“Me?” he said, his eyebrows lifting in surprise.
“You had a family. A wife, kids, a brother. People you loved. They all died, but you didn’t find any magic shelter to keep you safe. In fact, you’d be dead by now if it weren’t for what they did to you in the CDC. So, where does that leave me? How will I survive if we don’t find a safe place, which, let’s face it, seems more impossible with each passing day? One bite, one scratch, and I’m dead. And it isn’t just the creatures I have to worry about. There are wild animals, there’s illness, infection. I’m vulnerable to every one of those things, so what makes me think I’m so special that I’ll reach safety when you never did?”
Her shoulders were heaving by the time she’d finished talking, as if she’d said it all in one breath. It seemed to Angus like the words had been sitting close to the surface for a long time, and Naya had vomited them out, desperate to voice the worry that had been gnawing at her. Even worse, the horror in her brown eyes told him she believed everything she’d said. She wasn’t just losing hope. It was already gone.
“You wanna know what’s so special ’bout you?” he asked, leaning closer, his gaze intent on hers. “’Cause you found me. Before my wife died, she said somethin’ to me. Somethin’ I didn’t believe at the time, didn’t believe later, but somethin’ I believe now.”
“What did she say?” Naya asked, curiosity ringing in her voice.
“She told me I was special. That all the shit I been through, all the pain and loss, was for a reason.” Angus swallowed down the agony that tried to bubble up at the memory of that day. “You’re that reason.”
Naya visibly started. “Me?”
“I didn’t know it, not ’til I met you, but yeah. I think I’m supposed to keep you safe. Supposed to get you to that shelter so you can survive all this.”
Naya’s mouth was open, her expression clouded with confusion and shock. “Why do I matter?”
“I don’t rightly know,” Angus said, “but I don’t care, neither. I’m gonna get you there, and you’re gonna live to a ripe old age. Like me.” He grinned at that. “Maybe not like me, but you’re gonna live. I promise.”
Naya stared at him in silence, thinking over what he’d just said, and Angus sat back. He wasn’t sure how he’d do it, but he suddenly felt more certain than ever before that Parv had been right. Otherwise, what had been the point in all this? What was he fighting for if there was no safety, no chance at keeping this girl alive? It made no sense, which told him that he was, in fact, here for a reason. That reason was Naya.
“So, you really think there’s a place out there?” she finally said.
“Yes,” Angus replied, and for the first time since they’d met, he truly meant it.
Naya thought it through, her mouth turning down. Even though the doubt still shimmered in her eyes, Angus could see the hope in them as well, and it warmed him more than the fire to know he’d played a part in that. He’d tried pulling people from despair in the past and failed. Lila after Al died, and before that Winston, and no matter what else happened, he was determined to help this girl keep her hope alive.
“I used to talk to them,” Naya said out of nowhere. “Before we lost contact, I mean.”
Angus perked up at her words. “The other shelters?”
Naya’s gaze was focused on something behind him almost like she was looking into the past. “I had cousins in the shelter and lots of other family, but no friends I’d gotten to choose for myself. It was nice being able to get to know someone else. To ask questions about their lives and what they enjoyed. About the books they’d read.”
“You make friends?” he asked, tilting his head as he studied her.
Naya smiled, turning her gaze to him. “Yeah. There was a girl at one named Charlotte who was a year younger than me. She used to write her own stories, and she’d read them to me when we talked. In another shelter, there was a boy named Jacob. He was two years older, and with him I’d talk about hunting and fishing. He lived somewhere really sandy and talked about how hot it got in the summer.”
“Both these places was out west?” Angus asked.
“Yeah.”
“Huh,” he said, thinking it through. Remembering all the places he’d traveled over the years and wondering if he’d ever gotten close to one of them. Probably. “Maybe you’ll get to meet one of them.”
The girl sat up straighter, her eyes shimmering with hope. “You think so?”
