Wanting to think about something other than the one woman he’d allowed himself to care about, Angus had said, “You ain’t gonna end up like that.”
Parv lifted her eyebrows, surprised he was giving her a pep talk or shocked he was trying to make her feel better, or maybe even doubting his words, and said, “You can’t know that.”
“I can,” he’d pointed the cigarette at her to emphasize his words, “’cause you’re doing what you gotta to survive. That means you’re a fighter.”
She’d tilted her head, watching him as she smoked, acting like she was turning his words over. Angus had sat back then, settling in to smoke his own cigarette and not really expecting a response from her.
She’d surprised him when she said, “You know, you’re not as much of an asshole as you want people to think.”
He’d snorted. “I ain’t sure ’bout that, but it sure is nice of ya to say, Rambo.”
They’d gone back to sitting in silence.
A sad smile curled up Angus’s lips at the memory of that day. Rambo. He’d almost forgotten he used to call her that. Even more, he’d forgotten that of everyone in their group, Parv had been the one who’d had the most impact on changing who he was to the core. It had been the quiet moments they’d sat together. The way she’d listened to his advice when he was teaching her to shoot and hunt, and how she’d been able to see him more clearly than anyone else. He’d seen her, too, had understood her, been impressed by her, and had valued her as a person long before he fell in love with her. Parv was the first person he’d ever been able to look at and not see the color of their skin, and it had changed him.
Angus dragged himself to his feet, the bow he’d dug out from under the bed in his hands and the sheath of arrows over his shoulder. If he stayed sitting much longer, he was likely to drown in the memories. He needed to move. Needed to hunt, collect water—which would be easy, thanks to the rain—and figure out what their next step would be. He had to be a fighter. Like Parv.
Chapter Ten
Angus’s footsteps pounded against the steps as he climbed. He reached the first floor to discover that Naya had awakened while he was gone, and she was now sitting up, her gaze groggy but focused on him when he walked into the room.
Her eyebrows lifted, and she nodded to the bow. “Where’d you get that?”
“Found it stashed under the bed.” He looked at the weapon, turning it in his hands so he could study it, then once again focused on her. “Gonna head out in a bit. Do some huntin’. First, though, I’m gonna get you some water.”
The girl’s eyebrows, which had just settled into their usual place on her forehead, rose again. “Only me?”
“Told you,” he said, feeling a smile trying to work its way to his lips, “it ain’t a big deal.”
“Because you can’t die,” she said.
The last time she’d said those words, they’d sounded like a question, but now it seemed as if she was trying to get used to the idea more than doubting him.
“I ain’t exactly sure.” He placed the bow on the dining room table, which sat between the living room and kitchen, and crossed his arms. “I ain’t a god, I know that much for sure.” He couldn’t hold back a snort at the idea. “But I ain’t found anything that can kill me yet.”
“You’ve tried starving yourself? Depriving yourself of water?”
He could only nod, too overwhelmed by the memory of the days he’d spent in that abandoned house to speak. Alone and too weak to drag himself into the other room to find water—and not even sure if he wanted to. Not sure if wanted to go on. The pain, both physical and emotional, had felt like it was going to crush him, and just thinking about the long days ahead of him had been exhausting. And he’d had no clue just how many days there would be. Weeks and months and years, all blending together until time felt like a bottomless hole he’d fallen into.
Angus cleared his throat and turned toward the kitchen. “Gonna put a few pots out to collect rainwater.”
“That’s a good idea,” Naya said from behind him.
The clang of metal banging against metal filled the cabin as Angus dug through the cabinets, pulling out every pot he could find. Thanks to the rain, they wouldn’t have to boil water, and he wanted to gather as much as possible. Once he was sure he’d gotten every container, he gathered them in his arms and headed for the back door. Naya watched him from the couch, her foot propped up on the table in front of her and a pillow underneath it.
