Legends of the Damned: A Collection of Edgy Urban Fantasy and Paranormal Romance Novels

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  So very, very wrong.

  But I had been so certain. How could he not have felt it? It was palpable, it was like I could have reached out and touched the connection that had pulsed in the air. Surely anyone would have been able to see it?

  As it was now, I couldn’t even reach out and touch Oliver himself. He was too far away. He had removed himself from me both mentally and physically.

  Any words I wanted to say were choked in my throat. The tears wanted to sting my eyes but I wouldn’t let them. I wasn’t going to cry over some stupid boy when there were so many other problems in the world.

  I wasn’t going to do it.

  It was stupid of me to let the emotions overwhelm my sensibilities. I thought I had managed to quash them all shortly after the Event and everything changed. I thought I was in more control of myself.

  I had been numb for so long and somehow Oliver had managed to unlock all my emotions until they were a flowing river. I had let him in and was now paying the price.

  So stupid.

  I laid on the floor, using my arm as a pillow and let out the breath I had been holding. I huddled under the coat like it was my shield to keep the world away. I wanted to forget everything that had happened. Not only with Oliver, but with Jet and the adults, too. It was all too much to take in.

  All too painful to process.

  I closed my eyes but sleep didn’t come easily. It drifted around me, taunting me with being just out of my grasp. The sweet relief it offered was just an illusion.

  Oliver shifted. “Goodnight, Ev,” he whispered. I didn’t reply. I pretended I was already asleep.

  The sound of him breathing was the only noise in the room as I listened for a long time. If he was having any trouble sleeping, he was a far better actor than I was. He didn’t even seem to move as his slow breaths went in and then out again.

  In and out.

  Like a dance with its own beat.

  Sometime in the darkness of the night, I fell asleep to that beat. I was frozen by morning. The cold had taken up residence in my bones and was refusing to move. Its harsh tendrils were gripping on tight and would not be swayed from its position.

  Sitting up and running a hand through my hair, Oliver was already up. His face was still as beautiful it was last night, weary but not defeated. The memory of our almost-kiss rushed back into my mind, sending a new round of embarrassment to my cheeks.

  A new wave of pain, hurt, and longing.

  “Sleep well?” I asked. I desperately hoped he wasn’t picturing the same thing I was. It couldn’t be a barrier between us, I couldn’t bear it. He was the only person I still had, the price of losing him was far too much. As bad as his rejection stung, it was better suffering it than losing him altogether.

  “As good as it gets these days,” he replied with a tired smile. “You were dreaming, you were mumbling something. Did you have nightmares?”

  “Not that I remember.” I hoped my mumbles were incoherent and didn’t tell him everything that had been on my mind before I slept. I could only imagine the horror of following that thought right through.

  He stood, leaning against the wall. His eyes roamed the small room, he wanted to say something. He always did that when he was formulating words into sentences. Oliver rarely spoke off the cuff. He thought about things, ruminated on them until they were perfectly formed.

  It used to drive me crazy once, I never had time for him to think about things. Since the Event, all I had was time. What I had learned the hard way was that if someone has to think about their words, what they usually had to say was worth listening to.

  But the suspense was killing me. “Oliver, just say it. Whatever it is going on inside your head, please just say it.”

  He took a breath, buying some more time. “About last night-”

  I put up my hand to stop him. Hearing the words would be worse than knowing they existed. “Don’t. It’s nothing. It won’t happen again.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly it was hard to believe it came from such a strong man.

  If someone had told me years ago that I would have these kinds of feelings for Oliver, I would have found it hilarious. Now, to know I did and that he didn’t share them, was heartbreaking. The world really had gone to hell.

  All those feelings needed to be pushed aside and forgotten. I would lock them away again and regain my numbness. I had done it before and I would be able to do it once more. Just once more, that’s all I needed.

  I stood, shaking out my limbs to get some blood flowing in them again. “I don’t know about you, but I am starving. Want to go to the shelter and see if there’s anything left?”

  “I think that’s a good idea.”

  We stepped out into the morning. It was marginally warmer than the day before but snow had fallen overnight. I prepared myself for the worst. There would be corpses along the road. I had to be ready to see them. They wouldn’t disappear just because I didn’t want to acknowledge their existence. It would be a good opportunity to practice ridding myself of emotions again.

  Oliver spoke as we walked. “They might have some blankets at the shelter. You should get one if you can. You shivered all night.”

  “I doubt they have any.”

  “We should still look.”

  I nodded. We would look.

  We wouldn’t find anything.

  “The shelter shouldn’t be responsible for everything,” I started, trying to keep the anger out of my voice. It shouldn’t be up to kids to feed and clothe other kids. The adults should still be here. The adults underground should want to help.

  “The volunteers are doing a good job,” Oliver replied.

  “I know they are. But they shouldn’t be the only ones.” We made it to the shelter. Oliver had done a good job of distracting me in conversation so my eyes didn’t roam to the sidewalks surrounding us.

