Jim had been, along with Al, and as usual, Parv had her bow. She’d been a fantastic shot. That was something he’d never forgotten about his wife. It was like she’d been born to wield the weapon, and her learning to shoot had been one of the things that had brought them together.
They’d left the settlement on foot during the early part of the day, heading out to intercept a shipment of supplies on its way to some far away part of the country. It must have been shortly after the CDC fell—which meant Axl had still been alive—because the zombie had surprised them. Most had died off, and while they’d known there were a few stragglers, no one had expected them to be an issue. The few left tended to be slower, making them easy to take out and less of a threat. By that point, life had almost become relaxing.
Angus and Parv had just gone into an old house and were making their way upstairs so they could watch from the windows—and hopefully take the trucks by surprise—while the other members of their group were taking similar positions all up and down the street. The house was quiet and empty, long ago stripped of anything useful, and Angus could remember the way their footsteps had bounced off the walls.
Parv had slipped her hand into his as they climbed the stairs, and through the shadowy darkness, he’d just been able to make her smile out when she looked up at him. Her skin had been warm against his, and soft despite the callouses on her palms. They hadn’t been together for very long at that point—that was something he’d forgotten—and no one knew about their relationship yet. Angus had known their friends and family would be as supportive as they would be shocked, but he was enjoying keeping her to himself. Enjoying the thrill he felt when she slipped into his bed at night after everyone else had gone to sleep.
“Can’t wait ’til we’re back home, and I can get you alone,” he’d said.
Her smile had widened. “And what are you planning to do with me once you have me alone?”
“Strip you down,” he’d said just as they reached the top of the stairs.
They’d stopped there, staring at each other as the heat built between them. Angus could remember it so clearly now. How it had felt like he was standing in the middle of a fire, only the burn felt good. Welcome in its all-consuming heat. He closed his eyes even though the room he and Naya were in was dark, hoping to be able to cling to the memory of how he’d backed Parv up against the wall, of how she’d dropped her bow, of how she’d looked at him with such unadulterated adoration. She’d gasped when he’d leaned down and covered her mouth with his, and her arms had gone around him as she’d lifted herself on her toes, trying to get closer. He’d threaded his fingers through her hair while their lips moved together, his tongue exploring her mouth, her small body pressed against his.
“Parv,” Angus whispered to the dark room as a tear slipped from his eye and slid down his cheek.
The kiss had been short, but deep, and she’d been gasping when he pulled away.
“I feel like you’ve put me under some kinda spell,” he’d said.
“No spell,” she’d whispered, smiling up at him. “Just love. Because I love you.”
It had all been so new, and they hadn’t yet put a name to it, but Parv hadn’t hesitated to call it what it was, and she hadn’t been ashamed. Even more importantly, Angus hadn’t hesitated to respond.
“I love you.”
She’d swallowed, her grin growing, and taken his hand again. “We should get into position.”
Parv had then scooped her bow up off the floor, and together they’d headed to the far bedroom.
That was where the zombie had been hiding. It had pounced as they’d stepped through the door, taking them totally by surprise and slamming into Parv. Angus had felt like his heart stopped when she went down, the rotten, growling creature on top of her. She’d dropped her bow, and it had skidded across the room, and her knife had been tucked away in its sheath, meaning she was completely unarmed. And she’d been tiny, so much smaller than the dead man who was snapping his teeth only inches from her face, and so utterly vulnerable.
Angus had acted without thinking, shoving his arm in front of her and right into the zombie’s mouth. Its teeth sank in, cutting through his flesh with little effort, and he’d let out a howl of pain. He’d been bitten more times than he could count, but the pain shocked him every time.
His arm still in the zombie’s mouth, he’d grabbed the monster by the collar of its threadbare shirt and hauled it away from Parv. That was when it had released his arm, giving Angus the chance to pull his knife. He’d slammed the blade through its skull before the zombie even had a chance to get to its feet, then turned to face Parv, his shoulders heaving, his eyes wide and full of terror as he looked her over.
She was still down, sitting on the floor and staring up at him when she’d said, “What did you do?”
“Saved you.” He’d dropped to his knees at her side. “You’re okay, ain’t you?”
“I’m okay,” she’d said, breathing heavily, working to calm herself. “But your arm.”
She’d reached for him with shaky hands, wincing like the sight of his torn flesh physically hurt her. “Look at your arm.”
“Fuck my arm,” he said but had allowed her to take it anyway. “I’m fine, and I’m gonna stay that way. I don’t give a damn ’bout ’nother scar. Not as long as you’re all right.”
“I am,” she’d said.
He had exhaled then, letting out a sigh of relief as he reached for her. “Come here.”
Angus had pulled her against him, locking her in an embrace that he knew had to hurt, but he hadn’t been able to help it. His blood was still pounding in his ears, his brain replaying what had just happened, thinking over what could have happened. He’d lost women before, women he’d loved, and it had hurt like hell, but the thought of losing Parv had been different. More devastating. Like a boulder was sitting on his heart, crushing him.
