Divided We Rot (One Nation Under Zombies Book 3)

by Raymond Lee

  Hal glanced over to see him eying his donuts like a tiger about to pounce. He looked past him to Elijah and noticed the young man staring at a man with his young son sitting a few rows up from them.

  “Good morning, everyone.”

  Hal looked up at the stage to see the pastor standing at the front of the stage, David off to the side scanning the room. He stopped scanning once his eyes locked onto Hal’s, and Hal didn’t like what he saw there. The sinking feeling in his stomach expanded as David’s face remained grim and his gaze stayed locked with his until the pastor requested they bow their heads for prayer.

  Once the pastor finished the morning blessing and gave permission to eat, Hal looked up to see David already on the move, headed in their direction. Damian, busy plowing through his donuts, didn’t seem to notice, nor did Elijah, still watching the man and his son ahead of them as he pushed his donut around on his plate. Hal didn’t touch his food as he waited, knowing instinctually that David was coming to him.

  “Good morning, Hal.” David stopped before him and nodded toward the others before returning his piercing, watchful eyes on him. “I need to speak with you this morning. Please come by my house after service.”

  “We can speak now,” Hal said.

  “I’d rather we didn’t.” David looked around the room. “I’m afraid I have some sensitive news to share and I don’t think it best to announce it to everyone.”

  “Where’s Leah?” Hal asked as Damian set his last donut down and leaned forward, bringing himself into the discussion.

  David studied Damian a moment and shifted his feet. “Come to my house after service. Your friends may come too. Finish your breakfast. Service starts soon.”

  Hal growled low in his throat as David walked away, his temper getting harder to restrain. He looked down at his plate, no appetite left in him, but knew it was best not to anger the people while Leah was lost to them and Pim was under their care.

  “What was that about?” Damian asked, already shoving his remaining donut into his mouth, nothing in the world capable of squashing his appetite. “That sounded fifty shades of shady.”

  “I wouldn’t use that reference around here,” Hal warned him as he picked up a piece of fruit, ready to force it down. His stomach might feel full of acid, but he knew he had to eat as often as he could to keep his strength up for whatever was going to go down and he knew something was definitely going to go down. These people were being way too evasive about Leah. “I have a feeling they’re going to sell us a line of bull about Leah.”

  “Do you think they kicked her out, or did something worse?”

  He looked past Damian to see Elijah listening to them. “Eat your donut, Elijah. Drink your milk. We need to stay fed, stay strong, and stay alert.”

  “Hal.” Damian met his gaze dead on. “What do you think they did to her?”

  “I don’t think they did something to her. I think they’re doing something to her. I think they’re trying to clean her.”

  “Like give her a bath?” Elijah asked. “Don’t they have showers in the women’s quarters too?”

  “Not that kind of clean,” Damian said, catching on. “They think she’s unclean on the inside. They’re trying to get what they don’t like out of her.”

  Hal nodded his head and went back to eating, each lump of food hitting his stomach with a sickening thud.

  Cruz paced the living room of the small cabin as the voice he struggled to keep imprisoned in the back of his mind rattled against the bars, desperately trying to escape its cell. His pills were in one of his cargo pockets right within reach, but he’d already doubled his dosage that morning. If he kept popping extra pills he’d be out before long and what good would he be to Raven? She was finally resting somewhat peacefully after a night of tossing, turning, vomiting, and crying. He’d checked on her at least ten times in the past couple of hours, checking to make sure she was still alive, the peacefulness more frightening than the hell she’d seemed to go through the night before.

  He had to stay in the right headspace for her. Everything she’d told him was insane, crazier than he was, but he had no reason to doubt her. Her little sister was alive and somehow Raven was going to outlive the virus attacking her body too. He would get the two sisters back together and be the hero he longed for her to recognize him as. Then she would love him. He needed her to love him.

  She needs to die.

  Cruz smacked himself in the head, growling at the voice taunting him. “Shut the fuck up you evil bastard,” he ordered from behind clenched teeth, knowing he was only talking to himself. “You’re not real. You’re not real. You’re a sickness inside me. You’re only what I allow you to be.”

