las Vegas came. They’d destroyed the shelter, stealing their security and even some of their friends, and almost stealing his brother as well. Darla had been there, and Hadley. Vivian, Axl, Al, and Parv. Parv. The woman who’d stolen his heart and made him believe he deserved the love she gave so freely. His wife.
She hadn’t been his wife then. No, she’d been with someone else, someone whose name he couldn’t even recall because too much time had passed, and because it no longer mattered. Angus had been an asshole back then. A hothead, a racist, a man who’d hated himself so much it seeped out and tainted everything he touched. It made him physically sick to think about it.
“We left the shelter as a group and started walking, searching for safety.” Naya was still talking, but he was only half paying attention. “That was months ago, and everyone’s gone now but me. I’ve traveled so far, lost so much. It all has to be for something. It has to.”
He wanted to tell her it wasn’t, and the world didn’t work like that. It wasn’t fair, and it didn’t make sense. Good people died for no reason, bad people prevailed when they shouldn’t, and assholes like him outlived everyone. He didn’t, though, because he had no desire to go into all that at the moment.
Instead, he asked, “Exactly what’re you hopin’ to find?”
“Another shelter,” she said. “I told you, there are more. You believe me, don’t you?”
“I believe you,” he said, “But it don’t matter. The thing you’re lookin’ for is long gone.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, her temper flaring again. “How could you even know that?”
“’Cause I been there,” he said, “and it’s gone.”
Her brows pulled together. “You’ve been to one of the shelters?”
“I have. Long time ago.”
“How long?” she demanded, doubt and even a little bit of fear brimming in her eyes.
“Back in the beginnin’, when the zombies was brand new,” he told her. “I was there. At one of them shelters. But you ain’t gonna find it no matter how hard you look, ’cause it’s long gone.”
Just like hope.
Naya leaned toward him like she was trying to hold his attention. “That’s not the shelter I’m talking about,” she said, her excitement rising again. “There are more. I swear. There are other places. We weren’t alone.”
Chapter Three
More?
For a moment, Angus felt as if he’d never heard the word before. There couldn’t be more shelters, not after all this time. Not after all the miles he’d traveled searching for safety, all the years that had passed when he was surrounded by nothingness. He tried to remember back, tried to recall what they’d learned about the shelter when they’d first arrived, but the memory was too old, too faded around the edges.
“Where was your shelter?” Naya asked.
“The Mojave Desert,” he replied automatically, startled he actually remembered. He hadn’t thought it possible.
Her face scrunched up in concentration, and she nodded. “Like I said, it isn’t the same one.”
“How do you know?” He still didn’t believe her. “What makes you think there’s anybody else out there?”
His voice had risen as he spoke, and the last word seemed to bounce off the surrounding walls. Something skittered across the floor in another room, its claws scratching, and a bird cawed in protest at being disturbed, but neither he nor Naya seemed to notice. They stared at each other, her jaw as set and determined as his.
“We were in contact with lots of other places over the years. Safe zones. Shelters. I’m telling you, there are others.”
Angus narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out if she was bullshitting him. She looked dead serious. “How the hell is that possible?”
“A radio,” she said. “It was able to communicate long distances.”
Again, a memory surfaced. This time it was from his time in Colorado, before they’d gone to Atlanta. Someone had a radio like that back then, which was how they’d learned about the CDC to begin with. But that had been decades ago, back when the apocalypse was new, and people still thought they could rebuild. Things were different now. Too much time had passed. Batteries had eroded a long time
ago, and even with continued maintenance, he couldn’t imagine it would be possible to keep a radio working. Who was around that even knew how to do such a thing?
“Don’t seem possible,” he said, although he couldn’t stop hope from springing up again, spreading through him like the roots of a tree. “How? How’d you keep a radio goin’?”
Naya hesitated, her mouth pulling down in the corners, and chewed on her bottom lip. “It’s been a few years.”
The hope inside him deflated like a balloon.
