by Chelsea Luna
The bottom line was Rachel was a mess—why would anyone want to love her?
She studied Adam’s face. The stubble on his jaw made him look ruggedly handsome. Long, dark lashes brushed against the delicate skin beneath his eyes.
Adam smiled at her. “What?”
She’d been staring too long. She pretended to look out the window, so he wouldn’t see her blush. “You should get some sleep.”
“Lindsay is driving. I can’t sleep.”
“Maybe we should fasten our seat belts.”
“We’ll need more than seat belts.” Adam yawned. “Hey, sorry about the QuickShop.”
“What do you mean?”
Adam lowered his voice. “About having you stay and guard with Nicky.”
“Oh. Why did you do that?”
“We’re always going to need a group protector and someone to take offense. We should rotate those positions, especially with Nicky’s shoulder still injured. I don’t want anyone accusing me of having favorites.” He winked. “Although, you’d be my first pick as a fighting partner.”
“No one has ever said anything so romantic to me before.” Rachel laughed. “I don’t have a problem with that as long as you put yourself in the rotation, too. You’d be an excellent babysitter.”
Adam grinned and leaned his head back against the seat. “Deal. This is the most comfortable I’ve been in a week. I predict this bench will be the prime sleeping spot—you should call it now before Nicky claims it.”
“Nicky won’t call it. You can’t fit two people on here.”
“Don’t remind me of the sounds we heard last night.”
Rachel laughed. She rolled her head to the side, getting comfortable in the bench, and looked at Adam.
“What?” he asked.
She opened her mouth, but he stopped her.
“Rachel,” Adam whispered. “Stop.”
“What?”
“I can see it in your eyes. Stop tormenting yourself. You are not a murderer. You did what you thought was necessary. Stop blaming yourself for Morgan’s death.”
“I feel like a horrible person.”
“The fact that you feel horrible is proof you’re a good person,” Adam said.
“Do you really think if we make it to Vegas we’ll be able to live a normal life?”
“That’s what we’re fighting for. You still don’t think we’ll make it?”
“Sixteen hundred miles is far.”
“We’ll make it.” Adam held her hand between his. His eyes were droopy, like he was already half-asleep. Rachel wasn’t sure how he was still functioning—he hadn’t slept in two days.
“Sleep,” Rachel said. “I’ll wake you if anything happens.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Adam closed his eyes. He kept a firm grip on her hand.
Rachel exhaled. Hopefully, they could make it to Las Vegas. She wanted a second chance at life. A destroyed America sped by the window. Could there be a life after this?
The van passed a sign for Joliet, Illinois and Nicky sat forward. “Dude! That’s the exit for Joliet Prison.”
“So?” Lindsay said.
“That’s, like, a famous prison,” he said. “This guy I know told me about it. It closed ten years ago, but I heard crazy stuff happened there.”
“What about the other prisons? Do you think prisoners are stuck behind bars? Or do you think they were released?” Finn asked.
“They’re probably still in there,” Cage said.
“It’s safer in a cell than out here,” Nicky said. “Think about those barbed wire fences and the heavy stone buildings with iron bars. Prison is like a fortress. It would be a great place to hide out during the zombie apocalypse.”
“Yeah.” Finn scratched his elbow. “Until the food supply runs out.”
“Thinking outside the box. I like it, Finn,” Nicky said. “The food trucks are not delivering anymore. America’s prisoners are probably eating each other by now.”
“Gross,” Lindsay said.
Rachel watched Adam sleep. His face was relaxed and his breathing was even. She lightly brushed the stubble on his cheek with the back of her hand. It had grown long enough that it was no longer rough.
“Do you think people are starving all over America?” Finn asked.
“Absolutely,” Nicky said.
“What about hunting?”
“Impossible unless you knew how to before this happened. I bet none of us could hunt an animal.”
“Adam could,” Finn said.
Rachel smiled—she’d bet Adam could hunt, too.
