Love and Decay: Revolution, Episode Ten

by Rachel Higginson

  “And yet it’ll keep you from getting killed,” he returned.

  Tyler and I shared a look, but reluctantly started taking our hair down. I spread my fingers through my heavy hair, enjoying the feeling of it loose and wild.

  “Did you need something else?” Tyler glared at him.

  I looked up at Micah who hadn’t walked away yet. He seemed surprised that he was still standing there. Abruptly, he turned around and walked away.

  “He thinks you’re even now,” she said, loud enough for him to hear.

  I didn’t understand. “Even with what?”

  “With saving each other’s lives. You rescued him from being beaten to death. He told you to wear your hair down. Even Steven.”

  I glanced over at Micah who seemed mad enough to spit fire. I flashed an apologetic smile at him, but he didn’t return it. I couldn’t decide how I felt about him. I wanted to like him or at least feel sorry for him, but I wouldn’t tolerate him being mean to Tyler just because her last name happened to be Allen. She wasn’t her father.

  It was weird, though. Apart from the Allens, Micah was nice, and I believed his intentions to be good.

  Okay, so maybe he didn’t light a settlement on fire to help me escape or throw his body in front of a Zombie so it didn’t bite me, but he had done a nice thing by telling us about our hair. “Maybe we are,” I told Tyler.

  Tyler snorted her dissent. “We should tell Joss.”

  I groaned. Joss was cool, but she was also kind of like an alien. Especially when we fought Feeders. She still wore the same clothes she’d brought with her from Mexico. Her head was almost always wrapped in a scarf, and usually, half her face was covered too. She looked like a desert princess that just happened to carry around a semi-automatic rifle and two-foot machete.

  “Not it,” I whispered quickly.

  Tyler flashed me her middle finger, clearly annoyed she didn’t think of that tactic first. Obviously, she hadn’t been raised in a family of Parker boys. Being fast at “Not It” was the only way to survive.

  After Tyler had convinced Joss to stash the scarf for just today, Luke called us back together. We looked completely different. Luke had made the guys shave or trim their beards and clip their fingernails. We’d all scrubbed our faces and necks, erasing the grunge of the tunnel. Our clothing was clean and new. Even our shoes were in great condition.

  Should a Zombie attack, not one of us would last longer than a few seconds, but we looked good. And that was what was important.

  Or something like that.

  As Luke quickly went over the lay of the land, Miller winked at me, and I felt a blush creep up my neck and paint my cheeks. He looked almost tame with his hair neatly combed to one side and his shirt buttoned up to his collar. He tugged on it once, and I nearly melted right there.

  Okay, maybe tame was a bad description. Because even buttoned up and pristine, Miller was dangerous. Only this was a different kind of danger.

  This was subtle and below the surface. This was all looks and charm and a spider’s web of visual deception. I tried to focus on Luke, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of the man that had held my heart my entire life.

  “Page?”

  I blinked and turned away from Miller. “Hmm?”

  “Are you paying attention?” Luke asked.

  I smiled at him. “Always.”

  He glared at me for a long moment, and I finally stopped smiling because I suddenly felt like an idiot. When he turned back to his hand-drawn map, he stabbed it with a finger. “Good. Don’t wander too far. Gather as much intelligence as you can. And stay out of trouble.”

  That last instruction was intended for me, but Luke didn’t look at me again.

  “We’ll leave in twos,” he went on. “Be back here at noon. Or the truck by twilight. Any questions?”

  Nobody had any, so we began our exit. My blood buzzed with anticipation and no small amount of fear. Adrenaline made my heart pound and my stomach churn.

  This building had felt suspended in time. Up until now, I was in the Colony, but I wasn’t. Not yet.

  “Stay close,” Harrison commanded. He’d been paired up with Tyler and Micah since I was pretty sure Luke hated both of them. “We do this together.”

  All of us agreed. We were officially entering enemy territory. The chances of us taking our eyes off each other for even a second were zero.

