by Angel Lawson
He steps close and loops a finger through my belt, tugging me into his chest. I’m still breathing hard from being scared out of my wits but the closeness calms me.
“Darlin’ I’m well aware that you don’t need a weapon to hurt me.” He stares at my lips, and before he can take this moment somewhere darker, I kiss him. To my relief he kisses me back.
“I’m sorry I’ve been a little distant lately,” he says, wrapping his arms around me.
“A little?”
He tilts his head. “Okay, a lot. It’s just—”
I put my hand on his chest and stop him. “I get it. Things have been hard. Emotionally draining. We’ve both had heavy stuff on our mind and it’s easy to get distracted and weighed down by the things we can’t control.”
Is that my way of apologizing or explaining what happened with Wyatt? I don’t know for sure but it’s the best I can do.
His hand settles on my hip. “For what it’s worth, I’m so very thankful you’re in my life. So thankful that you tolerate me and stick by my side.”
I snort. “It’s not like I’m a piece of cake.”
He sits on the edge of the table and I follow, wedging myself between his legs. He’s too tall this way, but I push up on my toes and press my lips to his again. He kisses me back and it’s sweet and soulful.
I take a moment to sink into him—away from the others and our mission. I take time to appreciate the warmth of Cole’s body, the weight of his hands and feel of his mouth. In moments like this we’re connected—the angst and stress washed away, but like every other moment in our life the good ones end quickly.
This time is no different.
“Patrols start in ten minutes.” Davis voice comes from a distance. “Cole, you have first shift.”
“Got it,” Cole replies, leaning his forehead on mine. “Be there in a minute.”
I play with the shaggy, curling hair on his neck and say, “That was a nice break. Thanks for chasing me.”
“I’ve been chasing you down for a long time now. Don’t think that’ll stop any time soon.”
“No?” I ask, because sometimes I’m really not sure.
With eyes hard as steel he replies, “No.”
Chapter 15
Davis sleeps like the dead, and it’s a testament to how exhausted I am that his snoring doesn’t keep me awake. He’s up the instant Cole comes in to swap shifts, wide-eyed and alert while I feel like I still need another twelve hours.
Cole and Parker take our places in the bed-nest and he gives my hand a squeeze before he lands face first on the still-warm pillows. Parker curls into a ball next to Jude, stealing part the musty afghan he found draped over the bannister in the back of the shop.
I slept with my boots on, an old habit from my early days on the road, and tug on a hoodie over my t-shirt. Fall is rushing toward winter and although there’s the weight of humidity in the air, it’s cool enough outside to see my breath.
“Do you think they’ll slow down in the winter?” I ask Davis, once we’re on the porch. “The Eaters?”
“They may,” he replies after a little thought. “If that scene from earlier today was any indication of how the elements and environment can change them, I’m hopeful maybe they won’t always be a problem.”
“That was weird.” I shiver, a little from the cold but mostly from remembering the clogged streets. “I wonder if that’s what bigger cities are like.”
“I don’t want to know.”
“Me either, but at some point Jane or someone else is going to have to deal with them, don’t you think? It seems like her plan right now is collecting and vaccinating survivors. Phase two must be eradicating the Eaters and reclaiming urban areas.”
I follow Davis down the steps and we walk around the side of the house to check on the SUV and make sure everything’s secure. Other than the sound of a bird calling in the night, the whole world feels still. “So that thing you said earlier,” I say. “About kids…”
“Yeah?” He tugs the back door, testing the lock. “What about them?”
“I didn’t know you had a family.”
He moves away from the door and along the back windows of the sun porch. I spot the mannequin pressed against the window and feel the embarrassment all over again. I think he’s not going to answer me but he finally says, “I had two kids—girls.”
Had.
I have no idea what to say—like, nothing, but to my surprise he continues. “My girlfriend got pregnant in high school. She was seventeen, I was eighteen. We were months from graduation. I loved her and she wanted to keep the baby, so we got married. I was a historically terrible student. College was never going to be part of the equation, so I enlisted.” He pushes aside some bushes and holds them back so I can pass. “We had some money and military housing. We had another baby. I thought things were good, you know?”
“Sure,” I say.
“About a year in, I applied to one of the Special Forces teams. When I graduated they assigned some of us to go a mission to Liberia. I thought it would be good experience—an adventure. Things went to hell down there, as you know. I got back from that mission and—the things I saw—they changed me. Those girls down there. The way they were treated by the rebels. I couldn’t help but think about my wife and daughters the whole time. I came back a different person. Moody and scared. I felt like I needed to do something. Fight harder and protect my family, but I just felt helpless.” He sighs. “Even before the world spun off its axis, my life had fallen apart.”
“What did you do?”
We’ve made our way back around the house and he sits on the front step. “I knew we’d been contracted out by a private group for that mission. I packed a bag, kissed my girls goodbye and left. I left everything. My house. My family. Even my career. I went AWOL, but I didn’t care. I walked in the front door of PharmaCorp and volunteered.” He cuts me a glance. “You sister welcomed me with open arms even though I was a wanted man.”
“She probably knew it didn’t matter by that point. The parasite had already started to spread.”
