Emily looks at me and smiles. "You look so serious, Daniel. What are you thinking about?"
"I was just thinking about how pretty you are," I say, smiling.
She blushes and tucks her blonde hair behind her ear. "You know," she says, looking at the large jacuzzi tub sitting in the corner of the room, "I think I might try out this tub later."
"Oh yeah?"
She nods. "I might need help reaching my back." She shrugs. "If you're not busy tonight."
I step into the bathroom. "I might be available later."
She wraps her arms around my neck. "I hope so, Mr. Parker."
I press my lips against hers. Her body feels good against mine. Right, somehow, when everything else seems so wrong. Our lips part as the kiss deepens. The bath will have to wait until later. I reach for the hem of her shirt.
An earsplitting scream rips through the quiet afternoon, reminding me this life isn't about seeking pleasure.
It's only about living through the inescapable pain.
* * *
Meredith
"Tell me about yourself...from before," the man clarifies.
I take a few wobbly steps, mentally cursing myself for skipping the offered meal earlier. I feel weak and dizzy. I take a deep breath, and release it slowly, praying the spinning sensation passes quickly. After a minute, it does, but only barely.
"I asked you a question," he says.
"I heard you." I rub my eyes. "Look, I'm not feeling well. When will we stop again?"
"When it's dark. Now, answer the question."
"I'm going to be sick," I say, putting the back of my hand against my forehead.
"Doesn't matter to me."
I glance at him. From the hard set of his jaw, and the ice in his eyes, I can see I won't be getting any sympathy from him. I sigh. "I was a lab assistant."
He raises an eyebrow. "Research?"
"That's usually what happens in labs."
"What were you researching?" he asks.
"Biological warfare." I step over a felled tree. "How to fight our enemies with viruses," I say.
"And your studies led to this?" he asks, gesturing to the world around us in disgust.
I cross my arms. "Not my studies. I was just an assistant."
"Did you know what they were studying?"
Reluctantly, I nod.
"Then you're just as responsible for what happened."
I lower my head in shame. "Yes, I suppose that's true."
"So, how did it get out?" he asks.
"Out?"
"Yeah, out. I assume it wasn't supposed to kill us and our enemies. So, how did it happen?"
"I don't know. Maybe someone got greedy? Tried to sneak it out for an early retirement payment," I say, pulling my jacket closer around me. “It could have been anything.”
"Isn't that a little cliché?" he asks skeptically.
I shake my head. "It didn't feel that way. When the alarms went off, I was so scared." I look at him. "We had practiced...drill after drill...so we would know what to do if we had a breach. But nothing compares you for the moment you realize your greatest fear just became reality."
He stares at me, as if looking for holes in my story. I focus on the road stretching out before us, so I won't crumble under his inspection. The road ahead bends to the left, creating the illusion of ending, but I know I'm not that lucky. These mountain roads go on forever. Plenty of time for him to dissect the details I just provided.
"We'll rest soon," he says quietly. "Next time, be sure you eat when given the chance."
I breathe a sigh of relief as he walks ahead of me. Okay. He bought the story. Now I just need to remember the lies I told him, so I don't contradict myself the next time he pries for information.
* * *
Allyson
The barn feels safe...familiar, although I miss the Virginia Highlander who lived here. She was beautiful. I miss the way her presence calmed me. I miss the way taking care of her helped me forget all the awful things he said and did. I walk to her stall. It's as empty as it was after the first time I tried to leave the farm, but today it seems emptier…if that’s even possible.
"What was the horse's name?"
I turn to find Wayne leaning against a post, arms crossed. "I don't like it when people sneak up on me," I say. I turn back to the empty stall in front of me. "Her name was Smoke."
"Good name."
I smile, even though I know he can't see my face. "She was so beautiful. She was mostly white, but she had this dark trace of gray running up her back leg. It looked like a plume of smoke."
I turn and look at him through the tears in my eyes.
He pushes off the post and comes closer. "I'm sorry I scared you," he says.
I wipe my eyes. "It's okay. I know you didn't mean to."
He nods, then says, "Why don't you want to sleep in the house? I mean, this is nice and all, but the house would be safer…warmer…don't you think?"
My smile fades. "I don't have many fond memories of that house."
He nods again. "Yeah, I understand that."
Fresh tears stain my cheeks. The overwhelming feeling of being broken nearly consumes me. "You can't. Not really," I say, sadly.
"Sure, I can,” he says. “Some bad things happened to you. You don't want to be reminded."
I shake my head. "No," I say, looking down at the dusty floor of the barn. There's nothing to see there, but I can't bring myself to look at Wayne. "I was the one who did bad things. When I didn't, I was punished."
He doesn't speak. Instead, he sits down on a bale of hay and lights a cigarette.
"You're going to smoke? Right now?" I say, thrown off by the response.
He shrugs. "Why not?"
I look around us. "Well, we're in a barn full of hay. That alone should be reason enough."
He looks at the white stick. "Don't worry, Allyson. I'm a professional. I won't burn your house down," he says, and winks. He takes a few slow drags, then says, "I know what it's like to have to do something you don't want to do."
