Dead Soil (Book 2): Dead Road

by Apostol, Alex

  As sleep crept slowly over his brain, visions of his wife blurred with reality. He saw the wrinkles around her mouth as she smiled with all she had in her, that perfect smile that sent his soul soaring. The time she told him she was pregnant with their first child. That was the happiest day of his life next to their wedding day. Then, came the worst day, when he found her parents hovering over her bloodied body, digging their hands into her stomach and shoving her insides into their decrepit mouths.

  His eyes shot open, though he wouldn’t have known it. The room was still completely dark, not even a sliver of light shone through the underneath of the doorway. Rapidly, his chest rose and fell in great heaves. He hadn’t realized he’d fallen asleep or that he was dreaming about the day his wife was taken from him. Guilt settled in his stomach, churning his insides around painfully. He had been at the hospital when everything fell apart and the world turned upside down, finishing up his shift while his wife prepared to tell her parents about their oncoming joy of being grandparents. If he had been home, could he have saved her? Would she, and their child, be with him today? Those questions plagued his every thought and decision.

  It was why he clung so tightly to Olivia. She wasn’t the first child he found after the great turn either, though she’s lived the longest. It seemed everyone Lee cared for was taken from him in a whirl of ripping nails and tearing teeth. There came a point when he felt broken inside. He physically couldn’t handle losing another person he came to care for. That was why Lee didn’t talk to anyone, didn’t learn about who he was traveling with and didn’t let them get to know him. If he kept his distance, his heart wouldn’t be torn in two when they inevitably left him. But the night Olivia threw herself into his lap and squeezed her arms around his neck as tight as she could, hot tears streaming from her big brown eyes onto his thick neck, he had no choice. He cared for her. And he would do whatever it took to protect her and keep her alive. He remembered her from the old world, when she’d come to the emergency room after falling off her sled on one of the dunes at the National Lakeshore.

  The friendship between Imani and Olivia scared him, even if it was just a little. Imani was not from their group. He had no idea who she was or what she was about, or if she would put Olivia in danger just to play the hero. All this worrying gave him indigestion. He decided right then and there that he was going to try to learn more about Imani, and if Olivia decided to stay at the bunker for good after they returned from Chicago, then he was going to stay with her.

  Another one he didn’t like the looks of was that Rowan Brady. He was too tall, too trim, and too good looking, for this world or any other. Rowan reminded Lee of Prince Charming, if Prince Charming wore a leather jacket, tight jeans, and worked as hard as he could not to work for the betterment of the group. He was lazy, he was a follower, and his eyes were way too big for Olivia. Though he was at least fifteen years older than her, that didn’t stop him from putting them together at every opportunity while they were staying at the apartment. Olivia would carry his weight while he joked and made goo-goo eyes at her. They would whisper things to each other, giggle, and let their eyes linger too long when they thought the other wasn’t looking.

  Why couldn’t Rowan turn his attention to Carolyn Bock? The girl was more his age and clearly wanting the protection of a man, though she had come more into her own through the lessons she received from the departed Gale Lewis. Lee wished Gale, of all people, was still there with them to help him. Whenever she saw Rowan turning his attention to Olivia too much, she wasn’t afraid to call him out loudly and publicly, his face always turning a deep shade of red. It delayed whatever he was planning, reminding him that someone was always watching him. Now, that responsibility fell on Lee to try to keep that no-good American boy away from the one person left who held a place in his heart.

  Lee felt no physical attraction toward Olivia, and almost punched Rowan for suggesting it months before. He didn’t protect or keep a close watch over her because he wanted her for himself, now or in the future. No one would ever be able to replace his wife in his broken heart. Olivia was only a child to Lee, a teenager. But he knew not all men held the same values he held. He knew some men would see the subtle mounds of breast under her sweatshirt, the curves of her muscular legs, the flow of her straight chocolate-colored hair down her back, and be taken in by her tomboyish beauty. Not only was she pleasant to the eye, she was formidable. If someone had doubts about their own survival skills, Lee could easily see them latching onto Olivia for support and protection. He couldn’t let her be used like that. Not ever.

  As his thoughts swirled faster and faster around his head, he began to feel dizzy. He turned his heavy body over to lay on his right side, tucking his arm under his head for extra support. All was quiet in the dark bunker as far as he could tell, or the thickness of the door made it appear so. Lee’s heart sped up. What could be going on out there that he didn’t know about? The thought gnawed away at his brain until he couldn’t stand it any longer. He rose up from the dusty old bed and cracked open the heavy steel door to peer out into the common area.

  XII

  Christine brought her new furry friend down underground with her, cuddling the black cat close up under her neck, resting it on her shoulder, holding it in one hand as she pet it with the other. She cooed soft words to it as she made her way down the dark tunnel toward the common area. She didn’t notice Zack sitting on the couch with Mac, deep in discussion, or anything else going on around her. The bunker was quiet, for the most part. Only a few people walked the circular area, finishing up the last of their chores for the day.

  “How about we get comfy in one of these rooms?” she whispered to the cat, who purred in return.

