This is the End 2: The Post-Apocalyptic Box Set (9 Book Collection)

by J. Thorn

  “You?” I laughed.

  “Yes, me,” he scowled at me like I should have already been thinking that.

  “Sure, you,” I patted his chest as I walked past him into someone else’s home and shook my head. He was getting way too sure of himself.

  We spent some time exploring the trailer. A family had lived here, one with two parents and two little girls. Hendrix picked out an abandoned Barbie and blond haired doll for Page out of the dusty collection left behind. We also found toothpaste, floss, two bottles of expired Tylenol and Benadryl in the bathroom. A half gone tube of Neosporin made this trip extremely worth it.

  In the Master bedroom, Hendrix pocketed a few pieces of jewelry that looked like real gold and silver and we found some articles of clothing to replace the ones we were wearing. We could have easily gone through our packs, but truthfully this was easier and we didn’t have to waste time unpacking and then packing again.

  In the little girls’ room I also found Page some more socks, underwear and practical pieces of clothing like t-shirts and jeans. A new hair brush was a great addition and a few chapter books to help keep up with her education made me feel actually rich, wealthiest in the most important ways.

  In the kitchen we didn’t find much, but there was an entire case of bottled water and granola bars. We set aside half of the water and then used the other half to wash off.

  “Strip,” Hendrix commanded. “Take as much off as you feel comfortable with and I’ll help you over the sink.”

  “You’re so bossy,” I growled, but already started to obey. He walked over to lock the front door and I started taking pieces of clothing off in the middle of the kitchen. I kicked them to one side and didn’t stop until I was back in my cami and underwear. My bare feet felt funny on the cool linoleum floor and I wiggled my toes in the air just because I could.

  “This could almost make me thankful for Zombies,” Hendrix rasped in a deep voice.

  He walked over to me with slow, purposeful steps. I backed away from him until I hit the sink behind me. He of course, didn’t stop. Not until his hand was splayed across my hip and his thumb was making light circles on my exposed stomach.

  “Tip your head back.” He looked down at me, eyes flashing with barely restrained heat.

  I swallowed against the lump in my throat, unable to do anything but obey.

  He carefully poured the room temperature water over my head with one hand and worked the fingers of his other one through my hair. I closed my eyes as he completely wetted my head.

  When he pulled out the shampoo, I realized I had a choice to make. This was heavenly and strangely erotic, but this was definitely not the most efficient way to go about this.

  “Here, this will be easier,” I promised.

  I turned around and leaned forward over the sink. Together we worked the shampoo through my hair and then I helped him rinse it out. He disappeared for a second into the bathroom and reappeared with several wash cloths. We wet a couple, painfully careful not to spill any extra water and then I got to work, giving myself the best bath I could while I was still partially dressed, half asleep and dealing with Hendrix’s roaming eyes.

  “You’re so aggressive,” I finally sighed. I was on my fifth washcloth- since they were impossible to rinse properly. “I might never like you.”

  He let out a bark of laughter and straightened to standing. He toed off his shoes and then stripped right in front of me, right down to his boxers. Dang it, and I was really hoping not to be affected by his near nakedness.

  “You might not,” he agreed- which surprised me.

  I leaned over as he dipped his head down toward the sink and started pouring water onto his head. I ran my fingers through his too-long hair, right along with the water and he moaned a deep, rumbling sound of approval.

  “You might meet another girl, one that you like better,” I suggested, although the possibilities were slim- not that it was impossible to find someone better than me, just that he literally couldn’t find someone else. We might be all that remained of the normal, human population.

  “Maybe,” He still agreed, but this time he sounded very cynical. A pang of pride hit me surprisingly. I liked- even if it was reluctantly- that he didn’t think he would like someone better than me.

  “I’m not that great,” I promised him, feeling the need to throw myself to the wolves out of fear of the unknown. “I’m kind of high maintenance.”

  “At this point, Reagan, I know what I’m getting myself into,” he countered.

  “But we’ve only known each other for a few weeks,” I argued. “You don’t really know anything about me.”

  Hendrix stood up and faced me. He casually leaned back against the counter and let his eyes travel my length, taking in each part of me. Slowly he reached for a towel- also from the bathroom- and began to dry off. But it was too late, steady streams of water had already begun to move down his chest, over the contours of lean muscle and into the dips and ridges that marked the way.

  I was kind of mesmerized by the whole thing.

  “That’s not true,” he finally broke the weighted silence between us. “I know that you’ve never been afraid of death, not even when I found you in that department store and you only had three bullets left and you were not afraid last night either. I know you’ve kept your best friend alive for the last two years, that you love her like family and would do anything and everything for her. I know you’ve risked your life for my family, more than once. And I know you’ve risked it for me. I know you don’t like bugs, but you do like animals and it bothers you that you haven’t seen one in a while. I know you miss your parents and your old life but you courageously keep a façade up for everyone else’s sake. I know you hate killing, that it makes you sad, but that you’re brave enough to do it anyway because you want to survive and you want those you care about to survive. You’re good, funny, beautiful and strong. And maybe there is a lot I don’t know about you yet. But what I do know, I like and admire. And the greatest adventure I can imagine living would be to get to know every piece of you that’s left to discover.”