I look at him. "Yeah?"
"Yeah. I had a friend named Bruce...knew him my whole life." He takes another drag of the cigarette. "He was as wild as they come. Mother was a drug addict, and no one really knew who his father was. Word on the street said it was a toss-up between three or four different men, so he was raised by two older brothers." He shrugs. "We ran with each other all through school...got arrested a few times, drank, smoked…you name it, we tried it."
"Sounds like you might have been a little wild, too," I say, smiling.
He laughs. "Maybe. I never really wanted to be, but it was better than bein' alone."
I sigh. "Well, as bad as getting arrested may have been, it doesn't compare to the things I've done."
"No, it doesn't," he agrees. "But, murder does."
I raise an eyebrow. "You got arrested for murder?"
He blows out a smoke ring. It's nearly perfect. Once it disappears, he says, "I never took a life before the world ended."
I sit beside him, suddenly intrigued. "Whose life did you take?"
He doesn't answer right away. I think about the friend he just described; the one he ran with, sowing wild oats and raising all kinds of Cain until they were shoved behind a wall of steel bars for their trouble. Suddenly, it becomes clear. "You had to kill your friend, didn’t you?"
He nods slowly.
"Had he become...one of them?" I ask, referring to what they call a Rev.
He shakes his head.
"Why, then?"
"He was going to rape them," he whispers.
"Who?" I ask, confused.
He smokes the last of the cigarette and uses his fingers to rub the cherry out. "Chloe and Meredith. Although, Bruce was always partial to Chloe. He thought she was the weaker of the two," he says.
I don’t speak, but my heart is thundering in my chest. The subject of rape and murder hits closer to home than I’d like to admit. I wait for him to continue his story.
"One day, I came up on him sittin' beside her, messin' around like he always did." He closes his eyes, remembering. "It was hot, and all I wanted to do was rest from all the walkin’, but he was gettin' bolder, so I called him into the woods. Told him we needed to hunt." He opens his eyes and leans forward, resting his elbows on his legs. "While we were in the woods, he told me he was gonna kill Dan. Claimed he had been thinkin' about it for a few days. We argued about it some, but his mind was set; we threw a few punches…it got real when he pulled his blade out. That’s when I knew only one of us was walkin’ out of those woods alive. I did what I had to do to make sure I was the one." He looks at me. The dark hues of pain and regret swim in his sad blue eyes, making them darker than they usually are. "So, yeah, I understand what it’s like to have to do something you don’t want to do."
I reach for his hand. He lets me take it. "It was the right thing to do, Wayne," I say. "You were protecting innocent people."
"I guess so, but it still doesn’t feel right."
I sigh. "No, it doesn't. But sometimes we have to make hard choices, don’t we?"
He stands and walks to the nearest stall. "Did I have to kill him, though? Seems like the kind of thing I should've been sure of...but even now, I wonder if I did the right thing."
"You'll never really know for sure."
He snorts. "No, I reckon not."
I stand and join him at the stall. "I've learned the only thing that matters is what actually happens. Wondering about alternate endings will only make us crazy."
He looks at me and smiles sadly. "Gonna get dark soon. Will you at least eat in the house?"
"Are you asking me to dinner?" I ask, smiling.
A blush creeps across his cheeks. It suits him. "Maybe," he says.
I smile and take his hand. "I'll compromise and eat on the porch with you. How about that?"
"You sure?"
"I'm sure. But, only because you're cute," I say, winking.
I lead him away from the barn, toward the house. My stomach is in knots, and I pray he doesn't notice how clammy my hands are. Just thinking about that house makes me feel sick, but Wayne was kind enough to ask me to have dinner with him, so I'll push the nausea down and try to be good company.
For him.
"What would you like for...?"
A scream cuts my question short. Wayne and I freeze, trying to determine the direction of the sound.
"Can you tell where it's coming from?" I ask Wayne.
He points to the area just past the barn. "It's coming from the area beyond the fence." He lets go of my hand. "Go get the others."
Before I can say anything else, he's running back to the barn...off to save another soul...if for no other reason than to absolve his own.
* * *
Chloe
There's a soft knock on my bedroom door.
"Come in."
The door opens a crack and Erek sticks his head in. "You getting hungry?"
My stomach growls, answering for me. I smile and nod.
"Can I come in?" he asks.
"Of course."
The room suddenly feels small as his large frame fills the space. A thick wave of desire washes over me.
"See something you like, Princess?" he asks, smiling.
I bite my lower lip as a blush works its way across my pale skin. "Maybe."
He closes the distance between us and presses his lips against mine. His hands grab my waist, pulling me closer. "I love kissing you," he whispers.
I smile and kiss him again.
"Erek..."
"Yes?"
"I want..."
A scream in the distance makes me forget what I needed to say to him. We run to the window and Erek yanks it up. Below, we see Allyson running toward the house, while Wayne runs in the opposite direction, toward the fence.
"Allyson, what's happening?" I yell down to her.
She pauses and looks up at the window. "Get the others and head toward the barn! Someone’s in trouble!"