“Why not?” he said. “Seems to me you got a pretty good chance. Assumin’ we can find one of them places.”
Naya was smiling to herself when she settled back. “That would be nice.”
They slept in the living room that night, close to the fire to keep warm, and woke to the sound of something scratching on the roof. Angus shifted, groaning when his body protested the movement, and opened his eyes to light streaming in through a few cracks in the wood covering the window. It was faint, but enough to tell him morning was in full bloom.
Naya was still out when he dragged himself to his feet. He felt better than he had the day before, making the task of gathering the pots of water easier, and as the day wore on, he felt better still.
They rested as much as they could, talking occasionally, napping other times. Naya read, and Angus even picked up a book. The brittle pages of the old paperback told the story of a man whose wife had been murdered in a home invasion, and when he wasn’t drinking himself unconscious, he spent all his time investigating the murder. The story quickly lost Angus’s interest, though. It was too full of the past, brought too many memories to mind to be enjoyable, and by early evening, he’d abandoned it and gone back to simply staring at the fire.
Again, they slept in the living room, and the next day when he woke, Angus found he was almost back to his old self. The wound on his neck was jagged and ugly, but scabbed over, and thanks to the soup Naya had cooked, he’d regained most of his energy. Tomorrow, he would be fit to leave.
“How’s that ankle?” he asked Naya, who had finished her book and moved on to the one he’d abandoned.
She lowered the paperback to her lap as she lifted her leg, rotating her foot with little effort. She wasn’t wearing shoes or socks, and although her ankle still sported a yellowish bruise, the swelling had gone down.
“Feels pretty good.”
Angus nodded three times. “Thought we’d head out tomorrow. If you’re feelin’ okay, that is.”
“I think that will work.” Naya stood as if trying to prove she was okay, putting all her weight on her injured ankle. “It’s tight, but it doesn’t hurt that much.”
“Good,” he said.
The girl sat back down, but she didn’t lift the book again. Instead, she stared at him, her expression quizzical and hesitant.
“What?” he asked, no inflection in his voice.
He was used to her long, thoughtful looks, but he had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask. He’d told her almost everything else. About how Axl died, about Vivian disappearing in the middle of the night while Angus was unconscious, about other losses that had left him feeling gutted. He’d never talked about Parv, though. Couldn’t even bring himself to think about repeating what had happened.
“How did your wife die?” Naya said, her voice quiet but not hesitant. “You’ve mentioned her a lot, even talk about her in your sleep, but you’ve never told me.”
“It ain’t somethin’ I like to think about,” he said.
“It’s not your fault. I know I wasn’t there, but I know that much. You blame yourself for all of it, but you weren’t the one who created the virus or these creatures. You were a pawn.”
Angus sighed, nodded, and replied, “Don’t make the memory any easier.”
“You don’t have to tell me.”
He blew out a long breath, his gaze moving to the backpack sitting on the floor at his feet as images of Parv floated through his head. He would tell Naya all about it eventually, but not yet. Not today. Today, he didn’t wa
nt to think of their last moment together. It was too painful. Too final.
He slid his hand into his backpack, feeling around for a few seconds before his fingers brushed the familiar fabric, then pulled the red bandana out. Angus ran it between his fingers, staring at the faded paisley print. The bandana was soft from age and worn, the edges frayed and the fabric thin. There were even a few holes in it. But he remembered the day Parv found it.
“This was my wife’s,” he said, still staring down at the bandana, running it through his fingers and picturing the way her hair would spill out when she slipped it off. “She used to wear it everywhere.”
He heard Naya swallow, then shift, and he finally lifted his gaze. She’d pulled the necklace she always wore out from under her shirt collar and was staring down at the pendant, wearing an expression he was more than familiar with.
“This was my great grandma’s. When she died, my grandma wore it. Then Mom.” Naya lifted her gaze. “Mom gave it to me the day we left the shelter.”
