“Nina?”
Carter’s face comes into view shortly before his hand does. His thick fingers wrap around my forearm and drag me from my hiding place before slamming me up against the wall so forcefully I think I hear a click of bones.
“I’m okay, I’m okay,” I mumble, my eyes finally getting used to the brightness of the room and taking in the view around me.
Blood. Everywhere. I swallow, my jaw falling open as I try to comprehend the carnage. Bodies lie still in their beds, blood soaking their sheets like they pissed themselves. The splat of brain matter and bone is slashed across the walls like graffiti artwork. Dead. All of them. Every person that had been in here with me.
And on one of the bodies is the deader. The only deader in the room. Its face is already gray its eyes cloudy with death, its mouth hanging open with partly chewed flesh still trapped between its jagged teeth.
“Move out of the way, Carter!”
Masterson’s voice is loud and clear, the deadly intent obvious as he raises his rifle in my direction and stomps toward me.
“She’s okay. She’s not bitten.” Carter holds my arms by my sides, his eyes grazing over my body and making certain of that fact. “She’s fine.”
“I have orders to kill everything and everyone. Now move!”
Carter’s face creases in frustration. “I said she’s not bitten!” He turns around, his body shielding mine. And I cower behind him, glad for the protection. Carter pulls out his pistol and aims it at Masterson. “Back off.”
“You going to shoot me, Carter? I’m one of yours! We’re on the same team!”
From my view behind Carter, Masterson looks crazed—his eyes wild, his face vicious. He looks bloodthirsty.
“She’s on our team too. She hasn’t been bitten. Now lower your weapon.” Carter’s aim is steady, not a single shake to his arm, but Masterson’s grip is just as firm.
The doors swing open and Colonel Smith marches in, looking exceptionally frazzled. “Jesus Christ, men! Put your cocks away and back the fuck down!”
He surveys the room, moving forward and glancing at each bed until he reaches Masterson and Carter.
“I said, put your damned weapons down, both of you.”
Masterson immediately lowers his weapon, but Carter doesn’t. The colonel’s gaze finds mine and he frowns harder, his gaze traveling to Carter.
“Is she infected? Bitten?” he asks.
“No, sir,” Carter replies firmly and without hesitation. “Not a scratch on her and no infection present. Just the sprained wrist from killing the zombie earlier today.”
I know that he mentions me killing the zombie earlier to show my strength and my use, yet the memory only serves to make me fearful again.
The colonel nods and looks across at Masterson. “Clean this mess up. No more fuck-ups, you understand me?”
“Yes, sir,” Masterson replies with annoyance.
The colonel starts to walk away with a shake of his head.
“Sir, what about Nina?” Masterson adds on. “Should I kill her? Just to be certain.”
My heart rams against my ribcage, and I wonder if Carter will mind if I puke down his back. The colonel pauses and my hands move of their own accord, clinging to Carter’s sides.
“If she’s not bitten she’s cleared to go.” He glances back at Carter. “You make sure she’s checked, and I mean thoroughly.” And with that he marches away and I breathe a sigh of relief.
“Sir.” Carter nods his head firmly as the colonel leaves the room and I remind myself to breathe.
Masterson turns to look at Carter again. “It’s on your head, asshole,” he snaps before walking away and barking orders to get the room cleared of the dead bodies.
Carter finally lowers his weapon and turns around, my grasp on him loosening as he does.
“You okay?” he asks again.
I nod. My internal anxiety raging and raging and raging… I nod again. “Yes. I’m not bitten, I promise you, I’m not.” I stutter the words out fearfully, my gaze leaving his and going to Masterson, who continues to glare at me over the tops of Carter’s shoulders.
His eyes soften. “We’ll go somewhere private. I’ll need to check you properly.”
I nod in agreement, because right now I’m grateful that he was here to stop me from ending up like one of the corpses that are currently being dragged out of the room by their feet.
Carter guides me out of the room, his pistol still in his hand and his body shielding mine from the other soldiers. I watch the men drag the bodies from their beds—bodies that were strapped down and therefore had no chance to escape either gunshot or deader bite.
