by M. Van
“Thank you, ma’am, but I’ve …” he said, hesitating as his eyes traveled over the large space filled with soldiers eating.
Bodies seemed to have filled the mess in a matter of minutes. The noises of conversation, chairs scraping the floor and utensils raking plates permeated the room.
Jon’s eyes seemed to find what he was looking for, and he visually relaxed. “I’m meeting members of my squad for dinner. If you’d excuse me.”
With that, he nodded and turned on his heels.
“You might come to believe the boy thinks we’re infected with some kind of contagious disease,” Angie said, her gaze following the young soldier as he made his way down the aisle. She turned back and indicated the two empty tables next to ours, which seemed to be the only empty tables inside the room. Our so-called conditions hadn’t been kept a secret. Colonel Marshall felt that it was her responsibility to inform the men and women under her command and had arranged for detailed briefings, which included information about us being a potential solution to the zombie problem. This had led to a respectful but distant reception from the people working on this base. I suspected that if they could, they would avoid us like the plague. But we had gotten used to it after a couple of months.
I grinned. “Now who would be spreading a rumor like that?”
| 4
Ash
I awoke with a start as I hit the floor. My eyes shot open, escaping the images of clawing hands trying to grab me. I drew in a breath to calm my racing heart as my eyes searched the small room. It took me a second to remember where I was, before the Marsden family guest room came into focus.
A desk minus a chair stood propped underneath the window, a dresser stood against one wall, and the single bed out of which I had just fallen was set against the opposite wall. Mr. Marsden had cleared out the two chairs and the enormous plant that used to stand in the corner to give me some more mobility with my wheelchair.
I propped myself up on my elbows and noticed my left leg still lying on the bed, entangled in the sheets. Pulling it free, I sat up and tugged at the cord of the earplugs blasting music into my ears. Rage against the Machine probably wasn’t the best choice to wake up to.
Cursing myself for falling asleep with the damn things in—again, I checked my phone. Technically, it was still Mags’s phone, but I had no intention of giving it back. The thought triggered a grin on my face, because I didn’t think she would ever ask for it anyway. Fortunately, I had plugged it in last night, and the battery read 100 percent. The time on the device read six a.m., but pretty sure that sleep had left me, I wriggled into the faded jeans that had broken my fall.
I fished a clean T-shirt and a black hoody from the dresser, slipped my phone in my pants pocket, and grabbed a steel cylinder from my nightstand. I had found the tactical baton in Mars’s old room, and since Mr. and Mrs. Marsden didn’t allow me to roll around with a loaded gun, this was at least something. Of course, I hadn’t told the old couple I had found the thing, but I shoved it in the front pocket of my hoody anyway and then rolled my way to the bathroom. I tried to keep the noise level down at this early hour, but I couldn’t always help bumping into things. Though if it weren’t me waking them up, I’d bet Rowdy would have Grandma and Grandpa Marsden up within the hour.
After freshening up and cleaning my teeth, I found myself in the kitchen, eyeing the content of the fridge. An orange caught my eye, but I decided against it. Those things were expensive these days, and I knew Mrs. Marsden was always on the lookout for healthy, vitamin-rich foods for Rowdy. I think she might have been afraid that, once that kind of food became too expensive to buy or ran out, the kid might stop growing or something. But even at this young age, it seemed pretty obvious that the kid would grow up to be as tall as his dad. I closed the fridge, grabbed an energy bar from a drawer, and headed out through the back door.
This neighborhood was practically dead in the mornings except for one or two joggers and Mr. Jackson from across the street, who deemed it necessary to intercept the kid delivering the newspaper every morning. Considering the neighborhood mostly consisted of retirees, the quiet wasn’t that strange. These people had made their contributions to society and, from what I could tell from the expensive cars and houses, had done it well. Now, sleeping in seemed to be their contribution.
I headed down the street and took the first left. The dead-end street gave room to park at least a dozen cars, but sat empty at this time of day. This wasn’t exactly tourist season, although the beach always seemed to draw some people, and I totally got that. I loved to watch the waves hammering the sand, but preferred it without strangers giving me looks.
With ease, I hopped off the curb and crossed the parking lot to the stairs that would lead down to the beach. The curbs around here weren’t that high, so I maintained a little speed, and just at the right moment, I lifted the front casters off the ground and used the momentum to hop on the curb. I stopped at the railing and gazed across the seemingly never-ending expanse of water.
The colors of the sky started to shift as the sun began to rise behind me, and I grabbed my energy bar. I took a bite and settled in as I savored the sounds and smells around me.
A bit further down the beach, a guy was walking his dog. The animal was big, and as I watched his owner clean up after it, that seemed like a good enough reason to never get a dog—at least not one that was that big. As I watched a few joggers run by, I couldn’t help but recognize the similarities between this beach and the last one Mags and I had visited.
We’d made a pit stop east of New Orleans and had decided to take a swim. A grin formed on my face as I remembered how Mags had taught me how to swim—well, sort of. Unfortunately, our fun had been cut short.