  My heart stuttered in my chest, and my throat closed with an unnamed emotion. Hendrix baffled me most of the time, infuriated me a lot of the time and called to some hidden part of me all of the time. But it was moments like this when I was convinced I was a book and he was the only one who knew how to read me- that I was music, but he was the only one that could hear me.

  I didn’t believe in fate, or destiny or any other bullshit like that. How could I after I had witnessed Zombies take over the planet and kill almost everyone alive? Any higher power with good intentions had clearly moved on from this world.

  But in this moment- this isolated moment in my life when time felt like it stopped and the world ceased to exist outside of these thin walls- I could almost believe Hendrix was created specifically for me.

  Even if that was crazy.

  “I’m not ready for any of this,” I whispered, gesturing between the two of us with my pointer finger.

  “You don’t have to be,” Hendrix promised. “I’m not asking for anything, Reagan. Just maybe that you get to know me too. At least make an informed decision before you put up all those steel walls you have around you.”

  I small smile tilted my lips. Maybe he did know me better than I thought.

  “I’ll think about it,” I compromised without giving him his way and hiding behind those walls he was talking about.

  “You’ll think about it?” He asked dryly. “That’s very magnanimous of you.”

  “Well, I do what I can,” I sighed.

  “Better get dressed,” he ordered, his eyes floating over my exposed skin like a caress.

  “We should probably get going,” I agreed, unable to move from my spot. I couldn’t, not when he was looking at me like that- like I was a treasure, like I was worth more than bottled water and medicine.

  “That and I just sounded like the best kind of guy. Really pulled out my A
game. If you keep standing there half naked I’m going to ruin all that by attacking you,” he confessed with a small smile.

  “Ok, I get your point,” I called out from over my shoulder as I sprinted from the kitchen. I locked myself in the master bedroom and pulled on new undies- from my backpack- yoga pants and a maroon long sleeved Razorbacks t-shirt from the woman who used to live here.

  I fingered my wet hair into a low, over the shoulder braid and traded my filthy, bloody shoes for a pair of worn tennis shoes that were a size too big, but better than nothing. I finished with Chapstick- not exactly a necessity but after Hendrix’s speech I felt like I needed something to break up the no-makeup, freshly-survived look. And I was too tired to deal with actual makeup.

  Although I still had plenty of eyeliner.

  When I emerged from the bedroom Hendrix was already dressed and ready to go. He must have packed up all the water and food because it was nowhere in sight. His loose t-shirt and baggy jeans were all a little too big for him, but he’d grabbed a belt from the man that lived here and the shoes were a perfect fit for him. He managed to make it all look hot as hell, and even with his wet hair hanging over his eyebrows he was male perfection and a thousand percent testosterone.

  I shook my head, wondering how in the world I was going to keep my distance from that? Not when it wasn’t just good looks and sex appeal, but chivalry and goodness and charm.

  We were silent as we abandoned the trailer, leaving it empty and in disarray just like the previous owners. We walked quietly until we found the rest of our group, all huddled around a wood paneled, rusted out minivan.

  “Does it run?” Hendrix asked with careful control, cautious not to show any hope.

  Vaughan nodded, “And it has a full tank of gas.”

  Vaughan’s eyes darted between Hendrix and me in a look of narrowed distrust. When our gazes caught and tangled together something flashed behind his shuttered expression. He held my stare for a few charged moments and then cleared his throat and looked away.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Hendrix asked.

  “Nothing,” Vaughan shook his head. “You guys.”

  My eyes found Haley’s through the crowd and I smiled at her wet head and rosy blush. She was avoiding Nelson like the Zombie-plague and I was so itching to talk to her about everything. Instead, I climbed in behind her, and sunk down into the dusty seat. We reached for each other’s hands and she laid her head on my shoulder.

  “Get clean?” She asked quietly while Page climbed into the back with us.

  King was shoved back here too so we were squished and sitting on top of each other, but it was worth it to have actual transportation after more than a week of walking.

  “Yep,” I sighed. “You?”

  “Yep.” She echoed. “We need to talk.”

  “No kidding,” I laughed.

  And then we fell silent as Nelson and Harrison loaded our packs in the trunk and then filed into the captain chairs in front of us. Vaughan slid into the driver’s seat and Hendrix road shotgun like usual.

  Then we were off, pulling out of the trailer park and headed south on the highway again.

  Hendrix was right when he called this an adventure, and not just one of survival. We were fighting for our lives yes, but we were experiencing life in a way I didn’t know existed.

  There was danger at every turn, pain and difficulty. But there was community too, and hope and love.

  We’d accidentally crossed paths with the Parkers, but because of them we had a quality of life that hadn’t been there before- even before the Zombies. They added a layer to our lives that resounded with happiness and friendship.

  And maybe, between one of them….. something more.

  I didn’t know for sure yet. And I probably wouldn’t know for a while. But while we fought through this world of death and decay I was willing to find out.

  I was willing to put down my walls and let something like love in- even if it wasn’t love yet.