  She walked up to the first door Mac had pointed to when he told them which rooms were empty. She was still talking to the cat softly and letting her chin brush against its soft fur when she opened the door. The room was pitch black inside. Soft moans came from within.

  Quickly, Christine dropped the cat to the ground as she pulled the travel-size flashlight from the pocket of her jacket. It shone a bright blue-white, revealing the source of the moaning and banging going on within.

  “Oh! I’m so sorry!” Christine said as she closed her eyes and turned away from Olivia and Rowan, both of whom were scrambling to cover their bodies with the itchy wool blanket that lay at the foot of the mattress. “I should have knocked. I’m sorry!” She went to shut the door.

  “Wait, please don’t tell Lee,” Olivia whispered, her eyes showing the whites around her brown irises.

  “Sure, yeah, you got it,” Christine said as fast as she could and walked away.

  She heard the soft clank of the steel door shutting behind her. If there was any doubt about those rooms being soundproof, it had been wiped out of Christine’s mind. Her feet carried her toward the middle of the room just to get away from what she’d seen.

  A soft mew resounded behind her.

  “Oh right, sorry buddy,” she said as she turned and scooped up the cat from the dirt floor. “How about we just sit on the couch and relax. Not sure I want to try another room just yet.”

  She heard Liam’s familiar laugh echoing in her head. Without much effort, she pushed it out until it was gone completely. No matter what it took, constant vigilance and looking crazy to everyone around her, she would not let the voice of Liam continue to run her life anymore.

  She was halfway to the clump of couches in the center of the room before she noticed Zack sitting there. He was alone now, resting his elbows on his knees and holding his head, deep in thought it seemed. When she plopped down next to him he gave a small start, sucking in a deep breath.

  “You’re jumpy,” Christine said flatly as she resumed nuzzling and petting her new friend on her chest.

  “Yeah, well…wait, who’s this?” Zack’s eyes rested on the black lump of fur as its nose raised up to Christine’s to give it a little tap and sniff.

  She smiled
at the sweet gesture of trust and let out a faint escape of air from her nose, almost a laugh. “Not sure what to call him yet. I found him in the barn.”

  Zack let out a sigh and let his heavy body rest onto the soft back of the tattered couch. A puff of dust shot up from behind his head and swirled in the air before dissipating. He considered telling Christine that keeping that cat was a bad idea. There was no way she was going to be able to take care of it, protect it, feed it. Supplies were eventually going to run out and he didn’t want her deciding on her emotions if she should starve to death to save this new love in her life. He also didn’t want her distracted in a fight with the dead because she was worried the cat might get eaten. But he held his tongue when he saw the genuine smile that spread across her pink lips. She whispered “You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” to the black cat and rubbed her cheek along its back, warming Zack’s heart a bit.

  The urge to tell Zack what she’d just seen between Olivia and Rowan surged through Christine, but she repressed it. Of course, a seventeen-year-old girl should not be sleeping with a man in his thirties, and she would have spoken out loudly against it if the world had still been as it was before. Now it seemed trivial. Maybe it was good to have a fun, pleasurable distraction from the chaos above their heads. She considered what Olivia had said about not telling Lee and the urge to tell Zack again bubbled up. Could it be the girl was sleeping with both older men? The fact that such soap opera drama could happen in the midst of a zombie plague seemed almost silly. She let out another huff of a laugh and pushed the ideas from her mind. It was none of her business anyway. What was the worst that could come of it? Feelings might get hurt, but that was much better than having your flesh caught between the teeth of a rotting corpse.

  “You seem distracted,” Zack said, sitting upright again so his shoulders were level with Christine’s. “Something on your mind?”

  “You mean someone in my mind?”

  Zack’s cheeks reddened a little. He let his head loll to the side as he gave a crooked, pitiful, half-hearted smile. “I just want to make sure you’re okay. You’re my friend.”

  Christine nodded her head and let the muscles in her face release the tension that’d been building up. “It’s okay. I get it. I would be worried it were happening to you, too.”

  “Thanks,” Zack said. “Glad you understand.”

  “You should really tell him about Olivia and Rowan and what they were doing all alone in that dark room. I bet he’d get a kick out of it. It might even help take his mind off of whatever it was he was just talking to Mac about,” Liam’s voice said, so crystal-clear that it made her jump in her seat.

  “Everything okay?” Zack asked, leaning forward to look into her face.

  Her eyes darted as she turned to look all around them. That time it didn’t sound like a voice in her head. It sounded like he was right behind her, speaking into her ear, so real she could have sworn she felt his hot breath on her. When she assured herself it was nothing but a trick of her mind, she let her rigid body soften back into the couch. After all, back at the apartment that was how talking to him always felt. It’d only been a while that he stopped showing himself and stopped speaking directly.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said, working hard to make her voice sound confident and casual. “Just thought I heard something strange. Probably one of the others shuffling around. This place is so big and the sound bounces off these circular walls. It kind of messes with me, you know?”

  “Yeah I know what you mean.”

