by Kate L. Mary
“Yes, really?” Mom said, and I turned my gaze her way to find an expression of betrayal on her face. “You’re going to let our daughter go back in there? After everything we’ve been through?”
“It ain’t up to me,” Dad said. “She’s an adult. Twenty. That’s how old you was when all this started, and you handled yourself. Megan can too, and if she wants to go in there she’ll go whether we tell her she can or not. You of all people should know that.”
“But we can try to talk some sense into her,” Mom argued.
Dad’s lips twitched, the first smile I’d seen on his face since we rescued him. “‘Cause that’s what you woulda done?”
Mom pressed her lips together, but it only took a second for her to sigh and shake her head. “No. I would have run off even as you were yelling for me to stay.”
Dad let out a little chuckle that made my insides ache for everything that had been taken from us. “I know. Trust me, I remember.”
“What about her leg?” Mom said, trying a different angle this time. “She was shot!”
“It grazed me,” I argued.
“The doc said it’s good,” Dad pointed out.
Mom exhaled and turned her gaze on me. “You have to promise to be careful. I can’t lose you, not when I’ve finally been given the chance to heal. Understand?”
“I will, Mom.” I wanted to roll my eyes—like I planned on being reckless and stupid—but I knew she needed to say it for her own benefit, not for mine.
“Okay, then,” she said.
She turned her gaze back to Margot, but not before reaching over Dad so she could slip her hand into my free one.
We buried Helen in the settlement’s cemetery. It was under a large live oak tree, the gnarled branches long and the leaves thick enough to shade the area from the oppressive Georgia sun. There weren’t a lot of us gathered, just our small group and a handful of people from Senoia, like Jada, Bonnie, and Max. Dragon had dug the grave himself, refusing to let Donaghy and Angus help even though they’d offered, and then he had carried Helen’s body out and laid it in the hole.
She was wrapped in a white sheet, which I was thankful for. I hadn’t known the woman that long, but now that I knew her history, how she’d saved my uncle and worked so hard to right the wrongs Star had inflicted on this world, I had a deep respect for her and the person she’d been.
Dragon stood with his arms crossed, staring down into the grave as he spoke. “Most people who were alive when the virus was released lost a lot. Husbands and wives, parents and children. I had none of that though, so when the world ended and started over, my life didn’t seem that different. Back then I’d worked as a bouncer in a shitty little bar in Atlanta, and that’s where I was while the world was dying. There were others there too, people who like me had had nothing to lose and chose to take refuge in a bottle of booze rather than die alone at home. The owner was gone by then, as were most of the employees, and so I took over the job of pouring drinks while I waited for my time to come.
“It didn’t though, and I stayed there in that bar long after all the patrons had died off. After the zombies came, and even after the CDC began their reconstruction of Atlanta. Dragon’s Lair was the first bar open in the entertainment district, and in the new world that had been created I was a wealthy man. I knew, just like many of us did in those days, that Star was more interested in grabbing power than he was in fixing things, but I didn’t care because I was doing well.
“Then I met Amira.” He looked up and I followed his gaze to Jim, whose expression looked tortured at the mention of this woman I’d never before heard of. “When she told me what she’d overheard in the CDC, about how Angus James was still alive, I can’t say that I believed her all that much. There were all kinds of rumors going around the city in those days. Even when she died I wasn’t convinced, despite what Jim said. It wasn’t until Helen showed up in my bar that I really began to grasp the reality of what was happening inside the CDC. It wasn’t until I met her that I started to care about anything other than myself.
“Helen changed me. She made me a better person, not just because of my efforts to overthrow Star, but because she helped me care about other people for the first time in my entire life. I didn’t have a good childhood, didn’t have people who loved me and the world that I knew back then was ruthless and selfish, but Helen changed all that. She made my life better.” Dragon paused and took a deep breath. “I’ll miss her every day for the rest of my life, but I know that she died for something she believed in. She died trying to make up for the part she’d played in all this, trying to make the world better. Because that’s who she was.”