“Probably.”
“Do you know what happened to your wife and girls?”
He shakes his head. “No.”
“I’m sorry.” I want to tell him that maybe they’re okay but there’s no such thing as okay in this world anymore. There are just different levels of hell.
He gives me a tight but appreciative smile. “Thanks.”
I hear the distinct call of the same bird again, but this time closer. I look at Davis, his face barely visible in the night. “Do you know what that is? It sounds weird.”
“Oh that,” he says. “Yeah.” I watch in confusion as Davis stands and cups his hand over his mouth. He mimics the call back and before I can ask what’s happening there’s a rustling in the nearby bushes.
I jump to my feet and grip the weapon at my side.
“Dude, you can come out. It’s just me and Alex,” Davis says, shaking his head.
“Dude?” I ask, but I should have known. A figure, dressed in black, emerges from the edge of the property. Davis steps forward, meeting Wyatt halfway across the yard, and they shake hands. I don’t understand what’s happening here, but when do I ever when it comes to these two.
“I thought you’d never call back,” Wyatt says. He glances in my direction, eyes holding mine.
“Had to wait until the others were asleep inside. Plus that first call sounded ridiculous. You needed to wait.”
“Mine? Yours sounded like a dying parrot.”
“What are you doing here?” I cut in, keeping my voice to a low whisper.
“Hello Alexandra, nice to see you.”
I rest my hands on my hips. “Answer me.”
He removes his gloves and scratches chin. A piece of shrubbery is sticking out of his hair. I let it stick. “I’ve got some important intel on your mission.”
Davis frowns. “What’s happening?”
“They know you’re coming. Haye
s set up a separate team to investigate after the slaughter of the Fighters and missing survivors at the evacuation center. They know it was you guys. ”
“We have an alternative for that scenario. We knew it was possible that we’d be met by force.” Davis says. “We can take on Hayes—we’ve done it before.”
Again Wyatt shifts his gaze to me. “I agree about Hayes but he won’t be alone. You’re going to need to figure out a way to tell Cole so he’s prepared.”
“Tell him what?” I ask but already know. In the pit of my stomach there’s only one thing that would bring Wyatt out here. “Chloe, right?”
“She’s getting into position now with her army.” He glances between the two of us. “She and Jane both are tired of the sabotage and stealing. They think this is the perfect time for you to face off.”
“They just want to keep us away from PharmaCorp,” Davis says.
“They do, and don’t get any ideas about going there instead. That is a death trap. Trust me.”
His words sink in. Trust me. “What do you think we should do, then?”
Wyatt’s eyebrows lift in surprise that I’ve asked for his opinion. “I think you should go in there and tear them apart. Don’t back down. Don’t let them walk away.”
Davis crosses his arms over his chest and nods.
“And you think we can do it?” I ask.
Wyatt tilts his head and gives me the kind of look that makes my knees weak. “I think you guys are the only ones who can.”
*
Any light I’d seen in Cole’s eyes earlier in the night dissipates when we tell him the information from Wyatt. We’re honest about where it came from—hoping it will provide legitimacy but he turns to me, his voice heavy with betrayal, and asks, “You’ve been in touch with him? This whole time?”
“No,” I promise, but it rings false. I look at Davis for help.
“Wyatt has been working with Erwin for an extended period, probably since you broke out of Fort Shaw. Much of our intelligence about Jane’s activities comes from him, and although he’s not an official member he’s committed to the Resistance.” He nods at me. “Alex has not been privy to that information.”
Cole considers this and the result seems to be that he’s less hurt, but definitely still angry. The others don’t look particularly pleased with me, either.
“And you believe this?” Paul asks me.
I swallow. “I do.”
“Where is he now?” Cole asks, voice on edge.
“He left and didn’t say where he was going from here.” I glare at the group, none of whom seem satisfied. “It’s not like we invited him inside.”
“Well, why not? Maybe we could have gotten more information out of him or heard it from him directly,” Parker eyes me with suspicion. “Or are you the only one allowed to talk to him.”
“I haven’t been talking to him!”
Jude jumps in and says, “Wyatt saved all our asses more than once—we owe him the benefit of the doubt.”
Parker groans and tugs at her hair when he says this, as though he’s the most gullible person ever. I give him a thankful smile—but it’s not a surprise. Jude has looked up to Wyatt since the day we found him.
Paul calmly walks over and takes my hand. “I know you feel defensive. We’re just trying to figure it all out. I mean, it’s a lot to take in when you consider the fact he’s here telling us we’re about to get ambushed by Chloe and that prick Hayes, because they know we’re coming. Who told her we’re coming? Do we really know which side Wyatt is playing?”
I do not want to go down this path again. I can’t. I need to know where I’m headed and who I’m going there with. I have to have faith that Wyatt is telling me the truth. That Davis trusts him. Otherwise there’s no way I can get into this battle with Chloe and Jane. I meet the eye of each member of my team and say, “I believe him.”
Cole holds my eyes but his jaw remains tight. I glance at Paul who nods and says, “That’s enough for me.”
“Okay then,” Jude agrees. “Let’s figure out Plan B.”
