Only seconds later, Axl had let out one final breath and gone still, and right in front of Angus’s eyes, Vivian broke. She wailed and sobbed, she’d clung to her dead husband like he was the only thing keeping her grounded. Her body had shaken, her cries echoing through the night, and she’d cursed God.
That was when Angus’s own sobs had broken free.
He’d cried like a child, unashamed of the tears streaming down his face, not caring that people were watching him or that his throat was raw from the emotion ripping its way out of him. Never before had he known such agony, never had he imagined that a person could go through so much pain and actually survive. It had felt like every bone in his body was being broken one at a time. Like he was being ripped apart from the inside out. Like he was being burned alive.
Axl, his brother, the person he’d sworn he would always protect, was gone, and it was all Angus’s faut.
Someone knelt at his side, and through his tears he was able to make out Jim’s somber face. How long had they known each other now? More than thirty years. So long they were practically family. They were all alive because of him. Because he’d sacrificed himself when they were surrounded by a horde, had run out of that farmhouse in the middle of nowhere and led the zombies away. Megan had only been a day old, and Hadley dead for only a few hours, and her body had barely been cold.
Like Axl’s was now.
“Get her home,” Jim had said softly, putting a hand on Angus’s shoulder. “I’ll take care of Axl. We can bury him tomorrow.”
Angus had to swallow down another round of sobs.
He’d pulled himself to his feet, avoiding looking at his brother’s pale face as he moved to Vivian’s side. He had to pry her away, and when he swept her into his arms, she was a ball of grief. His shirt was wet, soaked through with Axl’s blood, but he couldn’t care, and Vivian wouldn’t either. She wasn’t much cleaner, and none of that mattered right now, because they had more important things to do. They had to let the others know about Axl.
It had been the longest walk of Angus’s life as he headed down the street, a sobbing Vivian in his arms. Her face was tucked against his chest, her tears soaking into his shirt while her body shook, and her hands clinging to him until he’d felt like she was trying to rip him apart with her nails. She was gasping for breath between tears, but she couldn’t control them. Couldn’t do anything but cry.
“Shhh,” he’d said. “You’ll get through this.”
She’d shaken her head.
He passed Dragon’s bar and caught sight of his daughter through the window. Glitter was at work, of course, which meant he’d have to send someone to get her as soon as he could. Maybe Jim would stop there after he took care of Axl—
The memory of his brother’s mangled body had almost brought on a fresh wave of tears, but he’d swallowed them down. He’d need to be stronger than this. For Vivian. For Megan and Margot. For everyone.
They were a family, had been together for so long, and this was going to rip their world in half. They’d lost people before, too many, but it had been ten years since the last time they’d had to bury someone. And this was Axl. Their leader from the beginning. The person who’d kept them going, who’d taken charge. How would they manage without him?
The house came into view, and Angus had the urge to slow, to put off walking into the house and telling everyone what had happened. Lights had flickered in the windows, telling him the others were waiting up. Al and Lila, Megan and Donaghy, Parv. The kids. How would he tell them?
Climbing the stairs to the porch seemed to take forever, and he’d only taken one step into the house before his wife called out, “There you are.”
She’d appeared in the doorway that led into the kitchen, her dark hair, now streaked with gray, loose around her face, her expression filled with relief that melted away the second she set eyes on him. She’d been holding a towel, which fell from her hands and fluttered to the floor, and she’d gripped the wall like she needed to hold on to something, so she didn’t fall. Angus couldn’t put Vivian down, but the urge to wrap his arms around Parv had never been so strong.
“What happened?” his wife had asked.
Footsteps scraped against the floor at her back, and a second later, Megan had come into view. When she saw her mother, she rushed forward, and that was when Angus had allowed his legs to give out.
“No,” Megan had said as she dropped down beside them.
She already knew. Of course, she did.
Parv had moved, coming over to join them, and then the house exploded. As if they’d all been able to sense something had happened, the others appeared. Al, Lila, Donaghy, Luke and Kelly, and Margot. Everyone was talking at once, already shedding tears even though Angus hadn’t yet had the chance to break the news. His throat felt scratched raw from his sobs, and he had to swallow, but eventually he’d managed to find his voice.
“Axl,” the room had fallen silent and he continued, “he’s gone.”
Lila turned to her husband, burying her face in Al’s chest as her shoulders shook. He’d wrapped his one whole arm around her, his own eyes shimmering, and Angus had a sudden flashback of the goofy kid he’d been at the beginning. Only seventeen, he’d been a jokester, always smiling, but tough as steel. When he was bitten, it had been Al’s idea to have the doctor amputate his arm, and it had worked. He’d lived, and he’d proven over and over again just how strong he was.
Megan looked up at Angus, her green eyes so like her dead mother’s—Hadley Lucas the movie star. “What happened?”
Angus had cleared his throat, mostly to buy himself time. He didn’t want her to have to picture Axl the way he’d been at the end, ripped apart and bleeding, suffering. It was bad enough that Vivian had seen it.