Angus held Glitter as she sobbed, and my own eyes weren’t even a little dry. I leaned against Donaghy, focusing on the steady beat of his heart as Dragon nodded once and then grabbed a shovel. Then he began to fill the hole, dropping shovelful after shovelful of dirt onto Helen’s body while the rest of us stood in silence.
When he once again refused help, people slowly began to shuffle away. Donaghy and I did as well, knowing that Dragon wanted to be alone. That he needed to do this himself.
It was early evening already, and I couldn’t wrap my brain around where the day had gone. Most of it had been taken up by filling everyone in on what had happened inside New Atlanta, and then on discussions of what was going to happen next. Angus had enlisted the help of The Church, just like we’d suspected, and even though it made all of us a little uneasy, we all knew we were out of options.
I was exhausted by the time we made it back into the house, so I lead Donaghy upstairs, ignoring the look Dad shot my way. He was the one who’d told Mom that I was an adult, so it was time he took that to heart. Plus, at the moment I needed not only to rest, but also to be with Donaghy. We’d been up for over twenty-four hours, and even though adrenaline had kept me going until now, I felt as if I’d suddenly hit a wall.
When we were alone in the bedroom I’d occupied since coming to Senoia, I slipped onto the bed and pulled Donaghy with me. My injured calf and palm throbbed, but I’d been working hard not to let anyone know because I didn’t want anyone arguing with me when I volunteered to go back into Atlanta. Which was something I needed to discuss with Donaghy. As tired as I was, I knew this couldn’t wait.
“I’m going,” I said when he’d settled down next to me.
Donaghy’s mouth dropped open and for a moment it seemed like he didn’t know what to say. Then he shook his head. “No, you’re not.”
“This isn’t just about you. You killed Jackson, but Star is still alive. I know what he’s done to the entire world, but do you have any idea what he’s done to my family? Do you understand what we’ve been through over the last twenty years? My uncle, my sister, my dad. Think about what he did to us. Do you really think I can sit back and do nothing?”
His resolve wavered, I could see it in his icy blue eyes, but it only took a moment for him to shake his head again. “You’re hurt.”
“It’s a graze.” I waved to my leg, using the hand that had been cut. “I can get through it.”
Donaghy clenched his hands into fists like he was trying to maintain control. After a second, he relaxed and scooted closer to me. His hands, which had been tense only a moment ago, now slid up my arms at a feather soft rate. His touch sent a shiver shooting through me, bringing gooseflesh up on every inch of my exposed skin. The way his fingertips grazed over the bumps reminded me of a blind man trying to read a book, how every touch of his hands against the paper was necessary so he could absorb the entire story. Donaghy did that now, sweeping his hands up, his palms flat, his fingers brushing the underside of my arms. It was like he was trying to memorize how I felt at this moment, like he wanted to carry the feeling with him for the rest of his life.
“How are you feeling?” The words nearly stuck in my throat and I had to swallow before I could get anything else out. “Can you feel it? Can you feel anything happening?”
He shook his head, but it was
slow and unconvincing. “No.” The word was ragged and painful, like it had to rip its way out of him. “A little.”
My stomach clenched like the words had somehow wrapped themselves around my insides. “Does it hurt?”
“No.”
He didn’t elaborate, and I couldn’t ask more if I wanted to stay focused on the task in front of us. Which I did. We had a job, we needed to get back into the city and take Star out for good. That was what I needed to focus on once we headed out, not Donaghy. We had time, or at least I had to convince myself of that. I knew no matter what my feelings were right now, setting the world right had to be my number one priority.
“I’m going,” I said again.
Donaghy nodded in response, and even though it was hesitant, I could tell by the expression in his eyes that he was done arguing.