“Enjoying the view?” a voice said behind me. I jumped and then felt a little embarrassed about the yelp that had followed before I noticed Mars standing behind me.
“Jesus, Mars,” I said, still a little in shock. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“That might have been the point,” he said and flashed a grin. As he came to stand beside me and leaned down on the railing, I punched his arm.
“Ass,” I said.
“Hey,” he said, rubbing his arm, “you better not say that with my mother around.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered.
With a lazy smile on his face, he turned his gaze to the ocean. Within seconds, the smile faded and a frown creased his forehead. He wore jeans and a T-shirt—not his usual work attire, so I guessed he must have gotten some time off.
“When did you get in?” I asked. I wondered where he had come from and how the hell he had known where to find me.
“Late last night,” he said. “I didn’t want to bother you.”
“Ah,” I said, hoping that my waking up hadn’t woken him.
“You didn’t wake me,” he said as if he could read my mind. “Not exactly.”
I raised an eyebrow at his vague remark. “Not exactly?” I echoed.
He glanced back at me and concern edged on his face. It was clear something had Mars worried.
“What’s wrong?” I asked, my voice sounding an octave higher. A sudden rush of fear overtook my body, and I rolled away from the railing to get a better look at him. “Did something happen to Mags or Angie?”
“Oh no, nothing like that,” he said. “They’re both fine. In fact, I’ve arranged a video call for tonight.”
I felt the relief wash over me, and I exhaled.
“But I would like to talk to you about something.” He glanced around as if to check for anyone eavesdropping. Then he slid down to the ground and sat with his back against the railing. I couldn’t help giving him a curious glance. He avoided me for a moment, gazing up at the sky as if the reason for living could be found among the fluffy clouds.
“Mars,” I said, drawing out his name. That caught his attention, and his gaze landed on me. Those jade eyes predicted a coming storm before his mouth could drop the bad news.
&nb
sp; “You didn’t wake me,” he said, “but I got a call as soon as you left the house, and I followed.”
I needed a second to let that sink in and cocked my head sideways. Holding off on the profanities, I said, “You’ve got eyes on me.”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“Just me?” I asked.
“Just you.”
I hesitated to ask the obvious, not so sure if I wanted to know, because nothing good would come of it, but then Mars beat me to it.
“We have reason to believe that Dr. David Warren has arrived at Monterey Regional Airport a couple of days ago.”
Shocked, I glared at him as the realization increased my breathing and I felt my heart racing inside my chest.
“We think he might be here to find you,” he added. Fear took hold of me, and I grabbed the push rings as I felt a tremble take hold of my body. The look on Mars’s face hit me then. I didn’t want his pity, and I didn’t want him to see me like this. I didn’t want anyone to see me like this, because no one would be able to understand—except for Mags. A shudder ran through me as the memories rushed back, and I wished Mags were here to help me subside them.
I rolled backward as Mars shifted from a sitting position into a crouch.
“Ash,” he said, his eyes wide. He reached out a hand, but I shook my head and set off bouncing off the curb before rolling down the parking lot.
Sterile rooms with glass for walls, examination tables, machines wheezing and beeping around me, and him, Dr. David Warren, with that sly smirk on his face, the same bastard who had often visited me in my dreams, together with the zombies.
Behind me, I heard Mars call out my name again, but I couldn’t face him—not right now. I felt tears sting my eyes as they threatened to spill. The time at that lab, locked up in the dark, surrounded by zombies and the tests—especially the tests, although nightmares had awoken me before, I had never reacted this strongly to the memories, and I wondered if this zombie-and-Warren-free environment had something to do with it. Maybe I just had too much time to think about things, but it felt as if something had broken inside me, and every time I thought of those events, it felt as if someone was trying to choke the air from my lungs. And I didn’t want it to affect me like that. I hated that fear claimed its victory over me in those moments and that it was harder to reverse that claim without Mags, but that wouldn’t stop me from trying.
Breathing hard, I rounded the corner. Sticking to the road instead of the sidewalk, I gained momentum. The early morning chill and the ocean breeze seemed to have a calming effect on me. I glanced over my shoulder to see if Mars had caught up yet, but I didn’t spot him and considered going around the block instead of the Marsden home; maybe after that, I’d be able to face Mars. As the thought crossed my mind, an approaching car steered into my lane—effectively blocking the road.
In an attempt to slow down, I forced a turn, and by the time I stopped, my fear had been shoved to the back of my mind as anger surfaced.
“Are you blind?” The words fell from my mouth in a harsh tone as a man in suit and tie opened the passenger-side door and stepped out.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Reed, but you’ll have to wait here,” the man said.
I glared at him in surprise at hearing my last name. “Who the hell are you?” I asked.
“My name is Miller,” he replied, “but if you wait here for a minute, then it will all be explained.” A door on the other side of the big black SUV slammed shut, but I didn’t immediately see someone. Miller took a step toward me, and on pure instinct, I spun my wheels and rolled backward away from him.
“Ms. Reed,” he said, questioningly.