“One of them things surprised us when we was out,” he’d managed to say. “I wanted to come back, told him I had a bad feelin’, but he wouldn’t listen.” He’d never regretted anything as much as he did right now. “Shoulda dragged his ass back here,” he’d said, his voice catching in his throat.
Megan put her hand on his. “It’s not your fault.”
Vivian’s sobs grew in tempo, and Lila pulled away from Al. She’d sniffed, wiped her face, and moved so she was kneeling beside her friend. “Give me your hand. Let me help.”
Vivian had obeyed without comment, without even acting like she knew what was happening, and Lila helped her to her feet.
“Let’s get you cleaned up, okay?” she’d said gently then looked toward Megan. “Can you help?”
Megan had nodded and pulled herself up.
She’d paused beside her husband, Donaghy, who put a hand on her shoulder.
“Can you—” Megan had swallowed. “Can you tell the kids?”
Donaghy had let out a deep sigh. “Yeah.”
She’d given him a strained smile. “We always knew we couldn’t shield them from the pain of this world forever, but I’d hoped we could hold it off. Hoped they’d be older the first time they had to face this.”
“They’ll be okay,” he’d assured her.
“I know,” Megan had said, and her gaze moved to her mother.
Angus didn’t need to ask what she was thinking, he could see it written all over her face. Megan didn’t think Vivian would be okay. He didn’t agree, but he understood the girl’s worry. Once, a little more than ten years ago, Axl had disappeared and everyone thought he was dead. It had nearly crushed Vivian, and she’d had what most people thought was a mental breakdown. It hadn’t been, though, because it turned out she was being drugged. Still, it had to be at the forefront of everyone’s mind. The worry that she’d disappear, that she’d fold under this pressure. Angus didn’t believe it, though. Vivian was stronger than that, and she would get through this. He’d make sure.
Lila and Megan had led Vivian off, and Margot, Axl’s youngest child, trailed after them, hugging herself and looking slightly dazed. Others had left as well, and the hall began to clear until before long, Angus
and Parv were the only ones left.
His wife was still kneeling at his side, her hand on his leg, when she’d said, “I’m sorry, Angus.”
“Don’t know what I’m gonna do without him.”
“Same thing you’ve always done,” she’d said. “Survive.”
She’d stood then and held her hand out, helping him to his feet even though she was a tiny thing, more than a head shorter than he was. Not that her size mattered. She was one of the strongest people he’d ever known, and he knew she’d be there for him to lean on. Knew he’d need it, too.
Parv held his hand as they moved for the stairs. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
In their room, he’d stripped down, tossing his ruined clothes aside. Parv had made a pitstop at the bathroom to grab a towel and washcloth, but he hadn’t wanted to follow her. Hadn’t wanted to see his reflection while he was still covered in Axl’s blood. It was all over his arms and chest and probably smeared across his face as well, and he knew if he saw his reflection, the sight would be permanently ingrained in his mind.
Once he was naked, he’d sat on the bed and waited for Parv to return, staring at his hands as he replayed what had happened. Why hadn’t he insisted they come home? Why had he let Axl talk him into going farther into the woods when Angus had known something was wrong?
The door opened, but he hadn’t looked up. A second later it clicked shut, then she was crossing to him, stopping at his side. She’d said nothing as she ran the warm washcloth over him, starting on his face and working her way down. Over his neck and arms, across his chest and stomach. His legs. Taking extra care when she cleaned the bite on his arm. Parv had carried a bowl in as well, and twice she had to rinse the washcloth. By the time she was done, the water had been dark pink from his brother’s blood.
“Lie down,” Parv had said.
He’d obeyed, and then she was crawling onto the bed and pulling him close, wrapping her arms around him and hugging his head against her chest. That was when the sobs started again. In his wife’s arms, he’d let himself go and sobbed for his brother. Until the virus, Axl had been the only person he’d ever allowed himself to care about. He’d never had a father, and his mom had been a drunk and a bitch, had called him a good-for-nothing and treated him like shit. The day Axl was born, Angus had sworn he’d do everything in his power to make sure his brother had more. He’d sat up with Axl when he was a baby, fed him, changed his diapers, taken care of him when he was sick. Angus had done everything he could to teach Axl to be strong. He’d messed up on a lot of things in his life, but not on Axl. Never Axl.
“It’s going to be okay,” Parv had whispered in his ear. “You can get through this.”
All he’d been able to do was sob.
It was late when he dragged himself out of the room and found Vivian on the couch. She hadn’t been alone, Megan and Margot were with her, but she was the only one still awake. Her face had been puffy from crying, her eyes red as she’d watched him cross the room to her. He’d tried to read her expression, tried to figure out if she blamed him, but it was indecipherable.
She didn’t speak until he’d taken a seat next to her. “It’s not your fault, Angus.”
He’d swallowed. “Feels like it is.”
“Axl was his own person.” She’d closed her eyes like it pained her to say his name, or maybe it was the use of past tense. When she’d opened them again, she said, “You couldn’t have made him listen if he didn’t want to.”
Angus had only been able to nod.
Vivian shifted, extracting herself from her sleeping daughters’ embrace, and moved closer to him.
