by SP Durnin
Kat and Jake had known Laurel had family. When pressed, she simply stated they were “back out west,” and was continuously vague about just where that was. She’d admitted that her parents had wanted her to be part of the family business—what it was, she’d never explained—and she’d had no interest in it whatsoever. Her decision had resulted in a lot of family squabbling, so she’d moved to get away from all. Laurel had spent the following few years working at various health food stores, then finally opened her own. Once the zombie apocalypse hit, her “You Are What You Eat” had been doing quite well. Now it was just another wrecked shell back in the Columbus, Ohio short north district.
But the buxom redhead across the table wearing fatigue pants, work boots, and a white spaghetti-strap tank top wasn’t her. She had Laurel’s face and eyes, her hair and much of her bearing, her form and features, even her voice was nearly identical. But it wasn’t the woman they’d known.
Laurel was gone. But her sister—her twin sister—Willow St.Clair was alive and well.
And basically in charge of Pecos.
The fact Jake, Kat, and most of their little group had become so close with Laurel carried a lot of weight with her sister and parents (both of whom were still alive and safely there within the walls). Their support had in large part been why O’Connor and company had been fast-tracked as a search-and-salvage team. It also helped smooth over the fact that they—not the hierarchy of Pecos—were the only ones who operated, and had access to, the Screamin’ Mimi. Granted, if pressed, Foster would’ve simply rammed his baby out through one of the town’s walls if they tried to take her from him. And they knew it. So the subject was never broached again. Since that day, Willow seemed driven to become close with her absent sister’s friends. Perhaps out of honest interest in them as people, perhaps out of guilt that she and Laurel had never—and now never would—reconcile, perhaps because of the sheer loneliness and stress being The One In Charge put upon her.
Jake had to admit he could relate to the last. Trying to plan for everything, keep everyone fed, insure their safety and sanity, had nearly driven him to the breaking point. And he’d only been responsible for a dozen individuals. He couldn’t imagine being tasked to do the same for over a thousand.
“We all appreciate what you do to keep the town running, and no one believes you’re useless. Without the running water, things here would swiftly come apart, and that can not happen.” Willow brushed her hair back out of her face. Jake had seen Laurel do the same thing so many times, and a twinge of pain shot through him at the gesture. “I hear your concerns, but you also have to understand: Jake and his friends have been on their own, without a supply base, or any support whatsoever, this entire time. They made their way across half the country to reach Pecos. They’ve survived or outwitted who knows how many hordes without the substantial protective barriers we have, and—from what I’ve been made aware of—not only faced, but beaten some of the worst humanity has to offer. I’m sure, since he and his friends have so much experience dealing with those things out there, and none of them have a death wish, that they take every possible precaution during their salvage runs. Isn’t that true?”
“I’ll admit we had to deal with one hell of a learning curve at first, but we do our best to stick with the seven P’s.” O’Connor folded his arms. He felt the sheath with his crowbar press along the length of his spine and took comfort in the sensation.
“I’m not familiar with the term,” Wilson told him loftily.
Jake snorted. “Proper Previous Planning Prevents Piss-Poor Performance. When it comes to dealing with zombies —or murderous assholes, for that matter—‘winging it’ won’t always work well. Trust me, I have way too many scars to doubt that ever again. When we go out, we go with a plan. A loose and general plan maybe, but a plan. We’ve had close calls in the past, but if you try to anticipate every single thing that you’ll do or situation you’ll encounter you won’t be able to react to your environment. And nine times out of ten now, it’s hostile. Sometimes you have to trust that everyone with you knows their job and, like George always says, will ‘gut up’ if or when things go pear-shaped.”
“Pear-shaped? What—?”
Garth cut Nancy off. “Pear-shaped! Like a turd? Meaning despite everything you plan ahead for it all just turns to shit? Try to keep up.”
“You’re a very unpleasant person. Are you aware of that?” Wilson looked like she’d just taken a big bite of a lemon.
“All part of my charm,” he replied with an unapologetic grin.
