The Good, The Dead & The Lawless (Book 2): The Hell That Follows

by Archer, Angelique

  Her tears splashed to the dirt, creating soft little indentations in the ground like raindrops. She inhaled shakily and lifted her face, settling her gaze on the lake and what lay beyond it.

  It seemed so serene, so beautiful, brimming with memories that crashed down upon her.

  She could see Faith scampering along the shore as a little girl, twirling about in her favorite pink dress while chasing her brother.

  She saw her grandmother contentedly pulling the weeds from her garden near the water, pausing to watch them play.

  Then Haven saw herself, her hair billowing out behind her as she bounded across the yard to join them, calling their names. Both Brett and Faith turned around at the sound of her voice and ran toward their big sister, their eyes full of admiration and affection. They all collided in a giant heap, laughing jubilantly, then resumed chasing each other.

  Then little Faith looked right at Haven where she sat next to the freshly-dug grave. She waved and smiled, a full, happy, heart-warming smile. Suddenly, the image vanished in a flash of light, and Haven was left with nothing but the quiet lapping of the waves against the shoreline.

  Houston turned the key in the lock of the side door to the farmhouse. Brett was holding Haven tightly, helping her stay upright while silently wiping tears from his own face.

  The branches in the yard swayed back and forth with the wind. Moonlight pulsed through them, casting eerie shadows on the ground. Shivering slightly, Houston shook his head and pushed the door open, waiting for the others to come in before locking the door securely behind them.

  A gust of icy wind blew past him into the living room. At first, he thought nothing of it. When he noticed the curtains billowing gently, he froze mid-step, and it dawned on him.

  Not one window had been opened since they’d arrived earlier that week. It was too cold now, but none of them would have been stupid enough to leave a window open in any event, knowing it would be that much easier for someone or something to creep in and hide.

  The moon illuminated bits of dirt and leaves scattered around the open window, an earthy trail that led into the kitchen.

  “Someone’s been here,” he said quietly. He drew his gun and motioned for Brett and Haven to stay put.

  Following the trail, Houston saw the kitchen cabinets were ajar. Whoever had come in was looking for food, real food, and thus, could not be a zombie, but he didn’t feel any better coming to this realization. While zombies appeared more intimidating at first glance with their white eyes, snapping jaws, oozing wounds, and tireless hunting prowess, looters tended to be more dangerous, desperation the driving force behind their actions.

  It had only taken mere days before the last bastion of law enforcement remaining capitulated to the panic and chaos that ensued after the virus broke out in the major cities across the country.

  There were no phones to dial 9-1-1, no one to answer even if the phones worked. No one could protect them now.

  Houston grabbed his flashlight and held it in front of him as he rounded the corner of the kitchen into the dark hallway. With the toe of his boot, he gently nudged a bedroom door open. He cleared the first part of the room from the doorway then pushed the door all the way to the wall and cleared the rest of the room.

  It took him a few more minutes to clear the other rooms on the first floor before moving upstairs. Maybe whoever had broken in was gone now, but he wasn’t going to let his guard down until he knew for sure.

  Trying to stay near the bannisters, he winced as the floors creaked noisily beneath his feet.

  Giving up on being stealthy, he quickly took the last steps two at a time and opened the door to the study.

  He stiffened in surprise.

  On the ground was a boy no more than twelve years-old, curled up into a ball protectively surrounded by Texaco and some cans of food. He was fast asleep, as was the dog beside him. Texaco gave an occasional snore, paws twitching sporadically, no doubt chasing squirrels in a beautiful doggy dream.

  Nice job guarding the house, Tex, Houston thought, smiling for the first time that day.

  The kid looked so exhausted. He hadn’t even heard them come in.

  Brett joined him in the doorway and looked at him questioningly. He started to reach down to wake the boy, but Houston shook his head and lifted a finger to his lips, motioning for them to leave the room.

  Turning around and closing the door, he whispered, “He’s just a kid. Let him sleep.” He looked past Brett. “How is she holding up?”

  Brett’s eyes welled up with tears and focused on a spot on the wall. “Not good.”

  Houston put a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “I am so sorry, brother.” He pulled him in and hugged him. “I loved her, too.” Tears ran down his face, but he gritted his teeth, determined to stay strong for Brett who folded against him and began to cry.

  After telling Brett to get some rest, Houston found Haven in her favorite room of the farmhouse, the one with the window seat. Before all of the pandemonium, she would have loved this room, snuggled up with a good murder mystery and a piping hot cup of tea.

  Now, as she stared out at the landscape beyond the glass, it only provided an unobstructed view to the cold darkness that had swallowed up her sister.

  Houston approached and laid a blanket around her shoulders. He moved behind her and wrapped her in his embrace, not saying anything, just wanting to be there for her.

  Haven gratefully sank into his arms, more vulnerable and hopeless than she’d ever felt in her whole life.

  After managing to scale up and down the billboard advertisement, Colin decided that if he survived the zombie apocalypse, Cirque du Soleil had better come knocking on his door to offer him a spot with their troupe.

  He’d been tricked into thinking it would be easy; Kennedy made it look simple and graceful with an agility and swiftness his large frame would never manage.

