Cities of Rust

by Ariel Bonin

  Lindsey cried silently, but Andrew didn't make a move to comfort her. He felt it was inappropriate to intimately touch the woman at her husband's funeral. He wanted to give her the space she needed to properly grieve.

  At the end of the service, and after Jared was laid to rest, Andrew and Lindsey were the only people that remained.

  "Would you like to go back inside?" he asked gently.

  She shook her head. "Could I have a minute?"

  "Sure." He took a couple of steps back and looked around. Kelly's grave marker was only a few feet away. It had been too long since he'd come down here just to visit her. He knew her body wasn't actually there, but the marker symbolized something more important—her memory. He stood before it, but didn't feel the same torment he usually did. Wondering about the change, he stole a glance at Lindsey. She was still standing in silence by Jared's grave.

  A realization hit Andrew square in the chest.

  Using his hand, he began digging a small hole in the dark soil in front of Kelly's cross. With a sigh, he tugged off his wedding band.

  "She needs me…and I need her. I just hope you understand," he said as he dropped his ring into the hole and swept the loose dirt over it. After briefly resting his hand on her cross, he rose, and walked back to Lindsey.

  Chapter 13

  The next two weeks went by in a haze for Lindsey. She operated in the usual motions, but not in spirit. Surprisingly enough, her nightmares had stopped, only to be replaced with the haunting image of her dead husband during the day. Whenever Jared crossed her mind, his rotting state was what she pictured. She wept for the devastating fact that she could not remember what he'd looked like before.

  Andrew was the light getting her through the darkness. He respectfully kept his distance, while caring for her in any way that he could. Andrew would regularly bring Jacob to Lindsey's room, and the cooing baby brought her a rare smile. Whenever that happened, she could see the relief in Andrew's eyes.

  Something else she had noticed was his lack of a wedding ring. She wouldn't admit it to him, but deep down, she was glad it was gone. Whenever she'd caught a glimpse of it while his hands were on her, she couldn't help but feel like "the other woman," even though that was not the case. She took it as a sign he was moving on, and that was the hope that got her out of bed in the morning.

  One morning, though, she was having a hard time getting going. A chill had seeped into the school, causing her to find refuge from the cold under her thick, scratchy blankets. Eating had also been a challenge as of lately, so she didn't have a problem sleeping through breakfast.

  She was starting to close her eyes to ward off the day a little longer when a familiar voice said her name from just inside the doorway. Sluggishly, she rolled over and her heart melted at the sight before her. Andrew was cradling Jacob with one arm, his other propping up a bottle of formula to the boy's eager mouth. Lindsey moved faster now, sitting up to take Jacob into her arms.

  "Good morning, little man! How are you? My goodness, you're hungry!" Lindsey said brightly as she fed Jacob his bottle.

  Her gaze swept up to Andrew and she found him watching her with admiration. She attempted to hide her involuntary blushing, as he was making it a regular occurrence.

  "Did you sleep well?" she managed to ask.

  Andrew leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. "For the most part. It was pretty cold last night. Got me to thinking that we need to start stocking up for the winter. Charlie saw a housing development a little ways out and said it looked mostly intact. We've hit all the stores around here, but have yet to go house to house. I think we could build up a decent supply if we start further out and then close in when winter arrives. That way, if we start to run low, we won't have to venture too far to get what we need."

  "That's a good idea," Lindsey said. "When were you thinking of starting?"

  "Today, actually. I'm planning a run to that development. It sounds promising, but like I said, it's a ways out. It would have to be an overnight trip. I'd like for you to go with me, back me up…"

  "Who else is going?" she asked out of curiosity.

  Andrew hesitated. "It'd be just you and I."

  Lindsey was slightly uneasy at the thought of going to an unfamiliar place overnight, especially just the two of them. It wasn't that she didn't want to spend time alone with Andrew, in fact, it was quite the opposite. They'd hardly touched each other in the past two weeks and privacy was hard to come by. It was reckless to sacrifice safety for their personal desires, but she imagined he was just as desperate as she was.

