The Break Free Series Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Fitch, E. M.

  No. Kaylee didn't think so.

  And if she wasn't running to Quinton, and it wasn't discomfort over Andrew, then there was only one alternative left.

  She was infected.

  And this led to an even more frightening reality. Because if she was infected, the thought came upon Kaylee suddenly and with such certainty, then she was dead. Emma wouldn't chose to live with it. Kaylee knew that.

  A sob caught in her throat out of nowhere and tears blurred her vision.

  Dead.

  "Kaylee?" Anna asked, her voice tinny and distant, as though Kaylee were hearing her through a tunnel and not right across from her. "Are you okay?"

  My sister is dead.

  She hadn't connected it before. Her sister was gone. She knew she was infected. But dead? No, her mind had been sheltering her from that. The tears were hot, cutting paths through the sweat and dirt that layered her face. Her breathing became erratic and she couldn't slow it down. Fear and desperation clashed and pitched together, clenching a tight fist in her chest and knocking a hole right through it. Anna was speaking again but the words were wrong, something about the bodies they were burying, but it wasn't that.

  Andrew thought she took off, irritated with him. Nick believed it was her impulsivity, her immaturity that led to her wandering off. The rest were content in pretending she was somehow headed towards Quinton.

  But they were wrong, all of them.

  "Dead," Kaylee said, panic leaking into her tone. Her eyes were fixed on the pit in front of her, the still bodies no longer able to twitch and moan. "She's dead."

  She wasn't yelling, but she wasn't quiet either. The shovel slipped from her grasp and landed with a dull thunk on the bodies.

  "Okay, honey," Anna was murmuring, putting her own shovel down and crossing to Kaylee with her hands out, almost as though she was in defense. Kaylee felt her brow furrow as she watched her friend, the words continued to slip past her lips. "Dead. She's dead."

  "They're all dead, sweetheart, we can't help them."

  Kaylee frowned. Not them. No. Emma. She felt dizzy suddenly, wobbly. Emma was just like them. Dead and still somewhere. She sat back on the edge of the pit they were digging, the dirt fresh and damp under her. The smell of the soil, rich with decay; and the smell of the bodies, charred flesh and cooked meat, mingled together and it was hard to take deep breaths, hard to fill herself up with the stench. Her head swam and her stomach roiled.

  "I'm going to take you back," Anna said, her arms now coming around Kaylee and hauling her to her feet. "Danny!"

  Would they find her? How did she do it? A gunshot probably. Sometime, early dawn maybe before any of the infected were up and wandering. Or maybe she wouldn't have been able to wait even that long, maybe she would have had to do it as soon as she made it to the woods, maybe she was turning that fast.

  And she didn't say goodbye. It wasn't until that moment that Kaylee realized just how seriously she had taken that promise her sister had made, back when they were cleaning out an old closet in the firehouse. She promised she'd say goodbye.

  Stupid!

  She was stupid. The rage and anger swelled up inside her and her body tensed. Anna must have noticed, she was yelling now and people were coming.

  Always banking on one more day, on time. There was no time. Not now, not ever really in life. Kaylee thought she had that, a moment for her to say goodbye to her sister, she thought that at least would be guaranteed. But of course now she realized how very naive it was to think like that, think that her sister would even be able to keep such a promise, as though it would somehow be in her control.

  And now it wouldn't matter anyway because she was gone. Dead.

  The sobbing started again and no one was even asking why. The stench of the bodies clogged her nose, made it difficult to breath. It was as though by breathing in their scent, she was breathing in little bits of them. Bits of dead, charred flesh inhaled with every breath. Her chest seized, her breaths turned sharp and shallow, almost as though her lungs were rejecting the air.

  There was an argument, something about who would take her back. Kaylee didn't care and she couldn't process what was being said. Her sister's face kept flashing through her mind.

  She was steered towards the van, placed on the floor. The door clanged shut and then they were moving. Someone was behind her, bracing her back. She wasn't sure who. It was quiet in the van, the wind flowing through a cracked window in a rushed hiss that drowned out all other sound.

  Kaylee's thoughts scattered, leaving her mind an empty husk.