  And to make matters worse, Johnny B. never missed an opportunity to come up with off-color jokes about him wearing a “skirt.”

  “Real men wear kilts,” he mumbled under his breath. “I don’t understand why we are doing this,” he added loudly as his feet touched solid ground.

  “You want to keep your balls, dumbass? This is the safest place to stay the night. Rotters can’t climb ladders and bite ‘em off,” Johnny B. retorted as he landed beside him, immediately taking his rifle off his back and shifting back and forth to make sure there were no surprises coming out from the surrounding area.

  Once Kennedy and Grady joined them at the bottom, they picked up their packs and trudged down the hill leading into the city. Based on how tense their stances were, Colin knew he wasn’t the only one feeling anxious about this particular mission.

  But his mind was elsewhere.

  Colin missed her. So many times he’d almost turned around and gone back.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out that two men in love with the same woman could not live under one roof. And ultimately, he had to be the one to leave.

  Houston was already someone Haven and her family loved. Colin was just the guy who happened to be on the lake when they’d needed rescuing. While they appreciated him, he begrudgingly recognized the knowledge of his feelings for Haven would create a schism amongst all of them, making it impossible for him to stay with the group.

  Houston would be the man they chose to stand by and support. And why wouldn’t they? He seemed bloody perfect. Responsible, industrious, all-American and wholesome… Colin felt like a nobody beside him.

  Houston was the right man for her, and leaving Haven and her family was what needed to be done. If she was safe, if she was happy, that’s all he could want for her.

  But he would be damned if he stuck around to watch, knowing that every night, it would be Houston who could caress her body, breathe in her sweet scent, and whisper words of passion to her. He couldn’t stay, no matter how hard he tried; it would be his undoing.

  “Hey,” Kennedy whispered, cutting into his thoughts. “I nee
d you focused, Colin.”

  It was the first time since they met that she’d actually called him by his real name. Although he could tell Kennedy was not one to be easily spooked, her uneasiness was palpable, and he knew she was trying to contain it so it wouldn’t be contagious to the others.

  He instinctively moved his hand over the pistol she’d given him, the other protectively clutching the crowbar.

  The sun peeked over the horizon, deceptively splashing cheerful colors across the decaying cityscape.

  Amidst all of the mystery she and her men had created about their encampment, Kennedy finally revealed that they were on the hunt for gardening supplies. He’d given her a hard time about that one. Gardening supplies? He imagined their camp being full of sweet little old ladies tending to gardens inside white picket fences.

  Kennedy explained that after they got what they needed from Home Depot, they would rendezvous with some other members of her team at a “storage terminal,” whatever that meant. There was one more stop after that, a trading post of some sort, and then they’d be “home.”

  If “home” was just a shoddy encampment where he had to protect little old grannies, Colin would be pissed off. He didn’t come all this way to spend the rest of his days gardening and saving the elderly.

  Shaking his head and muttering to himself, he sighed. The sad reality was that they could have been looking for birthday balloons in a volcano for all he cared. It wasn’t like he had anything better to do, anyone to come home to, any home at all. What was there to lose? This would at least keep him busy for a while, give him purpose.

  Cold winds swept through the skyscrapers, scattering trash and debris along empty, desolate streets. Although dawn had broken the darkness, the sky was heavy with the promise of rain.

  Colin pulled his bomber jacket closer to his body, his eyes darting back and forth between the buildings. He wondered where all of the zombies were hiding. They’d been walking through the city for half an hour and had only seen shriveled up corpses, badly decomposed from the elements and the savagery of wild animals looking for an easy meal.

  He kept telling himself that it was a bad idea to be in the city, to be in a place once so densely populated that it could only be overrun with the undead now. Since the infection started, Colin had never ventured into the city for anything—everything he’d needed had been found within the countryside.

  Kennedy tapped his arm and pointed. Bright orange letters spelling out “Home Depot” against the backdrop of a tan building let him know they’d found their destination.

  An American flag billowed gently in the wind from atop the roof. Orange shopping carts lay on their sides in the parking lot.

  Johnny B. nodded to their left. “There’s the parking garage. I bet the poor fuckers turned to rotters while they shopped and left their rides parked below. There’s gotta be something good down there, something big to haul all our shit back.”

  Colin groaned. What a terrible idea. He was certain that all of the missing city zombies had made a cozy little nest within the parking garage and were just waiting to welcome them with bloody, bony arms.

  Something clanked loudly to the ground in a nearby alley. All four of them whirled around and pointed their weapons in the direction of the noise.

  Kennedy breathed a sigh of relief when she saw a scrawny dog tug on the carcass of another canine from behind a dumpster.

  Her muscles felt tight, especially around her shoulders, and she tried to relax them and stay limber. These folks relied on her. She had to keep it together.

  It had been extremely risky to go into the city, but it would have the supplies they needed in the amounts they required.

  And this wasn’t a major city. Those they avoided at all costs. With as few armed, capable people as they had, they didn’t stand a chance in the big metropolitan areas.

  She knew the places they could go; they’d all been mapped out already, and her crew didn’t deviate from them, at least for now. Until more of her people were trained to deal with the undead, they would just run small scavenging parties into the towns and less populated cities.