  "Okay," she answered. Andrew was visibly surprised that she agreed—no questions asked. Her lips quirked into a smile as she said, "I trust you."

  Andrew's gaze softened. "Thank you. That means a lot." A beat of silence passed between them. "Do you think you'd be ready to go in an hour?"

  Lindsey nodded. "I'll let Jacob finish his breakfast first, and then I'll get my stuff together."

  Andrew stepped away from the wall and leaned over to kiss her forehead, then Jacob's. Lindsey bit her lip and watched him walk out of her room, her body filled with a mix of emotions for the day ahead.

  _____

  Andrew's car of choice, their black sedan, traveled smoothly along the back roads. Charlie had said that there shouldn't be any roadblocks between the school and Jackson Heights, and so far, he'd been right. The relief that Andrew felt allowed him to sit back and enjoy the drive.

  The recent cool weather was beginning to change the leaves—speckles of yellow and orange dotted the green forest. Fall had always been his favorite season. Even now, his brain fooled him into anticipation of apple picking and warm cider. Andrew thought about sharing that fact with Lindsey, as they'd hardly had time to exchange such trivial details about themselves.

  "Tell me something about yourself that I don't know," Andrew said, breaching the stillness within the car.

  Lindsey hummed softly. "Like what?"

  "What were you like as a kid? What did you want to be when you grew up?"

  "Well, um, I had a lot of energy as a child. I loved gymnastics. I was convinced that I would grow up to win a gold medal on the floor exercise," Lindsey answered with a grin. The light was returning to her eyes. "I had a happy childhood. It helped that I had great parents."

  Andrew was unsure if he wanted them to venture into this territory. He found that memories involving family were especially tough to stomach, even if they were good. She was just starting to warm up again. He didn't want to push her right back down into a depressed state.

  Not knowing what Andrew was thinking, Lindsey elaborated. "My mom was a really sweet, quiet woman. We'd make sugar cookies together every Christmas, and she read to me each night at bedtime." So far she was still smiling. "My dad was a hard-working, sociable person. We always joked that he could travel halfway around the world and still find someone who knew somebody that lived in his hometown," Lindsey said with a chuckle.

  Andrew cracked a smile and glanced at her for a moment. She opened her mouth, presumably to tell him another story, but no words came out. Briefly, she closed her eyes as she blew out a shuddering breath. "Gosh, that was so long ago. Sometimes I wonder if it was just a dream," she said, staring ahead into nothingness.

  Andrew thought that he should address the elephant in the room. "I'm sorry about your parents and Jared."

  Lindsey shook her head. "Don't be. They're in a better place now, safe from this horrific world. I know I'll see them again someday."

  Andrew's throat suddenly felt constricted as her profound statement opened a floodgate of emotions for him. Clearly, she was making an improvement in her grieving process. He admired her strength to say such a thing out loud. He, too, had thought about Kelly and the rest of his family. He wanted to believe in heaven, but his faith was challenged on a daily basis. Ever since that first day when he'd watched the dead rise again, he'd questioned their entire existence. His kids, his group, and Lindsey were the only people that made hi
m feel as if there was a purpose to continue living this life.

  The sign for Jackson Heights came into view. Andrew turned onto the first street, analyzing the houses as they passed by. He noticed an impressive two-story home at the end of the road and decided to park there. Before he could exit the car, Lindsey touched his leg.

  "Can I tell you something?" she whispered, a nervous look in her eyes.

  "Anything," Andrew replied as he turned in his seat to face her. It appeared that she was quite hesitant to share whatever it was with him. He squeezed her hand and waited.

  "That day in the pharmacy, when you found me…" she began and continued to look down. Her body language gave off a vibe of embarrassment or shame. He couldn't imagine what she could possibly tell him that would cause her to feel that way.

  "I had the gun in my mouth, Andrew."

  He blinked and swallowed hard. "What?"