His gaze moved to my lips and I realized that he now had other things on his mind, things that we had both been thinking about before but had been unable to partake in thanks to the virus. He had been given the vaccine more than twelve hours ago. It had to have worked its way through him by now.
I knew we should be resting, getting sleep so we were ready and alert when we headed out to storm the CDC, but with Donaghy this close to me, with his body heat seeping inside me, I knew sleep would be impossible.
I moved closer, my sights set on his lips, but he jerked away. “It might not be safe.”
“You said yourself that you felt better,” I lifted an eyebrow at him. “Was it a lie?”
He shook his head. “No, but I don’t want to risk infecting you.”
I moved so I was on my knees in front of him and grabbed the hem of my shirt, pulling it up before he had time to stop me. When I’d tossed it aside Donaghy’s eyes moved over me hungrily, taking in my bare flesh.
“You won’t infect me,” I whispered before moving closer, this time hitting the mark and pressing my lips to his.
His mouth was warm against mine, and soft. It felt even better than I remembered, and when his hands moved up my back, so did the feel of his skin against mine. The calluses on his palms were a sign of the hard life he’d had, but they were also one of the things I loved about him. They illustrated his strength, his perseverance.
“Meg—” His voice was ragged, but I silenced him by running my tongue across his bottom lip.
“I’m not going to let you talk me out of it,” I said, already reaching for the button on his pants. “Not this time.”
His gaze held mine as I undid his jeans, and when I reached inside with my uninjured hand, he let out a low groan. That was all it took for his resolve to shatter, and in seconds I was on my back with him hovering over me, my hand working him over as his lips blazed a fiery trail across my skin. He pulled the strap of my bra aside so he could kiss my shoulder and down my chest, finally moving the cup to reveal my breast. When his lips closed over my nipple, I let out a gasp that was much too loud considering how many people were in this house, but I didn’t care. I didn’t care who heard or who knew, because I only had a short time left with this man and I was determined to get as much out of it as possible.
We kissed and touched and explored one another as we undressed. My clothes suddenly felt like a prison that I had to break out of, and it wasn’t until we were both naked and he was on top of me that I felt any kind of relief. Even that wasn’t enough though, because I wanted him closer, needed him inside me.
“I need you,” I whispered against his lips, lifting my hips up to meet his.
Donaghy groaned again, his mouth attacking mine as he shifted his weight. He broke the kiss as he slid into me, his gaze holding mine like he needed to see my expression.
Once he was inside, his mouth covered mine again. His movements were torturously slow, as if he wanted to drag this out forever. I pulled him closer, kissed him deeper, wrapped my legs around his waist as the need to have him closer to me grew, not caring that my calf and hand throbbed, not caring because I needed him more than I’d ever needed anyone.
This was only the second time we’d had sex, and the first time had been nothing compared to this. Nothing compared to the slow build of ecstasy, to the special attention Donaghy seemed to give every inch of me, to the way he dragged it out. Even after I’d reached climax, he didn’t finish. Not even after I’d come down from the high. Instead, he stopped so he could kiss me, his tongue dancing over mine. When he started to move again the strokes were long and slow, torturous in their unhurried pace. I felt drunk in my ecstasy, high on him, and desperate in my need to keep him with me.
When he finally began to move faster, he held onto me like the same thoughts had entered his mind, like if he just clung to me hard enough this moment would never end. But the end came too quickly, was too sudden and sharp and painful. It brought tears to my eyes, making me feel like a fool, and I found myself pressing my face against his sweaty chest, trying to hide my tears because I had no right to cry when he was the one who was going to die.
“Hey,” he whispered, brushing the damp hair off my face. “Stop. It’s okay.”
I shook my head because I couldn’t stop and it wasn’t okay, and the tears only came harder.
He tried for a moment to get me to sit up and talk to him, but when I refused he just held me and let me cry. I needed it. Between the lack of sleep and the emotional journey of getting into the CDC to save my family, as well as the losses we’d racked up and the knowledge that it wasn’t over, I was due for a good cry.