He snorted, and the sound was hard and too loud. Once again something scurried away as if startled, this time closer. He didn’t care, though. He was too angry that she’d somehow managed to get his hopes up. Mad that she’d tricked him into believing something good could happen.
“How long’s it been?” he said, mainly because he wanted her to accept that it was all bullshit.
Naya looked down. Shuffled her feet. “Five years since we started losing contact. Two since we were able to get in touch with the last holdout.”
Angus let out another snort.
Her head shot up, her eyes narrowed. “That doesn’t mean no one is out there! Their radios could have broken. They could have lost power like us but figured out a way to live!”
“Underground with no power?” This time he shook his head, and the way his face scrunched up, his lips puckered as if he were on the verge of spitting, reminded him of the man he’d been before all this. He didn’t like it, but he couldn’t stop it from happening. Not with as angry as he was. “We could walk every inch of this goddamn world before we come ’cross it, and even then we might miss it! The shelter’s under the fuckin’ ground.”
“Not all of these places were underground,” she argued. “There were walled cities—”
“Walls?” He practically spit the word at her.
He wanted to tell her how stupid she was, how useless those walls were. It infuriated him that she’d managed to waste what little hope he had left on this pipe dream, and in the wake of it, he felt his anger surging. Felt the old Angus waking up, trying to claw his way to surface, and keeping him down wasn’t easy.
Somehow, he managed.
“They were surviving!” Naya argued. “All these years, the walls kept the creatures out.”
“For a bit. It don’t last forever.” His anger had melted away as the memories of how little walls mattered came rushing back, and this time, his voice was sad. “You gotta believe me. If there was a chance, I’d go for it. But there ain’t.”
“So, you’re not going to help me find a safe place? You’re just going to give up without a fight?”
Angus snorted out a laugh that was all bitterness. “I been alive longer than anybody could want, and I’ve fought more wars than you could ever imagine. This one, though, it ain’t worth the struggle ’cause it ain’t possible.”
Naya glared at him for a few seconds. “I’ll go by myself, then.”
She was on her way to the door when he said, “Like hell.”
Angus grabbed her by the wrist, and a jolt went through him. He hadn’t been thinking when he did it, hadn’t been prepared, and the shock of another human being’s skin against his own almost knocked him on his ass. He’d touched her mother before killing her, but she hadn’t felt alive because the change had been underway, and the heat had already drained from her skin. Not Naya, though. She was warm. Human. Alive. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d touched another person, had forgotten how warm skin was, and the feel of it brought a torrent of memories rushing back. Some vivid and painful in their brightness, others faded and sweet despite his melancholy. Holding his baby daughter, hugging her when she was older. Clasping her hand as she left this world, headed for a better place where she would never have to suffer again. His brother. Vivian. Parv. So many memories of Parv, all of them sweet and excruciating at the same time.
He yanked his hand back, staring at it like he couldn’t figure out what it was. His hand was trembling, his fingers still tingling from the sensation of touching Naya. The warmth still spreading through him. He’d really thought he’d never touch another living human being again.
“What is it?” Naya asked, her voice softer now, no longer angry.
Angus swallowed, his gaze still on his hand. “Haven’t touched ’nother person in a long time.”
She was frowning when he looked up. “I’m sorry you’ve been alone for so long, but you don’t have to be now. Come with me.”
The was no pleading in her tone, only concern. For him. It made her sound like a much older person, and he found himself asking, “How old are you?”
Her frown deepened, and she tilted her head, studying him for a few seconds before responding. “Fourteen.”
Older than he’d thought.
“How old are you?” she asked when he said nothing.
“I don’t rightly know.” He dropped his hand to his side, clenching it into a fist in hopes of clinging to the memory of her warm skin. “I been ’round a long time. Longer than you’d believe.”
“Try me,” she said, insistent.
“Hundred years, maybe. Could be more.” He shook his head, shrugged, and waved his hand to indicate the room they were still standing in. “Was alive long before all this shit started.”
Naya looked him over doubtfully, and he could tell she didn’t believe him. Not that he cared. He knew the painful, heartbreaking truth. Had lived it.