  "I was bleeding and I knew my options had run out. There was no way I was going to become one of those things. When you opened the door, I had my finger on the trigger. Even then, I intended to do it. I thought you were the man that shot me, meaning to finish me off, or worse." She stared up at him. "But something stopped me. I don't know what. I'd like to think it was fate, maybe even God himself, but I didn't pull that trigger for a reason. I know now that it was you."

  She had rendered him completely speechless. He was blown away by this woman—and to think that he'd come so close to never knowing her.

  Abruptly, he reached across the space between them and pulled her toward him. She laughed as she clumsily climbed over the center console to settle in his lap. Immediately, he kissed her, coaxing open her mouth with his tongue. His hands moved down her back and slid under her shirt, savoring the feel of her soft skin under his rough fingers.

  _____

  After reaching the summit of oblivion together, Lindsey collapsed into his arms, breathing heavily. She nuzzled his neck as the quaking in her body subsided. He happened to glance down and saw that her chest was covered in red splotches from his prickly beard. He also noted that her hair was a mess from his hands, and assumed his was probably in a similar state. He made an amused sound and her eyes connected with his. The realization of what they'd done must have just occurred to her, because, at the same time, they launched into a fit of laughter.

  Andrew didn't think he'd ever heard Lindsey laugh so hard. She probably hadn't in a very long time. He admired her glowing features as she adjusted her clothes. Even with her wild hair, he thought she looked sexy as hell. She tugged an elastic band off her wrist and started tying up her long golden hair. His gaze settled on her exposed neck and an obvious crimson mark from his teeth. No one would know what it was—it would probably be gone by the next day anyway—but he couldn't stop the wave of possessiveness that washed over him at the sight of it.

  Lindsey caught him staring at her and smiled. "What?" she asked with mock innocence.

  "Nothing," he said finally, and leaned over to kiss her cheek. Her trademark blush appeared and he almost burst out laughing again. Here they were, tidying themselves after a spontaneous romp in the front seat of a car, and she was blushing from a peck on the cheek. Lindsey was unbelievable—and he meant that in only the best possible way.

  After taking a few minutes to right themselves, they got out of the humid car. Andrew noticed Lindsey checking her Glock and it reminded him that he'd brought along their handgun suppressors. If they wanted to make any headway, they would need to keep noise to a minimum.

  Andrew popped the trunk and reached into his duffle bag. His hand brandished one of said suppressors and offered it to Lindsey. She thanked him as she screwed it onto the end of her weapon.

  Eyes now alert, he watched her scan the desolate neighborhood. "Where do you want to start?"

  "We'll start with this house and work our way down each street from right to left. Gather everything that could be useful. More importantly, watch your back," he said with a look of utmost care.

  "You got it," she said, and slipped on her backpack.

  _____

  They approached the front door of the first house. The heavy mahogany was beginning to show some wear from the elements. Andrew tried the knob and, with a loud creak, the door opened. Lindsey stepped into the grand hallway, her gaze traveling up the tall staircase. Andrew shut the door behind them with a muted thud. Darkness worsened the shadows ahead of them. Lindsey formed a T-shape with her arms—flashlight pointed forward and gun straight out at the ready.

  They moved room to room, checking every corner to be sure there weren't any hidden dangers. When they reached the upstairs, he went left and she moved right. A muffled bump resounded from behind the door in front of her. She blew out a short breath and proceeded to push it open. A male turner, clad in blood-stained pajamas, drifted toward her and she promptly put a bullet into his left cheek. He hit the floor in a splat of black sludge. She looked down at him distastefully, nudging him with her boot to be sure he wasn't going to get back up.

  Andrew walked into the room, saw the turner, and gave Lindsey a look that said, Are you okay? She nodded.

  "The rest of the upstairs is empty. We should be good to start gathering some things." Andrew paused, and then asked, "Where did you learn to sweep a house like that? You could have been a cop."

  Lindsey attempted to keep a straight face as she answered with the name of a well-known police procedural television show.

  Andrew stared at her and must have seen that she wasn't kidding. With a scoff, he said, "Hey, whatever works."

