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

by Archer, Angelique

  The voice stopped, and Haven’s nails dug into Houston’s jacket, fearfully waiting for Cade to finish his sentence. Her skin prickled with goosebumps, an icy chill washing over her sweat-covered arms that made her shiver.

  And then he said it.

  Words she never thought she’d hear, words she never wanted to hear.

  “Just like I did with your sister right before my men and I… what is it the kids call it nowadays? Oh, yes, just before we ran a train on her… a train… You get it, Haven? We each took our turn; some of us even went back for seconds. Poor girl kept passing out, but I did my best to make sure she stayed awake to feel every moment of it. We beat her good, we fucking did. And after she’d been passed around like the whore she was, all used up, we left her there, figuring she’d make a tasty meal for the dead.”

  Haven suddenly felt the ground beneath her shift, the room spinning around her. Vomit spewed from her mouth, and she bent forward, cradling her stomach. Her legs went numb, and she fell to the ground before Houston could catch her.

  No.

  “He’s lying,” she murmured on the floor, her voice so soft and quiet and desperate, she sounded like a child. She looked up at Houston with imploring eyes, begging him to tell her it wasn’t true. He knelt down and wrapped his arms around her.

  “Haven, I’m so sorry.” He held the back of her head tightly, tears of his own trailing down his cheeks.

  “It isn’t true,” she wailed. “It can’t be.”

  Her body shook as she sobbed against him, her fists beating Houston’s chest in anger while helplessly pressing against him at the same time, feeling as though she was rapidly falling into a never-ending abyss of despair.

  She was crying so hard she couldn’t breathe, realizing her sister’s last hours alive had been so horrific, worse than she could have ever imagined.

  Houston rubbed her back and whispered to her, but Haven was inconsolable. Even when she closed her eyes, her mind bled with grotesque images of sweet Faith being raped over and over again. Her hand hovered over the knife at her side, wanting to gouge out her eyes so she wouldn’t be tortured with the images anymore, but she knew there was nothing that could erase them, that they were tattooed on her mind forever.

  “I have to kill him.” She shakily rose to her feet, still crying.

  He reached out to steady her. “Hold on.”

  “No, I have to go now,” she insisted, stumbling away from him until she reached the entrance to the next car.

  “Five minutes,” Cade announced over the loudspeaker. “I’ll see you soon.”

  Her head jolted up sharply, and she stared at the little black box in the corner of the car, her fingernails clawing into the edge of the doorframe.

  In a split second, all of the sadness vanished from her and was simultaneously replaced with rage, raw and consuming.

  Her eyes became wild with bloodlust.

  “I’m coming for you.”

  Houston saw the armed stranger before Haven did and reached for her arm to hide them from view. She shook his hand away and kept moving toward the man.

  He turned just as she plunged her knife into his neck, his blood spraying on her face, as he gaped at her. She watched him fall to the floor disinterestedly then continued down the car.

  Houston stepped over the body and caught up with her. “Haven, we can’t just run in there, guns blazing. We need to have a plan.”

  When she ignored him, he stood in front of her, blocking her path.

  “Stop. Just stop and think for one second.” He gestured behind him. “This is a trap. He knew this would draw you out; you’re giving him exactly what he wants.”

  For a moment, the anger in her eyes dulled, and she looked entirely defeated, as though the life had been sucked from her body. “He has Mark,” she managed weakly. Her only solace was thinking Brett was still on the supply run with Kennedy and Colin. She couldn’t imagine if he’d overheard the atrocities against their sister Cade professed to have committed.

  “I know,” Houston admitted.

  “I can’t lose him. I had to replay the day I found Faith over and over again, seeing her as this… this… husk… of a person who used to be my sister. I had to come to the realization that I’d never be able to make things right. There were times where I literally felt like I was losing my mind.” Her lower lip trembled. “And then Mark came along, and I didn’t want to be that person anymore.” Her brown eyes sparked with hatred. “I won’t let Cade take both of them from me.”