  Episode Four

  Chapter One

  681 Days after initial infection

  Haley

  My feet hurt. My back hurt. My brain hurt.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  We’ve been with the Parker brothers for over a month. Each day passes and we breathe a little easier around each other, a little more familiarly. And Reagan and I relax just a smidge more with each hour we’re not fighting tooth and nail for our lives alone.

  The last two years have been intense- to put it mildly. And I think mental stamina was wearing thin on both of us.

  There’s only so much two girls can take of the killing, the hunting, the foraging, and the not-dying. It was a lot.

  And it wasn’t like someone prepared us to go through this. Our parents died, the same week all our friends died- or worse- and we went on the homeless-vagabond-murdering-anything-in-our-paths run.

  Not ideally how twenty year old girls typically spend their time.

  Well, twenty year old girls before the infection. Now, it was the norm; and if not that norm than the norm that included feasting on flesh or being feasted upon.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I pushed a hand to my temple and stifled a wince. This pain in my brain was not physical per say, but it still hurt, drove me crazy with constant irritation. It was like a perpetual migraine without the bodily symptoms. Which made no sense to anyone, except me.

  I needed music.

  How could anyone live in a world without music? This was like my private hell- purgatory specialized to throw every personalized worst case scenario my way. There wasn’t a radio, electricity for my iPod, or even instruments for people to serenade me with. There was just…. silence.

  An occasional dog bark. The distant squawking of unhappy birds. The unsettling sound of Zombie moans as they tried to eat my face. This was the soundtrack to my life- and it was miserable.

  I needed to occupy my brain- or as my dad used to say, exercise it. If he were alive today, he would be absolutely crazy with the stagnancy of his mind. Of course, if my dad were alive, he probably would have already found some kind of safe faction for us to live with and developed a cure for the whole thing. Maybe that was assigning his genius too much credit, but he was dead, so I was allowed to put him on a pedestal.

  Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

  I bounced high in my seat when Vaughan couldn’t avoid a pothole and slid into Nelson. I had no idea how he ended up next to me in the back of the van, but he here was. And now I was in his lap.

  “Finally,” Harrison groaned and filled in the space I had previously occupied.

  “Hey!” I complained. I scrambled to a crouched half-standing position, as far from Nelson’s lap as possible.

  “Nope,” Harrison crossed his arms and shook his head. His long, gangly legs spread out widely in front of him and his shoulders seemed to bulk up and expand in the less confining space. He was seventeen going on Hulk Hogan- which seemed impossible since our last meal consisted of a two cans of creamed corn that we shared.

  Nelson’s warm, strong hands gripped my waist and pulled me back down to him. “Let him have some room. You’re fine here.”

  A flash of warmth burned in my stomach and then it was gone, leaving me somehow confused and suddenly hot. God, Nelson. I didn’t even know what to do with him. He was so…. caveman.

  He was lighthearted and at times hilarious, always the laid-back brother. Except with me. For whatever reason, I brought his alpha male dominant gene to the forefront, club and all. He was ready to start this whole thing with me and I was still trying to figure out his favorite color and if he had a deviant sexual past.

  Harrison stretched out next to me, sticking his legs far up the aisle, and resting his incredibly long arms along the back of the seat. He did look happier.

  “Fine,” I agreed, wiggling just a bit to drive Nelson a little crazy. The grip on my hips intensified, his fingers digging beneath the hem of my tight long sleeved tee. “But in ten min
utes we’re switching and you get to sit on Nelson’s lap.” I raised my eyebrows, daring him to defy me.

  Which he did. Not a second later.

  He burst into riotous laughter and shook his head. For a seventeen year old, he was kind of rude. “Like I would go near that, after you’ve been bouncing around on top of him.” He pointed in the direction of Nelson’s…. uh…. fly.

  I blushed the deepest red. Ugh. Nelson chuckled from beneath me, his chest rumbling against my back. These boys were always doing that to me!

  And then we went over a stretch of rocky pavement and the issue in question moved.

  Gah!

  My flush intensified to the color of a strangled eggplant and that same powerful ache bloomed in the lower part of my tummy again.

  Here’s the thing…. It had been two years since I was even around boys in any consistent environment. I had seen boys since the infection broke out- but that was literally the extent of our interactions. And before that I wasn’t exactly the most relational creature.

  Sure, I loved a hot and heavy make out as much as the next semi-slutty cheerleader. But, I never let anyone get close enough to make something monogamous out of me. I had issues- brain issues. And I liked to keep my weirdness as far down on the down low as possible.

  That meant keeping everyone at a distance.

  Except for Reagan, of course.

  The ticking of my internal time-bomb brain hazed into background music with Nelson so close to me, with his body practically vibrating with heat and want. That was unheard of for me. Nothing had ever worked to ease the insistent pounding, except music. Now I had Nelson, and I didn’t know what to do with him. But he eased my racing mind- I could at least be grateful for that.

  Up until now, everything between us had been light flirting with a tendency to get awkward whenever he looked at me- so, it got awkward often. Well, awkward for me; I had no idea how it felt for him but sometimes the heat behind his eyes gave me a little insight. I pretended to be oblivious to all his advances thus far and I couldn’t tell if it was wearing on him or not.