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

by Archer, Angelique

  “Thanks again, Jess.” Kennedy took Colin by the arm and reached for another bowl, filling it with canned chili and snagging a couple of apples before she led him to a table at the back of the dining car. She settled into a seat across from Colin, adjusting the firearm at her side before taking a big bite from her apple. “I think you’re quite a hit with the ladies.”

  “Must be the kilt,” he muttered and rubbed his eyes tiredly.

  That bed in his cabin was calling his name. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten a decent night of sleep. Either he’d slept with one eye open in case he had to fend off zombies, or his thoughts drifted to Haven and how much he missed her, how impossibly alone he felt without his best friend by his side.

  “Is it true?” Kennedy started, then stopped herself.

  “Is what true?”

  She shook her head and sealed her lips. “Never mind.”

  He gave her a sideways glance. “You might as well ask it.”

  Waving him off, she turned away. “Nah, I’m good.”

  “Do I wear anything under the kilt?” he finished for her.

  Kennedy looked about as red as the chili in their bowls. “That wasn’t what I…” Her voice trailed off. “It must be the kilt, you’re right,” she added, quickly shifting the focus. “You’re just a regular ol’ piece of man candy, I reckon.”

  Colin wrinkled his eyebrows at her. “‘Man candy?’”

  “Yeah. Man candy. You’ve never heard that expression? Means women think you’re hot.”

  Shaking his head, he answered, “Oh, I’ve heard that term before. For that hairless Bieber kid and the skinny, sparkling guy from those vampire movies I’d rather kill myself than watch. There’s no way I’m getting lumped in with the likes of them.”

  Kennedy tilted her apple in his direction. “I’ll agree with you on that. I never thought much of them either. If I dated a guy like them, I feel like I’d have to defend him if we ever got jumped or something. They’re toothpicks.”

  Colin chuckled and ate a spoonful of chili. Finding his appetite restored, he eagerly took another bite, much more at ease with Kennedy over Jess.

  “I ever tell you how I found this old girl?”

  When he shook his head, she leaned back. “I’d crossed a couple state lines after I left Texas. Johnny B., the boys, and I had just gotten to Alabama when we found her sittin’ pretty on the tracks. We were barely staying ahead of a horde so it was a good hide-out. Turned out we weren’t the only ones who thought so. Two girls, sisters, had been hiding on her for some weeks, along with Mr. Tucker, who was taking care of them. Luckily for us, he just so happened to be good with trains. It’s what he did his whole career,” she explained. “With only three of them, they hadn’t been able to get fuel, so they were using up their supplies and gettin’ desperate. Tucker didn’t want to leave the girls unprotected to go out, and by himself, at his age, there’s no way he would’ve survived a fuel run. It was a win-win for both of us since we had the manpower to get the fuel, and they had the guy who could get her running.”

  Colin toyed with his spoon, dragging it along the sides of his bowl. “Tucker is a great man.”

  Kennedy reached across the table and touched his hand. Colin was surprised by it, but didn’t pull away. “Thank you for everything you’re doing, what you’ve done so far. You’re just what we needed.”

  Her face looked tired then, and her shoulders slumped a little. Colin watched her for a moment. Even though he didn’t want to be on the train with all of those strangers, another part of him wanted to help Kennedy and lift some of the burden off of her as she struggled to keep everyone safe.

  “Don’t mention it. Anything you need, you just have to say it.”

  She smiled at him gratefully. “A better future can be foraged from the skeletons of the past. We’re going to build a new world, and it’ll be stronger and braver than anything this country has ever seen before.”

  Chapter Nine

  Brett sat at the kitchen table and handed Mark his last remaining granola bar.

  Mark looked at it with an uncertain expression on his face, as though he didn’t want to take it away from him.

  “It’s okay, bud. You have it.”

  “But… won’t you be hungry?” Mark asked hesitantly.

  “Nah, man. I’m not hungry. I had a big breakfast before you woke up,” Brett lied. “Here.” He nudged the bar to the boy and patted him on the back.

