Remy grinned. “Well, that’s a start, at least,” she agreed. “Eventually, I’ll negotiate myself into the living room.”
“You think.”
He and Remy arrived at his house nearly ten minutes later, sitting in its overgrown yard at the far end of the block, underneath equally overgrown trees that shadowed the dwelling from most of the sunlight. It was a reasonably plain two-story, the white paint weather-beaten and starting to peel. The windows on both floors had been boarded over. The front façade of the house was unadorned, save for the word “traitor” that had been spray painted across the door and the exterior siding in large and looping red letters. He glanced at Remy as they drew closer, and he felt suddenly self-conscious as she got a look at the vandalism. He cursed himself for not painting over it, though he was sure that he’d left it up in an effort to punish himself for being on the wrong side of everything in Atlanta and for his misguided loyalty to Alicia.
“What happened here?” Remy asked, climbing the front porch’s wooden steps for a closer look. “Who did this?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he said. He took the steps two at a time to join her on the porch.
“Yes it does.”
“No, it doesn’t,” he insisted. “Trust me. Just drop it. I’m just going to paint over it and leave it be.”
Remy looked like she wanted to argue but didn’t. Instead, she turned and leaned against the siding by the door, blocking his view of the “or” spray-painted there. She folded her arms over her chest and watched him for a minute, much in the same way he’d watched her earlier in the day when she’d been throwing supplies around in the dining room at the main house. “So you’re just going to put up with this?” she asked, rocking her head back as if she were indicating the word on the wall. “You’re just going to let these people walk all over you?”
“I don’t have much of a choice in the matter,” Dominic replied. “I owe these people. Everything I’ve done since Michaluk broke out has antagonized them and put their survival at risk. The least I can do is keep my mouth shut now that the status quo has changed.”
“I wasn’t aware that there even was a status quo,” Remy said.
“There is. And compared to me, you’re part of the larger portion of it.” He sighed and shoved his hands into his pockets, standing there under her scrutiny for a long moment, before flicking his eyes toward the side of the house. The wall that enclosed the community loomed there, mere feet away from the side of the building, casting the entire yard in shadow. He pressed his lips together and then nodded and motioned toward her. “Move over, let me get inside,” he said. “I want to show you something.”
“Is it something good?” Remy asked.
Dominic rolled his eyes and nudged her sideways, opening the front door and leaning inside. He grabbed the rifle he kept propped beside the door, scooped up the extra ammunition magazines from the table alongside it, and tucked them into his pockets. He added a sheathed machete to the belt he already wore, and then pulled the door shut once more. “Follow me,” he instructed.
“Where are we going?” Remy asked, the intrigue in her voice clear.
“Just hush and follow me,” Dominic repeated. He started for the side of the porch, climbing over the railing and dropping down onto the half-dead flowerbed on the other side. He turned to help Remy over the rail and asked, “You’ve got weapons, right?”
“I always have weapons,” Remy said as she grasped his shoulders. He wrapped his hands around her waist, silently marveling at how slim she was, and had to force himself to let go once her boots were planted on the old mulch.
“What kinds?”
“My Sig Sauer, my Ruger, and my bolo knife,” she said, clearly confused.
“Spare ammo?”
“Of course. Why? Where are we going that requires guns and knives?”
Dominic shook his head and motioned for her to follow him. He started to walk along the side of the house, heading for the backyard and the wall beyond it. “You’ll see.” He hesitated and then asked, “You trust me, right?” She gave him a surprised look. “I mean, you know I’m not going to intentionally take you into something that would be certain to get you killed, right?”
If it were possible, that statement made Remy look even more intrigued than before. “Oh, you’re taking me somewhere awesome, aren’t you?”
Dominic chuckled. “Maybe,” he said. Then he fell silent, wading through the grass to the back wall around the community. He looked around, checking to make sure they weren’t being watched, and then knelt and pulled free two metal spikes from the dirt. He set them aside and grasped the boards, swinging them to the side.
When the community’s leaders had decided that the best course of action was to board over the wrought-iron fencing surrounding the community and build a thirty-foot wall, Dominic had immediately planned an escape route, wanting his own unmonitored path into and out of Woodside. It had taken nearly a month to remove three of the iron fence’s bars and fashion a swinging door from a section that could be secured in place when not in use. Dominic didn’t regret the time spent creating it. The escape hatch kept him fed and supplied. He refused to accept any of the stores collected for the survivors’ communal use and went out three times a week to search for whatever he needed and to hunt small animals for fresh meat. He could and did fend for himself.
He glanced at Remy as he held the swinging door open and saw the look of appreciation and admiration in her eyes. “Wow, did you make this, Dom?” she asked, stepping forward and sticking her head through to look out. He felt a flutter of warmth in his chest at her nickname for him, and he watched as she gazed out into the wooded area beyond the fence, a small smile on her face. “I’m impressed. This is awesome.”
“You said you were tired of the same people. I figured you were also probably tired of the same sights,” Dominic said. “So I thought I’d take you out with me while I grab some supplies. There are a few things I need to dig up.”
