Endgame (Book 1)

by W. A. R.

  He raised an eyebrow at her curiously before opening his door as she did the same. “What did you say?”

  She rolled her eyes and shut her door, pulling the truck keys from her jacket pocket. “I asked if I made you uncomfortable.” She told him and he thought it to be an odd question until he realized he had trailed off his sentence earlier and without further explanation delved into the deep mystery filled recesses of his mind. He decided to answer honestly, knowing he needed to bridge whatever gap there was between the two of them.

  “No, you don’t. I just don’t know what to say. We haven’t exactly teamed up until today except for…what happened…and even then we were fighting.” He told her as she turned the ignition, and it was the truth. He shrugged his shoulders and she shifted the truck into gear, the sound of gears changing in the transmission reaching his ears. “We haven’t talked much since then.” She pursed her lips and nodded in amusement. He watched her stare out of the windshield and he saw her mind delve back into the recent past as she tried to find a point in time when they had indeed teamed up. She wouldn’t find anything, however. Buddy had counted how many times he had paired up with everyone and Amber had simply evaded making the list.

  “I guess you are right.” She conceded, turning a curve on the gravel road, dust flying out behind them. He nodded and looked out of his window. Of course he was right; he had counted. “I’m sorry.” She said and he looked at her curiously. Sorry? What could she possibly be sorry for? She glanced over at him, turning on another curve down the winding road. “I have been…distant from you this past week.”

  He shrugged nonchalantly, attempting to reign in his shock. “Doesn’t bother me.” He said simply, clearing his throat and she pulled at her ponytail absentmindedly with one hand, the other firmly on the steering wheel.

  “It bothers me.” She admitted gently and again he looked at her, genuinely curious. He glanced at how tight her hand held the steering wheel and it was obvious to him that it did indeed bother her. He should have been the one to apologize, to show her that he was sorry, and she was apologizing for her behavior? It made no sense. Why did she care?

  “Why?” he asked, as if it were the easiest question to answer. It was what he expected, and she didn’t disappoint. She slowed and swerved to avoid a Biter that was walking along the road. As they eased past it, it reached for the truck, wanting to move faster but its lack of circulation and the deterioration of its muscles prohibited it from do so.

  She shrugged. “I’ve gotten to know a lot about everyone; well…everyone besides you and that is my own fault. We are supposed to be a team remember?”

  He turned back towards his window. “Technically, you can be on a team with someone and not say anything to them. A team is simply a group of people that work together to finish some task or goal…but I can understand why you would want to know everyone.” He said before hearing her laugh. He had to admit, it was a pretty sound. Laughter wasn’t around much anymore, and the rarity of it caused him to appreciate it whenever it happened. He sighed, remembering all of the times he had attempted to approach her and how she had avoided him. It was a stark contrast to how she was apologizing and behaving then.

  “You come off as such an asshole to people, and you really don’t intend to, do you?” she asked him. The question had caught him by surprise, even though yes, he did know he came off as hostile and uninviting. He wasn’t sure why he did, and he thought about this. Silence filled the truck as he thought, Amber breaking it. “So why do you kill Biters as often as you do? You mainly volunteer to comb the woods or to provide a perimeter check.” She stated, and he actually smiled a little. So, someone had noticed. He reasoned that he did it to keep up his skills regarding his knife and his reflexes but the truth was if he didn’t maintain a busy day, he would search his mind for thoughts to keep him entertained and he didn’t enjoy that. Instead, his thoughts lured him into some form of a fantasy world, where his mind would run rampant with possibilities, both good and bad. He never was too fond of it. Should he tell her that, though? He decided probably not.

  “I enjoy the thrill of it.” He told her simply, which wasn’t a complete lie, as they turned onto a long dirt driveway that led to a gray house a good bit away from the road and surrounded by a wooded area. Amber glanced at him and he noted the seriousness etched on her face.

  “I volunteered to come on this outing as a means of reconciliation, you know.” She informed him and he turned his gaze from their surroundings to rest on her face. Her eyes looked saddened and he felt himself cave in.

  “I’m sorry things happened the way that they did.” He told her and she grinned at him warmly, causing him to curse himself yet again for hurting her the way that he had.

  “And I am sorry for how I have been acting this past week. I forgive you.” She provided for him and he turned form her, unable to smile. How could he accept an apology that he didn’t even deserve? No, he thought, he would have to prove himself to her, earn her trust and respect. Quietly, he studied the house and the environment around it as they eased up the long driveway. There were no fences, but it was hidden well enough from town and from the road that it could be habitable for a while as long as they remained alert.

  “This was your house?” he asked of her as the truck bounced with every bump in the driveway. She smiled at some distant memory, her stillness somewhat peaceful as she eased the truck to a stop and put it in park. A part of him relaxed at the easiness that came over them then, and he hoped that they could remain as peaceful with one another. She certainly tried, so why was he so intent on making things difficult?