  Houston glanced at him. Brett hadn’t eaten hardly a thing in the past two weeks, and he sure as hell didn’t have a big breakfast earlier. In fact, there had been no breakfast at all. Making sure the kid had enough in his belly, Brett continued to give much of his rations to Mark.

  Unfolding a map he had found in the glove box of the Jeep, Houston spread it out on the kitchen counter and began to highlight highways on the wrinkled paper.

  Brett noticed and came over beside him. The dark circles under his eyes stood out starkly against his pale skin. “So what’s the plan?”

  “Well, I think if we can take these back roads, we should be able to get to West Virginia without a problem.” He assessed the remaining cans of food on the counter. “We can grab some stuff tomorrow before we head out. We’re running low, that’s for sure.”

  Houston had certainly tightened his belt as of late, but Haven and Brett were looking downright gaunt, losing their sister undoubtedly the culprit. And with another mouth to feed, they had been going through their rations faster than usual. Supplies were getting harder to find, and he was starting to wonder if they’d run out of homes and stores to raid in the nearby area.

  Although a city meant more supplies, Houston dreaded the thought of going into Columbus, knowing it would be overrun with zombies. Surely there were other places they would come across on the drive to West Virginia.

  “We’ll stop each day before it gets dark, find a safe place to rest our heads.” He folded up the map and set it beside the cans.

  Mark chewed his granola bar thoughtfully. “Good. I don’t want to be out when it’s dark. They always find you.”

  Houston ruffled Mark’s hair. “Don’t worry about that. Hey, how about you help Haven pack up her stuff so we can head out soon?”

  The boy nodded and scooted out of his chair, running upstairs to Haven’s room.

  Haven slept during the day, only coming out at night to clear the property of undead. Houston wanted to go with her, even though he was exhausted and needed sleep, but Haven insisted she would join him in bed later. He knew he had to give her space and let her grieve in her own way, which involved hacking zombies to pieces, but he was terrified that she would do something reckless. He couldn’t sleep until he heard their bedroom door open and felt the mattress shift slightly from her weight. And thus far, each night, she did come back, just as she promised.

  Mark knocked softly on the door. “Haven?” He turned the knob and slowly opened the door. “It’s me, Haven.”

  She was facing away from him, the comforter tightly wrapped around her body so that only the top of her head showed.

  “Houston asked me to help you pack. We’re heading out tomorrow to go to West Virginia.” He looked around, unsure of what to do or where to start. Usually when he went on a trip, his mom packed his stuff. “I’ve been to West Virginia before. Not a lot of people. Houston’s mom and dad’s house sounds really cool. He said it was built on the side of the mountain. That would keep us safe from zombies for sure.”

  Mark paused to breathe after attempting to fill the awkward silence with nonstop chatter. “I miss ice cream.” It sounded ridiculous, but it was the first thought that popped into his mind.

  He was surprised to see her turn and face him. “Which flavor?” she sniffed, wiping her eyes.

  Mark sat down on the corner of the bed and contemplated this. “Mint chocolate chip. That’s the best one, obviously.”

  Haven propped her head on her hand. “Maybe we can make ice cream one day. It isn’t hard
.”

  Mark’s eyes grew wide. “Really? Can we do it tonight?”

  Haven looked doubtful. “We probably don’t have all the ingredients we need. I think we just have salt.”

  He made a face. “Salt? That’s sounds disgusting.”

  “You never made ice cream in school, like in science class?” When Mark shook his head, she continued, “Well, you haven’t lived then. You only need a few ingredients. Milk, sugar, vanilla, ice, and salt. You put it all in a Ziploc bag, add the ice, and sprinkle a little salt over the ice. Then you mash it together until the milk turns into ice cream.”

  “Whoa, that sounds awesome. Except for the salt part. I don’t like when people put salty stuff on sweet things. Like donuts with bacon,” he emphasized, trying to sound very matter-of-fact. “My mom brought some home once, and they were gross. I mean, I love bacon, but not with a donut!”