  The two rested back, their shoulders pressed against each other’s as they let their minds be consumed by their thoughts, forgetting entirely the other was there.

  The cat mewed softly, but Christine didn’t hear it. When her hand didn’t come to rub between its ears, it pulled itself upward till its nose was touching hers, its yellow eyes staring right at her.

  “Mew.”

  Christine’s hand rose slowly and stroked the cat on the top of its head. Complacent, it settled back down onto her chest and started purring again.

  “I just walked in on Olivia and Rowan having sex.” Christine’s voice sounded distant, like it wasn’t even hers.

  Zack gave no reaction to what she said, lost in his own world. If it wasn’t for his head nodding ever so slightly, she would have thought he hadn’t heard her at all.

  “I’m going ahead to Chicago alone,” he responded.

  Christine nodded her head as well, though her mind raced with a million thoughts. How could he do this to her? The only reason he even had a reason to go to Chicago was because she presented him with the journal and told him the solution might be inside. If anyone should go to Chicago it was her.

  “He doesn’t want you to go because he doesn’t think you’re capable of staying alive long enough to get the journal there. He doesn’t trust you, even though you’ve worked your butt off the last few months to prepare yourself for just this. You can handle that bow better than he ever could. Your aim is impeccable. And didn’t you take riding lessons all throughout your childhood?” Liam’s voice spoke softly to her, and even though she couldn’t see him in that moment, she knew there was a grin moving across his lips. “You could get there before anyone ever knew you were gone.”

  “I think I’m going to turn in for the night,” Christine said, but she stayed put, hesitant to open another room.

  Just then, a woman about fifty years in age walked by, her reddish wavy hair stuck to her face as she attempted to carry ten jars of preserves to the other side of the bunker in her two thin arms.

  Christine jumped up. “Here, let me help you,” she said as she reached for the jars.

  The woman maneuvered the situation carefully, shifting the jars so none would fall and break on the dirt floor. Her face was tense, her thin brows pulled together in concentration. Finally, she had successfully shifted half the jars over to Christine.

  The woman let out a huff of a laugh. “Thanks,” she said, starting for the pantry shelves again. She looked over her shoulder to make sure Christine was following. They placed the jars carefully on the shelf.

  The woman let out a sigh and wiped the dampness from her forehead. “Thanks again,” she said with her hands on her hips.

  “No problem,” Christine said with a friendly smile that didn’t feel forced for once. She stuck out her hand. “I’m Christine.”

  The woman wiped her hand on her khaki cargo pants and then shook Christine’s. “I’m Karen. I’m kind of like the acting manager of the food here, though I don’t know how I got saddled with that job.” Karen let go of Christine’s hand and turned to leave back the way she came.

  “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know which rooms are still free, would you, Karen?”

  The redhead ran a hand over her outdated haircut, brushing her bangs back till they stuck straight out. “I think the fifth one, right there,” she said, pointing to a door two down from Olivia and Rowan.

  “Thanks,” Christine offered with a smile.

  She went back to the black kitten on the couch. Zack’s fingers rested on its delicate spine and tickled absently as he leaned back with his eyes closed. Christine reached down and picked up the little fluff-ball.

  “Okay, now I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

  Zack raised a hand to wave her off, but she was already heading toward her privacy.

  XIII

  The next evening, Dan stood by the tall metal shelving units along the common room’s east wall as Gretchen and Carolyn sorted through the preservatives and categorized everything. The two women had grown to like the safe, simple life inside the bunker and took well to helping out wherever they could. Dan, however, couldn’t seem to muster up the strength to pitch in. His mind was too consumed and clouded.

  “Can you hand me that can there?” Carolyn asked with her hand outstretched. “Dan?” she asked when he didn’t move. “DAN!”

  The young man didn’t startle or move a muscle. His ey
es were focused on the dirt floor, as if the dust circulating in the air above it told a story only he could see. Gretchen set down the two jars in her hand and walked over to where Dan rested his back against the wall. She placed a hand on his arm, capturing his attention once more.

  “Is everything all right?” she asked in her most gentle, nurturing voice.

  Dan snorted through his nostrils, closed his large brown eyes and shook his head with defeat. “No, nothing is all right,” he said quietly, though the anger was still distinct in his voice. “I killed Anita. She was my friend and I killed her. She died right in front of me.” What had once been a declaration had now become his mantra, his life story. There was nothing more left inside Dan but the gnawing guilt of what he had done.

  “It was an accident, Dan. I know you two were close and you loved her dearly, but you didn’t mean to shoot her. It wasn’t your fault. You have to forgive yourself and let this go,” Gretchen urged him, though she could tell from the long look on his face that it was falling on deaf ears.

  Gretchen took a step back and elbowed Carolyn in the arm as she passed by, as if to tag the other girl in for round two. Carolyn set down the jar of honey she’d been handling and turned to Dan. She didn’t reach out a hand to touch him as Gretchen had, but placed hers in the pocket of her jacket just as Dan had placed his. Her eyes found the spot that seemed to capture Dan’s focus and settled in.