  "I'm taking you back," Anna whispered in her ear. "You need to rest."

  Rest. It seemed silly. But then her body sagged and her breathing evened out. Exhaustion swept her though it was not even lunch time. Kaylee found herself nodding and Anna squeezed her shoulders in approval.

  Anna couldn't stay with her. Marsden grunted when the girls appeared at all, muttering that the lines could not possibly be cleared yet. But then Kaylee locked eyes with him and he shut up. Something in her gaze stopped him. Which she found strange, because she could feel nothing in her gaze at all. Cold, emotionless, exhausted.

  Anna had taken her to their rooms and helped Kaylee strip herself of clothing and put on a cleaner set.

  "Are you okay?" she whispered, directing Kaylee towards the bed. Kaylee sought out her eyes, her own dry.

  "She's dead, Anna," Kaylee whispered. In the widening of Anna's eyes, Kaylee saw that she understood.

  "You don't know that," she said. She was trying to comfort, Kaylee knew. But Anna was intelligent, she had to know, as Kaylee did, how false the hope was that Emma just took off. Kaylee smiled, a weak upturn of her lips that said they both knew what was true. Anna hugged her tightly before whispering that she needed to get some rest. Her eyes slid closed and she was asleep before the door shut.

  ~

  She awoke with a start. It must have been hours later. She was alone, the rows of ten beds empty except for hers. Her eyes crossed the space to what had been her sisters bed.

  Had been.

  She was already thinking in the past tense. She rose slowly, her hands rubbing up and down her arms, though she wasn't cold, more numb. Her hands were filthy though and when she glanced down she noticed. Scooping up an armful of clean clothes, she left the room and headed towards the stairs.

  The great room was quiet, that same eerie quiet that used to exist in office buildings and computer labs. Something, low and usually undefinable pulsed in the air, whined softly, hissed at awareness. The computers and arcade games blinked with LED and old fashioned light bulbs, screens flashed pictures of dead people and scenery that Kaylee...

  And Emma.

  ...would never get to see. Kaylee made her way to the bathroom, stripped off her clothes and escaped into the spray of steaming water.

  Her father would never believe that Emma had killed herself. He just wouldn't. He'd spend every last minute of his life searching for her. And he'd want to bring the rest of them with him. Quinton would never go.

  But maybe Emma had made it that far. Maybe she had gotten far enough to check in with Quinton. It could have even been him that sent that last bullet into her head.

  Kaylee paused, under that spray of hot water, unwanted flashes of Emma's possible last moments invading the shower with her. Quinton pulling on a trigger and her sister's head snapping back. Maybe it was the surreality of Emma's disappearance, the uncertainty over whether or not they would ever see her again, but, as Kaylee pictured Quinton ending her sister's life, she felt a spark of relief. And then immediate guilt. But if Quinton were there with Emma, they would know. Know for sure that they shouldn't look, that she was gone. And she wouldn't have been alone. Someone would have shared her final moments and that felt important somehow. Kaylee couldn't dredge up any anger at that.

  She blinked, her mind jolted out of the shower and flying back to a night only weeks ago that still left her spinning. Red hummed on the edge of her vision and then di
ssipated entirely, leaving only the hazy, beige tile of the shower.

  Why did it have to take this, the loss of her sister, something so terrible and permanent, to cause this shift in Kaylee? Why couldn't she have seen it before? All those weeks of avoiding Jack, of being seared by the red and dreams of bullet wounds felt like such a waste now. She had been so blind, so stubborn. Losing her sister sobered her in a way she didn't think possible. She had fallen apart, shook lose, and then was jarred back to reality.

  Back in the city, when he had shot her mother, Jack had no other option. None. It wasn't fair and it wasn't right and it wasn't easy. But it was a reality of their world. People died. And often it was their friends who had to kill them. Because, whether it was the bite that killed, the infection that made her no longer human, or the bullet that Jack directed into her brain, it didn't really matter. She wasn't Mom any longer. Kaylee's mother didn't want to eat people. She didn't want to hurt anyone. And the infection took that basic choice from her, the choice to be good. It stripped her of her humanity and left her with horrible urges and animalistic desires. And was it fair to leave anyone like that, stuck with those desires? Kaylee wasn't like her father had been, she didn't believe there was a cure. So wasn't it kinder to put these creatures down, not force them to live out these uncontrollable urges without their mindful consent? These weren't decisions being made, this was forced on them.