  Laughter rolled around in his head. I’m the realest thing you’ve had in your whole miserable life. You only do what I allow. You can’t hold me down much longer. I will overtake you and I will destroy her. I will destroy her with your own two hands.

  “Why?” Cruz asked, stopping in the middle of the living room. He looked at the bedroom door, left partially open so he could see the foot of the bed and if Raven started tossing and turning again, but not open enough that she could see him pacing the floor talking to himself, smacking himself in the head like a nutcase. “Why her? Why can’t I just have her?”

  You will have her. The voice laughed, a maniacal sound that caused Cruz’s testicles to draw up. You will have her as many times as you want, as many times as I want. You will have her body, her mind, and her soul… and you will destroy it all.

  “No. I won’t!” Cruz gripped the sides of his head and dug his fingers into the skin, squeezing as if he could force the voice out of his brain if only he applied enough pressure. “I love her. I won’t hurt her. I won’t ever hurt her.”

  You will, because I will make you. She has to die.

  “Why?” He waited for an answer but only received more insidious laughter. “Why?!”

  “Cruz?”

  Cruz rushed toward the sound of Raven’s weak, scratchy voice, stepping into the room to see her struggling to sit up. She locked eyes with him and her gaze widened. She blinked twice before falling back against her pillow, shaking her head.

  Cruz picked up the hand towel he’d left on the nightstand and wiped her sweat-soaked face before pouring a glass of well water. “Feel like you’re getting better?” he asked as he bent down to prop her up against the pillows so she could drink. He didn’t miss the wary look in her shadow-rimmed eyes as she watched him. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” she said, her voice a raspy whisper as she allowed him to help her drink. “Must be the fever,” she continued after he pulled the glass away. “Sometimes when I wake up I see weird things.”

  “Like?”

  “Your eyes,” she said, a little pink color suffusing her pallid cheeks. “Sometimes when I first see you your eyes are black. It’s kind of scary.”

  “I can imagine,” he murmured as the voice inside his head let loose a rumbling growl. He glanced at the pocket containing his pills, tempted to take them ahead of schedule. The sickly woman in the bed made him think twice. He was all she had. Too weak to even sit up by herself, she wouldn’t be able to get food or water without him. She’d be easy prey to anything or anyone who found her if she had no guard to watch over her while her body waged a battle between life and death. He’d have to fight his own inner battle and make the pills last. He couldn’t chance running out and letting the sickness inside him win, not when the voice caused by it threatened to kill her. Worse, to make him kill her. “You need to eat. I’ll make some soup.”

  “I have to use the bathroom,” she said, blushing.

  “Oh. Yeah, of course.” He stood and reached down to pick her up but she held her arms out, warding him off. “Raven, you can’t go in the bed where you sleep.”

  “I can’t go with you watching. And I can’t let you flush for me. That’s humiliating.”

  He breathed out a sigh and scratched his head. “The bathroom here is a
personal outhouse so there’s no flushing. It’s attached directly to the cabin, but I’m going to have to carry you to it. You’re too weakened by the virus to walk.”

  “Oh, just kill me now,” she whined, falling back against the pillows.

  “You can’t die. You have to find your sister, remember?”

  “I know.” She sat up and slowly inched her legs to the side. “Just let me wait until the room stops spinning. You can help me to the bathroom, but you’re not watching me use it.”

  “Trust me, sweetheart. I’m not that perverted.”

  “Don’t stand outside listening to me pee either.”

  He laughed. “Honey, I’ve been catching your vomit in a pot. Hearing you pee can’t be worse.”

  “Thanks. I feel so much better now.”

  “The point I’m trying to make is it doesn’t matter.”

  “You clearly don’t understand women.”

  “Well, I can’t argue with that.”

  She smiled a little, as much as her chapped lips would allow without bleeding. “Humor me on this.”