“Okay, okay. Let’s all dial it down from eleven, all right, people?” Ted took off his seemingly ever-present straw cowboy hat and scratched over his ear for a moment. “Those medications would be a godsend, O’Connor. That alone was well worth your trip.”
Jake nodded. “We took a look in the Thriftway on the way into town too. Somebody broke in a while back, but there’s still a ton of food inside. There’s also an RV park with some motorhomes on the way into town too. Those could be stripped for parts. Everything from lightbulbs to their refrigerators. Even portable air-conditioning units, maybe.”
“Hot damn! Garth, task one of your teams to have a look and start grabbing some of that stuff if they can. Talk with Sergeant Close. Ask him to send a good sized security detail and a couple of those deuce and a halfs of his along if he can. We’ll want the meds from the pharmacy first, but clearing out the Thriftway is a priority too.” Jackson put his hat back on. “Damn good job, O’Connor. Our stores are pretty good, but we can always use more grub. They’ll keep you alive, but I’d hate to end up eatin’ those MREs you and your people found.”
“The meatloaf meal is something special.” Jake shuddered at the memory. He’d never been a fan of meatloaf, but Meal-Ready-to-Eat version of the dish was enough to gag a maggot. Maybe not a “maggot-head” or zombie, but a maggot for sure.
Nichols laughed. “I believe it. That ‘Four Fingers of Death’ pouch you let me try was just nasty. I’ve never seen such a horror show in my life.”
“Thank you. Those antibiotics will make a big difference if we or when have to deal with wounded. Are you heading back to Ryker’s?”
Jake nodded, not trusting himself to speak without insulting Wilson, and Willow rose. “If you’ll all excuse me, there are some things I wanted to discuss with O’Connor. I’ll take a break and walk along with him for a bit, then be back after lunch. If anything pressing comes up while I’m gone, I’m sure Ted and his security force can handle it.”
Jake turned on his heel and made for the door, inwardly hoping to outdistance Laurel’s sister. He trotted swiftly down the stairs two at a time, almost jogging for the school’s front door in his haste. Upon reaching the sidewalk, he took a quick left, juked around the far southern corner…and damn near collided with Willow.
“How the…?”
She pointed skyward. “It’s only one story. Anyone who’s had a bit of training—which I made a point to acquire from Close and a few of his lieutenants once they showed up—should be able to jog across the roof, hang from the edge above us, and have enough time to catch her breath before you made here.”
“Oh. Well. Bet doing that went over well. Maybe you should go make sure Nancy didn’t swallow her tongue during the conniption fit I’m sure she had.”
“She takes some coddling, but she is very good at what she does.” Willow fell in step beside him. “I thought we needed to talk.”
“Nothing to talk about. The salvage runs are going fine.” Jake set a brisk pace, forcing his shorter companion to stretch her legs to keep up.
“I think we both know that’s not true. You’ve been absent virtually ever since you guys rolled into town.”
“We’ve been busy.” Jake kept his eyes to the forefront. “The council keeps telling us all how many supplies Pecos goes through. Somebody has to find all that stuff.”
Willow didn’t buy it. “You do have days off. I’ve wanted some time to speak about Laurel, what you
’ve all been through, everything. But you’ve been avoiding me.”
“That’s absurd.”
“Like you didn’t just run from a building in a poor attempt to ditch me?” The redhead laughed. “You forget, I grew up here. I know Pecos like the back of my hand. And I’m running most of it now. Reluctantly. There’s nowhere you could go inside these walls I couldn’t find you.”
That didn’t make O’Connor happy at all. “Are you having people follow me?”
“No, just saying that I could. Relax. I’m not into stalking.” She skipped up a curb to stay beside him. “How did you and Laurel meet? Ryker told me it was a blind date or something.”
Discussing his deceased lover with her own sister wasn’t very high on Jake’s must-do list, but he realized, shy of being extremely rude (which was not a good idea when talking with the person basically running Pecos), there was no getting rid of her.