Everyone agrees—except Cole, who looks lost in his thoughts.
“Cole,” Davis says, “We need everyone. You in?”
I wait for his features to soften. For his stubbornness to fade. He tips back on his heels, but instead of coming over to the rest of us he turns and walks to where we left our bags. He grabs his bag and his jacket off the front counter.
I race over as he shoves his arms in the sleeves. “Where are you going?”
“I’m out,” he says, working the straps of his backpack over his shoulders.
“What do you mean you’re out?”
“I’m out.” He looks at the group over my shoulder. “Good luck, guys.”
“Cole—“ Paul says, but in a flash, Cole has his cross bow in his hands.
“Don’t follow me.”
He leaves through the front door and I chase after him, willing to take an arrow in the chest. I catch up to him at the bottom of the step and grab his arm. He only stops when I jerk him back.
“What the hell, Cole. What are you doing?”
“I’m going after her.”
“Chloe? We’re all going after her. Together. You don’t have to do it alone.”
“Yes, I do,” he says, swiping a hand through his hair. To my surprise he reaches for my shirt and pulls me close. His breath is warm on my face. “I’m not letting her hurt anyone else. I’m going to take her down myself.”
“No. That’s not what you want to do. I know this—my sister is hurting people, too. ”
“Yeah, and maybe you should have done something about that when you had the chance. If you’d had the guts to take care of her months ago we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”
I tug away from him then, disgusted by his words. “Shut your mouth, Cole. We’re not in the game of murdering people.”
He shakes his head and looks at me with the most painful, sad face. “Maybe we should be,” he says before gripping the bow in his hand and stalking toward the tree line.
Chapter 16
Rain starts to fall twenty minutes after we leave the antique shop. We’re packed tightly in the dry SUV, but the visibility is low traveling down the steep mountain hills.
Although we came to an agreement about how to proceed, the car is tense from the argument earlier in the day and we all feel the loss of Cole’s presence. I’m in the passenger seat next to Davis and my eyes haven’t left the road since we started moving. Parker has her face pressed to the window, fogging up the glass. Jude finally nudges her and says, “What are you doing, Park?”
“Looking for him.”
Me too.
“We should have gone after him,” I say for the fifteenth time.
Davis stares out the window, both hands gripping the wheel. “We’re on a timeline and already behind. The other teams will be in position and we’ve got to meet up with them before they’re exposed. This whole mission is much bigger than just our team and certainly more than one man.”
“Have you considered that we may be better off without him?” Paul asks. “Clearly, he’s struggling. Maybe it’s for the best.”
My heart tells me otherwise but I know they’re both right. Other than the occasional moment like the one in the shop the day before, Cole’s frustration has been obvious. We should have left him in the lab—deep down he’s not a soldier.
It takes two more days to get down near Augusta. We stop only to refuel and stretch, taking turns driving the car along flattened stretches of farmland. We avoid all of the larger towns and only have to get out of the car twice to clear the roads of Eaters, most like the ones we found in Eater Town—listless and near death. Humans are scarce but as we get closer and closer to the cleared areas, spray-painted signs with directional arrows pop up on the sides of buildings and barns, encouraging survivors to head to the Vaccine Center.
“Like leading lambs to a slaughter,” Jude mutters, clutching his gun.
Davis is finally forced to abandon the SUV in a sketchy area on the edge of the Death Fields. From here on we’ll be on foot, and hopefully within a day we’ll hook up with the other teams. A small part of me hopes that Cole will be there when we arrive.
Outside the car Parker pets the hood and says, “We’ll miss you, hopefully we’ll see you again someday.”
“Really?” Jude asks, tightening his backpack straps. “I’m hoping for a lift back to Fort Arnold on a helicopter like last time.”
“That would be nice,” Paul agrees.
We’re loaded down with packs and supplies, everything evenly distributed just in case we’re separated. I walk over to Parker and say, “I need to go to the bathroom. Cover me?
She nods and it’s nice sometimes to have another girl out here. This area makes me more nervous than most—it’s urban, which gives humans and Eaters plenty of places to hide. It clearly wasn’t the nicest part of town before all hell broke loose. I follow an old dirt path, stepping over piles of broken glass and debris, around the side of what was once a corner shop. Two old cars are in the back and I squat between them, taking care of business. From my spot between the cars I see the houses that line the street. Old bungalows with rotting porches and peeling shingles.
“This place is giving me the creeps,” Parker says. “My grandmother lived in a house like that. It smelled like cigarette smoke and fried chicken.”
She’s got her weapons out and ready. I don’t blame her. My gun is two inches from my boot as I tug up my pants. Stupid bodily functions.
We round the corner and find Jude pressed against the wall. His finger is to his lips and we do the same. Loud voices carry from where we left Davis and Jude. Human voices.
“Fighters?” I whisper. It can’t be Hybrids. We’d all already be dead.
“No. Locals.”
“Great.”
We’ve done our best to steer clear of humans. They’re time consuming and dangerous. Eaters you can kill. Humans have to be reasoned with. It seems the longer people go without joining up with either the Resistance or Jane’s Army, the harder they become. If there’s anywhere else safe to be, I don’t know it.