Angus, the bandana still in his hand, lifted his eyebrows expectantly. “She say why?”
“Just that it was for good luck. Something to keep me safe on the road.” Naya let out a deep, exhausted-sounding sigh. “Maybe she had a feeling she wouldn’t make it.”
“She knew she’d sacrifice herself if it came down to it.” Angus pressed his lips together in thought. “I know I woulda done it for my daughter if I could’ve. It’s what parents do.”
“Maybe,” Naya whispered.
She ran her thumbnail along the side of the oval, popping the locket open so she could look inside. Angus leaned forward to get a better view but was unable to see anything from his position. Like the first time he’d noticed the necklace, he wondered if she could possibly have a picture of a family member in there. It seemed unlikely since cameras were a thing of the past.
“You got a picture in there?” he asked.
Naya looked up, the locket still open and held between her fingers. “A flower.”
“Flower?” he repeated.
Naya pulled the chain over her head, then held the locket out for Angus to see.
Behind the thin piece of plastic that was supposed to hold a picture in place, sat a small, pressed flower. Purple with a little yellow in the middle. A violet.
“It used to have a picture of my great grandpa,” Naya explained, once again staring down at the pendant. “But the image faded until you couldn’t even make him out. The day my dad asked my mom to marry him, he left the shelter and picked a bunch of violets. This was one of them.”
Angus smiled. “That’s a real nice story.”
“Yeah.” The locket clicked when Naya shut it, and she slipped the chain back over her head before looking up at him. “What about you? How did you ask your wife to marry you?”
Angus let out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating through him and filling the room as he shook his head. “I didn’t.”
Naya’s eyebrows lifted in confusion. “Did she ask you?”
“Not exactly.” Angus’s smile widened as he remembered how it had all gone down.
It had happened about a year after the CDC fell. He and Parv had been out hunting for hours with no success, and even though evening was setting in, neither of them was in a hurry to return to Senoia. It had been during the peaceful time, after the zombies had died off for good, when the creatures were still just a rumor no one really gave any credit to. Things weren’t back to normal, and most of the survivors had accepted they never would be, but people were working on creating a new kind of normal. They were building lives and finding futures for themselves, and embracing love, and for the first time in his whole life, Angus had been really and truly happy.
He and Parv were walking hand in hand down the street, each of them with a bow and quiver of arrows over their shoulders, and cigarettes between their lips. He could recall with perfect clarity the way Parv’s hand had felt in his. Warm and soft, yet calloused in places from years of hard work and struggle. He’d watched her unapologetically as they walked, his gaze moving over her face, loving how the evening sunshine highlighted the fine lines around her eyes and the silver streaked in her hair. Loving that she was his.
She’d plucked the cigarette from her lips and glanced his way, her mouth turned up in a smile that made his chest ache. “What?”
He’d pulled his own cigarette from his mouth and dropped it on the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of his boot. “Just lookin’ at you, is all.”
Parv’s grin had widened, and she’d stopped walking, turning to face him. “And what do you see when you look at me?”
“I see a tough as nails woman. A fighter.” It was Angus’s turn to grin. “A knockout, too.”
“Is that all?” she’d asked, and something in her gaze had changed. Grown more serious.
It wasn’t disappointment, but it made Angus think she’d been wanting him to say something else. What, though, he hadn’t been sure.
His smile had faded, and he’d pressed his lips together, thinking as he studied her. Then he’d said, “Everything. That’s what I see when I look at you. You’re everything.”
Parv’s smile had widened, and the light returned to her eyes.
“What ’bout me?” he’d asked. “What do you see when you look at me?”
“Not a god.” Parv gave him a wink, and Angus had snorted. “I see everything, too. You and me. That’s everything.” She’d paused then, tilting her head as her brown eyes searched his. Then, without hesitation, she’d said, “My husband. That’s what I see when I look at you.”