“Maybe,” Nicky conceded. “But what if there isn’t enough food to go around?”
Rachel checked the back window. The white mustang was still behind them. She was glad they’d met Dean and Monica. At least good people still existed. They’d encountered so many terrible people…it made you wonder about the fate of the human race.
The stretch of rural highway had nothing to look at but flat fields. Hours passed. Rachel wasn’t sure if they were in Illinois or if they’d already crossed into Iowa. The number of abandoned cars had decreased—less people meant less zombies, which equaled less destruction.
Cage and Finn fell asleep in their captain chairs and Lindsay and Nicky quietly talked to themselves. The tension in Rachel’s shoulders had eased a little. Of course, her heart was still heavy with grief over Morgan. When she thought about her little sister, an explosion of sadness and anger flooded over her and then Rachel had to start the calming process all over again.
It was strange to know you were one hundred percent completely alone in the world. Zero family. Rachel shook her head. That wasn’t true. These people, these strangers, in the van with her—even Lindsay—were her family now.
They would endure and get through this hellish nightmare. Together they’d build new lives in Las Vegas.
~ ~ ~
Nicky could tell they were getting close to Des Moines by the increase in debris. The sun had moved into his line of sight and he was in desperate need of a pair of shades. Adam was right with his calculations—stopping somewhere on the other side of Des Moines would be precisely at sunset. How did he do it? He always knew what to say and do.
Lindsay hummed as she drove. She was doing a great job. Nicky was skeptical when Cage volunteered her to drive, but as soon as he’d seen the others’ faces fill with fear, Nicky had to back her. This was his girl. She had to start pulling her weight—because the cold, hard fact was she needed to become tougher or she wouldn’t survive.
Knocked-over roadblocks loomed ahead, and Lindsay maneuvered around the toppled-over wooden barriers.
Nicky shook his head. “What idiots thought a couple pieces of wood would stop zombies?”
“Government idiots,” Cage said.
“Typical government B.S.”
“This is Des Moines?” Lindsay leaned against the wheel.
“Looks dead.” Nicky laughed. “Get it?”
Des Moines was smaller than Detroit, so the damage didn’t look as severe, but it didn’t lessen the blow—America was in serious trouble. How would they contain the outbreak? Was someone working on a cure? Or was everyone scrambling to survive?
On the other side of the city lay more farmland. They drove for another half hour as the sun set.
Nicky twisted in his seat. “Adam?”
He was asleep holding Rachel’s hand. At the sound of his name, he bolted into a sitting position.
Rachel frowned.
“Sorry,” Nicky said. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”
“What’s wrong?”
“We’re thirty miles past Des Moines.”
Adam looked out the window. “Find someplace to stay—a barn or a house or something.”
Nicky scanned the area, but there was nothing but cornfields for miles.
“There,” Rachel said. “On the left. See that house?”
An old two-story farmhouse stood about four miles fr
om the highway. Nicky’s eyes moved from the long dirt driveway that T-boned into a two-lane road.
“Lindsay get off this exit, now!”
Lindsay turned on her blinker and veered off the highway.
“How do we know people aren’t in there?” Cage asked.
“We don’t,” Adam said.
“We’ll have to check it out,” Rachel said.
“Isn’t that dangerous?” Lindsay drove across the overpass and turned onto the empty two-lane road.
“Everything is dangerous.” Adam peered through the windshield. “We’ll have to weigh the risks with the rewards. The driveway starts there, Lindsay. Pull to a stop, will you? I want to talk with Dean and Monica.”
Lindsay parked at the beginning of the dirt driveway. Adam climbed out of the van and knocked on the Mustang’s window. He leaned in and said something to Dean. They spoke for a minute before Adam climbed back into the van.
“What’s the word, dude?” Nicky asked Adam.
“We’re going to vote.”
Lindsay groaned.
Nicky grinned—Adam loved voting.