On instinct, Angus lifted his arm, and she’d curled up against him, her head on his chest. Then she’d let out a deep breath and seemed to relax a little.
“Remember the day you were bitten?”
“Which time?” he’d said and was shocked when a ghost of a smile pulled at his lips.
“The first time,” she’d replied, and he could hear amusement in her voice.
“Couldn’t forget it if I wanted to.”
“We were stuck in that cellar,” she’d continued, “and we thought for sure you were going to turn. You wanted us to kill you right away, but we wouldn’t.”
“It’s a good thing, too.”
Vivian had ignored the comment.
“After that, when we realized you were immune, it gave me hope. Made me think there could really be an ending to all this. Made me think that if we just held on long enough, life could start over.” Vivian had let out a long, bitter sigh. “I was wrong. The only way this is going to end is with the extinction of the human race.”
Her pessimism had scared him more than anything else could have, because it wasn’t like her. Vivian was the one always clinging to the possibility of something better. Like Angus and Axl, she’d come from a troubled family. Abusive father, mother who ran off and left her alone, pregnant at sixteen and forced to deal with the ramifications all on her own. Despite all those things, Vivian had always believed things could get better. Even after the zombies. Now, though, it sounded like all her hope was gone. Like she was giving up.
“You don’t believe that,” Angus had said.
Vivian pulled back and looked up at him. “Yes, I do.”
He’d let out a long sigh but said nothing.
Angus had understood where she was coming from. Every time they’d turned a corner and thought they’d found the answer, this bastard of a virus managed to rebound. They’d fought and fought and fought, but no matter how much ground they’d managed to make, this thing always won.
But he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet, and he’d wanted to make sure she didn’t either.
“Promise you’ll hang on as long as you can,” he’d said, holding her gaze. “Swear it.”
“What’s the point, Angus? I mean, once we lose everything, is there really a point in keeping up the fight?”
“Hell, yeah, there is,” he’d said, his voice fierce and firm. “And you’re gonna promise me right now.”
Vivian had sighed again. “Fine. I promise.”
“Good,” he’d said, “And I’m gonna hold you to that.”
“I love you, Angus,” she said, giving him a sad smile that hadn’t reached her eyes. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you that before, but I do.”
“Love you, Blondie,” he’d said.
She’d gone back to resting her head on his chest, and they’d sat in silence, each of them nursing their grief but leaning on each other. It was what they’d been doing for years, and at that moment, Angus had felt certain they would make it. That there was hope on the horizon. That life could go on.
So much time had passed since then, though, and he wasn’t sure what he thought anymore. In the darkness of the room where he and Naya had taken shelter, Angus closed his eyes, sighing as he clung to the memory of Vivian’s face. What he wouldn’t give to be able to go back and tell her one more time how sorry he was for being such an asshole in the beginning. If he could, he would punch that old version of himself right in the face. Kick his own ass for being so stupid. So selfish. So self-destructive.
I miss you, girl, he thought, then allowed his body to relax and drift off once again.
Chapter Five
The rest of Angus’s sleep was absent of dreams, and the next time he woke, light was shining in through the cracks around the door they’d wedged shut the night before. Naya was already awake, sitting at his side with her back against the wall. A gold pendant hung from a long chain around her neck, and she had it clasped between her fingers, twisting it back and forth in an absentminded way. Her gaze intent on him.
“You’re up,” she said.
“Not yet.”
He groaned as he pushed himself to a sitting position, and she smiled. It was small and sad, but she looked like she was holding herself together pretty well—and her eyes were only a little puffy.
She shifted and tucked the pendant inside her shirt, hiding it
away. “Sore?”
“As a hooker after a busy night,” he grumbled.
Naya’s eyebrows lifted in a questioning look.
Angus waved his hand as if to bat the words away. “Never mind.”
He got to his feet and put his hands on his hips, twisting first to the right and then to the left. His back cracked several times, making him groan again, but the truth was, it felt good. He rolled his head until his neck cracked as well, then did the same with his shoulders. They crunched like his bones were grinding together, and he suddenly felt like he was a million years old, not a hundred and whatever.
The image of Vivian’s face hadn’t faded, and Angus found it unreal that he could picture her so clearly after all this time. It must have been because of Naya. He’d been alone for so long, no human interaction, no one to talk to. It had made him feel more like one of the creatures than a man. Only one day with her, though, and he felt like he’d been brought back from the dead. She’d helped resurrect his humanity, and with it had come some of the memories he’d long ago forgotten.
“Are you okay?” Naya asked, startling him from his thoughts.
She looked up at him from where she sat, her big, brown eyes studying him intently.
He almost laughed. “I ain’t totally sure, to be honest.”
She nodded like she understood. “I get it. Most of the time I’m not sure what I’m feeling.”
Most of the time, this girl sounded so much older than fourteen, and now more than ever before. She acted as if she’d lived three lifetimes instead of only fourteen years. Angus supposed it was to be expected, though. Living in this world meant you had to grow up fast or die.
It made him wonder why the hell her mom had chosen to have a child at all.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 8