Outside, the air was damp, and the rain was falling in sheets. There was very little wind, though, meaning Angus would stay dry as long as he kept to the overhang. He stood there for a moment, looking out over the wet forest, enjoying the silence surrounding him. The house was secluded and in amazing shape considering how much time had passed, and the woods quiet. Peaceful, even. It felt almost like they’d gone back in time or had somehow found a portal to another world where death and destruction didn’t exist. Where people could relax and didn’t have to worry. It was an illusion that wouldn’t last, but it didn’t stop him from soaking in the tranquility.
Angus felt almost relaxed when he finally stepped into the deluge.
His hair was soaked before he’d even knelt. He lined the pots and pans up on the steps, raindrops hitting him on the head and back, drenching his flannel shirt, and by the time he’d stepped back under the overhang, he was chilled to the bone. Prior to going out to hunt, he’d need to find something warmer to wear.
Angus lifted his gaze to the sky before heading back into the house. It was clogged with gray clouds that blocked out the sun, but the forest wasn’t yet dark enough to be dangerous. He’d have to keep his trip brief and stay aware of what was going on around him, though. The creatures had been known to venture out during storms, and he didn’t want to get caught off guard.
Turning his back to the forest, Angus stomped his feet against the porch a few times—only cringing slightly when the wood groaned in protest—and went back inside. Locking the door behind him.
“Gonna gather those in a bit,” he told Naya, already stripping off the wet flannel. “First I gotta find somethin’ else to wear. It’s really comin’ down out there.”
The girl lowered her propped foot to the floor and stood, careful not to put too much weight on her injury, then held out her hand. “I’ll lay your shirt in front of the fire. Make sure it gets dry.”
Giving her a grateful smile, Angus passed the shirt over. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” She returned the gesture, the grin she gave him open and trusting, and not at all hesitant.
They’d only been together for a couple days now, but to Angus it seemed like much longer. It never ceased to amaze him how differently time seemed to pass now. How it could drag out, seeming to take forever one moment, then fly by the next. With Naya, he felt like weeks had passed, and he could tell she felt the same way. She was comfortable with him. Trusted him. Maybe even looked up to him a little. The knowledge caused a wave of gratitude and humility to wash over him. It also made the weight of responsibility he felt for the girl grow heavier. He had to make certain she stayed safe.
Starting with getting her some food.
Swiping a candle off the end table, Angus lit it and went downstairs in search of different clothes, leaving Naya to take care of his shirt.
A quick search of the bedroom proved to be useless—just like he’d thought it would. What he really needed was a jacket of some kind, but all the dresser held was clothes. Shirts, pants, socks, and underwear. Nothing that would keep the weather off him.
Angus headed for the stairs, candle in hand, planning to search the upstairs closet, but stopped beside the bathroom that housed the washer and dryer. It was worth a shot. He pushed the door open wider and held the candle out in front of him, ignoring the hot wax that dripped onto his thumb as the flickering flame illuminated the small room. There was a bathtub—stained brown from years of disuse—a small sink and toilet, as well as the washer and dryer. Behin
d the door, however, was something Angus hadn’t noticed before. A closet.
Figuring it was as good of a place as any to look, he went inside.
After setting the candle on the sink, he opened the closet and peered inside. It held a broom, a now useless vacuum, and a handful of other random cleaning supplies, as well as a few items on hangers. He grabbed the first one, smiling to himself when he pulled out the old, brown jacket. It wasn’t too thick, but it was sturdy enough, and it even had a hood that would help keep the rain off his head.
Jacket in one hand and candle in the other, he headed back upstairs.
“Found me a coat,” he told Naya when he reached the first floor.
She twisted to face him, her mouth turning down in the corners as she looked the grungy old thing over. “Will it be enough?”
“Gonna hafta be,” he said, studying it a second longer before tossing it on the table with the bow. “It ain’t like I can run to Wal-Mart.”
“Wal-Mart?” the girl repeated.