  They approached the east entrance of the garage, a massive gate blocking their entry. Kennedy squinted as she peered through the gate while Johnny B. and Grady watched for anything around them. Seeing no movement, she pulled on the lever to lift it. When it didn’t budge, she tried tugging on the gate from the rungs. It jostled noisily, causing Colin to look over his shoulder, his crowbar and gun still held out in front of him.

  “Well, looks like we can’t get into the garage after all,” he said with mock cheerfulness and turned away.

  Kennedy determinedly yanked on the gate again as if it would have magically unlocked since she last tried it. “I don’t like it any more than you, but this parking garage is huge and will likely have what we are looking for,” she answered.

  “This is the worst idea I’ve ever heard of in my entire life,” Colin replied a bit too loudly. Johnny B. swung around and glared at him, and Colin stared back, matching the ferocity in his eyes. “What are you looking at, you big, muscle-y meatloaf?” Turning to Kennedy, he pointed to the garage, his expression serious. “You guys go in there, and you are on your own.”

  Kennedy tried hard not to show any emotion. They needed his help, but she didn’t want to beg him for it. “The mission was to get in and out with what we needed and to do it as quickly and quietly as possible. If that means we have to go in through that garage, then that’s what we do.”

  “Then you can do it your damn self. I’m not putting my arse on the line for people I don’t know. Thanks for everything, Red,” he said with a tinge of bitterness.

  Kennedy froze. No one had ever called her that aside from her brother.

  Colin’s jaw clenched, and he gave her one more glance before walking away.

  Still stunned from hearing the nickname her brother always used for her, she watched him leave. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Johnny B.’s voice cut through her thoughts. “Eh, let the kilt-wearing leprechaun go. We don’t need him.”

  “He’s Scottish,” she grumbled.

  Johnny B. chuckled. “Same damn thing. He’s an asshole either way.”

  Frowning, she placed her hands on her hips. “And yes, we do need him. We absolutely do.”

  She knew she was at an impasse. She could either hold on to her pride and let him go, or set it aside and ask him to stay. One of those options wouldn’t help anyone.

  Holstering her weapon, she started jogging. Johnny B. and Grady looked at one another in confusion.

  When she caught up to Colin, she said in a low voice, “You can’t just leave.”

  He turned to her, flabbergasted. “You barely know me, and now you’re telling me what I can and can’t do? You American women are unbelievable.”

  She crossed her arms. “Maybe you just bring out the worst in us.”

  He rolled his eyes and kept walking. Dropping her arms to her sides, she hurried after him.

  “Hey,” she persisted. “You need us. What are you going to do, wander the country by yourself until Jesus decides your time is up?”

  With an exasperated sigh, he stopped. “You need me more than I need you right now. I don’t mind being by myself, alright? Been doing it since I was a wee lad, and I don’t see any harm in keeping it up. I’m a big boy; no need to babysit me, Red.”

  “Stop calling me that,” she protested, but her tone wasn’t convincing.

  Colin half-smiled. “Like ‘Braveheart’ is any better.”

  In spite of the urgency of the situation, Kennedy found herself returning the smile. “Look, I don’t know how you made it this far with just your precious crowbar, but you did. You know how to survive. You’re strong. And I’m not trying to flatter you; it’s the truth. The people I’m looking out for—most of them are weak. We got kids, elderly folks… a few little old grannies like you thought,” she added in jest before turning serious. “Lots of hungry mo
uths to feed, and even worse, we’re trying to do everything we can to keep them safe from both the zombies and those taking advantage of this shit storm. There aren’t enough of us to protect them all. We need you,” she emphasized, and she exhaled like she had just completed a daunting task. “There. I said it. Are you happy now?” She watched his eyes, gauging his reaction. When he didn’t give her anything, she looked defeated. “If you want to go, you’re free to do as you’d like. I’m just asking you to please reconsider. Please.” As much as she didn’t want to beg him, it certainly sounded like it had come to that.

  Colin stared at her long and hard for a moment. He hated dark places. The memory of those haunting white eyes staring up at him in the darkness of the old farmhouse still jolted him from his sleep. He stepped back and rubbed the back of his neck. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.” He looked up at the sky in resignation. “As pesky as you are, American girls are damn convincing.” He cursed quietly then pointed at her. “Just promise me one thing.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

  “Just promise me we’ll try to find a truck outside first.”

  Chapter Five

  Mark awoke to warm sunlight shining in his face.

  He rubbed his eyes and stretched beneath the blanket which he’d somehow managed to roll around himself like a burrito. Sitting up and studying his surroundings, he was in a room lined with dark mahogany bookshelves filled with row after row of old-looking books. For a moment, he almost didn’t remember how he got there.

  Then it all came back to him.

  He had been alone for weeks, weeks upon weeks upon weeks, evading horror after horror in search of his mother and sister. The people in the group he’d come across the day before were the first ones he had actually considered joining. He always observed any strangers he stumbled upon for at least a day before deciding whether they were good or not.

  And so far, he hadn’t talked to anyone.

  There weren’t a lot of good people left.