  Lindsey smiled as she began searching the rest of the bedroom. Andrew still hadn't moved.

  "You know, you still haven't told me what you did before all of this…" he said.

  For some reason, she was under the impression that she'd shared that piece of information with him a long time ago, but no such occasion came to mind.

  "I was an eighth-grade English teacher."

  Andrew raised his eyebrows. "Middle school? Yikes."

  Lindsey laughed. "I know. I'm not really sure what I'd been thinking when I made that decision. The kids kept things interesting, though."

  "I sure would have liked to have had you as my teacher. I probably wouldn't have gotten any work done, but at least you'd have had my complete attention," Andrew conceded with a playful twinkle in his eye. "My eighth-grade teacher Ms. Rosenblat, didn't really do it for me."

  His humorous expression actually made him appear younger to her. She wondered how much Andrew had aged since everything started. She tried to imagine him as a clean-cut Army captain and it was nearly impossible. She was partial to his graying beard and short, unkempt hair. Just looking at him now, it took all of her willpower not to throw him on the bed for round two.

  Lindsey crossed the room, stopping directly in front of him. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled his head down so she could kiss him until they were out of breath.

  "We should stay on task, save this for later," Andrew said with a wink.

  Lindsey smirked. "I'm going to hold you to that."

  _____

  An hour later, they searched a cozy house on the next street over. The entire residence was untouched and not inhabited by anyone—living or dead. Andrew was rummaging through a cabinet when he saw that Lindsey was standing in front of the kitchen window, and had been for a couple of minutes.

  "What is it?" he asked, feeling an edge of uneasiness.

  Lindsey glanced at him, a slight quirk at the corner of her mouth. "Yesterday was my birthday." She pointed to a gadget on the windowsill and, sure enough, there was today's date. "It's a solar clock."

  Andrew quickly did the math and acknowledged the fact that he was now thirty-eight. Sheesh, he felt older than that.

  "Well, happy belated birthday. And which one was this—twenty-seven?" he asked as he leaned his back against the counter.

  Lindsey shook her head. "I wish."

  "Twenty-eight? Twenty-nine?"

  "You're getting
hotter," Lindsey chuckled. "Try thirty."

  "Some of us wouldn't mind being thirty again, especially when you make it look so good," Andrew drawled.

  Lindsey chuckled a little louder now and Andrew grinned. He instantly thought back to what Dean had said to him about Lindsey having a "daddy complex." They were only eight years apart, for God's sake. Either she appeared young for her age, or he wasn't aging well. He preferred to go with the former assumption.

  Oh, Dean.

  Andrew was thankful for these two days with Lindsey—no distractions, no assholes gawking at his woman. Fortunately, for Dean's safety, the man had been keeping his distance from Lindsey since the incident with her dead husband. Andrew had caught him looking at her a couple of times, and it took all of his resolve not to break the man's neck.

  Brushing off all thoughts of Dean, Andrew pushed away from the counter and tipped his head to the side. "Come on. Let's check out the rest of the house."

  Lindsey followed him down the hall and into the master bedroom. A king-size canopy bed, fitted with burgundy and gold sheets, took up the majority of the room. In the far corner, a stone fireplace competed with the bed for best feature.

  Lindsey spun around to face him. "We have to stay here tonight." She flopped onto the mattress and let out a groan. "Yup. This bed is amazing! Andrew Flynn, if you say no, you will break my heart."

  Andrew bit his lip to keep from laughing at her spirited manner. "Would I say no to you?"

  _____

  Late in the afternoon, when the sun began to set, Lindsey and Andrew made their way back to the house. After a light dinner of green beans and instant potatoes, they locked all the doors and barricaded themselves in the bedroom. Lindsey had gone into the master bathroom to wash up, so Andrew took the opportunity to light the kindling in the fireplace. The hearth crackled to life, washing a warm glow over the room. Taking his time, he removed his gun belt and slung it over an easy chair in the opposite corner, followed by his boots and shirt.