He was just about to force his way through the opening when Naya grabbed his arm. “Angus.”
He stopped, his gaze moving to the girl. She wasn’t looking at him, though. She was focused on the ground.
He followed her gaze to find a pile of scat on the floor just inside the door.
Shit.
He would have laughed if he wasn’t on the verge of slapping himself.
How had he missed it?
The waste these creatures left behind looked more animal than human, but that didn’t mean the sight and smell didn’t turn his stomach. In the beginning, it had both shocked and disgusted him to realize these things relieved themselves at all, but mainly because it had told him one very important thing. They were still alive. It was something he tried hard not to think about.
They were different than the zombies that had walked the Earth just after the virus. Those abominations had been dead. Had been nothing but mindless killing machines. It had made them dangerous, but easy to take out if you were careful. These creatures, though, were something else. A science experiment gone wrong. Or right, depending on who you asked. He’d spent almost twenty years as a prisoner to the very man who’d created and released the virus, and during that time, Angus had seen the various stages of that madman’s experiments, starting with the zombies. With those creatures, the virus killed them, then they came back, but there had been other strains. Strains that had turned the person before their heart stopped beating. Strains that had made them faster and more violent. The CDC had been trying to create an army of the dead, and all their experiments, all their twisted science, had culminated in the creation of the very creatures that now ruled the world.
Angus pulled his knife from its sheath and looked back at Naya. “Could be old, but be ready.”
The girl’s head dipped twice as she pulled her own knife, and despite her severe expression, the massive weapon looked strange in her small hand. Jarring. Unnatural. A fourteen-year-old girl shouldn’t need to carry something so lethal. It was unfair.
Angus shook his head to push the thought away, let out a deep breath, and braced himself.
The scat wasn’t old—it hadn’t dried out yet—but that didn’t necessarily mean the creature was still in the room. It could have gone out a back door. He wanted to be prepared for anything, though, especially during this time of day. The sun was low, the sky growing darker by the second, and the things would be waking up very soon. Preparing for the hunt. If one of them was in this room, it could already be awake.
He used his shoulder to put all his weight against the rusty door. It moved, the hinges groaning in protest the way his joints did every morning when he first got up, scraping against the ground. Now that it was open wider, he was able to get a better look at the room. Like he’d hoped, it was a storage area. Light streamed in through an open back door, illuminating the meager contents. Old metal shelves lined the wall to his right, rusted from age and covered in dirt and other random items, and to his left stood another door. This one closed. If the creature that had left the scat was here, that was where he’d find it.
He tightened his grip on the knife. “Stay behind me.”
Angus kept his steps light, careful where he put his feet to ensure he made as little noise as possible. He didn’t want to alert anything that might be lurking in the shadows to his presence. Especially if there were more than one.
It was rare, the creatures were typically solitary and only sometimes traveled in packs, but every now and then they took shelter in the same place. Considering how few buildings they’d seen today, it was entirely possible more than one of the things had taken cover here. He needed to be ready.
He paused when he reached the door, his hand on the knob, and looked over his shoulder. Naya was only a couple steps behind him, her big eyes alert and her knife clutched in her steady hand. He hadn’t even known she’d followed him—that was how light her steps were—and it impressed the hell out of him.
“I’m ready,” she said, the words as quiet as a soft breeze sweeping through the room.
He nodded once and turned back to the door.
Angus sucked a deep breath in through his nose, analyzing the scent as he did. Dust and mold. Wet like an old cellar. He exhaled, inhaled again. There it was. The sickeningly sweet smell. Like rotting fruit. It made his stomach turn more than the stench of death used to. At least the stink that had followed the dead had made sense. This, though, had no logic to it. What made these killing machines smell sweet? He didn’t have a clue.
Angus swallowed and gripped the doorknob tighter, then turned it.
Every inch of his body was tense as the door swung open and light streamed into the small room. It was an old bathroom. A small, filthy sink sat to his left, and an equally grimy toilet stood in front of him.
The creature was to his right.
It stood with its back to them, facing the corner like a child who’d gotten in trouble and been put in time out. Only there was nothing childish or innocent about this thing. It was naked and hairless, its pale skin riddled with raised black veins that seemed ready to break through, and its body so emaciated it looked on the verge of wasting away. It wouldn’t, though. Like him, it didn’t need to eat to survive, but it would anyway. It craved violence and blood the same way he craved the smoky flavor of a freshly cooked rabbit.
Angus flexed his fingers on his knife, adjusting his grip, and moved.
Three steps were all it took to reach the thing, then he jammed his knife into its back, driving the long blade through its ribs, aiming for the heart, and twisting once. Blood burst from the puncture, so dark red it almost looked black, and the creature jerked. It let out a howl that echoed through the small space and seemed to vibrate through Angus’s skull, then it fell to the ground, taking the knife with it. It shifted but didn’t try to get up, telling Angus he’d hit the mark.