Angus’s eyebrows had shot up in surprise, and he’d turned the word over in his mind, trying it on for size. They’d never spoken about marriage, but to his shock, he hadn’t disliked the way it felt. It seemed right. Perfect.
Still, he couldn’t help teasing her a little. “You askin’ me to shack up?”
“No,” Parv replied as she gave a little shrug. Not the least bit hesitant or uncertain about the label she’d thrust upon their relationship. “I’m only stating the obvious, which is that we want to be together. Forever.”
Angus had nodded a couple times, his lips pursed as he stared at the woman in front of him. His wife. The more he turned the word over in his mind, the more he liked the sound of it. Parv was his wife. He was her husband. They were together. Forever.
“All right, then.” He’d taken her hand and started walking again, his head still bobbing as they began walking home.
That was all it had taken. A simple statement. They didn’t exchange rings or make a big deal about it, and no one had blinked an eye at their sudden change in marital status. To them, the matter had been settled. Things like marriage certificates and weddings didn’t exist anymore, after all, and the commitment they fell into that day was about more than a legal declaration that they would stay together forever. It was a simple fact, and even though Angus had never before considered getting married, it had seemed natural from the second Parv said it. Husband and wife. That was just how it was.
“That’s nice,” Naya said when he finished relaying the story. “In a way, it’s kind of more romantic than if you’d gotten down on one knee. I never really understood that tradition anyway.” She frowned and gave a small shake of her head. “I read about it in books and never really got the point. I even asked my great grandma about it once, but since she was only six when the virus hit, she couldn’t explain it to me.”
“Not sure I got an answer to that one, either,” Angus said thoughtfully.
Silence fell over them as they were each pulled into memories from the past. Angus still had the bandana, twisting it between his fingers, and Naya was once again fingering the locket. He stared at the red fabric in his hand, remembering the weeks they spent on the road after leaving Las Vegas. That was when Parv found the thing.
She’d been recovering from a broken heart at the time, and Angus had been with Darla, Vivian’s mom, but he and Parv had already formed the quiet friend
ship he came to cherish so much. When they stopped to scavenge supplies from either stores or houses, he found himself gravitating toward her more and more. It wasn’t because he’d been attracted to Parv, because he’d been happy with Darla. It was just that her silence had been so soothing.
They’d been together, he and Parv, when she found the bandana. The moment had seemed small at the time, just another item they picked up during their travels, but looking back on it now, it meant so much. Nearly every memory he had of her after that included the worn handkerchief. He’d pulled it from her head when they were kissing, tossing it thoughtlessly aside so he could run his fingers through her dark hair. She’d had it around her head to keep any stray strands out of her face while they hunted, and he could even remember her swatting him with it while she laughed, her head thrown back, her face lit up over something he’d said or done.
She’d been wearing it the last day they went out as well, but that was something he wasn’t yet ready to think about.
He slipped the bandana back into his backpack then hauled himself to his feet with a groan. “We should get the stuff we’re takin’ with us together. Make sure we got everythin’ that’s useful.”
“Good idea.” Naya glanced toward the kitchen where the plants she’d gathered were lined up on the counter. “I’ll wash and pack the food and find some kind of container for it.”
“Sounds like we got us a plan.”
The old, wooden floorboards groaned as much as his joints did as he crossed the room, but despite the throbbing pain in his body, Angus was optimistic about his condition. His injuries were mostly healed, and he was rested from the days of sleep, and despite the doubts still nagging at him, he was eager to put in some more miles. The girl’s certainty must have rubbed off on him more than he’d thought.
He found the brown jacket on the floor of the bedroom, balled up in the corner where Naya had tossed it while taking care of his wounds. Angus’s knees protested when he knelt and swiped it up, but the ache was minimal, and he was too focused on the coat to pay it much mind. He held it up, studying the damage, and frowned. It was stiff from his blood and torn in several places—both sleeves and at the shoulder where the creature had first bitten into him—but it looked salvageable. Assuming he could find a needle and thread.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 32