“Mr. Miller,” I said, creating some distance between us. Two options crossed my mind about who these guys might be, and it came down to either Warren’s men or the eyes on me that Mars had mentioned. If I had to guess, I’d say friends of Mars, because in the past, Warren’s men would have been waving guns by now, but I figured a little caution would hurt no one. Because of this, combined with the fact I still didn’t feel ready to go back to the Marsden place, I decided to take my leave. “It was nice meeting you.”
The words had barely left my mouth before I had spun my chair round and started spinning the wheels. Unfortunately, I bumped into a very burly looking man who grabbed the back of my chair and spun me around again.
“Get your hands off me,” I yelled and jabbed an elbow into his side. The man gave an oomph, but he didn’t release my chair. I punched him again, but still to no avail, and I reached for the baton in my pocket. With a forceful swing, the inner shaft extended, and followed by a fluid motion, I let it connect with the hand holding my chair. The burly man instantly released the armrest and groaned in pain and followed this by a string of violent cursing that sounded like music to my ears.
“Ash,” Mars’s exasperated voice reached me over the cries of pain coming from the big man. I turned to see him standing behind me with his hands at his sides. His eyes shifted for a moment from me to the burly guy holding his battered hand. Then he shook his head and gestured to me.
“Miller, Baker, meet Ash.”
I whirled around in my chair and waved at the men. Miller gave me a strange look as his eyes shifted between Baker and me. The latter, though, had a scowl on his face from here to Tokyo.
“Hey, guys,” I said.
“Sir, I think she broke my hand,” Baker said through clenched teeth.
“I’d warned you in the briefing, didn’t I?” Mars said. “You shouldn’t have touched her chair.”
My eyes shifted to Mars, and I couldn’t suppress the grin on my face. It seemed weird, but this encounter kind of had my juices flowing and had made me feel a bit better.
“Coffee, anyone?” I said.
Over a cup of coffee, which had originally been one of Mags’s vices and appeared to have become one of my own, Mars apologized for not mentioning Miller and Baker back at the beach. He also disclosed some details about what was going on. It seemed he had been tracking Warren for the past few months and had learned that the man had stolen some samples from a lab in Washington, DC. At least the current official assumption was that Warren had stolen the samples, but Mars hadn’t been that sure. Unwilling to work with assumptions, Mars hadn’t dismissed the idea that Warren might have acted under orders that could lead all the way to the White House.
Orders or not, Warren had gathered his stuff and had taken off, along with several vials of the next generation of Mortem virus that he had been working on.
Further digging had revealed that the vials contained a variation of the virus that created zombies with a sense of awareness. They had also found William’s head in a freezer. William was a guy Mags and I had met in Brooklyn while we were hiding out, at the beginning of the outbreak. William had seemed like a nice enough guy who had helped us out, but he turned out to be Warren’s aide. Mags had accidentally infected William with Mortem while he’d come after us inside Cheyenne, and, I guessed, Warren had decided to keep his zombie-head.
Our conversation halted as the other occupants of the house awoke and a certain four-year-old demanded Mars’s attention. Mrs. Marsden had declared the day special and treated us to pancakes for breakfast. After we’d eaten, I retreated to my room to give the family some time on their own. With not much else to do, I dragged myself from the chair onto the bed and plugged in my earbuds.
Mags’s playlist of over a thousand songs held the weirdest combinations that ranged from jazz to rock, hip-hop, dance, classic, and whatnot. Veering away from the raging music that had greeted me this morning, I searched for something easier on the ears and chose a song called Waves that fitted the scenery outside. I had never heard of this Mr. Probz guy, but I liked his soothing voice.
There was a knock on the door just as I settled my head on the pillow. I looked up and saw Mars standing at the door. With his hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, he leaned against the doorframe in a way that only Mars could. He had this easygoing, relaxe
d attitude that made me wonder if it were even possible to freak him out. I also liked that it seemed to rub off. We had talked in depth about Warren this morning, and that was usually a subject I tended to avoid. Mars helped to make it easier.
Mars cocked his head as he said, “So, what are you doing?”
I sat up and prodded myself against the headboard of the bed before I raised the phone and pulled the plugs from my ears.
“Just,” I said and shrugged, “hanging out.” Mars pursed his lips and nodded as if he were thinking it over.
“I don’t think so,” he said. He pulled his hands from his pockets and clapped them together. “Get your stuff. The whole family is heading for the beach.”
“But …” I started to say and hesitated. Mars glared at me as if I were about to say the stupidest thing ever said. “I thought you would want to spend time with your family.” With all that was going on, Mars had to be away from home a lot. He tried to squeeze in visits as often as he could, but this time, I hadn’t seen him in over two weeks.
That look didn’t leave his face, and the gleam in his eyes grew as he said, “That’s the point, and we’re missing two as it is, so that means your presence is mandatory. Get your ass in that chair and get a move on.”
He brought a smile on my face with those words the way only a few people could, and he seemed to know it. “Bring a sweater,” he shouted as he set off down the hall. “The wind might be a bit chilly.”
Grabbing my phone, I left the earplugs behind and settled back into my chair. I took an extra sweater, shoved it into Mags’s old backpack along with the phone, and hung it from the back of my chair.