He knelt and pulled the weapon free, then rolled the creature onto its back. It was still alive, its milky eyes staring up at him, but it wouldn’t be for long. From behind, it was impossible to distinguish gender because these creatures all looked the same. Thin and pale and hairless, they all had the same nearly transparent skin that felt almost leathery to the touch. Only from the front were they discernable as something that had once been human. This one had been a woman. Its breasts were shrunken now and nearly nonexistent, but they still told him that this thing, this monstrous creature, had once been a daughter, and possibly a wife or a mother. A real person. Human.
Not for a long, long time, though.
Angus stood and turned his back on the thing. “Gotta secure the buildin’ so we’re ready for the night.”
“Yeah.” Naya’s head bobbed three times, but her focus was still on the thing he’d just killed. “Yeah,” she said again, then swallowed.
Her expression was pained, and he knew she was thinking of her mother. He understood. He’d lost more people than he cared think about, and the first few days after they had to be put down were always the hardest. Especially after coming face to face with one of the creatures. It was jarring to see them and know this was what could have happened. Even worse was knowing it had happened to more than one person he cared about, because it made him wonder if they were still out there even after all these years, sleeping during the day, hunting at night. Letting out inhuman howls that announced they were ready to pounce.
He pushed the thought away.
Now wasn’t the time to mourn. For either of them. His time had come and gone, and Naya would have her own time later, after they made sure they were safe. Then, surrounded by the security of darkness, the girl could allow the grief to pour out of her.
Angus didn’t say these things out loud, but it seemed he didn’t need to. When he turned to leave the small room where the creature’s body would stay until it was nothing but dust, Naya followed.
The click of the bathroom door shutting was loud in the otherwise silent building as he moved toward the open back door.
There, he paused to look outside. Dusk had arrived, and the sky was orange behind the thick clouds, but the surrounding forest blocked out the horizon and made it difficult to know how much time they had. Not much.
He stepped back inside, pulling the door shut. The knob was broken, though, meaning it didn’t latch, and he swore under his breath. He’d need to find something to shove up against it and fast.
Angus pushed the door open a few inches, allowing light to stream into the room once again, then looked around. The shelves were too bulky and would be difficult if not impossible to move, and the rusty chairs weren’t sturdy enough, but there was a table. Its size made it less than ideal, but time was running out, and it would have to do.
“What is it?” Naya asked.
She was standing beside the other door, the one they’d come in through, which was now securely shut.
“Knob’s broken,” he said, already heading for the table. “Gotta wedge this against it.”
Naya moved to help him, positioning herself on the opposite side of the table, and together they lifted it. It weighed more than he’d thought it would, which was a relief. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the night in the small bathroom, but it would be their only other option if this didn’t work.
Angus shut the back door when they reached it, and the room was plunged into darkness. Wordlessly, they worked together to push the table against it. Once it was in place, he tested the sturdiness, pulling on the knob to get an idea how secure it was. The table rattled but didn’t move.
“What do you think?” Naya asked, her voice low.
“Seems okay,” he said then let out a long sigh.
Like always, his body seemed to slump now that he was safe for the night, and he became acutely aware of the aching in his bones. Of how his shoulders throbbed where the straps of his backpack dug in. It was time to rest. Time to recharge and gather every ounce of strength he could, so when the sun rose, he was ready to face a new day.
He moved slowly, hands out so he didn’t bump into anything. When his fingertips brushed the wall, he sank to the ground with a groan.
“Settle in,” he said to the darkness.
Naya moved without responding, her footsteps moving his way. He sensed her presence before her boot hit his. She sank down so they were sitting side by side, both of their backs pressed against the wall. The warmth of her body felt foreign to him after all those cold nights alone, but familiar at the same time. It drew a smile from his lips that was tinged with sadness but nice, too.
“You done good today,” he said, reaching over to pat her leg.
Giving her praise was getting easier and easier. What was more, he found he liked it.
“It was hard,” she replied.
He exhaled, nodded, and gave her leg another pat. “It’ll get easier.”
“I know.”
It wasn’t until then that he felt guilty for not asking her anything about her life. He knew nothing about the people she’d been with before or who she’d lost—other than her mom. She’d mentioned grandparents—and even a great grandmother—but it seemed almost impossible that she could have had those things. She must have, though. Even more, she could have had aunts and uncles and cousins. A real, whole family.
“You lose a lot of people?” he asked, keeping his voice low and soft.
“Too many,” she replied.
He waited to see if she would elaborate, and when she didn’t, said, “Same for me.”
“Same for everyone still alive, probably,” came the reply.
He grunted in agreement and nodded even though it was too dark for her to see it.
“It’s been a long time,” Angus continued, “but I lost a wife. Daughter. Brother. Everybody.”
“I’m sorry,” Naya said.
“Me too,” he replied.
They lapsed into silence then, and after only a few seconds, Angus shrugged off his pack and shifted so he could lie down. He was on his back, the ground beneath him hard and unforgiving. It was nice when he could find a building with a bed, but rare, and he was used to sleeping on the floor. Not that his body didn’t protest every time he moved.
A shuffling sound told him Naya was settling in as well, but he said nothing, knowing she needed the silence right now. They had time to talk. Time to get to know one another. Time to share the stories of the people who had been stolen from them by this brutal world of madness.
