Then her body went slack, and the life left her eyes, and then it was over.
He wasn’t much better off when he stumbled toward the door, his hand pressed to his neck in a desperate attempt to stop the bleeding. His face, shoulder, and throat throbbed, as did his arms. He hadn’t even realized the creature’s claws had practically shredded his jacket’s sleeves until he looked down and found his arms a bloody mess of scratches.
He slumped against the doorframe and used the hand not trying to hold his throat together to pound on the door.
“Open up,” he tried to say, but the words were quiet and raspy. Inaudible.
The first lock clicked, and he closed his eyes. He could feel his pulse in his neck, throbbing against his palm, and with each thump more blood seeped out. Already he was lightheaded, and he wouldn’t be able to stay on his feet for long.
His eyes were still shut when unconsciousness began to close in on him, the blackness growing darker. Fuzzy. He could barely focus on the sounds of the other locks clicking, didn’t register the door had opened until Naya gasped.
“Oh, my God.”
Her small hands grabbed him, and Angus did everything he could not to put his full weight on her, but he was barely conscious, and his legs wouldn’t obey. It was like they’d turned into cooked noodles or had somehow become detached from his body.
“It’s okay,” Naya said. “I’ve got you.”
Vaguely, Angus registered that she was crying.
“I’m gonna be ’kay,” he rasped out. “Don’t you worry.”
He wasn’t totally sure he’d actually made a sound, but he did know she began to sob harder.
Angus collapsed, his legs giving out, his body falling forward, and he braced himself for the hard impact of the floor. Instead, he landed on something soft. He succeeded in opening his eyes a crack and realized that somehow the girl had managed to help him into the bedroom before he’d fallen. He was lying on his side, which made the cuts on his arms and the bite on his shoulder throb twice as much. It took all the strength he had left to roll onto his back, then darkness won, and he slipped into unconsciousness.
“Angus.”
Parv’s soft voice pulled him from sleep, and he’d opened his eyes to find her smiling down at him. She was dressed in leather from head to toe, her dark hair pulled back and the red bandana she always wore tied around her head. He reached up, still groggy from sleep, and grasped a section of dark hair that had broken free, twisting it around his fingers. It was streaked in gray, but only a little. She was over fifty but didn’t look a day over forty. Age had matured her looks, though, making her even more beautiful than she’d been in youth. Staring up at her, knowing she was his, still caused a pang in his chest—and in his groin, if he was being honest.
Angus had wiggled his eyebrows and grinned. “You wanna take them clothes off and crawl back in bed?”
“You slept in,” she said, smiling and rolling her eyes. “I’ve been up for hours.”
He’d grabbed her, pulling her on top of him. “Shoulda woke me.”
Parv laughed, not bothering to resist even though she still shook her head. “We don’t have time for that. A storm’s coming in and, we need to head out soon if we want to beat it.”
“We got time.” He’d rolled over so he was on top of her, and her bandana came free, her dark hair spilling across the bed. Angus planted a kiss on her throat, then her chin, saying against her skin, “They ain’t gonna leave without us.”
“They might,” she said.
Despite her protests, she’d threaded her fingers through his hair as he continued running his lips over her neck, then down, kissing every inch of visible skin. When she sighed, it did something to him. Caused a throb to spread through his body that was both painful and sweet at the same time. He’d never loved a woman like this.
“Angus,” she said again, “we need to go.”
This time, it was his turn to sigh. He planted one more kiss on her neck and had rolled to his back.
Parv slid off the bed, swiping her bandana up, and had smirked down at him. He’d pitched a tent under the sheets that could have housed a whole settlement.
“You doing okay, there?”
“You’re a heartless woman, you know that?” He’d given her a mockingly annoyed look. “Can’t believe you’d leave me hangin’ like this.”
Parv laughed and had waved to his rock-hard dick. “You did this to yourself. You knew we had to leave.”
“Can’t help it. You make me wild.”
“You were wild long before we met,” she’d said, still laughing.
“Was a lot of things before we met.”