  Haven smiled a little. “What about salted caramel ice cream?”

  “Salt on caramel?” he repeated incredulously.

  “It’s delicious. Don’t knock it until you try it, kid. And you might change your mind someday. It’s an acquired taste. Like Swiss cheese. Or avocados. I hated them growing up. Now they’re some of my favorite things.”

  He wrinkled his nose. “You’re weird.”

  Haven swung her feet over the edge of the bed and wiggled over until she was beside Mark, their feet dangling back and forth in unison. She looked down at him, feeling something again.

  He beamed at her, big, innocent, hopeful eyes and a contented smile.

  Somehow, this sweet boy reminded her of Faith, and for a moment, the crushing sense of sadness in her spirit seemed to dissipate.

  “I tell you what,” she offered finally, holding out her hand. “You help me pack, and someday soon, I’ll find out a way to make you ice cream.”

  Mark grinned at her and shook her hand with enthusiasm.

  “Deal.”

  Showers were limited to once a week, not to exceed five minutes. By day three, Colin usually started feeling a little ripe, and by day five, his skin was crawling.

  But he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth. The fact that they could take showers, even just one a week, was tremendously appreciated and made everyone feel a little more human.

  Tucker had constructed a clever way to collect rainwater by fixing wood panels to the top of car that housed the shower. The panels narrowed into a funnel-like drain which emptied into a storage tank. The water wasn’t always fresh, since it had to be recycled after each use, but it got the job done.

  Colin signed his name next to his time slot on the roster hanging from a plastic hook on the door outside the shower. He walked in and placed his clothes and towel on the plastic blue seat jutting out of the wall. Pulling his shirt over his head, he caught a whiff of the fabric and made a face. He had been wearing the same change of clothes for the past few days. Folks got clean sets of clothes the same day their names came up on the shower roster, but since day four, he had been eagerly anticipating the freshness of newly washed cotton on clean skin.

  He finished taking off his clothes and got into the shower. It was so tiny that he couldn’t even turn around without his shoulders jamming against the cramped confines of the stall. Beneath the detachable showerhead, there was a handle to hold on to in case the train lurched unexpectedly.

  Colin turned the water on, jumping in surprise when icy water spewed from the hose, but decided not to wait for it to warm up since he wanted to savor every moment of his much-anticipated shower.

  He let the water run down his body, his hands splayed in front of him on the wall, watching the build-up of dirt from days of planting and tending to the improvised greenhouse wash away and swirl around the drain before disappearing. He reached for the bar of grimy-looking soap haphazardly sitting on the discolored plastic rack hanging from the showerhead holder, making sure to rinse off the bar before using it.

  His muscles were sore, and he was tired. He massaged his shoulders and leaned against the wall of the stall, willing himself to relax and revel in the simple luxury the shower provided. His eyelids drooped just a little, and he rubbed them sleepily before finally shutting off the water and stepping out onto the cold plastic floor, fumbling to see through the steam for his towel.

  He had just pulled it out from under his clean change of clothes, leaning over carefully to ensure the new set of attire didn’t fall to the wet floor, when the door swung open.

  “Sweet mother of God!” someone yelled in a thick Texan accent.

  Colin turned around so quickly that he somehow managed to knock the clean clothes off the plastic seat into a small puddle where his feet had just been and whack his head on a shelf above the seat.

  It was Kennedy.

  “Oh, um…” he mumbled, immediately throwing the towel over his lower half and cinching it tightly around his waist with his fist. For the first time in his life, he felt incredibly embarrassed to be naked in front of a woman.

  She stared at the ground, shielding her eyes. “I am so sorry! I didn’t think anyone was in here. The roster said your five-minute spot was over, and I just assumed… I had no idea. I am so, so sorry, Colin.”

  He must have stayed longer than five minutes and not realized it. “It’s my fault. I lost track of the time.” Colin mustered up the courage to look at her.