  Miller and I were the last ones to leave the building. He hesitated near the door, and I had a long moment of shame for not realizing this would be so hard for him.

  I turned to face him, resting my hands over his frantically beating heart. He looked down at me, our gazes tangling, mine soft with empathy, his hard, cutting and so, so deep. His breath trembled as he let out a long, measured exhale.

  My heart squeezed as I took him in, reading the ghosts in his eyes, the fears he wouldn’t speak out loud. Miller was the strongest man I knew. He was smart and cunning and beyond brave.

  To see him like this, unsure and afraid kicked at my guts. I wanted to throw my arms around his neck and tell him we didn’t have to go. I wanted to ferry him back to the Underground and never, ever come out again. I wanted to give up on my war and this mission to destroy the person that scared him so badly and retreat to Colombia.

  Anything to get this haunted look out of his eyes. Anything to take this pain from him.

  “Are you okay?” I whispered. An anxious feeling mingled with my concern. I could feel the rest of our team waiting for us. We needed to leave before we drew attention to this building. Either back through the tunnel or out these doors.

  “Fine.” His hands covered mine on his chest and his lips lifted in a wobbly smile. “Ready.”

  I didn’t call him on his lie. “We don’t have to go. We could wait here. I’ve seen enough.”

  His smile became real. “Liar.”

  I offered a soft smile back. “Never.”

  “Seriously, Parker, I’m fine. Let’s go explore.” But he didn’t move. And he didn’t drop his hands.

  “Do you think he’ll recognize you?” I whispered.

  Miller’s expression turned cold. His jaw ticked once, twice. “I hope he does.”

  Holding his gaze, I let him see the truth inside me when I answered, “Me too.”

  My faith in him seemed to restore his courage, and I inwardly relaxed. He reached for my hand and pulled me outside before either of us could change our minds. Before either of us could give into the fear gnawing at our insides.

  Outside the air was crisp and cool, heavy with autumn scents and the fire used for everyday life. I tried not to gape as we walked down the street, taking in the functioning businesses and pedestrian traffic.

  I tried even harder not to reach for my weapons that weren’t there. I’d been able to keep two blades discreetly hidden in the back of my jeans and one around my ankle. But they weren’t enough. I needed more. I felt naked without my usual arsenal.

  And I knew that was what gave us away the most. Everyone from my camp kept struggling not to reach for their missing blades. We looked the part, but we wore looks of sheer terror on our faces because we were walking into enemy territory, basically unarmed.

  Everyone else we passed looked completely serene, not worried about anything at all. It was madness.

  Zombies roamed every inch of the earth except for this one-walled fortress, and these people acted like nothing could touch them.

  They acted safe.

  They acted untouched by the horror of our world.

  But they weren’t. And they would never remain safe.

  I had seen Zombies break into impenetrable places before. I had seen them breach every defense, every wall, every safe zone. There was no place they could not go. No person they could not get to.

  Anger bubbled up inside me, needing to lash out, needing to scream and shout at these idiots that had let a psycho control their lives and manipulate them into thinking they were protected from the rest of the world—all because they
wanted a “safe” existence instead of a free one.

  Give me Zombies any damn day. I would never tolerate this kind of empty peace.

  “This is disgusting,” I hissed under my breath after we’d passed someone carrying a wrapped bundle of flowers. Sure, they were pretty, and I liked the way they looked in the brown paper with a colorful string cinching the bottom. But what was the point of them? They sure as hell weren’t going to stop a Feeder from eating their face.

  People filled the streets now, riding bicycles or strolling in pairs. They talked easily with each other, laughing or commenting on the weather. They smiled or waved at us as we walked by them, never suspicious, never paranoid, never any of the things they should have been.

  We followed Luke and Trish at a distance toward an open air market. Vendors were set up in a wide space selling fruits and vegetables, clothing and other daily needs. Weather-worn awnings flapped in the cool breeze, world-worn people standing beneath them selling their wares.

  Miller tilted his head toward a stand where money was being exchanged. “I bet you one million dollars my dad’s face is on that bill.”

