Gods of the Dead (Rising Book 1)

by Ward, Tracey

  I nod my head. “Alright.”

  “Thank you.” He pulls me in for a quick hug before heading for his coat again. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. I’ll take the truck. I’ll just go to the property and check it out, see if there’s any problem at the fence. If I can’t see anyone or get in touch with them using the intercom at the gate I’ll come back and we’ll head back out there together at first light.”

  “Shouldn’t we just wait until morning together then?”

  He shrugs into his jacket, shaking his head. “We owe it to them to check it out. I’ll be fine, I promise. I’ll be careful.”

  “Okay.”

  He opens the door, the sound of rain pouring into the quiet cabin along with a gust of wet, cold wind that gathers at my feet. “Lock this door behind me.”

  “I will.”

  He grins, the expression forced. “And don’t look so worried.”

  When he leaves, I listen to his footsteps on the porch heading out onto the pathway. I hear the gate open and close, latching solidly. The roar of the truck firing up, dying, sputtering reluctantly, and finally catching life. The rough gears grind together, the engine roars once more, then the beast fades away into the night taking my dad with it.

  I sit down at the small table next to the radio, my mind on the road with him. It’s tracing his path, running a timer in my mind and plotting his progress. It should take him all of ten minutes to reach the Farm by the back roads. Ten minutes to get there, maybe ten to check the place out, and another ten to come back. Thirty minutes round trip. It’s not that long.

  I sit waiting the entire time, and when thirty minutes turns into fifty, then ninety, and still there’s no growl of the angry engine on the road, the sickness in my stomach worsens.

  Suddenly the radio cracks to life and I nearly jump out of my skin. I pick up the mouthpiece and wait anxiously for a familiar voice. It clicks like someone is trying to use it but nothing comes over. No words or sounds. Just static and a sporadic tick. There’s no pattern. It’s not Morse Code. It’s nothing I understand.

  “Hello?” I call hesitantly into the mouthpiece.

  A couple of clicks, then a sound that could be breathing, thick and almost gagging.

  “Can you hear me? Over,” I try again.

  I turn the volume up all the way and the static and breathing fills the cabin until I’m not alone anymore. But when they speak, I wish I was.

  “It’s here,” a strangled voice hisses. “It’ssss heeeeere.”

  “The Fever? The Fever is there at the Farm? Over.”

  Wet coughing. A pained moan. “Nooo.”

  “What then? What’s there?”

  Click. Slam. Scraping and pounding from far off. A low growl like an animal followed by a faint whimper.

  “Death,” they whisper brokenly, tears in their voice. Tears that drip from the air and fill the room until I’m soaked in them and sweat and a shaking fear that pulls at every muscle in my body. “Death is here. And He brought the Devil with him.”

  I drop the receiver and run for the door, grabbing my coat and my knife. I throw open the door, but halt at the threshold. The radio crackles again, sounds pouring in and following me out of the room. It’s a crash and the growl, but then everything is drowned out by something so much worse. Something so much more terrifying.

  It’s screaming. Blood curdling, pained screams that pierce my ears and send me careening from the cabin and out into the night.

  Chapter Seven

  Vin

  Sienna turns to me, the firelight from the pit in the yard getting lost in her dark hair where it’s sprawled out over the grass. Even though she looks tired she’s prettier than I’ve ever seen her. No makeup, no drugs. Just clear eyes and full lips that smile lazily up at me.

  “Finally a night with no rain,” she mumbles happily.

  I nod but I don’t say a word. She’s relaxed for the first time in a week and it’s not because of the Valium. It’s because of the quiet. It’s exactly why I’m on edge.

  For a few days there were cop cars, ambulances, and fire trucks blazing up and down the streets constantly, people running, driving, biking, even sailing off into the Sound. But almost a week into the panic that all stopped. That’s when the screaming started. That’s when we knew we were past the looting, rioting phase and the Fever had hit home. Plumes of smoke rose in the distance where parts of town were burning. Gunshots rang out at all hours and woke you up in a cold sweat.

  But today was quiet, and while I want to enjoy it because it’s mellowed Sienna out, I’m worried. It can’t mean anything good. It doesn’t mean it’s over. I think what it really means is that the old world is dead and the new has arrived, and I don’t know how to live in it yet. It means I’m going to have to find out, and soon.

  My phone beeps in my pocket but I ignore it. I’ve been ignoring it all day. Sienna is desperate for her phone to ring and I can’t wait for mine to shut up.

  “Is it your dad?” she asks.

  “Nah. He doesn’t have my number. It’s my boss.”

  She snorts a laugh. “You don’t have a boss anymore, baby. You’re free.”

  “Trapped behind a lot of fence for a free man.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “No, I don’t,” I reply coldly. “And neither do you.”

  I leave her in the backyard alone under the stars and head for the kitchen.

  I don’t like feeling this way, feeling trapped. Caged. And it’s not the walls of the house or the fence around it, or even the arms wrapped loosely around my body every night that makes me feel this way. It’s the message on my phone.

  It’s the man in the heart of the city that thinks he owns me.