“Not so much.” He said. “It was more like a ‘didn’t-have-a-clue’ date. Originally, I met Kat at the pharmacy where she worked and she asked me out. Little did I know she was doing it for Laurel, who was performing a set at the bar we went to. She and Al hit it off and I thought I was in store for a night of playing the fifth wheel, but then the redhead who’d been singing all night shows up at our table with glasses of Irish whiskey.”
Willow laughed. “Laurel must have really liked you to ply you with alcohol that way.”
“We talked a lot that night.” Jake slowed a bit. “I think it was about 1:00am when I dropped her off? Somewhere around there… We made plans to have lunch the next day. A picnic, if you’ll believe it. Looking back, it was a pretty sappy and pathetic idea on my part.”
Red hair flounced about as Willow shook her head. “Not at all. My sister was pretty self-sufficient her whole life, but even the most independent woman in the world likes to feel like a girly-girl once in a while. A picnic lunch date? Yeah. That would do it.”
After they’d walked a block towards the town center, Jake asked. “What was Laurel like before we met?”
“An odd duck. At least when it came to living in Texas. Don’t misunderstand, my sister and I were helping our parents with the farm all throughout our formative years. Hell, by age ten, both of us were pretty good with horses. Lived on them from the time we were old enough to eat solid food.”
O’Connor blinked. “I…didn’t know that!”
“She didn’t tell you? That’s not surprising.” Willow’s eyes were far away. “It’s actually how we paid for college, which I’m sure Mom and Dad were very grateful. We both had full rides—no pun intended—from AAPQ. The ‘American Association of Professional Quartermasters.’”
“You’re shitting me.”
The redhead kicked at a small rock in her path, sending it bouncing over the road. “Nope! Swear to God. I was darned good when it came to calf-roping, but Laurel was always kicked major ass at barrel racing. No one, not even me, could even come close to her times. To this day I have no idea how she did it.”
“Why didn’t she keep up with it?”
“Life, I suppose.” Willow shrugged. “You know how it is. What was your whole world when you were younger just doesn’t seem that important as you grow up. My sister just went another direction when we were in our mid-teens, and kind of pulled away from everything. She didn’t join any clubs or play any sports in school. Never really went to parties in college either. I know Laurel always went to those Ren-fairs, but didn’t go all out and dress up in the period clothing. Sis just went for the music. She’d always been nearly obsessed with guitar. That interest seemed to move to the forefront as we got older.”
O’Connor didn’t know what to say. He’d learned more about his absent lover’s past in ten minutes than she’d shared with him in months. While doing so helped him to understand more about Laurel’s personality, why she’d been the person she was, it had also shone a light on the fact that there was much she’d kept hidden from him. Hidden from Kat even, because he was certain Cho wouldn’t have been able not to tell him about Laurel’s early years impersonating Annie Oakley. She’d have thought that was awesome.
As they strode along, Jake and Willow told each other their memories of her sister. Now that she was gone, it felt right for him to share who she was with another who’d been such a large part of her life. Even more so than Kat herself had. Though they’d never said the words, Jake was certain Laurel had known he’d loved her. Walking with her twin, learning new things about the person he’d been so intimate with, was an odd experience to say the least. It did however give him a sense of closure, and that was something he wanted. What he’d had with Laurel St. Clair had opened him up once more. Turned him into more than the cynical, disillusioned shell of a human being simply plodding through life, watching all the foolishness other human beings seemed to enjoy engaging in that he’d been for so long. He wanted to feel that for someone again. To care for them more than he did for himself.
Then it hit him like a blow between the eyes.
He already did.