Remy grinned, stepped toward him, and threw her arms around his neck. “Oh my God, Dom, thank you!” she exclaimed, squeezing him tightly, her body pressed fully against his in unselfconscious joy. He hesitated and then slid one arm around her slender waist and gave her a light squeeze before stepping back from her embrace. The hug had left a warm feeling in his chest, and he felt lighter than he had in a long time.
“This is our secret, okay?” he added, sliding through the gap and holding a hand out for her. She slipped her hand into his and ducked through. “Don’t tell anybody I did this. Brandt would probably run me out on a rail if he found out I took you out without permission.”
“Not a word.”
Chapter 5
By the time Ethan and Kimberly reached the bottom of the medical house’s stairs, Ethan’s legs and hips were aching, and he was beginning to wonder if he was up to dealing with so much exertion. He’d been holed up in the same room, with only the bare necessities of movement, for months, and just getting up and going down the stairs was more than he’d done in a long time. Despite the ache, he was proud of himself for toughing it out and making it this far. There was an easy chair near the center of the living room, maybe ten feet to his left; he longed to sit in it for a few minutes, to rest and catch his breath, maybe massage the deep aches in his legs. But he knew the moment he proposed sitting down, Kimberly would decide that he’d had enough exercise for one day and would get Isaac or Brandt to haul him back upstairs to bed, and they would probably carry him like an invalid all the way. He had a burning desire to avoid that humiliation at all costs. So tough it out, he would.
Downstairs was much darker than the second floor, he noticed as he tried to get his first look at the medical house’s living room. His eyes flickered to the windows; the ones that he could see from the bottom of the staircase were boarded over, secured against invasion. He raised an eyebrow and glanced at Kimberly, who stood beside him with her hand resting lightly against his elbow. “What’s with the windows?”
he asked. “I thought you said Woodside was secure.”
“It is secure,” Kimberly said. “We’re just taking precautions. Nothing to worry about. The infected haven’t gotten past the walls yet.”
“Yeah, well, it’s the ‘yet’ that has me always worried, no matter the situation.” He ran his fingers through his blond and newly trimmed hair before using the banister to push himself away from the staircase. His knees wobbled, but he managed to keep his footing and motioned to the front door. “Maybe you can show me around the community, give me the grand tour?” he suggested.
“I think that can be arranged,” Kimberly agreed. She slipped her hand into his. He glanced down, maneuvered his hand, and laced his fingers through hers, grateful for that little bit of additional assurance and support. She led him out the front door.
“You are in for a serious treat,” Kimberly informed him. “I’ll show you the wall and all the different security features we’ve been working on, and if he’s not busy, I’ll introduce you to Keith Fenton. He’s the Captain of the Watch, which is the group of guys who patrol the perimeter to make sure none of the infected get in. He’s doing a great job; I’m really impressed with how he’s stepped up to the plate.”
Ethan felt a pang of jealousy at the way she talked about the man, but he didn’t address those feelings. He put a hand up to shield his watery eyes against the bright sunlight. He blinked as they adjusted and tilted his head back toward the darker interior of the medical house. Kimberly’s breath caught, and she made a concerned noise.
“I’m okay,” he assured her. “It’s just brighter out here than I expected.”
“I probably should have brought you out later in the evening when the sun was setting,” she said, a note of regret in her voice.
“No, no, it’s fine,” Ethan said. “I just needed a minute to get used to it, that’s all.” He blinked and smiled at her. Then he looked out toward the rest of the community, scanning his surroundings with curiosity. Across the street, the front yards of a few houses had been commandeered for agriculture and were tilled up into rows. Several men and women were tending to the small sprouts that were edging up out of the dirt. A few children chased each other down the road toward a courtyard near the center of the community, where more children played around a couple rows of vehicles. Uninfected people were everywhere; the scene was so close to what had existed before that he felt tightness in his chest and a surge of emotion well in his throat. He swallowed it down and squeezed Kimberly’s hand again. “Come on, let’s go,” he said. She smiled at him and led him slowly to the end of the porch and down the stairs.
“The main house is right next door,” she said, pointing to the house in question. It was almost cookie cutter, so similar to the medical house he was leaving that he wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference if he’d just arrived in Woodside. A quick scan of the other houses around them showed reasonably uniform buildings, mostly brick two-story affairs with a few white-painted ones. “Across the street are our experiments with growing fruits and vegetables. We’re still trying to figure out what will grow around here. The people who volunteered to handle the growing live in the houses that the gardens are in front of. Most everyone else is divided into the rest of the houses in small groups, except for Dominic. He’s got his own house way out away from everyone else, somewhere off that way.” She pointed into the distance.
Ethan couldn’t see the house in question from where he stood.
“I haven’t been out there. No idea what he does when he’s there, but I figure that whatever it is, it’s his business.”
“Maybe someday soon, I’ll be strong enough to go out there and see him,” Ethan speculated. They continued across the grass to the house next door, their steps slow but steady. “I still haven’t thanked him for everything he did in Atlanta to help us.”