Angus had been walking to the back door, but he paused at the question. “Just a store.”
He thought about going there before the zombies, about getting groceries or replacing a shirt he’d had to throw away. About buying Axl shoes with money he’d managed to save up—somehow.
His brother had been three, making Angus sixteen, and had gone through a growth spurt months before that had rendered his old shoes useless. Throughout the summer, he’d been able to make do with flip flops, but fall had set in and the weather had turned chilly, meaning Axl would need something more substantial. Not that their worthless mother had cared. Angus had done odd jobs around the trailer park to earn the money, hiding it in an old coffee can, which he’d stashed in a hole behind their trailer so his mother wouldn’t steal it.
He let out a long sigh and shook his head, thinking about walking the five miles to Wal-mart once he’d finally had enough money. It had been raining, just like today, and cold, but he would have braved wildfires for Axl.
“What are you thinking about?” Naya asked.
For once, he didn’t hesitate to respond. “My brother. Axl.”
Her eyebrows lifted, letting him know she was curious.
“He was a lot younger than me, and I used to look out for him when we was kids.”
“Why you?” she asked, the curiosity in her expression growing. “Why not your parents?”
“Never had a dad,” he told her. “Our mom was a drunk and didn’t much like us.”
His mouth scrunched up, his lips puckering with the need to call her a bitch or spit. There was little from the past that could make him as bitter and angry as thinking about his mother did. Even after all these years, he couldn’t reconcile her indifference to her children with how he’d felt about his own daughter—or even Axl, for that matter. Angus would have died for either one of them, but his mother had never been able to look at her kids as anything but a burden.
“That’s sad,” Naya said, giving a small shake of her head. “My mom did everything for me.” Like so many times over the last couple days, she pulled the locket from beneath her sweater and started twisting it, her lips forming a sad frown. “She saved me that day. When we stumbled upon the creature, I mean. We’d slept in the closet that night, and he was standing in the middle of the room when we stepped out. I was first, but when the creature howled, my mom pushed me back. I fell, and the thing bit her before running off.”
Naya looked down at the locket, but Angus got the impression she was less focused on the jewelry than on the memory.
“You was lucky to have a mom that loved you,” Angus replied.
“I know.” Naya let out a long sigh, her gaze still on the locket. This time when she released it, she didn’t tuck it away. “I miss her.”
“I know,” Angus said, his voice softer. “It’ll get easier, though. I promise.”
Naya’s head bobbed, and the pain in her eyes made him turn away.
He headed for the door. “I’m gonna check on them pots.”
They hadn’t been outside for very long, but with as hard as the rain was coming down, he figured at least the smaller ones would be full, meaning he could get Naya some water before going out to hunt.
Angus reached the back door and flipped the lock and deadbolts but left the safety chain in place. Just in case. Easing it open an inch, he peered out, wanting to make sure the sky hadn’t darkened even more in the short time he’d been inside. After verifying that the forest was no more cast in shadows than it had been before, he shut the door and undid the safety chain.
He glanced at Naya and said, “Be right back.”
The girl gave a tense nod.
The rain had eased a little, giving Angus hope that it would eventually let up and he could avoid getting soaked to the bone while hunting. Despite that, the two small pots he’d set on the steps were full. He lifted them, careful not to spill too much water, and went back into the house.
Angus kicked the door, and it swung shut with a thud, but he was unable to lock it with his hands full. Anxiety gurgled in his gut as he rushed across the cabin—leaving a trail of water in his wake—and set the pots on the kitchen counter. Then he hurried back to secure the door.
Once it was locked and the deadbolts were back in place, Angus turned, but froze when he saw Naya was on her knees in front of him. She was cleaning up the water he’d spilled.
It only took a second for him to snap out of it.
“You gotta rest that ankle,” he said, rushing to her side.
She didn’t even look up. “I’m okay.”