  Bar. Now.

  Like he’s calling a dog to heel.

  I find bread that’s a little dry but not moldy yet and a jar of peanut butter. I look for jelly but all I find is grape and the second I see it I give up hope.

  Sienna comes into the room as I’m sitting down at the island. She goes to the sink to fill a glass of water for herself, then stands there watching me.

  “What’s wrong?” she asks.

  I pop a bite of sandwich in my mouth. “I gotta go to work.”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Vin, he’s not your boss anymore. He’s not in charge of anything because there’s nothing left out there to be in charge of.”

  “There’s always something. The bar, the block, the city. The whole state of Washington. Marlow’s always wanted to be in charge and on the streets sometimes demanding it is all it takes to have it. If you shout loud enough people start listening.”

  “But do you still want to work for him? ‘Cause you don’t have to. You know that, right? Just because he shouts doesn’t mean you have to listen.”

  I wish that were true, but it’s just not. Not for me. I have a pretty good idea how this world is going to shake out and it’s not going to be in favor of the few. The meek will not inherit the earth and this city will not sit unmanned for long. Men like Marlow want nothing more than the anarchy that’s filling the streets of Seattle and they’re going to start standing up and taking territory. I can either stand with them, against them, or be one of the nameless, faceless loners who suffer under them.

  None of it sounds appealing to me.

  “Is that just peanut butter?” she asks, eyeing my sandwich.

  “Yeah.”

  “Ew.”

  “I’m used to it.”

  “Do you like it?”

  “No.”

  “We have jelly,” she laughs, turning to go to the cupboard.

  “Don’t bother,” I tell her, taking another bite. “You have grape.”

  “Grape is still jelly.”

  “Grape jelly is the act of a desperate man.”

  “You don’t think we’re in a desperate spot right now?”

  I shove the last of the sandwich into my mouth. “I’ve never been that d
esperate.”

  She thinks about that for a long time as I chew, looking her over. She feels my eyes but she doesn’t hide. She meets my stare and there’s something familiar in her eyes. Something hard and hot that I understand. That I feel from my head down into my toes the more I look at her.

  She picks up her glass still half full of water and brings it over. She leans her hip against the island next to me, the smell of her hitting me hard. Sweet and sexy. When I pick up the glass she watches me drink it down in one long gulp, then set it down hard on the counter. She can feel it in the air around me – the restlessness. But she doesn’t run from it. Instead she waits and she watches, and when I stand up in front of her she takes hold of my shoulders because she needs it too, for reasons of her own.

  I don’t ask what they are and she doesn’t question mine.

  I take hold of her hips and lift her easily onto the surface behind her. Her arms come around my neck and I pull her to the edge where her body hits mine, her legs wrapping around me so warm and soft. She’s perfect, the kind of girl Marlow’s old ugly ass could never pull, no matter how much money or power he has, no matter how many men he controls. She’d never touch him like this. Never look at him the way she’s looking at me. It’s the one power I have that he’ll never know and I growl as I take her mouth roughly, my hands sliding up inside her shirt high until I find her bare skin, round and rolling. She moans weakly and I work her until she’s rubbing against me, begging for more. More friction, more feeling, more of me.

  “I got something you want, Sin?” I ask her breathlessly.

  She rolls her hips, grinding against me. “Yes.”

  I drag my hand down the front of her body to the place that’s so eager for me. She gasps when my fingers go lower, slip deeper. When I press down with the pad of my thumb and circle her slowly.

  Her body sags forward against me. “Oh God,” she moans. “Faster.”

  “You want me to touch you?”

  “Yes.”

  “You want me on you? Inside you?”

  “Yes,” her hands grip my shirt, balling it in her fists, “Vin, yes.”

  I quickly unhook my belt and lower my zipper as she shimmies out of her shorts. I pull a condom from my pocket, tear it open with my teeth, and roll it smoothly down.

  I don’t take her. I don’t just have her. She gives herself to me, clinging to me and begging me. Clawing at me and kissing me like I’m something real, something she wants more than her next breath. Like I’m not a poor ass runaway drug mule and she’s not a rich bitch killing time. She’s just Sienna now, a gorgeous girl with a body to wet dream about for the rest of my life and her hands are in my hair and my name is on her lips as I work the only magic I know. The only real power I have.

  ***

  “I hate this,” she says morosely.

  She’s lying on her back on the floor with me, both of us completely naked and worn out. We went at it from every angle for a good hour before collapsing together on the floor, both of us exhausted and sated. Until both of us broke past what we were burying and now it’s here in the room so full and real that I can feel her words more than hear them.

  “Hate what?” I ask.

  “Not knowing. I don’t know if my dad is alive or any of my friends. They’re probably all dead.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I haven’t heard from my dad since Tacoma went under. Erin hasn’t answered her phone in two days and Anderson never answered me. They’re dead, Vin.”

  “Probably,” I admit.

  “Do you think they’re dead dead or risen dead?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know.”

