Bad Company (The Brother's Creed Book 4)

by Joshua C. Chadd

  Emmett stood at the end of the driveway to the infirmary. “How you boys feelin’ this morning?” he asked.

  “Good,” James said.

  “Much better than last night,” Tank said.

  “Glad to see you’re okay,” Emmett said to Tank. “I’m sure James already told you, but Cpt. Miller put me in charge of the scouting runs. As it stands now, you’re the only three we plan to send out until we’ve trained a few others. With that being said, after the events of yesterday we’re giving you guys the day off. Meet me at HQ in Cpt. Miller’s office at 1700 tonight and we can go over the plans for the next few days.”

  “Roger that,” Connor said.

  “How did the supply run north go?” James asked.

  “They were able to recover everything you found with little problem, although there were quite a few tangos in Milk River.”

  “Told ya,” Tank said.

  “They were able to clean a lot of them out.”

  “What about the Reclaimers?” Connor asked.

  “Cpt. Miller is working on a plan. Cpt. Sanders didn’t think they were much of a threat, but I convinced him otherwise. You’ll have to watch your backs out there.”

  “We plan to,” Connor said.

  “That’s all for now,” Emmett said. “You boys enjoy your day off and don’t get into too much trouble.”

  “Never,” Tank said, smiling.

  “Thanks, Emmett,” James said.

  “You three deserve it. You’re becoming a huge asset to the community, like I told them you would be. Keep making me proud,” Emmett said with a fatherly smile.

  “Yes, sir,” the three of them said in unison and continued on their way.

  Tank wondered why he was feeling so warm and fuzzy inside but then realized it was because his real dad had never said anything like that to him. It was probably that, coupled with the fact that he was just happy to be alive today. He’d never come so close to death. In fact, he should’ve been dead. Glancing at the sky, he said a quick thanks to whoever was listening. Someone had been watching out for him yesterday, that was for sure.

  Once they hit North Avenue, the brothers turned left for their place while Tank took a right and headed to Chloe’s.

  He glanced at his watch. It was only six, still early in the morning. Chloe would be sound asleep. Was he sure he wanted to wake her again? The last time had almost been more frightening than getting bitten by that undead. Eh, what the hell? She’d told him to stop by so he’d stop by. He really wanted to see her anyway. There’d been a lot of time to think last night, and he’d come to a few realizations. He was tired of being alone, and it was time to let someone in. Even though that very well might end in him getting his heart ripped out, he’d rather go to the grave with a broken heart than knowing he hadn’t let himself fully love or be loved.

  Ugh, even thinking like that made him sick.

  Walking into the house Chloe shared with some of the other survivors, he quietly snuck into her room. She was asleep, curled in a ball in the middle of the bed with half the blankets thrown off. She was such a cute mess. Taking his shoes off, he crawled onto the bed next to her. Without even waking, she moved to him, curling up against his side. There was a half used box of tissues on her nightstand with several used ones on the floor. She must really care about him. He closed his eyes and began to slowly stroke her hair. After a few minutes, he fell asleep.

  A few hours later, he opened his eyes and saw Chloe sitting up, watching him. She smiled.

  “Mornin’, sleepyhead,” Chloe said as Tank stretched.

  “Mornin’, beautiful,” Tank said.

  She leaned down and kissed him, and he lost himself in the touch of their lips. It was unlike anything he’d felt before.

  After a while she pulled away. “I was afraid I’d lost you,” she whispered, tears forming in her eyes.

  “I was, too,” Tank said, feeling a surge of emotion. None of this was normal for him. He usually saved the emotions for when he was alone and had consumed massive amounts of alcohol. Sitting up, he pulled her into his arms as she started to cry softly.

  “I’ve lost too much already,” Chloe said, her head nuzzled into his shoulder.

  “I know,” Tank said. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ last night about how if I died it wouldn’t just affect me.”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  “Most of my life I’ve felt like only a few people cared about me. Then when my mom died, it was even harder for me to let people in.”

  “It’s easier to keep people away, thinking you won’t get hurt, but you end up hurting yourself when you do that.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Sitting there with his arms wrapped around someone he truly cared about, he realized just how lonely a life he’d been living for the last couple of years. Sure, he had the brothers, but that wasn’t the same as this. The brothers knew him, but they didn’t know everything he went through. That’s not how that sort of friendship worked. This was different. He wanted to tell her everything about himself, to let her truly in. It’d been years since he’d done that, and even his last couple of girlfriends hadn’t really known him. It wasn’t their fault—he just hadn’t let them in. Today, he wanted to change that.

  “What’s on your mind?” Chloe asked, able to read his silence.

  “Just thinkin’,” Tank said.

  “About?”

  “How hard all this is.”

  “You mean the end of the world?”

  “Amongst other things.”

  “Well, what else… is it us?”

  “No, just opening up to people in general.”

  “Why do you think that is?”

  “Prolly cus my past…” Tank said, trailing off.