  “I’d humor you on anything you wanted, all damn day if you’d like, but I can’t let you fall and hurt yourself.”

  “I’m sick, Cruz, I’m not brittle.”

  “Fine.” He let out another sigh as he stood next to the bed, looking down at her, hands on hips. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  She nodded and gripped the bed tighter as she started to fall forward, but caught herself. She blinked a few times, clearing her head. “OK, so nodding isn’t such a good idea,” she murmured. She sat still a while longer then used her hands to push herself off the bed and slowly rise to a stand. Cruz wrapped one arm around her lower back, her clothes soaked through with sweat, and held on to her upper arm with his other hand as he helped guide her out of the bedroom and to the bathroom.

  The bathroom was a narrow wood-paneled room big enough for what looked like a low wooden bench seat. A toilet seat was in the middle of the bench covering a hole. Rolls of toilet paper and a candle set on a shelf within reach. Cruz helped Raven sit next to the toilet seat so all she would have to do was scoot over to it once she adjusted her clothes. “Do you have it now or do you need me—”

  “Out.” She raised a frail arm and pointed to the door. “I’ll handle everything from here.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a mock salute and stepped outside the narrow space. “Yell for me when you’re ready to get back in bed. Don’t be a hero,” he said as he closed the door to give her privacy.

  “Don’t stand there listening to me!” Raven yelled, causing Cruz to wince at how rough her voice sounded.

  Not wanting her to yell again with her throat so raw, he stepped back into the bedroom and tugged the wet sheets from the bed. He felt the mattress and discovered it was slightly damp. Fortunately, the linen closet across from the outhouse had towels, sheets, and blankets. He spread a thick towel over the damp part of the mattress before putting the fitted sheet on. He put another sheet on the bed and replaced the comforter which hadn’t had a chance to get very wet because Raven couldn’t stand having it on.

  “You all right in there?” he asked as he passed the bathroom on his way to the living room.

  “Dandy,” Raven called back, sounding annoyed.

  He’d gone back out that morning to scavenge and found clothes left behind in one of the cabins. He rifled through the pile he’d dumped on the couch until he pulled out a long-sleeved cotton shirt that appeared to have belonged to a man much larger than himself.

  “Ready!” Raven called from the bathroom.

  Cruz dropped the shirt on the coffee table and walked to the bathroom. He opened the door to see Raven sitting in the spot where he’d left her, her jeans unfastened around her knees. She was slumped over with her head resting against the wall. “I can’t get my pants back up,” she muttered, sounding exhausted and completely dejected.

  Take her! She’s easy prey!

  Cruz turned his head aside and gritted his teeth until pain pulsated through his temples. The effect seemed to silence the voice in his head long enough for him to look beyond the flesh on display before him or the little scrap of cotton he could see barely covering the most intimate part of Raven’s body, her T-shirt hem too short to cover her well enough.

  “You need a bath anyway,” he said, stepping forward.

  Raven jerked back, finding strength from within to press herself into the corner and raise her hands. “Stop! What are you doing?”

  He stilled, shaking his head. “Raven, you know me. I won’t hurt you. Besides, if I was going to attack you I’d probably do it while you were unconscious, wouldn’t I?”

  Her eyes widened, his words not doing a thing to calm her.

  He held his hands up and backed away to the door. “I can just put you back in the bed with your filthy, sweaty clothes on, the fabric of that blood-stained T-shirt still poking around your wound that I’ve been trying to keep clean, or I can take you into the living room and give you a sponge bath. You’ll still have your underclothes on and I can clean your wound better. I found some clothes. I’ll put a fresh shirt on you, a big soft one that will feel like sleeping in a nightgown and has to be more comfortable, then put you right back in the bed with fresh sheets. It’s up to you.”

  Raven attempted to look down at her wound. Bitten along her clavicle, he knew she couldn’t really get a good look from her vantage point but she could see the dressing and the filthy bloody remnants of her T-shirt. He’d had to cut a chunk out of it to reach her wound and now it hung off her shoulder, stiff with dried blood. “I am pretty disgusting,” she said, tears spilling down her cheeks, “and I guess I smell.”