Her expression had grown more serious, her smile fading until it was nothing but a shadow. “It seems like a dream, doesn’t it? The time before we knew each other, I mean.”
“Seems like a lot of things,” he’d said thoughtfully. “But I try not to think ’bout it. Don’t like rememberin’ who I was back then.”
Parv had lowered herself to the bed at his side, the bandana in her hand forgotten. “It’s so strange because we lost so much and went through so much pain, and the world is still in shambles. Who knows if it will ever be even remotely similar to what it was? But I can’t regret any of it.” She placed a gentle hand on his face, her palm resting against his cheek. “If it hadn’t happened, I never would have met you.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to know me back then,” he’d told her. “I was an asshole. Through and through.”
“None of that matters now,” she’d replied. “Nothing does except that I love you. That’s the only important thing.”
“Love you.” His voice had gone husky, his emotions rising and clogging his throat.
Parv’s smile returned, then she was standing, pulling her jacket off and tossing it aside. She climbed into bed, straddling him, and he’d sat up and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her close. Kissing her. She had a hand on each side of his face as their lips explored one another, her body moving against his. He groaned and pulled the hem of her shirt up, and Parv broke away long enough to allow him to yank it over her head. She was already working on the button of her pants when they started kissing again, and Angus had rolled her onto her back, so he was on top. His mouth was moving over hers, desperately, his hands working on her pants. She helped him, and together they’d pulled them down. Parv kicked her legs, managing to shimmy out of them, then he was between her thighs. She gasped against his mouth, and the sound had shot through him. His name was a whisper on her lips, but she’d said other things, too. Told him she loved him. That he was all she needed in this world. She’d said all the things he was thinking before he had a chance to voice the thoughts himself, as if they were one person instead of two. He’d never wanted the moment to end, had never wanted to live in a world where she didn’t exist. Couldn’t even imagine such a thing.
“Angus!” she’d gasped as her body pulsed, her fingers digging into his arms, her face pressed against his neck and her moans vibrating through him.
He’d thrust harder, wanting to be closer to her. Needing to be. Then had joined her in her ecstasy, grunting out his own release, but the pleasure of the act had been nothing compared to the bliss of knowing this woman loved him. Nothing compared to having her look at him with an expression of love brimming in her eyes.
Angus had collapsed on his back then, pulling her over so she was cradled against him. His heart was pounding, his skin moist, as was hers, but he wanted to feel the warmth of her body against his.
Once he caught his breath, he’d grinned down at her. “Thought we had to leave?”
She’d returned the smile. “They can wait.”
“Hell, yeah, they can.”
The others had left without them. Donaghy and Meg, Kelly and Luke. Both couples had been parents, their children only ten, eleven, and three years old. That was the last time anyone saw them—at least as themselves. Angus had seen his niece’s husband, Donaghy, one time after, alt
hough only briefly.
He and Parv had been out hunting only a couple weeks later when a storm moved in, practically coming out of nowhere. The sky had turned gloomy and gray, and they needed to find a place to take shelter—not from the rain, but from the creatures that were sure to venture out now that the day had darkened almost unnaturally. He’d grabbed Parv’s hand and hurried through the forest in search of a place to take cover, thankfully not having to travel too far before coming across a house that was only a little rundown.
“This’ll hafta do,” he’d said, pulling her through the front door.
It had just clicked shut behind them when a howl broke through the air, and Angus froze in front of the window. That was when he’d seen the thing that had been Donaghy. The creature had rushed from the forest only twenty or so feet from the house and paused, its head cocked like it was listening. The change in him had been stark, even after only a couple weeks, but still Angus had known it was him. Donaghy wasn’t yet naked, but he had been shirtless. His pants were ripped to shreds, and his feet were bare except for one sock. Every lock of his dark hair had fallen out, and his skin had paled until he resembled a ghost. Angus might not have recognized him if it wasn’t for the tattoos, but when the creature spun around, drawn to a sound in the forest or maybe even a smell, his back was suddenly to them. Parv had gasped and grabbed Angus’s arm, but he hadn’t been able to look away from the sight. Donaghy’s tattoos were too unique to mistake. Dark black lines that ran up both arms, crisscrossing one another and circling his forearms and biceps. They continued to his shoulders and back, where they intertwined and moved down, stopping just above his waist.