Chapter Four
The sniffling cut through the darkness, echoing in the silence and magnifying both the sound and the pain. It was muffled and quiet, but unmistakable, and Angus shifted automatically, turning toward her
“Hey now, Blondie,” he said to the indistinguishable figure at his side. “Don’t do that.”
“Don’t do what?” she asked between tortured sobs. “Don’t mourn? How can you even ask that of me?”
“That ain’t what I meant.” He pushed himself to a sitting position and grabbed her arm, finding her easily despite the darkness. Then he stood, urging her to her feet as well. “Come on. Let’s go for a walk.”
Vivian didn’t protest, and she didn’t push him off when he pulled her toward the door.
Outside, the moon was high and bright, and it shone on the surrounding houses, illuminating them. The neighborhood was as dark and quiet as the house they’d just left, but not everyone was asleep. People were on patrol, keeping watch. They couldn’t afford to be lax, not after what had happened today.
Vivian wrenched her arm from his grasp and swiped her hand across her cheek. “We should have moved back to Atlanta. Their walls are higher. We would have been safer there.”
“Maybe,” he said, leaning against the porch rail. “Ain’t much we can do ’bout it now.”
“Why did he have to be so stubborn?” she said through her tears. “Why couldn’t he have listened?”
Angus exhaled, and his shoulders slumped. Vivian’s sobs hadn’t eased, and the sound of her grief was enough to rip him in half, and not just because she was in pain. Because he felt it, too, the hole the loss had left in their lives. It was big enough to consume them all.
“He thought he knew best.”
Angus pulled a small pack of bootleg cigarettes he’d gotten from one of the supply trucks—the last one he had—from his pocket and slipped one between his lips. He’d been reining it in, trying to ease the habit because he had a strange feeling it wouldn’t be long before there weren’t any more to be had, but the scratching in his throat begged for relief. The matches were in his back pocket, and when he’d retrieved one, he struck it against the post at his side. It sparked and flared to life, the flame lighting up the little area between him and his sister-in-law. Tears shimmered on her cheeks, seeming to get caught in the creases of her skin. She’d aged, as had they all, but she was still the same beautiful woman he and Axl had picked up thirty years ago while traveling Route 66. It still seemed unreal that so much time had passed.
Angus cupped his free hand around the match as he touched it to the tip of the cigarette, inhaling slowly so the flame caught. Chemicals rushed down his throat and into his lungs, soothing the ache that had begun there, and a second later he exhaled, blowing the smoke out through his mouth and up into the air where it was caught on the wind and whisked away.
“I’m not sure I’ll survive this, Angus,” Vivian said. “It hurts too much.”
“You will,” he replied, turning his gaze on her. “’Cause you gotta. You gotta do it for them girls, and for me.”
She sniffed, and a shaky smile turned up her lips. “We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?”
“Feels like we’ve gone ’round the world and back.”
“It does,” she said, exhaling.
Vivian looked past him, out over the little community they’d called home for the last decade. It had once been the set for a television show, back before all this started, but had been transformed into a safe haven when the dead came back. Then the CDC fell, and the dead began to die off—fi
nally—and they’d foolishly thought the walls were no longer necessary. They’d thought life had been given a second chance. How wrong they’d been.
“What are they?” Vivian asked, still staring at the wall.
“Science experiment,” Angus said through a mouthful of smoke. “Something Star cooked up.”
Vivian shuddered and hugged herself, wrapping her arms around her like she was cold even though the night was muggy and the air thick. “If only we’d stayed in Atlanta.”
They both knew why they hadn’t, but Angus didn’t remind her. The Church had gotten its claws in the people of this world, had taken over the city when the CDC fell, and since they looked at Angus like he was some kind of god, leaving had been their only option. He still couldn’t fathom the whole thing. Him a god? It was more than laughable. It was downright sacrilegious.
Tears were still streaming down Vivian’s face as she and Angus stood side by side in silence, him smoking while her sniffles echoed through the night, which seemed to grow darker with each passing second. It was only then that he realized he was dreaming. No, not dreaming, exactly. Remembering while he slept. Yes, that was what this was. A memory so vivid it almost felt real.
He reached out, ready to touch Vivian’s shoulder, but the image faded away, dissolving right in front of him, and he was pulled from sleep.
The sound of her sniffles didn’t disappear even after she was gone completely, though, and he realized that part of the dream had been real. Only it wasn’t Vivian who was crying, but Naya. She was beside him, her sobs quiet and muffled, but still audible.
He didn’t move.
He felt like an intruder or a voyeur, but there was nothing he could do about the situation. They were stuck here until dawn, which hadn’t yet come. Even before a distant howl cut through the silence, he could tell it was still dark.
Naya stiffened at the sound, and her sobs cut off abruptly. She was quiet for a moment, then she let out one more sniff, shifted, and the room went silent.
Her breathing grew heavy before long, but still Angus lay awake, staring up into the darkness as he turned the dream over in his head. It had been so vivid that he’d actually thought he might be able to reach out and grab hold of Vivian, would be able to pull her against him the way he had that day and so many others.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 6