  “It was when I was a little girl. My house is in Thurston next to the school…” she trailed off, her smile disappearing and a frown taking its place. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but she stared off into the distance of the woods, the tree filled field to her left. “Do you feel that?” she asked him and for a moment, he thought he had imagined her saying those words but a hush befell them and he felt it too. His stomach clenched, and he felt as if something may be wrong. The feeling lasted for all of thirty seconds as they glanced around them wildly, and then…just as quickly as it had come it left, as if it had never happened. Amber turned the key back, effectively killing the engine. She sat still and stared out the windshield, surveying the house and the wooded area that surrounded it. Buddy suddenly felt anxious and he regretted allowing her to come with him. He wished for Miles and Brian then as he questioned whether or not he could protect her from whatever danger awaited them.

  “Is everything how it is supposed to be?” he asked of her and she placed her hand on the door handle. He could sense the nervous apprehension prick its way up her spine and she visibly shuddered.

  “It seems that way. I’m not sure what that was.” She said softly before opening her door and sliding out, grabbing her bag and throwing it over her shoulders. “Care to get this over with?” she asked and he followed suit, easing out of the truck and eyeing everything around them. Dead Biters littered the ground around the house and on the long wide porch. She seemed more relaxed then, and he decided to follow her lead, letting comfortableness ease its way over him.

  “We made it ok. I’ll let you know when we leave.” He heard Amber say into the walkie-talkie, releasing the button to sound a beep. There was no response back, but it didn’t seem to bother her in the least. She closed her door gently so as not to make much noise and reached for her knife. He watched as she shifted to clip the radio onto her pants pocket and retrieve her pistol from the waistband of her jeans. He pulled his knife from his hip and followed her as she took slow, decisive steps forward. A rustle was heard from the tree line and they both stopped, readying their weapons. After a moment of seeing nothing in the thicket move, a squirrel skittered by, running up a nearby tree. They lowered their weapons only slightly and began forward again. Buddy followed her, but paused his progress, nudging a dead Biter on the ground to ensure it was dead. Once he confirmed that it was indeed de
ad, he knelt down and examined it. Its flesh was falling from the bones and mingling with the dirt below it. And even though it was only decaying flesh, and there were no longer any notable features about it, it reminded him of someone; the only someone worth remembering. Shame ran through him at the memory, and then anger, because he wasn’t even sure what brought the memory to the forefront of his mind. It was only a dead Biter, he told himself, but then... in defeat, he concluded that the fact it was a dead Biter was the only reason it crossed his mind.

  “They have been there for a long time now. We had to kill them the last time we came out here, which happens to have been a while back.” He heard Amber say from behind him. He quickly stood, looking at her sternly. He had forgotten where they were and the fact that she was even present, and that angered him. Was she trying to relate to him after everything that he had done?

  “Let’s go check the house.” He said hotly, catching the surprised look in her eyes before he shoved into her shoulder pushing past her. She stumbled back a little before catching herself. He heard her mumble something under her breath before she stomped past him up the stairs and onto the porch. He wasn’t sure why he had suddenly become unfriendly, granted he could link it to many different aspects of his personality and his past, but at that moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care if she hated him. He didn’t care if she yelled at him and cursed at him. He was angry and he felt like releasing all of his pain onto her. He wanted to verbally assault her for simply being her. Like the discarded piece of gum that sticks to the bottom of a person’s shoe, he was disgusted; not with her but with the shameful recollection the Biter brought about.

  He watched as she slowly opened the door, her gun poised and ready to shoot. The house was dark, and he saw her stop her movements and replaced her knife to its holster before retrieving her flashlight. For a moment, he respected her caution and precision and then he was angry all over again; frustrated because he had let the memory affect him. He felt remorse because of how he had acted, felt a sadness grip him because he knew nothing about the woman he was supposed to be a friend to. Was that why he had fought with her? He questioned himself; He fought her as a weak attempt at learning who she was? A myriad of emotions continued to wash over him and for the millionth time he understood why he was always a loner. He worked better that way. She clicked the flashlight, and LED rays flashed across the room. The windows weren’t boarded up, and the house was in somewhat of disarray, but not disgustingly so. She moved stealthily forward, her feet sure with their every move, every step. One by one they checked every room and every crevice; a turned over chair here, an unmade bed there. They accomplished all of this in heated silence. She replaced her gun after the house was secure and turned to him.

  “We can bring in everything, place things where they need to go, and then board up the windows and secure both doors; that way we can have more light.” She told him calmly before ushering him towards the door. This struck him as curious, odd even, to not have someone bitter towards him after one of his episodes. Still, he followed her and without a word they hauled in their goods, placing the guns in a sturdy steel gun cabinet and locking it. They placed the food high on shelves in the backs of closets, along with the water and finally, they each grabbed a hammer, digging out whatever nails they could find in the walls and began boarding up the windows. All of this was done in silence, and with each passing minute, his guilt and curiosity increased. Finally, about two windows shy of finishing the job, he couldn’t take it anymore.

  “Aren’t you going to address what happened?” he asked of her and she briefly glanced at him. He continued hammering away at the nail he desperately wanted to secure in the board.