  She was wearing a white towel, and her rich red hair fell over her shoulders and down her back. It was the first time he had seen her with her hair loose and not in a ponytail or under a baseball cap. She looked surprisingly… attractive.

  “I am so sorry,” she repeated, still not daring to make eye contact. “I should have knocked.”

  “I should have locked the door. It’s my fault, don’t worry about it. I should be the one apologizing to you for having just seen me… well, you know, in my bloody birthday suit.” He ran his hand through his hair, making sure not to let go of the towel around his waist. “Shit, this is awkward, isn’t it?”

  “I’ll come back later.” Kennedy turned and started to hurry back the way she’d come.

  “No, no, I’m done.” Grabbing his clothes, holding everything including his shoes tightly against his chest, he then edged past her. “Well, um… enjoy your shower.”

  “You, too,” she replied without thinking before darting into the bathroom and closing the door. She hastily shifted the lock to the other side until the letters on it showed “Occupied.” Then she groaned and put her hand over her face. “‘You, too?’ Nice one, K.”

  Colin practically jogged back to his room, his cheeks on fire. Luckily for her, Kennedy’s room was right next to the shower stall, but he had to get through two cars in just his towel before he arrived at his own cabin. And right now was the dinner rush, so everyone was making their way to the dining car like a stampede of wild buffalo. He received several strange glances from most passengers, as well as a few approving head-to-toe gazes from some of the women, but he refused to look at any of them, drowning in his shame.

  After what seemed like an eternity, he got to his room, hurriedly shutting the door behind him. He was oddly out of breath, his heart pounding so loudly he could almost hear it in the silent openness of the cabin.

  Frowning as he put on his clean, but very damp, clothes, he sat down on his cot and decided that instead of facing the other passengers, and worse, Kennedy, he would just as soon enjoy a meal of chewing gum he had in his backpack and call it a night.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you lived in the middle of nowhere,” Houston remarked as he steered the Jeep along the open country road toward downtown Green Acres. They had gotten an early enough start that mist still floated along the surface of the pastures they drove by.

  Haven was curled up in a ball in the back seat with Mark, her face resting against the window. She didn’t want to leave the farm, but she knew they had to; Houston had sacrificed so much to find her, not knowing if his parents were even alive. He’d put her first, and he had
stayed at the farmhouse until they found Faith.

  It was only fair to head to West Virginia now, but it didn’t make it any easier to accept the realization that she would most likely never see her home again or visit her sister’s gravesite.

  She tilted her head up slightly so that she could see the old farmhouses.

  Everything looked so different now.

  Haven remembered when she used to drive from her grandmother’s into town, how the little farmhouses along the way seemed so cozy and inviting. She could easily imagine a sunny kitchen filled with rich aromas of apples and cinnamon and freshly baked pies, a kindly-looking woman with a ruffled apron beckoning her to sit and enjoy a slice with ice cream on the side and a cool glass of milk to wash it all down.

  She recalled the days when the fields teemed with life, workers tending to crops, heavy machinery plowing the land.

  At one point, she’d envisioned moving out of the city and raising a family with Houston on farms just like these.

  Now, the fields were becoming overgrown and forgotten, the houses on them scorched by fire and withered down to skeletons of what they once were before the outbreak. Many of them had boarded-up windows, but few of the barriers were still intact, instead hanging flimsily off to the side, leaving an easy entrance for thieves and zombies alike. Once or twice, Haven noticed a shadow dart across from within when they passed.

  Sometimes, small clusters of people could be seen wandering through the fields, torn clothing and uneven gaits. When they heard the engine of the Jeep, their faces would snap up in their direction, slack jaws and vacant eyes.

  Haven felt like they were looking into her soul.

  Glancing in the review mirror, Houston looked from Haven to Mark. The boy was bundled up from head to toe in an oversized jacket that nearly swallowed him whole. Texaco lay across both him and Haven, pink tongue panting happily.

  Then he saw it.

  “What the—?” Houston blurted out, involuntarily slamming on the brakes.