  Houston nodded. “I’m with you no matter what, you know that.”

  They resumed their way through the cars until they neared the front of the train.

  They both had their weapons raised, fleetingly hoping Cade would be alone with Mark, and that killing him would be easy. To their disappointment, guards stood on either side of Cade, their rifles trained on them before they’d even made it to the entrance.

  Haven lowered her firearm when she saw Mark standing in front of Cade. Behind them, the corralled passengers knelt with their hands behind their backs, terror blatantly showcased in their features.

  The corners of Cade’s mouth twitched into a smile, and he placed a hand on Mark’s shoulder.

  “Let him go,” Haven demanded, disappointed at how her voice sounded shaky instead of intimidating like she’d hoped it would.

  Cade watched her coldly. “Really? Not even a hello? Please, Haven, you most certainly do not have the luxury of calling the shots. Just drop your weapons.”

  She hesitated, feeling Houston gauging her, deciding what to do next. Mark looked at her sadly.

  “Don’t do it, Haven,” he told her, trying to be brave. “He’ll just kill you.”

  Cade raised a hand and cuffed him on the back of the head.

  Haven recoiled like she’d been struck and pointed her gun at Cade. “Touch him again, Cade, I swear…”

  He smiled, but it was unfriendly with the promise of evil, teeth long, almost like fangs. Her eyes followed his hand as it reached down and unsheathed a knife at his side. With two fingers, he pulled Mark’s ear away from his head and hovered the blade in the crevice of skin.

  “Put. Your. Fucking. Guns. Down,” Cade commanded.

  He’s going to kill him anyways. Then he’ll kill both of you. Don’t do it.

  You can’t let Mark die. Maybe he won’t hurt him. Put it down.

  Before she even had a chance to decide, they heard the floor creak behind them, and then it was too late. The sharp, immediate pain at the back of their heads came and went, and the next thing Haven felt was a hard slap across the face.

  She lifted her head groggily. Unable to feel her fingers, Haven glared in confusion at her hands, gradually coming to the realization that she was tied to a chair, so tightly that her extremities were numb. She looked around, slowly coming to her senses, and saw Houston beside her, still unconscious, his chin resting on his chest. She writhed desperately in her chair in an attempt to free herself to get to him.

  “You know, initially I just wanted to kill you,” Cade told her, coming to stand only a few feet in front of her.

  “Terrible things happened to me in prison, unthinkable things, all because of you.”

  “That was nothing compared to what I’m going to do to you,” she threatened.

  “Good luck,” he retorted.

  “You tried to rape me, you asshole. You’re a predator who needed to be put behind bars. You got everything you deserved.”

  He fixed his steely gray eyes on her. “When I got out of prison, I was blinded by my desire to get revenge. I couldn’t think of anything else.” He held out his knife, and Haven flinched, pressing her back as far as she could into the chair. “Then the outbreak happened, and all of a sudden, there was no one to stop me from hurting you. But killing you was too easy, too fast.” He picked at his nails with the blade, digging out a bit of dirt from beneath them. “And one day, the perfect idea fell right into my lap when your sister wandered into our territ
ory. Maybe you’d call it divine intervention.”

  Haven’s face fell, and her flushed cheeks blanched. She stopped struggling against her restraints, the images of Faith’s last moments worming their way into her brain once more.

  “You know,” he began, “as puny as she looked, no matter how many times I hit her or how many rounds my men got with her, she never told us where you were. I mean,” he added, chuckling, “I even knocked her teeth out, and she still wouldn’t say anything.” Cade shifted his gaze to Haven. “I hope you can rest easy knowing that.”

  She lunged at him from her chair, but only succeeded in falling over and landing roughly on her side. She didn’t feel the pain radiating up her hip, nor did the large welt on the back of her head cause her any further discomfort. Anger birthed a surge of adrenaline rushing through her veins, and like a great white shark focused on an escaping seal, she couldn’t tear her eyes away from Cade.