  “Which time?” she asked and he knew she was also addressing the moment outside. He wanted to become angry that she had even mentioned his small bit of rudeness and attitude outside. Instead, he swallowed his anger and the little bit of pride he still held intact and cleared his throat.

  “About the fight.” He told her, the hollow sound of his hammer banging against the steel nail echoing throughout the house. They didn’t look at one another, but it didn’t stop him from noting the sigh that escaped her lips.

  “I thought we already did. It is done and over with; we have moved past it, right?” she asked and he began hammering harder against the nail, driving it in with such force that the window rattled carelessly.

  “Did we?” he asked and she shrugged, glancing as he finished the nail and gripped her hammer, steadying the nail.

  She bit her bottom lip. “We are friends, Buddy. We have apologized and I am alright with just letting it go.” Her statement drew forward a question that had been bothering him since the fight had happened.

  “You forgive me…but do you trust me?” he asked reluctantly and for a brief moment she hesitated her hammering. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she clenched her jaw, regret in her depths and continued hammering away at the nail. His stomach dropped at her lack of response and he felt the anger at himself return. She didn’t trust him; of course she didn’t. “You are very unsure of yourself.” He said, and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew they were a lie and he was only trying to find a way to anger her, hurt her as he had been hurt. Damn his psyche. They weren’t the words he had intended to say, and yet they tumbled out of his mouth anyways. She never looked at him, but instead continued hammering away at the board, driving the crooked nail back into the wall. So much for earning her trust and her respect.

  “You think so?” she asked him and he knew that she didn’t believe him. Of course she wouldn’t, he thought, the woman was sure of herself and very firm in her beliefs. He sighed as he reached down to retrieve another uneven and warped piece of wood. He set it butting up against the one they had just finished and she held it while he took his hammer and nails and began his turn of securing the board.

  “No.” he replied honestly, and again all was silent as they worked. He felt defeated and tense. He wished he could go off alone; he hated the world as it was. There were monsters everywhere with nowhere to hide and it bothered him. After his side of the board was nailed in, he held the middle steady for her to complete her side. “I’m sorry.” He said simply, offering no explanation. He wasn’t going to give her any more than that. He refused to and quite frankly he didn’t know what he needed to say to alleviate any of the hostility that she may have been feeling. She paused long enough to toss him a small smile.

  “You were upset. It’s okay.” She told him before once again steadying her nail before driving it in. He felt as if her words had slapped him across the face. He felt his cheeks grow warm and he narrowed his eyes at her.

  “I was apologizing for what I just said.” The words were bitter, and almost chastising as if she were ignorant and didn’t understand. She never missed a beat, the sound of the hammer hitting nail echoing throughout the empty house. His heart raced faster than the steady beat that the hammer had to offer.

  “I know.” She replied nonchalantly. This struck him the wrong way and he felt his face burn with frustration, bitterness, and even embarrassment.

  “But you weren’t talking about that.” he replied quickly, more of a statement than a question. He assumed she was speaking of his rudeness earlier. It bothered him that she refused to discuss the fight, and even had brushed aside his accusation from ten minutes prior and yet she wouldn’t drop the one subject he desperately did not want to discuss.

  She finished driving in her nail and stopped, reaching for another that lay to the side. She glanced up at him under her lashes. “No.” And he knew it. He knew then, for a fact, that she was addressing the earlier situation and he wondered exactly how much of him she could really see. He began questioning how much of him anyone could see, then. Was he really that transparent? He certainly hoped not.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.” He told her firmly, or what he thought was firm until he heard the small almost imperceptible tremor in his voice. He was losing it
. He couldn’t lose his composure and yet that was exactly what he was doing. He knew she could hear it and he waited for her questions, her accusations, and yet they never came.

  She didn’t look at him; instead, she steadied the nail. “Okay.” It was that simple, that plain. Then she began driving at her nail again. He released the board hastily, turning and grabbing another discarded piece of wood that was weathered along with his bent nails and hammer and trudged toward the last window. He wanted to be bitter and angry with her, but what for? What good would that serve him? She had let it go and he should be grateful, right? He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep from saying hateful untrue things until the metallic taste of blood made him stop.

  “You know, you are just…just…” he turned to tell her as she was gathering her nails and hammer. She lifted an eyebrow at him curiously.

  “Yeah?” she questioned him and his anger at himself only grew at his stammering. He licked his lips, feeling how dry and cracked they were and he resisted the urge to bite his lip in fear of tasting more of his own blood.

  “You are vindictive and manipulative.” He spat out as she neared the last window, placing her hammer and nails to the side in order to hold the board steady for him. She shrugged her shoulders, her face emotionless, blank. It dug into him, her expressionless face. She had been that way for the entire week and he hated it. She even went as far as to refuse looking at him because he understood that her eyes would give her away and she certainly couldn’t have that. No, she had to leave him guessing and groveling for her forgiveness, even when he already had it. It was his fault, really, that everything was as that way, whether he had intended for it to happen or not.

  “Am I?” she asked him and he drove the hammer against the nail as hard as he could, his frustrations at himself coming out with every slam of steel against steel.