  She had wondered before if they have awareness. Did her mother or any one of her other neighbors and friends know what they were doing? Could they just not help themselves and were they disgusted afterwards? Or were they truly dead already, was everything that once made them human, including their awareness, gone? It was a question that she would most likely never get answered. And she wasn't sure it mattered anyway, except that if they did have awareness it made it all the more terrible.

  But if Emma truly had turned, and Quinton was the one who had finally ended it for her, just as Jack had for her mother weeks ago, she couldn't find it in her to dredge up any anger.

  Just because Kaylee couldn't shoot her mother, didn't mean she should have ever punished Jack for doing it. Just as she wouldn't punish Quinton for ending her sister. Jack hadn't even known who it was, just another nameless, faceless infected. But even if he did, he probably would have shot her anyway. If he hadn't, Kaylee wouldn't have been here. She would have been dead, or infected, wandering her old city until her body decayed from lack of sustenance. He had saved her and she shunned him.

  She knew she was wrong. Because even pulling up the image of Quinton shooting Emma didn't spark any outrage towards Quinton.

  Because it wasn't his fault.

  It was none of theirs. It was this infection and the world it left behind. And taking it out on one another wasn't fair, it was the least fair thing to do.

  "I'm so sorry," she whispered into the steam of the shower. Sorry for Emma, sorry to Jack for every time she turned away, and sorry for her father and Andrew who would be heartbroken.

  Andrew.

  He would break. It was bad enough that he believe he teased her into leaving, if she was-

  Kaylee froze, her hands still in the process of rinsing soap from her hair. The water beat with an almost uncomfortable heat into her scalp and shoulders. But she was locked, a statue in the shower as she remembered.

  It was just yesterday.

  Emma had stormed passed them, throwing a towel on her bed. Jack, Kaylee, and Andrew had been the only ones there, the rest were finishing lunch.

  "What's the matter with you?" Andrew had asked, eyeing her.

  She had grit her teeth, didn't answer right away. Kaylee had watched as Emma moved to her backpack, opening a flap and tucking her toothbrush inside.

  "Em, you okay?" She remembered asking. Her sister had rolled her eyes, then looked around the room. There was no one else there and she turned to face them, but didn't look at them.

  "I'm fine," she huffed. "Danny walked in on me."

  Kaylee had winced sympathetically, knowing her sister was coming from the shower.

  "Walked in on you where?" Jack had asked, looking her over.

  Emma flushed. "Shower," she mumbled.

  "Ah," Jack murmured, he averted his eyes, his grin kept to a minimum.

  Andrew had chortled. Emma's eyes narrowed as she finally looked up. He had laughed out loud and she had grit her teeth.

  "I thought you had no problem with people seeing you naked!" he accused, a grin on his face. She glared. "What? Now it's a problem?"

  "It is when it's Danny!" she shot back, shuddering theatrically. Andrew guffawed.

  "So, it wouldn't bother you if Marsden walked in?"

  Kaylee had rolled her eyes and turned back to Jack, letting Andrew have his fun. Emma had been teasing him for so long Kaylee had been amazed it had taken Andrew this long to retaliate.

  "Don't be an ass," Emma said hotly.

  "So it's not just Danny then," he pressed, smirking at her as she squirmed on the spot. "How about Paul? Mario?"

  Emma stared at him, her ears turning red as a blush stained her cheeks. Andrew couldn't stop chortling. She moved towards them, edging past Jack and Kaylee as she made for the door.

  "I'm going to see if Rose needs any help cleaning up."

  "What about Jack? My Dad?" Andrew continued, following her to the door.

  "Eugh! Andrew, shut up!" she yelled, stomping away. Andrew had just laughed, following her through the door and down the stairs.