  “I hope they ate them,” she says quietly. “I hope they ate all of them until they were dead dead.” She laughs roughly, tears in her tone. “How fucked is that? I hope my friends and family were eaten alive.”

  I run my hand over my face and take a deep breath. “It’s not fucked. If I went down out there, I wouldn’t want to get back up, you know?”

  “You wouldn’t want to rise?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Yeah, me either.” She turns her head to look at me, her hair fanning out over the floor around her in shining strands I can still smell in my nose. I can still feel them in my hands. “If I get sick, don’t let me get back up, okay?”

  I nod my head slowly. “Okay.”

  “Do you want me to do the same for you?”

  “Do I want you to kill me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “No.”

  Her brow pinches. “I thought you didn’t want to rise?”

  “I don’t, so I won’t get sick.”

  “But if you do—“

  “I won’t,” I assure her, sitting up and searching for my pants. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Vin.”

  “I don’t want to talk about this, alright? It’s not worth it and it’s depressing as shit.”

  She sits up sharply, glaring at me. “Sorry if the end of the world has me a little down.”

  “It’s not the end of the world and that’s not what’s bugging you.”

  “Oh really? You want to tell me what my problem is then, because I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what’s bugging me. I’m pretty sure I’m sad because everyone I knew and loved is gone.”

  I grunt as I stand, my legs feeling a little shaky underneath me. The girl is trim but carry her full weight around your hips for twenty minutes straight and she starts to take her toll. On everything. “You feel guilty because you’re alive.”

  “I feel guilty because my friends are out there and they’re dying!”

  “A lot of people are dying. Do you feel bad about all of them?”

  “Kind of. Don’t you?”

  “Nope.”

  She shakes her head in annoyance. “You’re a liar. Why are you putting on this act like none of this bothers you?””

  I shove my legs into my pants, searching for my shirt. “I’m not. I really don’t care.”

  “What about your boys, huh? Some of them are dead, aren’t they? Your boss is.”

  “I don’t have a boss anymore, remember?”

  “Are you for real?”

  “A lot of the guys from the gang are probably dead, is that what you want me to say?” I demand, burnt out on this. “I didn’t like them, I didn’t dislike them. It’s too bad they weren’t strong enough to survive this.”

  She scoffs, standing to gather her clothes. “That’s what this is for you, isn’t it? It’s a competition. If you survive it means you were stronger than all the people who died.”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “You’re so freaking full of yourself!”

  “And you’re so lucky I came here.”

  “You came here because you knew you’d be able to hide out behind walls and gates while everything else went to hell outside. I would have survived just as well without you here, but you wouldn’t have lasted a second out there!”

  I chuckle. “Alright. Okay.” I spot my shirt hanging off a bar stool at the island. I snag it and yank it easily over my head. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “What?” she asks, her tone changing entirely. The strength and the anger is instantly gone. She’s panicked. “What do you mean?”

  “If you can make it so easy without me, then do it. I’ll see you later. Maybe. I mean, I’m probably gonna die out there, right? But you’ll be fine on your own. Especially now that the dust has started to settle and people are looking for places to live. I can tell you with one hundred percent certainty that this is one of the first places they’ll come. One, because people like me assume people like you will die off easily and the place will be vacant. Two, even if you’re not dead they’ll have no problem killing you to take the place. And three, because it’s a dream come true for any poor bastard off the street. Guys with a lot of anger toward girls like you who have always had everything while they’ve had nothing. Girls who talked shit to them, turned them down, and laughed i
n their faces. They’ll be thrilled to see you, Sin.” I smirk, looking her half naked body up and down. “Trust me, even with me gone, you won’t be alone for long.”

  “Fuck you,” she replies angrily.

  “See ya.”

  “Wait!”

  I grab my jacket and throw it on. My gun is in the pocket and I transfer it quickly to my belt where it’s easier to get to. I double check the other side to make sure my knife is in place, then I reach for the door.

  Sin darts in front of me, pressing her body between me and the exit. “Wait,” she pleads.

  “Move.”

  “No. Don’t go.”

  “Move.”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I don’t want to have to deal with keeping you safe out there. Stay here. Lock the doors and gates behind me.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “To see Marlow.”

  She blinks, surprised. “Are you really going to go to work for him?”

  “I don’t know yet. I’ve gotta get out there and see what’s happening.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  I take a step back from her. “I don’t know.”

  “Yes, you do,” she challenges with a small smile. “But you’re punishing me. You’re making me sweat.”

  “Are you feeling sweaty?”

  “A little.”

  I raise a disbelieving eyebrow at her.

  “Okay, fine,” she cries, throwing her hands in the air. “A lot. I’m sweating balls over here. Please, oh great and powerful Vin, don’t leave me here alone forever.”

  “Don’t let anyone in,” I warn her. “Only me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Sin.”

  “I hear you! No one but you.”

  I step forward and touch her shoulder, gently pulling her out of the way. “I’ll be gone most of the day. Maybe until tomorrow. Sleep with the gun. Keep the doors closed and locked.”

  “Okay. Be safe,” she calls after me.

  “Be smart!” I shout back.