  “But now, you’re just a small puzzle piece in a bigger picture. You see, things always turn out in my favor. I get you, and even better,” he said, waving his hands around appreciatively, “I get this train. This thing is survival. It’s power. And now it’s mine.”

  “We’re almost to D.C., and then it’ll be Philly and New York. You’ll run out of fuel, and you’ll be forced to go into a city that’s crawling with zombies. You’ll never make it.” For the first time since confronting Cade, she felt a measure of satisfaction knowing his plan to use the train would fail as long as they continued north.

  Her optimism slowly faded when Cade shrugged. “I’ve been through worse. The cities don’t scare me.”

  He held the blade out, edging closer and closer to her. A couple of passengers protested, begging him to let her go.

  Cade paused mid-step, glanced over his shoulder, then with one nod to the two men flanking him, the passengers who spoke up were lifted under their armpits, dragged across the car, and tossed out the open door.

  Everyone froze in shock. Cade’s men stood there, seemingly daring anyone else to open their mouths and suffer the lethal consequences.

  Haven looked Cade squarely in the eyes. Even if he did his worst, she wasn’t going down like a sniveling coward. She wouldn’t give him that satisfaction.

  Just when she thought he was going to stab her, at the last second, he turned and plunged the blade into Houston’s side instead.

  Houston gasped and opened his eyes, staring in horror as Cade withdrew the knife.

  Haven screamed and started crying, fiercely fighting her restraints.

  Cade pulled Houston’s hair and tilted his head back, exposing his throat.

  He raised his hand, the knife poised and ready to slice into Houston’s neck, when he heard a shot go off, and Camacho, who was right beside him, unexpectedly toppled forward and landed on the floor.

  In unison, everyone looked up to see Brett sprinting toward the guards at the other end of the car. They simultaneously lifted their rifles to shoot him, but they were seconds too late.

  Haven shrieked at him, terrified he was going to die in front of her, and she tugged at the zip ties so hard they caused the flesh on her wrists to tear and curl up around the plastic restraints.

  Brett had already known what needed to happen. Johnny B. gave his life for him; Brett had to make sure the Marine’s death meant something. Now it was his turn. He would save them. With outstretched arms, Brett collided with two of the guards, grabbed each one by their bulletproof vests and was suddenly swept away, disappearing outside.

  Haven screamed, tears pouring down her face. She cried Brett’s name, waiting for him to show up again, refusing to believe he was gone.

  The distraction was exactly what the passengers needed. Several of them jumped up and attacked Cade’s remaining men, using anything they could find to bludgeon and overwhelm them.

  It was pure pandemonium, a sudden eruption of mayhem and shouting and gunfire.

  Stewart feebly extended his pistol, his eyes darting around as everything unraveled. He began to retreat, backpedaling cautiously to the rear of the car, when he tripped. Crazed, harried footsteps rushed around him, and then he felt a heavy shoe land on his abdomen, and he wondered if one of his organs had ruptured from the impact. Before he had time to contemplate it further, another shoe crunched across his rib cage, and when his ribs cracked, his eyes bulged in agony.

  Stewart tried to roll to the side, but people were running everywhere, frenetic, focused on surviving by any means necessary, and gravely injuring him in the process. He turned just in time to see the shadow of a shoe closing in, the shoe stomping down hard on his face. He howled, the bones in his nose, cheek, and jaw caving. Another shoe crashed into the same gaping wounds on his face, and this time, it was a little harder to open his mouth, his screams a bit more muffled.

  A passenger and a guard collided into Cade as they brawled, and Cade fell forward, losing his grip on the knife. It clattered to the floor, away from him.

  Haven was still sobbing when she felt small hands at the zip ties around her ankles, cutting her free.

  She looked down, her vision clouded from her tears, and saw Mark.

  He was crying, too, even as he carefully placed Cade’s knife under the zip ties on her wrists and snapped them, releasing her.

  His eyes widened, and Haven jumped up and turned around, seeing Cade coming for her like a bull charging a matador.

  “Run, Mark!” she yelled, just as Cade’s hands wrapped around her throat.