  We joined the long line and shuffled forward foot by foot. The child in front of us couldn’t be more than seven years old. The one behind, no older than ten.

  Every time I visited the shelter, it was more crowded. More and more people bustled for space and resources. Their bodies were thinner, their spirits a little more crushed. They were that much more paranoid, more scared, and that much closer to their final breath.

  It couldn’t go on much longer.

  “Where does the shelter get their supplies?” I asked. Oliver seemed to know most things that went on in the city, chances were he knew the volunteers’ secrets, too.

  “Old factories and warehouses, I think,” he replied quietly, so we couldn’t be overheard. “They started off with supermarkets and places like hospitals. Once those ran out, they had to cast their net wider. Nobody is making food or farming anymore. If it didn’t exist in the Event, then it doesn’t exist now.”

  “There’s probably places they haven’t found yet.”

  “Probably. It’s a big city.”

  “I want to explore and find blankets, coats, food, anything I can,” I said determinedly. The adults wouldn’t do anything, but I could. I had two legs, I had a brain, I was fully capable of walking around the city. It wasn’t like I had anything tying me to one place.

  I needed to have something to do. Otherwise the frustrations of getting nowhere with the adults, with Jet, with Oliver… They were going to overwhelm me. Achieving something, having a purpose, it would be the distraction I severely needed.

  “We don’t know what’s out there,” Oliver warned.

  He was right, but that didn’t mean we should skulk away in fear. The gangs couldn’t be worse than those we’d already encountered. I had a gash on the back of my head and a still-healing dislocated shoulder to prove it. They could keep beating me down and I was going to continue to get up and keep going.

  “I still want to go,” I decided.

  “Then I’m coming with you.”

  Oliver.

  My rock.

  My constant.

  The source of my heartbreak.

&
nbsp; Chapter Fifteen

  The city’s public transport system had long wasted away. The rust spread like cancer once they stopped being operated. Nobody knew how to drive the trains or buses so they remained wherever they were at the time of the Event. They were now only reminders of what we used to have.

  There were a lot of reminders like that around.

  Oliver and I walked the train tracks, occasionally needing to step off so we could walk around a carriage. I never looked through the windows, I knew there would be long-dead bodies inside. Perhaps they might even be only skeletons now. Whatever remained, they would still be in there.

  We would always return to the tracks, however, knowing we were at no risk of getting run over. Not even ghosts could drive trains.

  We had debated whether it was safer to walk out in the open like we were or whether it would be better to stick to the shadows of the buildings.

  Considering anything could hide in the shadows, we decided to take our chances in the open. So far, nobody had hassled us. Anyone we passed just watched with suspicion, their gaze never leaving us until we passed.

  But it only took one glance to get the attention of the spirits. My eyes had lingered on one for only a second longer than it should have.

  One second too many.

  “She can see us!” the spirit shrieked, racing toward me without needing to move her feet. She would have been in her twenties had she not died. She was pretty too, with honey-streaked brown hair framing her delicate face.

  It was the younger adults that always pained me the most. Only a few years separated them from those that had survived the Event. They didn’t get a proper chance to live before they were taken.

  They were also the angriest.

  “Tell us what we’re doing here,” she demanded. She was quickly joined by at least twenty others, all swarming me as I walked through them. The cold that shivered my body was mostly their fault.

  “She’s not listening. She can’t see us.”

  “She looked right at me. She knew, I swear it.”

  “Tell me where my daughter is. I need to find her.”

  “Your daughter? How about my sons? All three of them. I can’t find them anywhere.”

  “What happened to us?”

  “Why are we here?”

  “It hurts too much.

  “Speak to me! Just listen. Please.”

  “Please, stop.”

  I picked up the pace, trying to get away from them. If I ignored the voices long enough, surely they would give up eventually. I was fooling myself, but it was all I had.

  My mind wandered to the underground. It was so peaceful there. No spirits followed me down. Whether they couldn’t or whether they wouldn’t, it didn’t make any difference. Only there could I feel the peace that didn’t exist above ground.

  Pity it was also populated with liars and thugs.

  If Oliver noticed my distraction and haste, he didn’t say anything. He purely walked faster, just as eager to get to the outskirts of the city as I was.

  We were heading toward the industrial area. Once, it was a bustling Mecca full of factory workers and trucks. Smoke would have spilled from the tall stacks and the machinery within the concrete walls would have hummed with life.

  The area was now just as dead as the adults.

  An eerie calm washed over the streets as the buildings stood like lifeless soldiers by the road. Anything could be hiding behind those walls, treasures or danger alike.

  “Where do we start?” I asked, standing at the end of one of the major streets. Some of the biggest companies used to make their goods here before the Event.

  Oliver shrugged. “At the beginning, I guess.”

  So we started at the beginning.

  We carefully walked around the first building, trying to find a way in. Many of the windows were broken, either by age, the weather, or vandals, it was hard to stay. It could have been all three.

  My ears strained to hear any sign of life inside. If we walked into someone’s home, they wouldn’t exactly welcome us. No doubt, they would react in the same way as the mole people had. I couldn’t take many more injuries.