Bodies with no sign of infection or turning, and I realize that those soldiers were sent in here with the orders to slaughter everyone they could, just to be certain. And I fully comprehend that Carter just saved my life in more ways than one.
Chapter Seventeen.
Carter leads me across the courtyard and unlocks a door before guiding me inside the small building and down a short hallway. I have never been in this building, but I recognize it as a science room of some sort. As we move down the hallway, he puts his pistol back in its holster and I watch the sway of the rifle across his back.
Tables are lined up with various jars and tubes on them. Microscopes line one row of tables, and the main wall is covered by sheets that are filled with numbers and words I don’t really understand. Carter leaves me by the doorway while he goes around the room and turns on several small lamps until the room is illuminated by false glow. He comes back to my side, takes my hand, and leads me further into the room
“What is this place?” I ask, still taking in the room.
He finally holsters his gun and unbuttons his jacket before releasing a sigh that seems to carry the weight of the world.
“It’s where they try to work out how to save the world.” He sounds so tired, so thoroughly exhausted by this world and everything in it. “Nina, I need you to strip.” His voice is soft, its usual coarseness evaporated in the air. “I need to check you over properly and make sure that you have no signs of infections anywhere.” He can’t meet my eyes and I know that he’s embarrassed.
“Carter, I’m okay. I was checked over when they were strapping my wrist up.” My arms wrap around my middle, and I don’t know why I’m arguing about it, because I know that it has to happen. Colonel Smith made it an order, and Carter follows orders to the letter.
He shrugs and swallows. “Everyone in that room was checked and no one seemed to be infected.” He looks up and finally meets my gaze, his resolve firm. “So I’m sorry, but I need you to strip now.”
I nod, feeling embarrassment crawl up my spine. But I get it, I do, because I had seen the fear and loathing on Masterson’s face. That man will do anything to stay alive, even sending innocent people to their deaths, and as such I need to prove that I have nothing to hide—no bites and no infections. Only then will I fully have Carter’s protection. I hate that I need it, but I do.
“Okay,” I mumble, and I begin to undress, first pulling my sweater over my head and then kneeling down to take my boots off. Next come the pants and then my T-shirt, until I’m standing in front of Carter in just my dirty underwear.
My hair lies dirty and knotty around my shoulders, a tangle of split ends and grime. Carter hasn’t looked up yet; his eyes have remained downcast to try and save me from some of the embarrassment, but they finally lift. His gaze grazes up my legs until it reaches the apex of my thighs, pausing briefly with a sharp intake of his breath. His gaze travels further, up and over my hips and stomach, over my small breasts and up to my neck.
He takes a step forward, his right hand hesitantly lifting before coming back to his side. “I need you to turn around, please.”
I want to laugh at his politeness, at his embarrassment in all this. Because we’re two grown adults and this shouldn’t be so awkward, but it is. I turn slowly, my skin peppered with goose bumps. Silence eclipses the room as
he checks my body over for any signs of a bite or an infection—a cut or a scratch of any kind that might mean I am sick, or could get sick.
The air moves and I hear him take a hesitant step forward, and I flinch as one of his hands touches my back.
His breath is close to my neck when he speaks and I shiver from it. “I need you to take off your bra, okay?”
“Okay,” I reply quietly, my voice sounding tiny.
I reach around and unclasp my bra before sliding the straps down my shoulders and arms until it is just a thin piece of material in my tight grasp.
“And your panties. I’m sorry, Nina,” he says, and I want him to sound sorry, but he doesn’t sound sorry at all. His voice is thick and heavy, laden with lust, and I get it, I really do, because I feel something too.
I slide my panties down until they pool at my feet and then I stand there, naked and waiting, clenching my jaw tightly so my teeth don’t chatter. And I’m not even cold, yet I’m shaking, and I don’t even know anymore if it’s because I’m nervous, embarrassed, or afraid.