They’d said nothing as she wrapped the bite, had remained quiet as they did the job they’d come to do, and still hadn’t spoken as they drove home, Angus behind the wheel of the supply truck they’d hijacked and Parv at his side. Even after they’d gotten to the house, they remained silent.
Their family had been happy to know Parv was okay, but they weren’t thrilled to find out Angus had allowed himself to get bitten yet again. Axl had called him a dumbass—Angus remembered now that his brother had been helping Megan and Donaghy fix up their house—and Vivian had shaken her head in disapproval, while Al reminded him that what used to be a simple infection could kill a person fast these days. And all the while Parv had said nothing.
It wasn’t until she’d knelt in front of him to clean the wound that she’d finally spoken.
“You’re going to get yourself killed one day.”
She didn’t look at him, too focused on the injury she was cleaning, but he hadn’t been able to take his eyes off her when he said, “It’d be worth it if you live.”
Behind her, Vivian and Axl had shared a confused look.
That was when Parv lifted her gaze to meet his, a sad smile on her lips that had tugged at his heart. “Don’t die for me, Angus. Please. I don’t know that I could handle losing someone again.”
“You’re stronger than you was back then,” he’d told her, suddenly too choked up to say anything else. Suddenly remembering how she’d acted after her first love died. The way she’d turned in on herself in an attempt to protect her heart from having to suffer again.
Parv’s voice had been low when she replied, “But I love you so much more than I ever loved him…”
Her words had brought Darla and Jane to mind. He’d loved them both—or at least he’d always thought so—but Parv was right. Those relationships had been nothing like this one. Even as fresh as it was, he’d known that. The woman in front of him was it for him. The love of his life. Parv was everything.
“And I ain’t never loved anybody the way I love you,” he’d told her, not caring that everyone was listening, not caring that his
words had been choked with emotion, not caring if he started blubbering like a baby. “I’d let a thousand zombies chew on me if it meant you was okay.”
Parv had swallowed, her own eyes shimmering with tears, and stood. She’d wrapped her arms around Angus, pressing his head against her breasts, and he’d slipped his arms around her waist. He’d hugged her back, holding on to her as tight as he had back in the house. Clinging to her like she could die at any moment. Like he was the only thing that could save her from certain doom.
“You are my life,” she’d said, this time low enough that only he had been able to hear it.
He’d been too choked up to respond.
When Parv pulled away, wiping the tears from her cheeks, Angus had looked up to find everyone staring at them in shock.
Axl was the first to break the silence. “When the fuck did this happen?”
The room had exploded in questions then, but Angus couldn’t remember who had asked what or even how he’d responded. He only knew that Parv had moved into his room that day, and that every night until the day she died, she’d slept in his arms.
You are my life…
The words echoed through Angus’s head as he regained consciousness the next morning. The process was slow. He was groggy and disoriented, his brain unfocused and filled with the dreams from the night before. They had all been about Parv—and vivid—so that he almost felt like he’d been transported back in time. He’d held her again, kissed her, had run his hands down her body and felt the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips. She’d laughed, too, which was something she’d done so rarely that he found it unbelievable he could still remember the sound. She had always been so serious, so focused, but Angus had been able to make her laugh. In their room, lying in bed, they had talked for hours, and she’d dragged a part of him to the surface that he’d thought had died long before Axl was born. With her, Angus had felt like he was young again, only a lighter, sillier version of himself. A version that might have existed if his mother hadn’t beaten it out of him. With Parv, though, Angus had been able to joke, had tickled her, had been happy. So very happy.
He let out a deep sigh as the feelings and memories faded until they were little more than shadows of what they’d been the night before, and finally opened his eyes. Like the previous morning, Naya was awake and sitting on the mattress at his side, the gold pendant between her fingers as she stared down at him. For the first time, he realized it was a locket, and he found himself wondering if this girl could possibly have a picture in it. If she did, it would be old, from way before the zombies came, but he supposed it was possible.
Like the first time she saw him staring at the necklace, she tucked it away before saying, “You talk in your sleep.”
He sat up, groaning out of habit even though he was still too focused on the memories to register the stiffness in his joints and muscles. “That right?”
“Parv,” the girl replied. “You said her name. A lot.”
“Dreamt ’bout her.” He flicked a bug off his arm and scratched at the spot it had left behind. It was raised and red, and would itch like crazy, but he was only using it as an excuse not to meet Naya’s gaze. He didn’t know what he’d said while he slept, but he had a feeling he’d cried at some point, and knowing she’d heard it left him feeling raw and exposed.
“I hope they were good dreams,” she said.
Angus lifted his head, meeting her gaze, and the concern in her big, brown eyes calmed his frazzled emotions. “The best.”
Naya nodded.
There was something very soothing about her quiet company. Angus had longed to be with another person for years, but had he come across someone who constantly ran their mouth off, it probably would have irritated him. He’d spent too much time alone, and as much as he craved conversation and the nearness of another person, he needed it in small doses, which Naya seemed to understand.