Donaghy had been gone in a matter of seconds, streaking into the forest with a howl. That was when Angus had slumped to the floor.
Parv knelt next to him. “It’s not your fault. You have to stop blaming yourself.”
“I coulda done somethin’. Coulda put myself between them and danger. Coulda saved at least one, maybe.”
“Angus,” She’d taken his face in her hands, forcing him to look at her, “You’ve been telling The Church for years that you aren’t a god. When will you start believing your own words?”
He had only been able to shake his head.
Parv sighed and stood, forcing him up as well, and together they’d moved to the back of the house in search of a room with no windows.
In the darkness, Angus had leaned against her, listening to the sound of the rain pounding on the roof while he tried to push his guilt away. He hadn’t been able to. Three kids were orphans because of his actions. Because he’d been selfish. Because he’d stayed in bed with his wife instead of going out with the others. Never again.
Angus focused on the thud of raindrops hitting the roof when he came to, hoping if he did, he might be able to forget about the pain. Every inch of him ached, his throat most of all. He desperately wanted to return to the dreamworld where Parv was with him and his body didn’t hurt, but he knew from experience he wouldn’t be able to. After Vivian died, the pain had been so intense he’d found it impossible to stay conscious, and while this was awful, it wasn’t bad enough to knock him out. Which meant he’d have to suffer through it without the escape his dreams brought.
The house was dark, but not pitch black, telling Angus he hadn’t been out for very long, and the faint scent of roasting meat hung in the air.
Was Naya cooking?
It took Angus a moment to remember the raccoon, but even then, the pain made it difficult to think straight. He’d cut the animal open when he was still in the woods and left the entrails for the creature, but that had been all. Right? He was pretty sure the thing hadn’t even been skinned when he’d gone back outside.
Naya must have done it herself.
Even through his throbbing agony, he had to admit the girl’s initiative was impressive. He’d been with plenty of strong women in his life, so it shouldn’t have been a surprise, but Naya was young and small, and he couldn’t help thinking she needed someone to look after her. Maybe she was more capable than he’d given her credit for.
Angus bit back a moan when he shifted, and as if making the sound for him, the bed groaned. He wanted to call out, but he had a feeling it would be wasted effort. His throat had been damaged when the creature ripped into it, and the few times he’d tried to talk right after, his voice had been low and ragged. He needed to give it a rest until he healed.
Wanting to feel his neck, he lifted his hand, but paused when he realized he was shirtless. Not only that, but his wounds had been cleaned and were wrapped in what looked like pieces of a shredded sheet. The bandages wound around both arms and across his chest and shoulder, covering his various wounds. When he finally brushed his fingers across his throat, he discovered that Naya had wrapped it as well. He must have been out cold to have gotten through all that without waking.
Staggered footsteps entered the room and a second later, Naya appeared in the doorway, pausing as she looked him over. “You’re alive.”
He nodded.
“I didn’t really think you’d make it. There was so much blood, and your neck…” She swallowed like the memory nearly overwhelmed her. “It’s bad.”
He dipped his head once in response.
Naya limped farther into the room, stopping beside the bed, all her weight on her good ankle. “I’m cooking the raccoon.”
Angus raised his hand and gave the girl a thumbs up.
She tilted her head, studying him. “Can’t you talk?”
“It hurts,” he forced out, wincing.
“Don’t, then. It’s okay.”
Once again, Angus nodded.
Naya glanced toward the door, then back at him. “Do you want me to stay in here?”
He swallowed, preparing to respond out of habit, and winced. Instead of trying to speak, he shook his head.
“Okay. I’ll be back with some food and water.”