Carter’s hands find their way to my hair and I flinch when he touches me. Gently, carefully. “I need to lift your hair, okay?”
I nod once and he lifts my dark locks away from my shoulders, holding my hair in his grasp like a ponytail at the top of my head. The cool air touches the back of my neck and makes me shiver again.
There is nothing but silence in this room, barring the furious beating of both of our hearts, and I know just from the fact that he’s still standing there—so close to my naked body that he could wrap his arms around my midsection and nuzzle his mouth into my neck—I know that he wants to kiss me. But he doesn’t. He won’t.
Carter is a man of restraint, of careful planning and minimal risk-taking. He won’t kiss me unless I ask him to. Unless he knows that this is what I want—that he is what I want. He won’t risk the rejection.
So I grit my teeth and then I take a step away from him. He releases my hair, letting it fall back around my shoulders, and he doesn’t say anything but I can feel his disappointment all the same.
“Did you see everything you needed to?” I ask, taking a breath before turning around to face him. Because this was the point: for him to check my body, for him to see that I am healthy, that I am okay and not in any way infected. This was supposed to be the point, anyway, wasn’t it?
His eyes are full of heat and desire when they meet mine, his sculpted mouth turned down into a small frown. Carter nods and takes a step back from me, his gaze trailing over my bare breasts, where his pupils dilate before he continues examining the rest of my body. He finally looks at the floor with shame.
“Can I get dressed now?” I ask, and my voice is curt, probably curter than he expects it to be by the way he looks away shame faced. Anger, annoyance, irritation, any one of those emotions would have been more expected from me. But I’m tired, sad and mentally exhausted. I haven’t got any sass left in me. So I’m curt, and that’s the best emotion I can give right now for how I’m feeling.
He nods and walks to the doorway, turning his back to me to give me some privacy, which is a joke, really.
I dress quickly, hating putting back on the filthy pants with the bloodstained knees. But I do it; I put on my dirty clothes, and when I’m dressed I walk to stand by Carter’s side.
“What now?” I ask.
He turns his head to look at me, and his gray eyes look sad but he quickly covers it up with indifference. “We try to stay alive.” He lets his words hang in the air for a moment, his gaze examining the features of my face. “Tesrin came back while you were sleeping.”
My hearts stutters. “Is she okay?”
He nods. “She’ll be worrying about you. You should go check on her.” He walks out of the room, and when I follow him he locks the door behind us. We make our way along the hallway again and back outside. The sun is starting to rise, and everything seems just like it did yesterday, but so much has changed now.
Carter locks the door and turns to walk away. I grab hold of his arm and he stops and turns abruptly, his eyes hopeful.
“Thank you,” I say, and he nods because he knows what I’m about to say, “for saving my life back there.” I release him and turn to go and find Tesrin, feeling guilty for not wanting anything more than friendship from Carter, though I know that he needs more from me. But I can’t give him what he wants. He’s not Ben, and no one will ever replace my husband.
“Nina, you should know something.”
I turn back and see him grinding his jaw in indecision for a moment before finally speaking.
“Masterson, he’s putting plans into place, plans that will see civilians going back to their old jobs.”
I frown. “He’s such an asshole. Colonel Smith won’t agree to that—he needs us.”
“I’m not sure what’s going to happen yet, but I wouldn’t count on the colonel having the civilians’ backs. After last night, he’s not a big fan.” Carter looks around, making sure we’re all alone. “It was a civilian that was bitten, outside the gates while they were clearing. They didn’t tell anyone. And it was a civilian that led the horde to the gates.” He shakes his head like he’s tired of the whole thing, and I guess he is. I know I am.
“People make mistakes when they’re scared, Carter.” I’m trying my hardest not to get angry at him, because I know it’s not his fault, but I can’t help it.
“I know. That’s why—” he looks away from me, “that’s why I agree with him.”
“What?” I try to catch his eyes but he won’t look at me anymore. “You don’t mean that.”