“How is that possible?” she finally asked.
“Can’t say for sure, really. I only know I was in Tennessee when the virus broke out, and I traveled west with my brother. We met other people, survived. Then I got bit.”
He pulled the neck of his ragged shirt aside so she could see the scar from the original bite. It was on his shoulder and faded from time, but still visible and still clearly the result of human teeth.
Naya’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“I was lucky, or so we thought. Immune. One in a million.” He snorted as he released his shirt, allowing it to once again cover the scar. “Back then we still had hope that all this could go away, so when the CDC asked me to come, I said yes. We thought they was gonna use my blood to make a vaccine. Thought I was gonna be a hero. But that ain’t what happened.”
“What happened?” Her tone said she still didn’t know if she should believe him.
“They held me,” Angus told her. “For twenty years. Told my brother and friends I was dead, but it was a lie. They used my blood, injected me with all kinds of shit. They made a vaccine, that part was real, but they did other things, too. Used me to warp the virus and create new strains. Released it.
“People on the outside started actin’ like I was some kind of god. Even created a new religion that revolved ’round me. Angus James. Savior of the world. I was supposed to come back and save everybody, and I did.” He shrugged as if none of it mattered, but the pain in his gut told him he was lying to himself. “In a way.”
Naya blinked, staring up at him, realization dawning. “I’ve heard this story. From my grandma.”
“That so?” he said, his tone almost bored.
There had been a time when everyone alive had known his name, so discovering this girl had heard of him was neither surprising nor impressive.
“Our shelter was far away from Atlanta, but she still knew all about The Church. Everyone did.” The girl looked down, thinking, and said to herself, “I thought it was made up.”
“Not sure what all you heard, but it was probably true. The stuff they did to me in there, the experiments and tests, they changed me. Made it so I can’t die.”
Naya’s head snapped up, and once again, her dark eyes narrowed. “You can’t die?”
Her gaze was full of doubt as she studied him, pausing every time she noticed another scar. Most were hidden from view, and only a couple of the visible ones were from bites, but he had others. Scars from the claws of animals and from the knives of enemies and from his many altercations with the c
reatures. They were nothing compared to the scars he carried on his heart, though. Those were craters that would put the Grand Canyon to shame. Valleys a person could get lost in.
“There’ve been times,” he said, pushing those thoughts away as his heart ached, “when I thought I was gonna die, but it never happened. Maybe somethin’ can do it, but I ain’t found it yet.”
It was at that moment, as he thought about all the moments when he’d been certain death was waiting around the corner, that Angus changed his mind about going with Naya. He still didn’t believe something real or safe existed. Too much time had gone by and he’d traveled too much of the country, but it wasn’t like he had anything better to do. He had nothing, in fact. Nowhere to go and no one in his life, but more importantly, he couldn’t seem to shake the words Parv had whispered to him.
“All of this has to be for a reason, a purpose. Something bigger than all of us. Can’t you feel it? Can’t you see it?”
He closed his eyes for a second, clinging to the memory of her voice. I can feel it. I can, and I ain’t gonna let you down.
“Angus?”
He opened his eyes to find Naya staring at him curiously.
Angus let out a deep breath, nodded once, and said, “Let’s go.”
Then he turned his back on her mom’s body and headed for the staircase.
They left the dilapidated city behind, the sun beating down on them and fighting with the cool fall air to keep them warm. The sky was crystal clear, not even a single cloud marring it, and the day seemed to sing with activity.
Neither of them had spoken since leaving the building, but just being with someone after all this time made Angus feel lighter than he had in years. His backpack seemed to weigh him down less, his steps took less effort than before, and everything looked brighter.
He’d really thought he’d be alone until the end.
The city was nothing but a speck in the distance by the time Naya finally broke the silence.
“What was it like?” she asked as they walked side by side, their feet scraping in near unison and her face turned toward him, her eyes squinted against the sunshine. “Before, I mean. Before the monsters took over. Back when there were people.”
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 4