  His eyes were bloodshot and wild as they bore into hers, and his fingers clutching her neck squeezed around her windpipe.

  Wheezing and trying to pry his hands off of her, she swung out with her feet, kicking at his legs, but as he tightened his grip on her throat, a wave of panic crashed over her.

  Maybe she couldn’t beat him.

  Maybe this was it.

  She heard Houston scream her name, helpless, still tied in his chair.

  Her body twitched, desperate to help him, to save them all, but black spots began to obstruct her vision, and she felt her strength fading, slipping away.

  It couldn’t end this way.

  Not after what he had done to her sister.

  Her eyes began to swell, her face red and veiny.

  Don’t give up.

  Don’t give up.

  The darkness crept forward, unyielding, hunting her relentlessly, wanting to swallow her whole.

  “Goodbye, Haven,” Cade said through gritted teeth, and his fingertips tensed as though he might crush her windpipe altogether.

  No.

  Not today.

  Then his expression changed, from burning hatred to one of shock. He dropped her and whirled around, the handle of a knife protruding from his back.

  He didn’t expect Mark to be standing there, his hands trembling as he slowly backed away.

  “‘Not fast enough,’” Mark told him, and Cade remembered once saying those same words to the boy in Haven’s cabin.

  Cade was seething, his chest heaving, seemingly unaffected by the knife wound.

  He reached out to grab Mark, but not before Haven yanked the knife from his back.

  She grasped his shoulder and spun him back to her, sinking the knife into his belly until it disappeared completely.

  Her eyes gleamed brightly with rage, never leaving his as she twisted her hand and grunted, sliding the blade up to his rib cage.

  “This is for my sister,” she whispered.

  Cade gasped as blood spurted from his mouth. Unblinking, he stared at Haven, and his mouth almost formed a smile, until she jabbed the blade further inside of him with enough force that he stumbled to the edge of the car, his hands clutching his stomach as blood flowed between his fingers.

  For the first time, she saw nothing but fear in Cade’s gray, emotionless eyes.

  “Goodbye, Cade,” she whispered, and as images of Faith and Brett flashed before her, she gave one final heave and shoved Cade off the train.

  Then she fell to
her knees.

  “He’s gone,” she repeated over and over again, holding out her bloodstained hands.

  “Haven!” Mark shouted. He was standing beside Houston, trying to pull him out of the zip ties without success.

  Snapping out of her trance, she got up and ran to them and dropped down in front of Houston. Working quickly, she cut his restraints and ripped off her scarf, pressing it firmly against his wound.

  “I’m sorry, Haven.” Houston’s eyelids fluttered wearily, and he fought to stay awake. “You’ve got to stop the train… D.C.,” he managed weakly.

  “Sshh,” she urged him. “Don’t talk.”

  She lifted him and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. Mark got on the other side and did his best to support him, too.

  “Where’s Tucker?” she asked Mark, hobbling over dead bodies as they made their way to the next car.

  “I don’t know,” Mark replied nervously, disappointed with himself for feeling so afraid.

  Haven didn’t think Cade would be stupid enough to kill Tucker, considering he was the only one who knew how to operate the train, but something was wrong. Tucker should have already stopped the train from continuing north toward what could only be an infested, overrun city.

  She helped Houston cross over the walkway between the last car and the locomotive, still holding the scarf to his stomach. He winced and shut his eyes in pain with every step they took.

  When Mark opened the door to the locomotive, they found Tucker hunched over the control panel.

  “Tucker! Stop the train!” Haven shouted at him.

  He turned to her briefly then went back to working on the controls, sweat beading his forehead, his breath ragged as he fidgeted with buttons and levers, most of them singed and seemingly beyond repair.

  “It’s ruined. The failsafe is shot to hell. I can’t stop it.”

  She leaned Houston against the rear wall and crouched down to help him. “What can I do?”

  “Here,” Tucker instructed her, handing her the loose ends of colorful wires. “Tie these together and then stick them back in this box.”