“How are those cuts?” she asked, tilting her head toward his arm.
In his preoccupation with the dreams, Angus had forgotten all about his altercation with the cat from the day before.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the skin pull beneath the soiled bandage. The pain was minute but hadn’t faded completely. Comparing it to other injuries he’d had, Angus gave himself two days before it was completely healed. Minus the scar.
“It ain’t bad.”
Naya frowned, making it obvious she thought he was trying to downplay the whole thing. “I should take a look at it.”
He didn’t argue or try to stop her when she reached for the bandages. She undid the knot securing the old t-shirt to his arm, then slowly unwound it. The movement caused a slight throb to radiate up his limb but for the most part was relatively painless. Angus said nothing as she worked, knowing how shocked she was going to be when she finally saw the cuts. They’d been deep and would have required stitches in normal times—had he been a normal person—and would have taken weeks to heal completely. Lucky for Angus, though, there was nothing normal about him.
The bandage fell away, revealing the cuts, and Naya froze. She blinked a few times, her expression confused, and when nothing changed, her eyes widened. Her gaze flicked up to meet Angus’s, searching his face like she was trying to figure him out. Obviously not finding what she wanted, she returned her focus to the cuts after only a few seconds.
Just like Angus had thought, they were scabbed over—and smaller as well. Of the three gashes, one had been half the size of the other two, and now, less than twenty-four hours later, it was little more than a thin red line on his skin. The other two had been deeper, though, and would take more time to heal, but even those seemed to have shrunk.
“How?” Naya said, her voice low, her gaze still on the cuts.
“Told ya.” Angus pulled the sleeve of his jacket down, covering the cuts, and her focus returned to his face. “They did somethin’ to me. Changed me.”
“Changed you,” she repeated, but it wasn’t a question. It was more like she was weighing the words, turning them around in her head so she could figure them out. She must not have, because she shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Can’t tell you more than that ’cause I don’t know nothin’ ’bout it.”
Naya thought this over, gnawing on the inside of her cheek as she did, then asked, “When did you first realize something about you had changed?”
It was strange that she’d ask, because the answer went back to the day he’d been thinking about the night before. The day he saved Parv by allowing the zombie to bite him. He’d done it before—saved another person by permitting one of the dead to use his body as a chew toy—but not since getting out of the CDC, and he’d fully expected the cut to take weeks to get better. It hadn’t, though.
“Was months after the CDC fell,” he began, his lips puckering in thought as he worked to remember the details. “I was bit by a zombie—there was a few of ’em still hangin’ on back then—and Parv cleaned it up real good and bandaged it. The bite was deep, bled like a son of a bitch, too. But the next day, I woke to find it almost healed. Was the damnedest thing I ever saw.”
He recalled thinking the bite hadn’t felt as bad as it should have but remembered being totally unprepared for what they saw when Parv removed the bandage. The crescent shaped scars had still been there, but other than a little redness, the bite had almost completely healed.
Parv had looked up, her eyes wide, confusion and uncertainty brimming in them. “How?”
He’d blinked just like Naya had, unable to speak.
“Angus,” Parv had said, drawing his attention to her. “How did this happen?”
“I don’t—” He’d broken off, knowing the answer right away. “Star, that sonofabitch.”
Parv hadn’t responded, but he’d been able to tell she thought the same thing.
“After that,” he told Naya, “I could still get hurt, but it healed fast.”
“It’s incredible,” the girl said.
Angus le
t out a snort. “It’s somethin’.”
Most of the time it felt more like a curse, but at that moment, sitting with this girl, he found himself wondering yet again if Parv had been right. If he hadn’t been put here for some bigger purpose.
“Should get movin’,” Angus said, letting out another groan as he dragged himself to his feet.
The room was still dark, but the early morning light streaming in from under the door helped illuminate the area enough that he was able to get a look around. The mice living in the other mattress were active this morning, squeaking as they moved around, making the surface ripple like water. The rodents weren’t the only creatures that had claimed the room as their domain, though. A cockroach crawled across the floor, its antennae twitching as it searched for its next meal. There were spiders in a couple corners, too, one diligently spinning its web while another was hard at work sucking the life from a fly that had been unfortunate enough to get caught in its web.
Angus barely noticed the various pests anymore and gave them little thought. These days, most of the rooms or buildings he took shelter in were overrun with vermin, and it wasn’t like they didn’t have a right to the place. They’d survived where humans had not, earning their position as rulers of this world. Angus was the intruder. Not them.
He was already hauling the bookcase away from the door when Naya came to help, although it wasn’t necessary. When he’d shoved it across the room the night before, he’d done it just to make himself feel better, but in truth, it wasn’t heavy. Rusted and wobbly, the shelves were empty of the books that had once resided there, and the furniture wouldn’t have done much to keep one of the creatures from getting inside if the bolt had broken. It seemed they’d gotten lucky, though, and taken refuge in an area where few—if any—of the creatures roamed. Angus hadn’t heard a single howl the night before. Although maybe he’d been too caught up in his memories to notice.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 11