  My lips curled into a sardonic smile. “One million Allen bucks?”

  “Two million,” he murmured. “Three million. What’s the difference? They don’t mean anything.”

  My smile disappeared. “They mean something, Miller. At least here.”

  His hand squeezed mine. “Come on, let’s look around.”

  We slipped into the crowd, losing sight of my brothers and Luke for a bit as we squeezed between tight spaces and walked over puddles from the recent rain. The whole city had to be here and the longer we stayed, the more packed it became.

  Once, when I was a child, I had been sold at a slaver’s market. This place reminded me of that day. And it had nothing to do with the number of people jammed into one place. It was the atmosphere that was similar, the same cutthroat savagery I sensed then, I could feel now.

  It danced in the air, igniting the breeze with a greedy fire set to consume whatever it touched. I stared at faces, I watched behavior, I sensed the struggle for these people to remain civil. There was hunger in their eyes. There was blood under their fingernails. Maybe not literal, but it was there. It was the blood of the rest of the world shut out of these walls. It was blood from the depravity that kept them here under the thumb of Matthias Allen. It was blood from the way they looked at their neighbors and demanded their goods without manners or kindness.

  It was blood.

  They were covered in it.

  And all I wanted to do was taste it. My tongue moved over my teeth and a different kind of hunger pulsed inside me.

  I lunged forward, pulling Miller with me. Suddenly, I felt very nauseous and was afraid I was going to start dry-heaving in the middle of the market, causing a scene. I turned down a side aisle. The crowd thinned on this side of the market, and fewer stands had vendors behind them. I stumbled to a stop, resting against an empty booth. Miller’s hands curled over my shoulders, squeezing with concern.

  “What’s wrong?” he demanded. When I didn’t answer immediately, he dropped his voice low and asked firmly, “Page, what is wrong?”

  I shivered, hot and cold and all kinds of confused. My gaze lifted from my hands, intent to find Miller’s, to find an anchor back in reality, back where I belonged. Instead, it locked on the end of the aisle. A chair was there that hadn’t been there a second ago.

  Not a chair.

  A wheelchair.

  I froze, my body going completely stiff with anticipation. Time slowed until it screeched to a stop. The world ceased spinning. Reality flipped upside down. Something was wrong—very, very wrong.

  Miller must have sensed it too because he became a statue behind me, utterly still and unmoving. His fingers gripped my shoulders sharply and his chest puffed up with a breath he didn’t exhale. Our shared nightmare had come to life right in front of us.

  Matthias Allen.

  Chapter Three

  Matthias Allen was fifty feet away from us. His back was to us, his scarred hands poised on the tops of the wheels of his chair. His thin shoulders were hunched, but still dominating. His head held high.

  I wasn’t sure how I even recognized him after all these years. He didn’t look close to the same man I’d once known. It didn’t matter that he should have been a stranger to me now; it wasn’t his outward appearance that was familiar.

  It was his aura. I sensed him. I felt his presence blacken the air around me, poisoning every intake of breath. Some dormant premonition in the back of my mind flared to life, prickling with warning.

  My fingers itched for my blades. My feet readied to run. I wanted to drag Miller from this place and never, ever, ever come back.

  Matthias turned in his chair, reaching over to grab an apple from a nearby stand. And there was his profile, confirming the fear and hope and instinct. His skin had been badly scarred. It puckered in pink, jagged lines across his cheeks. His hair was very thin, barely hiding the damage on his scalp beneath.

  We once thought we had killed him.

  We’d watched a fire destroy whatever was left of his body.

  Only he hadn’t died. And the fire hadn’t burned him to ash.

  He’d escaped somehow.

  Now he was here. And so were we.

  I wanted to look around for my brothers. I needed to find them. Matthias was too close, and I wasn’t sure what to do.

  If I took off in a dead sprint, I could have my blades out and be on top of him in three seconds. I could cut his throat in second number four.