“No.” He grabbed her arm and urged her to her feet. “You ain’t. Now sit your ass down and rest. You hear?”
Naya tried to bite back a smile but failed. “You’re very fatherly, you know that?”
A jolt of pain shot through Angus at the words. “That so?”
“Yeah.” Naya’s smile faded, her brows pulling together the way they did when she was thinking, and she shook her head. “At least I think so. I don’t really remember my dad.”
It hit Angus for the first time that the girl had never once mentioned her father. She talked about her mom often, but Angus had assumed it was because he’d met the woman. It seemed he was wrong, though. Not that he knew what to say to Naya about it. He hadn’t known his own father and had never cared to talk about it—not even with Axl.
Instead of discussing it, he waved to the couch, saying more firmly, “Sit down. Rest your ankle.”
Naya obeyed, not seeming the least bit offended that he hadn’t asked any questions—or that he’d ordered her around. Maybe she enjoyed feeling like she had a father figure in her life.
Angus pulled the brown coat on and zipped it up to his chin, then swiped the bow and arrows off the table. He’d just slung the sheath over his shoulder when he reached the door, where he paused. His gaze moved over the many locks, from the simple one on the doorknob to safety chain and two deadbolts, as he considered what he should do next. If he had Naya get up and throw the deadbolts, he wouldn’t be able to get back into the cabin in a hurry. But without them, the girl would be vulnerable. What if the forest darkened suddenly and the creatures came out, forcing him to take cover somewhere else? She might be in trouble. Then again, what if he needed to get back inside but the door was locked?
It had been a long time since he’d felt this uncertain, and he found himself puckering his lips as he tried to decide what to do.
“What is it?” Naya called out.
Angus glanced over his shoulder, one hand still on the doorknob. “Tryin’ to decide if I should have you throw the deadbolts.”
The girl frowned. “It might put you in danger.”
“Yeah,” he replied, “but what ’bout you?”
“I’ll be okay with just the lock. I’ll keep my ears open.” When she saw the hesitation in his expression, she added, “I promise.”
Angus let out a long sigh, not liking the options but knowing there wasn’t anything
he could do about it. After only a few seconds, he gave in. “All right, then. I won’t be long.”
He yanked the door open and stepped onto the porch without waiting for a response. Before shutting it, Angus flipped the lock. The thud of the door shutting echoed through the forest.
Angus paused before stepping off the porch, pulling the hood of the old, brown coat over his head in hopes of shielding himself from the rain. It was still coming down but had eased up even more since he’d gone out to retrieve the pots. Still, though, the thump of raindrops was constant. They pounded against the roof, hit leaves on their way to the ground, and thudded against trees. The air was wet and cold, and when he exhaled, a puff of steam rose up that reminded him of those many nights he and Parv had sat side by side, content to sit in silence and watch the smoke disappear into the darkness.
His legs felt heavy when he headed down the porch steps and into the woods.
Long dead leaves crunched under his feet as he walked, joined by the occasional snap of a branch. The rain had forced many of the animals that usually came out during the day to take cover, but he still caught sight of the occasional bird as he moved. High above his head, they watched him with curiosity. Like he was an intruder, and they weren’t sure what to do about him.
Angus didn’t stray too far from the cabin, not wanting to leave Naya vulnerable just in case they were wrong and someone did still live there, but he went far enough that if he managed to get a kill, the blood wouldn’t be right outside their door. Even with the rain, the creatures would be able to smell it.
Once he found a good spot, he hunkered down to wait. Raindrops landed on his head, falling both from the branches hanging over his head, as well as from the sky, and the constant ping of them hitting the forest floor surrounded him.
He was a patient man these days, and sitting in silence didn’t bother him. It hadn’t always been that way, but Angus couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t enjoyed the quiet solitude of the forest. He’d always loved how it could pull him from the frustrations of everyday life. How it felt like a different world. One where he didn’t have to deal with the stress and pressure that had always surrounded him.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 18