  We stopped at a door and I tried the handle. It was open. Someone had been here before us. Which wasn’t a surprise. It had been over a year. It would be difficult finding anywhere untouched in that time.

  The stench hit us first as the door pushed open.

  My hand instantly shot up to cover my mouth. It smelled like rotten food and animal excrement. If there was anyone around, they would have been warned off by the smell alone.

  We continued in anyway. Chances were, if someone else had caught a whiff of the place, they might have left quickly. Which meant they might have left things behind.

  There was no electricity so our only source of light was from the skylights hanging high above. They cast a white glow around the open space, also allowing for a million shadows to hide horrible surprises.

  “I’m going to take the right side. You try the left,” I said. Oliver hesitated but I waved him away.

  Large pieces of machinery were stationary, frozen in time acting out the last duty they ever performed. The items they were manufacturing were still half-made on the conveyer belts. They were covered with dirt but still recognizable as hubcaps.

  Hardly edible or warm.

  The factory was a bust. Metal wheel decorations were no good when there wasn’t anyone driving cars anymore. The fuel had long since dried up.

  I turned around and wove my way back through the mess to reach the entrance. I waited for Oliver. He would soon come to the same conclusion as I had, it was only a matter of time before he returned.

  He eventually did, wearing a grim set to his jaw. “There’s spiders in here.”

  “Glad I didn’t see them. I found hubcaps. You?”

  “Same. At least we’ve started somewhere.”

  That was Oliver.

  The eternal optimist.

  We left the factory and moved next door. The building was in the same complex, the walls outside painted the same shade of beige. This one’s windows were all smashed. We didn’t need to bother with the door, there was no glass in the windowpanes.

  The layout was similar, the lighting exactly the same. We split up again and explored the dark depths of the factory. This time, I kept an eye out for spiders.

  There were several.

  Several dozen.

  I didn’t scream once.

  The machinery here was smaller, nothing on the production line. I found Oliver at the other end of the building when he was done with his row. A door leading to a storage room took us into the next part of the factory.

  Shelves were lined up in rows. They were laden with boxes. Whatever they produced, they were keeping them neatly stacked.

  Once, anyway.

  Now, the boxes were askew and torn. Ripped and shredded in places. Someone else had beaten us to it. There was scarcely anything left save for a few stray packets.

  “Dog food?” I said, picking up a torn piece of packaging. I held it up so Oliver could see. He squinted in the low light.

  “It was probably edible to someone hungry enough,” he commented.

  “There’s plenty of people that hungry,” I agreed. Given the option, I might be hungry enough to try some myself.

  Everything of value in the storeroom had long since been taken. Oliver and I weaved our way through the factory and back to the door we first entered.

  The next five factories were all a bust. People had beaten us to the punch line and left nothing – only rodents and insects. If someone started a rumor that rats were delicious, we’d probably all eat until we were fat.

  The next building was larger than the others had been. It wasn’t in a complex, rather a stand alone. The roof was taller, the building wider. It was massive. More than one airplane could have easily fit inside.

  Unlike many of the others, the sign outside still stood, declaring it was once the manufacturing plant of
Woolen Wears. That sounded right up our alley.

  “This looks promising,” I said, perking up from the previous disappointments.

  “We should find blankets or coats here. We have to,” Oliver agreed.

  The side door was locked but the window beside it had already been broken. I carefully slid my arm through and managed to unlock the door from the inside. It was an easy reach, no doubt I wasn’t the first one who noticed.

  As soon as we were through I wanted to run around the factory and find the items we needed. We would take as many blankets as we could carry and return with volunteers from the shelter for the rest. They could be distributed to the most needy, the youngest of the kids left to fend for themselves.

  I could almost feel the thick woolen coat wrapped around me. I could imagine the warmth and comfort of the weight. It would be just like when I was little and dressed up to play in the snow. Maybe we’d even find scarves or mittens. Even a beanie was enough to get me excited.

  The only thing that slowed me down was the thought of missing something. Because the factory was so large, Oliver and I stuck together. If either of us got lost in the building, I don’t think we’d ever find each other again.

  Immediately inside the entrance was a shop. Everything had already been taken off the racks, leaving only a few stray hangers and empty shelves. It wasn’t a good sign for the rest of the place but I refused to get disheartened yet.

  We moved past the store and into the factory floor. There was machinery and debris everywhere. People had made a mess of the place and my money would be it happened after the Event. When adults worked here, it was probably spotless.

  Halfway down one side, we hit the jackpot.

  One box, barely reaching my hip, was full of winter blankets. At some point the damp had seeped in, making the wool reek with mustiness. But they could be washed, it was only a temporary problem.

  “This is a good sign,” I said. If there was one box, there had to be more. The place was big enough to hold thousands. Maybe tens of thousands.

  “Leave them and we’ll come back after we’ve checked the place out,” Oliver suggested. I closed the box again, promising to return to it soon.