Daniel and Emily come running into the room behind us. "What is it? What's happening?" Daniel asks, breathless.
I shake my head. "Not sure. But we all stay together." I look at Emily. "Go get the kids. We need to get to the barn. Fast."
My heart is racing. It's happening again. There's no safe place...anywhere. While Emily goes to get the kids, Erek and Daniel check their weapons. I close my eyes, forcing myself to say a silent prayer. I whisper a prayer for safety...if God still cares to hear from me...if He even exists out there, somewhere, above this broken world.
I could really use some protection for my family.
I could really use Him...now, more than ever.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chloe
Emily looks sick.
She's standing in the doorway of my bedroom, looking at me without really seeing me. Her slender frame trembles slightly, and she's chewing on her bottom lip, worried. Not a good sign. A deep foreboding settles low in my gut, like a heavy stone thrown into still water, creating an unexpected ripple of dread, fear, dread, fear. Now I feel like I could be sick...only it's worse, because I'm not exactly sure why.
"Emily, what's wrong?" I ask slowly.
Daniel and Erek stop checking their weapons and look at Emily. She doesn't answer...or can't...so I ask her again. "Emily?"
"I can't find the kids," she says quietly.
"Oh." I relax a little. They're kids, after all, and kids are naturally curious creatures. "I'm sure it's fine," I say. "They’re probably just exploring the house."
She shakes her head. "No, Daniel and I left them in the sewing room. They were supposed to nap until we called them for dinner."
"Did you hear them come out of the room?" Erek asks.
"No, but..." Her eyes dart to Daniel. "I wasn't really paying attention."
Daniel blushes fiercely, which tells me they were probably doing the same thing Erek and I were doing when we heard the scream.
The scream.
I play it back in my mind. It could have been an adolescent's scream.
What if?
A sliver of worry worms its way through my head. What if Kate and Jax slipped outside while the adults were busy entertaining themselves? What if they ran into trouble?
The dead kind.
"Erek..."
"We need to get to the barn. Now," Erek says, finishing my sentence for me.
He turns and runs toward the stairs. The rest of us chase behind him until we burst, one by one, out of the house and into the front yard. My heart is racing. Please let the kids be okay.
Please.
* * *
Meredith
He falls into step beside me.
"How did you get out of the lab?" he asks.
I've been expecting this question, so the answer comes out naturally...like the truth. "Facility lock down ended once the infection rate began to escalate." I glance at him. "Once there wasn't anything left to protect."
"There were still plenty of survivors, though. Especially at first," he counters. "Were we not worth protecting?"
I also anticipated this reaction. I fake a contrite expression, and say, "Let me rephrase. There wasn't anything left of the lab to protect.”
"What happened to it?" he asks.
"Most of the administrators committed suicide a few hours in. The ramifications of their actions were too heavy to bear. Those of us left behind needed to get to our families on the outside, but we couldn't get the doors opened." I take a deep breath. "Some of the interns started smashing computers with chairs...that's what finally opened the doors."
"Wasn't there a kill switch? Something to stop it?"
"Maybe, but the only ones who did were dead by that point."
"But you don't know how it got out?" he asks.
"I told you I didn't," I say, looking at him.
"Where was this lab?"
"Charlotte," I answer. That part isn't a lie...not completely, anyway. I was working in Charlotte at th
e time of the outbreak. Only, I wasn't assisting some highly paid scientists in a government-funded project designed to annihilate enemies of the state. No. I was assisting in a project funded by my father at the request of my husband…my brilliant yet utterly wicked husband, who couldn't stand the thought of not being in control of everything...down to the very blood pumping through our veins.
So, he worked day and night until he created a way to control it.
Then somehow, he let it loose.
"Tell me more about how it works. This virus you helped engineer," the man says, interrupting my thoughts. He twirls a small stick in his hand. "Specifically, can it be reversed?"
"I was led to believe..."
He holds a hand up, silencing me mid-sentence.
A ripple of activity breaks out among the group of men in front of us. A few of them stop walking; some look around, jerking their heads from side to side; others whisper to their neighbors, trying to decide whether to be concerned. I scan the woods. Finally, I register movement ahead...moving in and out between trees that lost their leaves weeks ago. I can tell by the lazy, unhurried gait that it's them. Meths; or Revs, as Daniel and Chloe called them; or Germs, as my captor named them. I haven't seen many at this high elevation, likely due to low population prior to the outbreak, but here they are...at least ten...lumbering toward our group of twenty.
The man yells, "Left flank! Stop the advance!"
Without hesitation, a group of ten men run forward and engage the Meths. Despite their frailty, they make quick work of dispatching the Meths with long blades I hadn't noticed before now. I’ve seen the long wooden handles hanging from their utility belts, sure, but I assumed they were just sticks that could be used for protection when necessary. As they walk back to the rest of us, they each press a button on the hilt and the blades collapse into the long handles.
"You look surprised," he says.
"They didn't question the order," I answer, astounded by their unwavering obedience.
He nods. "They've learned not to question my orders."
Revenants Series (Book 2): Remnants Page 13