“We can check out the house or we can park down the road, hide in the cornfield and sleep in the van,” Adam said. “The house is risky—it could be full of zombies, or there could be bad people holed up in there. On the other hand, it could be empty, or there could be more allies like Monica and Dean.”
“There might be food in there,” Nicky said.
“And a warm bath.” Rachel stared longingly at the house.
“Or murderers.” Finn shrugged.
“Finn!” Lindsay made a face.
“What? It’s a possibility.”
Nicky shook his head—he loved that kid.
“Let’s vote,” Adam said. “Dean wants the house and Monica says she’d rather stay in the van. I vote for the house.”
Rachel nodded. “House.”
“Van,” Lindsay said. “And I’m not saying that to contradict Rachel. I’m scared of what might be in there. I’m tired of people shooting at us.” She looked at Nicky.
Nicky sighed. “Sorry, babe, I’m starving and there might be food inside. That alone is enough for me. My vote is for la casa. Don’t be scared, Linds, I’ll protect you.”
“House,” Cage and Finn answered in unison.
“All right,” Adam said. “Park in front. I don’t want to catch anyone by surprise.”
Clouds of dust floated around the van as Lindsay drove over the bumpy dirt road. Five-foot-tall cornfields lined the driveway like a tunnel. Worst case scenario, they could eat the corn. Could you eat raw corn from the cob?
The drive down the driveway took forever, but soon the pale yellow house came into view. The property had a nice-size yard with toys scattered in the grass and a tire swing hanging from an old tree. A two-story red barn stood behind the house and the cornfield surrounded the property like a privacy fence.
Lindsay handed the keys to Nicky. “I don’t want to be in charge of these. They’ll kill me if I lose them.”
Nicky pocketed them and everyone climbed out of the van. Dean and Monica were already out of the Mustang and staring up at the house. Nicky flexed his injured shoulder. It felt better because he hadn’t used it in a day or so, but he needed to clean the wound. Watch—it would be his luck that he’d make it through a week of the zombie apocalypse only to be taken out by a lame infection.
Nicky hoped there was mad food hidden in the cupboards. Maybe the owners went grocery shopping the morning of the attack and the house was stocked full of snacks. If there was a God, there’d be Fruit Roll-Ups and Cheetos inside.
“No one’s come out,” Rachel said.
“It looks like the house from—” Finn started.
“Night of the Living Dead,” Nicky finished. “Gimme a pound.”
Adam walked around the side. The pale yellow house had brown shutters and a wraparound porch with a swing. Flowers planted in boxes decorated the stairs. It was old, but whoever owned it, took great care of the place.
It looked like the perfect spot to crash—as long as there weren’t any psychos inside drying human skin or playing with skulls. Nicky peeked at the windows. Abandoned farmhouses always housed sadistic serial killers. It was one of their favorite hideouts. Especially the movies with the hillbilly murderers—
“What are you thinking about?” Lindsay asked.
“Psychos.”
Lindsay rolled her eyes. “Charming.”
“What do we do?” Nicky asked Adam. “I’m not knocking on the front door. The last time I did that, I got an arrow to the shoulder.”
Adam smiled. “No knocking. At least not yet.”
“Announce ourselves?” Dean said.
“But not too loudly,” Cage said. “In case there are zombies in the cornfields.”
“Oh, God.” Lindsay squinted into the distance. “I didn’t think of that. What if there are hundreds of them hidden in there?”
“I doubt it,” Rachel said. “They eat people, remember? Not corn.”
Adam nodded at Dean and the muscle-packed accountant cupped his hands next to his mouth. “Hello? Anyone inside?”
“Hello?” Cage added.
“We’re not going to hurt you!” Rachel said.
“We promise!” Nicky added. “We’re not lying!”
No response.
Nicky sighed. “Figures. Psychos don’t answer warning calls.”
“There aren’t psychos in there,” Rachel said.
“That’s what you think.”
“I’m going to the porch.” Adam pulled his gun from his waistband and held his lead pipe in the other hand. “Maybe I can see inside the windows.”