  She looked at him expectantly. He knew she wanted him to keep going, but it wasn’t that easy. This was all so foreign to him. He never did this, but that thought gave him the push he needed. This wasn’t what he would normally do, and that was why he was going to do it now. It was time to change things.

  Tank sighed.

  “My dad left me and my mom when I was seven,” he said. “He’d never really been there for me, but at least he’d been around. Then he left and I didn’t see him again until he reached out to me in college. I told him I didn’t ever want to see him again, and I never did.”

  “What’d you and your mom do after that?” Chloe asked.

  “We moved to a small town in southwestern Colorado where I started middle school. My mom remarried and my stepdad was good to me, but it wasn’t the same. I knew he wasn’t my real dad, and I put too much into tryin’ to find acceptance from him. That never worked. Then, years later when my mom died, it left me feelin’ hollow inside. My stepdad took it even harder and we’ve barely talked this past year. The only people I still had were James and Connor, and they were always off to who knows where while I was stuck in Fort Collins. I don’t think I was truly livin’ these last couple years, just survivin’, so when the apocalypse happened, I used it as a new start. I turned somethin’ terrible into somethin’ hopeful.”

  “Do you still feel that way?”

  “I’m livin’ again, and I feel like I finally have a place. We’re doin’ somethin’ good for this community, actually helpin’. Then yesterday it almost ended for me.” Tank paused, gathering his thoughts. “I was scared. I thought I was done. I just couldn’t stop thinkin’ about all the things I wish I would’ve done different in my life. How I would’ve lived different.”

  “You are living differently.” Chloe reached up and rested her hand on his cheek. “I don’t know your dad or your stepdad, but I know they would be proud of who you’ve become.”

  “Maybe my stepdad, but not my real dad. He was an asshole and wouldn’t have cared.”

  “Was?”

  “Oh, he’s dead by now, I’m sure.” At her questioning look he continued. “He was a lazy bastard livin’ in the middle of Denver
, and it was hit hard. No way he survived.”

  “How does that make you feel?”

  “Pullin’ some psychological crap on me now?”

  “No, really. How does it make you feel? You lost your mom, now your real dad, and maybe even your stepdad.”

  “I’m glad my mom didn’t have to live through this, although I wish somethin’ fierce she was still here. My stepdad is probably still alive; at least I hope he is. And I could care less about my real dad. Hell, I’m glad he’s dead.”

  Even as he said the words he knew his anger was just covering up his pain. It was a lie. Even though he hated his dad, he was still his dad. And since when had he become so honest with himself without alcohol?

  “That’s not true,” Tank said with less anger than before.

  “I know.”

  “I miss him. I’ve missed him for years, but now that he’s truly gone, I can’t help but wonder if I should’ve reconnected with him when he reached out. It’s too late for all that now, and I’m not gonna dwell on things I can’t change. I’m gonna focus on the things I can change.”

  “Like this?” Chloe asked, smiling. “Opening up to me?”

  “I had to do it with someone, and there’s no one else I’d rather share it with than you. Wow, that was cheesy.”

  “Well, I liked it,” Chloe said, pulling him into a deep kiss.

  So this was what it felt like to be emotionally intimate. It felt good. He was free to be himself around her—all of himself, not just part. His near-death experience had made him realize that he couldn’t continue living a half-life or he was no better than the damned undead. After all these years, he owed it to himself and those he cared about. He knew Chloe truly cared. He didn’t know how he knew; he just did. There was a break in their passionate kiss and Tank pulled back, looking Chloe in the eyes. She looked up at him, a half smile on her luscious lips and a twinkle in her dark brown eyes.

  “My name’s Allen, by the way,” Tank said, staring into her eyes. “Allen Don Hook.”

  24

  Adopting an Introvert

  James and his brother sat on their cots in the old store. He couldn’t stop thinking about the night before. His latest episode had been different in that he’d been aware of what was going on around him. It hadn’t been as all-consuming as the others. His brother’s words repeated over and over in his mind. Had he been healed and he just needed to believe it? Did he have the capacity to reach out for help and resist when an episode hit him? Why hadn’t he prayed? When he was going through all that, he’d felt alone, yet he knew he hadn’t been. He had his brother, his best friend and now his girlfriend, plus Jesus was always with him. He knew that, but why was it so hard to believe and reach out for help in the moment?

  Connor sat across from him on his bunk, cleaning his ACR. James knew his brother was hurting as well, but it didn’t affect him the same. Connor was there for him, but was James really there for his brother? He’d been so consumed with what he was going through that he had yet to think about how his little brother was dealing with all this. And he was pretty sure Connor wasn’t faring much better.

  “How are you doing, bro?” James asked, beginning to tear down his own ACR.

  While he didn’t love cleaning guns like his brother did, he did enjoy it, especially when he wanted to keep his hands busy and let his mind work on things like trying to figure out what was going on with him, how to fix it, and what the hell they were supposed to do.