While out among the dead-riddled, half-burned world that once belonged to human beings that morning, O’Connor had missed Cho terribly. He’d almost turned in his seat to tell her something inconsequential half a dozen times before realizing she wasn’t there. Kat had, surprisingly, traded shifts with Sampson, begging off search duty with Jake to remain within the walls of Pecos for some vague reason. He realized quite suddenly that he simply didn’t feel right, didn’t feel whole, without her there. It was and almost physical sensation, as if someone had come along and lopped off one of his arms while he hadn’t been paying attention. Coming to that realization he tried to nail down which of Kat’s characteristics prompted the feeling: her bright blue, pixy-like hair or dark eyes, her ready smile, the way she drove him crazy sometimes with her tendency for playing the bubblehead, while secretly being frighteningly intelligent. None of those felt totally accurate, however. He finally determined that it was all of those things. He’d missed the way she laughed. The way she moved. The unconscious sway of her hips when she walked that was so goddamn sexy it was almost criminal. He’d wanted to listen while she talked about whatever sometimes off-the-wall topic crossed her mind at the moment that managed to lighten even the most hopeless circumstances, and the girly, almost-fruity smell about her which he had no earthly clue how she maintained in the apocalypse. He wanted her touch, her presence, and craved knowing a half-crazy companion who he trusted implicitly—even while running headlong into the nine rings of Hell itself—charged at his side. Or maybe, he’d charge beside her.
“What prompted the grin?”
Shaking off his reverie, O’Connor realized they were only a block away from Allan’s workshop. “Just thinking of someone.”
“Would that someone be Kat?”
He didn’t miss the resignation in Willow’s voice, but couldn’t keep his grin from growing wider. “Does it show?”
“Only if you smile. Or laugh. Or she happens to be in the room. Otherwise, no. Not at all.” The redhead told him, clearly amused. “You do realize she’s more than a little insane, don’t you?”
Jake considered that seriously for a moment. “Maybe that’s why we’re together. Most times her insanity seems to work well with my crazy, and vice versa. Wow, that sounds like a psychiatrist’s wet dream, doesn’t it?”
“I learned a long time ago: If it works, don’t question it.” Willow brushed her hair back over her ear again.
This time, it didn’t hurt him to watch the gesture. “I think that’s really good advice.”
“No charge for that one, so you can keep the quarter. But I might knock your block off if you screw up.” O’Connor laughed so heartily at the reference that he had to stop walking for a moment. She put both hands on her hips and leaned against a nearby streetlight. “So. You’re all done chasing the Little Red-haired Girl, right?”
Nodding, he got himself under control again. “Yeah. Fresh out of security blankets too.”
>
“Then kick the ball, Charlie Brown.”
Jake saw what could have been in her gaze. Like her sister, or perhaps because of her, Willow felt an attraction to him. That wasn’t too surprising. Sometimes—not always, but sometimes—twins possessed the same likes and tastes, but he was spoken for.
“Thanks, doc.”
When she smiled this time, Jake didn’t see Laurel at all.
-CHAPTER SEVEN-
Long ago Jake had convinced himself he wasn’t what women normally considered “attractive.” Despite some emphatically voiced opinions from the female members of his little group to the contrary, at least in his mind, Jake didn’t think he could even model baseball hats. Gertrude became quite upset whenever he’d voice said fact to her before all this happened, back when they both rented apartments in Foster’s building, and—fragile as she was—slap him upside the back of the head to “reboot” his brain. In a loving way.
He looked decent enough he supposed, for someone who’d been through the wringer one-too-many times. In the right kind of light. From across the room. But he sure didn’t resemble a “block-chinned Hollywood heart-throb” in the slightest, which was what made it so surprising when a woman expressed romantic affection for him. He honestly believed himself pretty homely.
Those of the fairer sex would profess a different viewpoint, currently.
Weeks and weeks of maniacal exercise during his breakdown had trimmed away what little fat he’d possessed in the first place, leaving nothing but corded muscle. During that time, Jake had done nothing save push-ups, sit-ups, and chin-ups in the rear of the Mimi until he nearly collapsed. Then he’d rise the next day and do it all over again. He jogged up and down stairs at caches when they’d occasionally shelter inside for a day or two, then took to running the track around the overgrown football field in Langley, attempting all the while to outrace his memory of Laurel’s death. Doing so increased the size of his upper body, allowing him to (grudgingly) admit to acquiring what their fitness enthusiast Maggie Reed referred to as the “Adonis Golden Ratio.” That translated to a deep chest with prominent pectorals, well defined—and almost unnaturally strong—shoulders and biceps, a slim waistline, and as Kat often claimed, “A bootie you could bounce a quarter off of.”