  Jack had smirked over at Kaylee. "I have to say, I think she deserved that one."

  At the time, Kaylee had laughed, nodding. Now though...

  Her eyes slid from the tiles to the door, her head swiveling on her neck. If someone had walked in on her now, they would get a good healthy look at her back, her bottom, her legs.

  And that was what had been niggling at the back of her mind, freezing her muscles. Emma's legs. Where a nice, double crescent moon shaped scar marked her calf. It was so obviously a bite mark. And in this world, that meant only one thing.

  She dressed quickly, not even bothering to dry off. She was still pulling on her boots, her laces still untied, when she skittered around the corner to the kitchen and burst out into the yard. It was empty. She had no way of knowing if the fence was on. There was a small garden shovel stuck in a feed bag by the door. She had seen Maggie using it to scatter food to the chickens. Kaylee grabbed it and headed to the fence. She gripped the plastic handle and nudged at the fence with the point. Nothing happened. She rubbed the blade along the chain link. No sparks, no pop or hiss of electricity. She was so attune to it now, after not having access for so long, that she was confident the fence was off. Confident enough to reach out and grab the links.

  When nothing happened except that Kaylee released a shaky breath, she took off on a run. Marsden had said that Emma cut the fence, that Danny had spent most of the morning patching it up. She kept her fingers to the chain link, looking for the spot, fresh wire, something to indicate that what Marsden had said was true. She ran the interior twice, checking and even kicking the fence in places.

  No one had cut through this fence.

  And if Emma hadn't cut through, then she was taken through.

  Kaylee felt her eyes drift to the dam, past the long, flat top and straight to the buildings at the other side, the buildings that Marsden and Cynthia holed up in through the day.

  Did they kill her quickly? Drag her across the dam and end her? Not because she was turned, but because Danny saw the bite mark. Or was she still alive? Held captive until Marsden or Cynthia or Danny could decide what to do with the girl with the bitten leg.

  The gate was padlocked. But above that, between the razor wire and the top of the gate, there was a small space, no wider than a foot. She had noticed it the night before, when she and Jack had been looking to get out to signal Quinton, but she hadn't mentioned it then. Jack would never have fit through. But she could.

  The chain link pinched her fingers as she pulled hers
elf up, the toe of her boot just able to wedge into the small openings. It shook and rattled as she ascended, but no one came to the yard. Her hand curled around the bar at the top and she eased herself up. Slowly, her muscles trembling at the effort, she slid her shoulder through the small space. The razor wire missed her, though only by about an inch. When she brought her hips through, it snagged at her jeans, shredding one of her belt loops. She hung upside down for a moment, staring at the dirt at the base of the dam, as she navigated her legs through, her fingers clenching the metal chain link. As soon as her last boot was free, she let her body swing, landing on her feet and stumbling towards the dam.

  Her boots slapped against the concrete. She kept her gaze forward. The sun was hovering on the horizon. It would be night soon. The rest would be back. What would they think of her leaving? They knew she was not infected. There would be no excuses for her absence as there had been for Emma's. Kaylee had to hurry then. She had to see what was in those sheds, hopefully find her sister, and make it back as the others were coming. She'd need them, their strength and weapons, to keep Emma safe.

  Now that there was a possibility of Emma being alive, she clung to it with everything thing she had.

  The gate at the other end of the dam was unlocked. Kaylee pushed it open, cringing at the squeak of rusty hinges. There were three buildings. She approached the first, the closest, and peered through a grimy window.

  A generator. It hummed softly, encased in the shed. A small pile of gasoline cans stacked next to it.

  She frowned, wondering at the need for a generator when the plant was right behind them. But it wasn't important, not really. She needed to find Emma. The next shed was small, the size of an outhouse, and when Kaylee yanked the door open a jumble of yard tools spilled out. She was beginning to feel foolish, childishly optimistic.

  But she made for the last shed regardless. It was the biggest, more the size of a garage. There were windows, but they were covered. The long grass was matted down in a path around the building, dying now after the end of the summer. Kaylee could pick out the boot prints that crushed the old growth. And next to the worn path, a long black wire snaking towards the building.