She turned away, limping from the room, and Angus suddenly remembered the way she’d helped him inside after the attack. How had she managed it with her bad ankle? It must have hurt like hell.
Now alone, he closed his eyes and tried to focus on something other than the pain. It throbbed through his arms and across his torso, made his legs ache. He could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his shoulder and neck, the pain beating with each thump and making it impossible to think about anything but all the moments of agony in his life. The days after Vivian died, the years he was trapped in the CDC, and all the other bites he’d endured over the years. His mind replayed the moments one by one before finally settling on the first time he was bitten. It was the day he’d learned a bite couldn’t kill him, before they’d left Colorado for the CDC, and before the years of torture.
They’d been out gathering a stash of MREs they’d found only a few days before, Axl, Vivian and Angus, when a hoard surprised them. His brother and Vivian were fighting—he couldn’t remember why, and it didn’t matter—and the tension had irritated Angus. It hadn’t stopped him from jumping in front of his brother when the dead came from out of nowhere, though. Hadn’t stopped him from putting himself between the zombies and Vivian. Angus had done it on instinct, hadn’t even thought about what he was doing or what it might mean for him or even why he was willing to sacrifice himself. He’d just acted. It might have been the first totally unselfish thing he’d done in his whole miserable life.
It had all happened so fast. Angus had been hacking away at the dead when the three of them realized they were outnumbered and decided to hightail it to the cellar they’d been in the middle of raiding. Not knowing one of the bastards had managed to get past him, he’d turned to run and slammed right into the asshole. The zombie’s mouth was already open when it succeeded in getting a handful of Angus’s shirt, ripping it at the neck. He’d fought back, bringing his knife down and slamming his blade into the dead man’s eye, and the zombie had fallen, taking the knife with him. Just as Angus leaned down to retrieve it, one of the dead had grabbed him
from behind.
It was the first time he’d ever felt teeth sink into his flesh, and the shock of the pain, the astonishment of knowing what had happened, had ripped through him like a freight train. He’d struck back automatically, slamming his elbow into the creature’s gut, and had somehow managed to get free, and he hadn’t even thought about what he was doing when he rushed after Axl and Vivian. It had been instinct to run for safety.
Angus was bleeding, his hand over the wound on his shoulder just like today when he’d stumbled to the door clutching his throat, and he’d rushed into the cellar after Vivian, Axl already waiting to pull the door shut. Angus had seen the expression on Vivian’s face just before the room went dark. The look of horror. The shock. It was then that he realized he shouldn’t have followed them, shouldn’t have put them in danger. He should have stayed outside. Then the door shut, and zombies slammed against it, cutting them off, and he realized he’d missed his only opportunity to make a different decision.
Angus had been breathless from the fight and the adrenaline, and it had taken him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. Had it really happened? That was the first thing to go through his head, because it hadn’t felt real. He couldn’t go down like this. Not him. Angus James was too strong for a zombie to take out.
The throbbing in his shoulder had told a different story, though, and he’d pressed his hand against it, wincing in pain. He hadn’t been able to see a damn thing, but he also hadn’t needed to. It was deep, and there was so much blood, and even if there hadn’t been, he knew he was doomed. A person could turn from just a scratch.
Angus dropped to the floor. “Dammit, turn on a fuckin’ flashlight.”
“I’m on it,” Axl had said, his voice calm.
He didn’t know, Angus realized, and thinking about what he was about to do to his brother had hurt worse than the bite.
A flashlight clicked on a second later, and the beam cut through the darkness. It was aimed at the door, which was what Axl was focused on too, but it gave off enough light to illuminate the room. Angus was leaning against the wall when his gaze met Vivian’s, his hand still over the wound and blood seeping from between his fingers. Her mouth was hanging open, but in seconds her shock had been replaced by sadness. They’d been getting along better in recent days, but until that moment, Angus hadn’t really truly believed her opinion of him had changed. He’d been wrong, though, he could see it in her eyes, and her sorrow had his emotions swelling. Had him feeling things he didn’t want anyone to see.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 22