  “Hey, none of that.” He stepped forward and helped her to stand, pulling her so she fell forward into his body. “Hold on to me.”

  She raised her arms as far as she could, only about mid-chest, and clung to him as he wrapped his arms around her and sidestepped them both out of the bathroom. Once clear of the narrow confines, he scooped her up and carried her to the living room where he deposited her into a wooden armchair near the fireplace.

  She felt good, didn’t she? She’ll feel even better on the inside. Especially when it’s over and she’s slick with blood.

  Cruz gritted his teeth together again as he placed another log on the fire he’d started shortly before she’d awakened and moved a pot of water he’d set nearby to the hook in the fireplace once the flames died down enough to allow him to.

  “Is that a witch’s cauldron?”

  “Kinda looks like one,” Cruz answered, focusing on Raven’s voice instead of the one in his head.

  “Are you turning me into a toad?”

  “I’m just going to warm this water up so it’s not cold on your skin.”

  All that flesh…

  “I did a little scavenging in the area and found some soap, alcohol, and bandages. I’m going to go grab some towels and a rag.” He stood and walked to the linen closet. Once the door was open he stepped forward, blocking himself from Raven’s view, and reached into his pocket for another dose of medication. He dry-swallowed the pills and took a moment to gather himself, to strengthen his will against whatever monster lurked inside of him. He reminded himself the voice wasn’t real and he didn’t want to hurt Raven or take advantage of her.

  “Cruz?”

  “Yeah?” He grabbed an assortment of towels and a rag before returning to her.

  “You’re not gonna boil me, are you?”

  “Of course not.” He grinned as he set the towels on the coffee table and removed the pot from the hook. He set it on the floor and tested the water temperature. “Perfect.”

  He went about the room collecting everything he needed and set to work. Once the water was soapy, the rags and towels were where he wanted them, and the first aid kit was open he kneeled before Raven and took a breath. “OK. Here’s the part where you trust me.”

  “I trust you.”

  Cruz remained
still for a moment, savoring her trust and hoping he didn’t do anything to make her regret it, then he tentatively reached for her jeans and pulled them free of her body, then her socks. “I don’t want you to get cold so I’ll do one area at a time,” he told her as he dunked the rag in the warm, soapy water, rang it out, and cleaned her legs. His heartbeat quickened as he glided the rag up the inside of her thigh and afraid the reaction was coming from him and not the sickness inside him, he quickly finished before the voice could come back to try and coerce him into doing something to hurt Raven. He patted her legs and feet dry before replacing her sweaty socks with a pair of men’s socks he’d found in another cabin and laying a towel long-ways over her lap so she was covered from waist to mid-calf.

  “That should keep you warm enough until we get the new shirt on you.” He scooted Raven forward in the seat a little and accessed the damage to the T-shirt she wore. He’d cut a section near the wound but it was still snug enough it would be difficult for her to get off. “I noticed you seem to be having trouble raising your arms.”

  She gave a slight nod. “They’re sore, and I’m pretty pathetic all over.”

  “Weak from fever isn’t pathetic,” he told her. “The shirt is garbage anyway. It’s covered in blood and I already cut some of it to get to the wound. I’ll just cut it all the way off.”

  He grabbed the scissors from the first aid kit and cut away the rest of the shirt so Raven didn’t have to raise her arms to get it off. The fabric fell away to reveal a white cotton sports bra. One strap was coated in blood. He’d been moving it aside to get to her wound, but decided it needed to go too.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Raven said, reading his mind.

  “Just this one strap,” he said, pulling the crusty strip of material away from her body. “This thing looks tight enough to stay on if I just cut this bloody portion off. It’ll be like one of those off-the-shoulder…” He made a gesture with his hands as he tried to think of the word he was looking for. Despite having walked his fair share of red carpets he wasn’t that into fashion.

  “Boulder holder?” Raven asked, eyebrow raised.