  “Good,” Connor replied automatically.

  “No, I mean really, how are you doing?”

  Connor looked up at him. “You really wanna do this?”

  “We need to work through some of this or it’ll consume us.”

  “Consume you maybe. I’m doin’ fine.”

  “Connor, we both know you can deal with this stuff better, but I still know you’re struggling.”

  “Of course I am. Our parents are dead, all our friends and family but Tank are gone, and life will never be the same. How do you think I’m feelin’?”

  “Kinda like how I am, I’d guess.”

  “Yeah, kinda like that.”

  “So,” James said, knowing he was pushing him. “How are you feeling?”

  Connor growled, setting aside the lower receiver of his rifle. “I feel like the world is ending, like God has abandoned us to live a macabre, goat-rope of a life, and like we’re the ones who killed our parents by not getting there in time. That’s how I feel.”

  “Do you really think God has abandoned us?”

  “Yes! I know he hasn’t, but it sure as hell feels that way! What else would explain all this?”

  “I don’t know, but we can’t lose our faith. We can’t let our past define our future.”

  “Now you sound like Mom,” Connor said bitterly.

  “Do you remember what she said to us before she died?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Then you know we can’t keep going down the path we’re on and still honor our parents’ sacrifices. They may not have died actively protecting us, but their deaths can be more than a tragedy. We can continue in a way that would make them proud.”

  “They’re dead, James. Gone forever.”

  “Dead, yes, but they’re not gone! If you believe they’re really gone then why is this life worth living if nothing comes after?”

  “I’ve been askin’ myself that same question.”

  “You’re questioning everything?”

  “Yes. How can all this make sense with what we’ve always believed?”

  “The same way it did before. Nothing has changed. People have been persecuted for centuries, tragedies have happened, mass murder has taken place. It’s no different now than it was then.”

  “But our parents, James. Our parents are dead, brutally murdered.”

  “Yes, and Jesus was beaten and hung on a cross.”

  Connor chuckled. “This is completely different.”

  “Yes, it is. But pain and death are nothing new. It’s as old as the Fall.”

  Connor sighed, picking up his rifle and starting to clean it again. James took it as a sign that the conversation was over. He wanted to keep going, but he knew it was done.

  “Know that I’m here for you, brother,” James said, going back to cleaning his rifle as well, “just like you were there for me last night. I got your six.”

  He finished with his rifle and then went on to clean the blood from his plate carrier. Someone had cleaned their uniforms last night but hadn’t messed with their kits. He washed it off and then hung it outside in the sun to dry. All of the magazines and equipment from it lay out on his cot, as he refilled the spent magazines they’d used yesterday. There was something therapeutic about the mundane task of taking care of the things that helped him survive each day.

  “Should we have tried to bury them?” Connor asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “Mom and Dad?” James asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How? We didn’t have time with dad because we had to try and rescue mom. Then what were we going to do, bury her in the yard of the courthouse or tote their bodies with us? Our bodies are nothing but earthly vessels. We’ll do something to honor and remember them once we get to Alaska.”

  “Like a memorial.”

  “Exactly. We’ll do it for everyone we’ve lost.”

  Connor nodded and went back to refilling his magazines. James had gotten through to him on some small level at least. He might not ever admit it, but James knew. There was still hope. He had to constantly remind himself of that, but it was true. It had to be true, or what else was there?

  The brothers went and grabbed lunch in the Mess Hall. James noticed Troy glaring at him as he exited the building, but he didn’t think anything of it. The guy must be having a bad day. After lunch, they returned to their place. Tank and Chloe were sitting out front on the bench under the awning.

  “Afternoon,” Tank said to t
hem as they walked up.

  “Afternoon to you, too,” James said, smiling. Tank was in fine form today. “How are you doin’ Chloe?”

  “Much better today,” she said, smiling at Tank.

  “I bet,” Connor said.

  James noticed Tank’s vest was hanging outside to dry as well. He’d probably gotten his gun cleaned and gear together, too. It was a habit they were quickly falling into—taking care of their gear in their downtime.

  “Where’s Scourge?” James asked, noticing their armored vehicle was missing.

  “Gettin’ an upgraded paint job,” Tank said.

  “Oh, sweet,” James said.

  “I was just talking with Tank,” Chloe said. The way she said his name was weird, like she was putting more emphasis on it than necessary. “You ever see that Mr. Smith guy who interviewed us the first night we were here?”

  “Actually, I haven’t,” James said. “I’d forgotten all about him.”

  “I hadn’t noticed him around either,” Chloe said.

  “Probably took one of those out of here,” Connor said, pointing to the horizon as the familiar drum of a helicopter met their ears. James was so used to the choppers coming and going that he hardly registered them anymore.

  “We still don’t know what they’re doin’ with those, do we?” Tank asked.

  “Nope,” Connor said.

  “You ever wonder how the outbreak started?” Chloe asked.