“Good luck with that,” Nicky said. “I’ll guard everyone down here.”
“I’ll go with you,” Rachel said to Adam.
“Me, too.” Dean pulled his gun strap off his bulky bicep and gripped the semiautomatic with both hands.
Bad. Ass. Nicky wanted one of those—imagine the damage he could do.
“Be careful,” Monica said.
Adam, Rachel and Dean went up the creaky porch stairs. They stayed out of the line of fire from the windows and flattened themselves against the house. Adam moved to the side of the door and knocked.
Nothing.
Rachel and Dean checked the windows. She shook her head. “Can’t see inside because of the drapes.”
Adam knocked again. “Hello? Is anyone in there? We’re coming in. We don’t mean any harm!”
Nothing.
Adam tried the handle, but it was locked. He reached above the doorframe. He slid his hand from side to side until he pulled down a small key.
“Watch out for arrows!” Nicky called out.
Rachel and Dean moved beside Adam as he inserted the key into the hole. He twisted the knob and opened the door.
Shit.
Nicky was too far away to count the sets of ice-blue eyes shoving through the door, but there were enough zombies to crowd the doorframe. Growls filled the country silence as the zombies bulldozed forward and fell on top of Adam.
Chapter Eight
The zombies rushed the door.
Adam lifted his pipe as the group fell onto him, but he wasn’t quick enough. The zombies had caught him off guard. Adam teetered on his heels and fell backward.
Rachel screamed.
Adam landed hard on his spine. Air escaped his lungs, but he had no time to think or breathe—a wall of zombie jaws and snarling teeth were on him, and he didn’t know where to strike first. Adam lodged his pipe under the closest zombie’s neck.
The most immediate threat was a young woman with a long red braid. She was missing an eye and a thick cake of dried blood covered her throat. Her lips curled back and her jaws snapped like a bear’s trap.
Adam shoved her back to create some distance between her teeth and his neck, but the other zombies had fallen on top of them, and his legs were pinned under a pile of the walking dead.
The woma
n slashed at the air with her fingers. Adam moved to the side. He was wearing a T-shirt and his arms and neck were exposed. He twisted his hips and flipped the woman onto the porch beside him, but his legs were trapped under the pile of thrashing, moaning bodies.
A swift noise cut the air and a tire iron smashed between the woman’s eyes. Cage yanked the metal weapon out of the zombie’s skull and held out his hand to Adam.
“Thanks, man.”
Cage pulled him from the pile of dead bodies. “No problem.”
Dean cracked the end of his gun into another zombie’s face. One zombie was left—there had been five that rushed the door. The final corpse was an older woman—she was extremely overweight with stringy hair and a faded blue dress. She bared her teeth at Rachel. The woman charged, but Rachel dodged to the side.
The old lady attacked again.
Rachel ducked under the fleshy arm and, on her way up, she blasted the aluminum bat into the woman’s jaw. The crack reverberated through the cornfield. The woman flew backward—dirty slippers in the air—and landed on the porch. Rachel struck her again, smashing the aluminum bat into her forehead.
She spun around, her eyes searching for Adam. She ran to him. “Bites? Scratches?” She checked his exposed arms, neck and skin.
“No, I’m fine.” He liked when Rachel touched him and he liked it even more when she worried about him.
She exhaled. “Don’t do that to me, Adam.”
“At least we know there aren’t any humans inside,” Nicky said.
Monica crouched beside the pile of bodies. “It looks like the whole family turned.”
Adam grimaced. The whole family became infected and died? Why were they locked in the house? Why hadn’t they run at the first signs of infection? Were they clueless? Or too heartbroken to leave a loved one behind?
“How did you learn to fight like that?” Monica asked Rachel.
Rachel shrugged.
“You’re really good.”
“Thanks.”
“Can you teach me?”
“Sure,” Rachel said.
Dean peered in the doorway. “We need to be careful. There might be more of them inside.”