“You’re not trained for this—none of you are. But we are. This is our job, this is what we do. We protect. Go and see your friend, I’ll let you know when I find out more.” He walks away from me, and I can’t help but wonder if his opinion would be the same if I’d let him kiss me. That maybe he would be in a different mindset if I hadn’t rejected him.
I head back to our room and find Tesrin inside. She’s sitting on her bed and her eyes look red and sore from crying. Her face is covered in smudges of dirt and dried blood, and as soon as she sees me she stands up and we throw our arms around each other, both of us sobbing with relief that the other is okay.
This is what friendship does to you. It makes you vulnerable. It makes you weak. But it makes it a life worth living. Because if we don’t have love or friendship, what do we have? We have nothing.
“Are you okay? What happened here?” Tesrin finally asks.
I pull her to sit down next to me on my bed. The other women in the room look over at us briefly, but they’re all too involved in retelling their own horror stories to care about us.
“We had an outbreak. Someone on clearing duty got bit, they didn’t tell anyone, and they turned and attacked people.” I’m holding her hand tightly, too tightly, but I can’t let go. “Carter said things are going to change now, that Masterson doesn’t want civvies doing the army’s jobs.”
She nods and agrees.
“So what happens then? If things go back to the way they were?”
“I don’t know.” She bites her bottom lip. “I doubt it’s going to be good for us, though.”
“But then what was the point? In any of this?” Frustration laces my words and I finally release her hand.
“The walls are up, we have enough food stores to get us through the winter—at least with careful rationing—and around the city has been cleared so we can see any hordes approaching. I guess we should be grateful that we got to help at all and that we still have this place. Last night could have been a lot worse, both inside and outside of the city. Maybe it is time to let them do their job again.”
I turn to look at her, a heavy frown etched across my face, and I finally see Tesrin. She’s not the same woman that went outside the walls yesterday, that’s for damn sure.
“What happened to you out there?” I ask, and the moment I ask, her eyes fill with tears.
She rubs at th
em and laughs.
“I’m sorry, I’m exhausted.” She takes a deep breath before speaking again. “We were attacked, by other humans. They were so angry, Nina, so violent. They were worse than the damned zombies. At least with zombies you know it’s not really their fault, but these men…they knew exactly what they were doing, and they enjoyed it.”
Her words hang in the air between us, because I have no idea what to say to that. I know people can be bad—I’m not stupid—but I still can’t imagine anything worse than the deaders. I think of Masterson and his desperation to stay alive at any costs, and a shudder runs through me.
“Nina, they were just killing for the sake of killing. We offered to give them everything—guns, ammo, our truck—but they didn’t want it. They just wanted to kill us.” Her bottom lip quivers and I pull her into another hug. Her arms tighten around me. “They laughed while they hacked up my friends—they fucking laughed! And then the zombies came and we all got separated when we ran.” Her body is shaking and I know that she’s crying. Her breath is hot on my neck and I can smell dried blood on both her clothes and mine.
“How many made it back, Tes?”
“Just me,” she replies, and then she cries even harder.
Chapter Eighteen.
It’s early in the morning; I can tell by the coolness in the air and the sound of everyone still sleeping, yet I am awake. I can’t sleep. Something is wrong—all wrong. I can feel it in my gut that changes are being made and that I’m not going to like them. That no one is going to like them. My grip on the civvies is tenuous and I know that soon enough it will be gone. I don’t mind that; I’m not a narcissistic control freak. What I do care about is that without direction, things will get chaotic and people will make stupid decisions.
I know that Colonel Smith knows all of this, because he’s not stupid either. That’s why he hired me in the first place. But he also won’t risk losing total control of this place, even if it means sacrificing any troublemakers.
I get up and slide my boots on; I can’t sleep anyway. I walk to the door and crack it open before slipping outside. The sun isn’t up yet, but it wants to be. It’s that point between night and day, where the sun and the moon are fighting for control. I look up into the sky and close my eyes, wishing for something that I know is pointless.
The Dead Saga: Odium 0.5 (Nina's Story) Page 12