I woke with a start, drenched in sweat and unsure of where I was. Only the heavy breathing of Donaghy brought me back to the present, but even then I wasn’t sure if everything had actually happened or if it had been a dream. Had we really saved Dad and Margot? Could Jackson really be dead?
I tried to convince myself that none of it had been a dream, but it was all too unreal and I suddenly felt desperate to see my family with my own eyes. Careful not to wake Donaghy, I rolled out of bed and stumbled in the blackness for my clothes.
The hallway was dark and the wood floor creaked under my feet as I made my way to the stairs. When Donaghy and I had come up, Mom and Dad had still been downstairs with Margot and I had no doubt in my mind that they would still be there. The light that penetrated the darkness when I reached the first floor seemed to confirm it, and when I stepped into the living room the scene I was greeted with wasn’t much different than what I’d expected.
Margot was asleep on the couch still, her head resting in Mom’s lap, who was also out. Dad, however, was awake and sitting in a chair across from them, his gray eyes focused on his wife and daughter like he couldn’t stand the thought of missing even a moment.
When I stepped further into the room, he looked up with a start. “Shit.”
“Sorry,” I whispered, crossing the room to him. “Did I scare you?”
He held his hand out to me and I went to him, taking it before perching on the arm of the chair. “Don’t take much these days.”
I glanced toward Margot and my heart constricted. “Has she spoken yet?”
“No.” Dad shook his head. “She will. We gotta have faith.”
I’d never thought faith was a necessity, but after everything that had happened, I couldn’t help clinging to it now. Everything else had worked out, why shouldn’t this?
“What about you?” I asked. “How are you feeling?”
“I’m good.” He patted my leg absentmindedly.
Dad’s gaze was still on the couch, but I was looking him over. His face was so beaten and bruised that he didn’t look much like himself at the moment, and even though the swelling on his eye had gone down, it was still dark purple. He had a cut on his lip, right above the scar on his chin, the one he’d had for as long as I could remember.
I reached out and touched it. “Where did you get this scar? You’ve never told me.”
He tore his gray eyes from the couch and focused on me. “It ain’t a very nice story.”
“There are a lot of stories like that. It
doesn’t mean I don’t deserve to know them.”
This time, I was thinking about the things Jim had told me, and the stuff about my biological mother that Angus had alluded to, and somehow Dad seemed to know that I wasn’t talking about the scar anymore.
“What do you wanna know?” he asked.
“Why did my mom change her name to Ginny?”
“It was her real name,” Mom said, and I turned to find her eyes open and focused on me. “Her real name was Virginia Lucas, Ginny. She changed it to Hadley Lucas when she moved to California to start acting.”
“Why did she change it back? Angus told me something happened to her. In Vegas.”
I looked between Mom and Dad, giving them a moment to decide what to tell me. I had a right to know, but I also knew that it might not be an easy thing for them to talk about, even after all these years.
After a second, Mom shifted, moving Margot’s head so she could slide out from under her. She stretched when she stood, and even though I knew she was probably sore, I also thought she might be buying herself time. Her back cracked and she made a face, but then grabbed a chair and pulled it over so she was sitting in front of Dad and me.
“It isn’t an easy thing to talk about,” she said when she had taken a seat. “It might be hard to hear, too.”
“I’m twenty. I’m not a child.”
“Some things are even hard for adults to hear,” Mom whispered.
I looked toward Dad, expecting him to be on my side, but his gaze was focused on the floor. The expression of pain on his face gave me pause, but I knew that even if I walked away now, I’d always wonder what had happened.
“I want to know,” I said after a few seconds of heavy silence.
Mom nodded. “It happened during the early days of the outbreak. We were at a hospital looking for supplies when your mom and I got separated from Angus and your dad.” She nodded to Dad. “This father, not Jon. We didn’t know Jon yet, but we met him that day.”
A chill ran up my spine at her tone.