  In thirty seconds his life would end. This could all be over.

  In less than a minute, I could finish this.

  Miller’s hand dropped to my elbow, roughly pulling me back against his chest. I was surprised at the distance that had separated us until I realized I’d already started to move toward Matthias, my hands were already reaching for my weapons. I had already decided to kill.

  Miller’s coarse whisper grated against my ear. “He has too many men. You’ll never get close enough.”

  I blinked, and the rest of the world came rushing back like a gut punch. Matthias wasn’t alone, but I only just noticed that. My vision was tunneled and singularly focused. I’d missed the contingent of bodyguards surrounding him, the dangerous men carefully fanned out through the crowd, eyes trained watching their leader and the crowd.

  My chest heaved as I struggled to temper my rage. “You don’t think it’s worth a shot anyway?”

  Miller let out a shaky laugh. “Next time I take a shot, I’m going to be damn sure it sticks.”

  Some shoppers moved in between us and Matthias, blocking our view for a minute as they meandered down the aisle. When they saw Matthias at the end, they abruptly stopped, raising their hands in apology. They hadn’t meant to disturb him. They promised that it was a mistake.

  I felt like puking all over again. Stand up to him! I wanted to shout. But it wouldn’t have mattered. It wouldn’t have done any good. I had seen it too many times before to feel surprised and yet I continued to remain disappointed with humanity.

  Would they ever learn?

  Would we ever have the backbone needed to rebuild this country? To take back our life, liberty and pursuit of happiness?

  Miller and I were mesmerized by the sight in front of us. Too stunned to be this close to Matthias to realize the danger, and too disgusted with the sycophants practically bowing at his feet to recognize if we wanted to blend in, we should have been doing the same thing.

  Now would have been a perfect time to slip back into the crowd and get lost in the sea of people, but both Miller and I remained frozen in place. It was hard to believe after all these years we were this close.

  Honestly, I couldn’t believe he was still alive.

  But if the Colony’s expansion and specifically this city hadn’t been enough proof, here he was. Flesh and blood and tyranny.

  Guards stepped between Matthias and his fo
llowers, intimidating them into moving back. I watched the people cower, shrinking away, practically running from their great leader.

  My nose curled in revulsion and I pushed up on my toes to say something to Miller. I knew he would be feeling the same sense of loss and repugnance. The words never came. They died inside my throat when my glare clashed with Matthias’.

  From the other side of the aisle, he’d turned fully to face us. His chair and his body were aimed directly at us. His cold, dead eyes bore into us, tearing apart the distance that separated us, marking us.

  Miller’s entire body flexed, readied for the imminent fight. “He doesn’t recognize us,” he whispered without moving his lips. “Be cool.”

  Matthias totally recognized us. But there wasn’t time to do anything about it.

  He pushed forward, never taking his gaze off us. My stomach clenched, and I wondered how close my brothers were for the millionth time. It was too early in whatever this scene was to step in, but surely they would. Or maybe they couldn’t find us? Maybe they had been spotted too?

  What about Luke?

  I wondered if he would do anything if Matthias provoked or attacked us. Did Luke even know how to rescue anyone? I had blood that could cure the entire Zombie outbreak, but did that matter to Luke? If we put his Underground at risk, he’d probably sacrifice us no matter how valuable we were.

  Thank God, my brothers were here. And Tyler. They wouldn’t abandon Miller and me.

  Matthias stopped a safe distance away from us, his bodyguards taking up new positions all around him. We didn’t dare move. But neither did he.

  I told my mouth to smile, to follow Miller’s instructions and “be cool,” but I couldn’t manage to comply.

  Eight years ago, Matthias Allen had pursued us across the US into Mexico and nearly managed to kill us. He’d murdered people I loved. He’d tortured people I loved—even before the infection if you considered Tyler and Miller’s childhood. Most recently, he’d sent a man to kill my family in Colombia. And nearly succeed there too. He’d killed and tortured his own people on a regular basis. He was a murderer, a psychopath and a tyrant.