“I don’t think anybody has,” Kimberly said. “But I also don’t think Isaac’s people realize how much of a hand he had in helping everyone get here. He’s on his own most of the time. He hasn’t made much of an effort to get to know anyone, either, but they haven’t returned that favor. I think it’s a mutual dislike.” She paused and glanced at him with a slight smile and a raised eyebrow. “Are you hungry?”
Ethan hadn’t even realized his stomach was growling until she asked. The thought of food set it off again, and he rubbed at it idly as he admitted, “I’m famished. Tell me there’s food around here.”
“There’s food around here,” Kimberly said, tugging his hand. “Come with me. We’ll go into the main house. Cade almost always has some food around.”
A sparse few moments later, they were in the shady interior of the main house. Ethan closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. Unlike the medical house, which smelled musty and closed-up, the main house smelled like oranges and lemons, like someone was doing their damnedest to keep everything fresh and airy. He heard Cade’s and Brandt’s voices nearby, fussing at each other like an old married couple. He felt a pang of wistfulness and disappointment; thanks to his prolonged illness, he’d missed the small wedding that had been held in the center of Woodside soon after they’d arrived at the community, and Cade’s description of the ceremony hadn’t come close to doing it justice. Cade was like his sister, and the thought of missing her wedding—something he’d always hoped to see, even before the current state of the world, when he’d been convinced that she’d end up married to her boyfriend Andrew sooner rather than later—filled him with regret.
Kimberly steered him toward the kitchen doorway, a grin on her face as she stepped inside and announced, “Lady and gentleman, may I present His Awesomeness, Sir Ethan Bennett!”
Ethan rolled his eyes and laughed as he slipped into the kitchen, slowly making his way to the counter where Cade and Brandt stood.
Cade had a large cutting board in front of her and a knife in her hand. Several more knives were lined up on the counter just left of the board. On the board itself was the half-boned and disjointed carcass of a rabbit. Beside that was a large plate and a clipboard. She looked up as he leaned against the counter and gave him a bright smile. Then she dropped her knife and wiped her hands on a towel before circling around to greet him. “Eth! You’re up!” she exclaimed, hugging him. He returned the embrace with a wide smile.
“I got sick of sitting around in my room,” he admitted. “And Kim said there was food here, so I was more than willing to come over.”
Brandt stepped forward and lightly clapped him on the shoulder, before squeezing it tightly. “Glad to see you up and moving,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Surprisingly…good,” he said. “I can’t complain. I don’t even feel like I’ve been sick. Well, except for the whole malnourished problem Dr. Rivers said we’ve got to figure out how to deal with.” His eyes flickered down to the raw, bloody meat on the cutting board in front of Cade, seemingly of their own accord; the scent of blood filled his nose, and saliva flooded his mouth at the scent.
“Glad to hear it,” Brandt said. “Maybe you can talk some sense into Cade for me while I’m out, yeah?”
“Some sense?” Ethan repeated, raising an eyebrow. “And where are you going?”
“I need to run to the rec center for a few things,” Brandt explained. “We’re going to have a meeting this evening and are hoping to get something cooked up to feed the committee while we’re there.” He gave Cade a quick kiss, even though she was scowling at him, and then he asked, “Kimberly, do you mind giving me a hand?”
Cade squinted at the clipboard even as she cut the rabbit. “Don’t forget the peas,” she commented.
Brandt let out a huff of exasperation. “Would you stop eyeing that thing before you cut your fingers off?” he said. “You’ve given me the list a dozen times already. I think I’ve got it.”
Ethan forced his eyes away from the meat Cade was cutting up as Brandt and Kimberly left the room. Confused by his attraction to the uncooked meat and struggling to find something else to focus
on, he asked, “So how are you feeling?”
“I feel fine,” she said. “Except for his constant hovering.” She jabbed the knife she held in the direction of the living room. “He’s constantly pestering me about how I’m feeling, how the baby’s doing, about what I’m doing and why I shouldn’t be doing it. It’s driving me insane. It wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t so constant, but he acts like I’m incapable of taking care of myself.” She stabbed at the meat in front of her, slicing some from the bone. Ethan clenched his teeth and struggled to look away. Cleary, she’d been holding this in for a while; he figured it was good to let her gripe.
Ethan pushed away from the counter, determined to get away from the smell of blood, if only for a moment. The scent was forcing sudden, strange feelings to the surface, and he wasn’t sure how to handle them. There was a cooler on the end of the counter; he flipped it open and found bottles of warm water inside. He grabbed one and unscrewed the cap, trying to give himself something to focus on other than an increasing desire to tear his teeth into the meat Cade was prepping.
“I wish I could say I know how he feels but, you know, I kind of don’t,” he admitted. “Anna and I never had kids. But you already knew that, considering you used to nag us about it all the time.”
“Yeah, and that reminds me.” Cade set the knife on the edge of the cutting board and studied him across the counter. “How come you never told me you were sterile?” she asked.
Ethan looked at her, startled, as she continued.
“I had to find out from Remy. You told her and not me? I thought you told me everything, Eth. If I’d known, hell, I wouldn’t have been nagging you like I was. Knowing what I know now, the nagging made me look like a royal bitch. I thought I was your best friend, and best friends usually tell each other things like this.”
The Becoming (Book 4): Under Siege Page 4