Heath got in, pulled the door shut, and glanced back as if to check that we were still where we were supposed to be while Dan put the truck in drive. Something banged against the roof, and I imagined either Jose or Michael grabbing hold of it to maintain their balance. I also found myself picturing them toppling out as we pulled through the gate, landing right in the middle of an eager horde. It was a disturbing yet comforting thought.
On the way to the hospital, I’d taken the interstate per Gabe’s directions, which had taken only fifteen minutes or so. Dan, however, turned right out of the parking lot, driving in the opposite direction of Interstate 75.
The silence continued as we drove. Heath had cracked his window and lit a cigarette, and the chilly wind rushing in pushed the smoke back toward us rather than sucked it out, making me feel as if I, too, were smoking. At first, we passed few businesses or homes, and almost no zombies, but soon we came to what I assumed was the outskirts of town.
Here there were more buildings, which also meant more of the dead. The numbers were staggering considering this had been a small town, and just like in Rowan’s neighborhood, they seemed to travel in packs.
It almost seemed like something done out of habit—humans were social beings by nature—but logic told me it had more to do with instinct. One zombie was drawn to noise where it inevitably met up with other zombies who had also gone there to investigate one sound or another, and there they stayed until being drawn away by something else. I’d watched it happen over and over again from the safety of Rowan’s house, both because the sight of these decaying things had shocked me, and because I’d wanted to study their habits. The unknown had never been my friend, and facing the walking dead—I’d never thought about what an apt name that was before now—was the biggest unknown I could have ever imagined. So, I’d studied them. Watched them stumble down the street in a wave, drawn by something I couldn’t see or hear, before getting distracted and heading another direction. I’d watched them walk across yards aimlessly, stopping when they reached a wall or porch and staying there, unmoving, sometimes for hours. They could climb stairs, I knew, because I’d seen them do it, but they had to be motivated by something, otherwise they didn’t bother. They seemed not to sleep, and while they craved flesh so much that they chomped at air and reached for things that were out of range, they didn’t need to eat to survive. Because they were, for all intents and purposes, dead.
While I’d never been a huge fan of zombie fiction, I’d seen enough movies to know there had been two very different kinds of zombies. One had been like what we were facing now, dead people who’d reanimated and for the most part could be outsmarted. The other, however, had been living people who’d been infected by something—a virus or maybe even a mind-altering bacterium—that had changed them, making them more aggressive and deadly. Typically, those zombies had been faster and harder to defeat, because while something about them had changed, they were still human.
Before the dead came back for real, I’d always thought the second one would have been worse. Not now, though. Now I realized how much better off we’d be if we were facing an outbreak of that kind. If the zombies were still alive, they’d be susceptible to all the normal things that could kill a human. Hunger and disease, exposure to extreme weather, and even other illnesses. The biggest killer of those zombies, however, would have been thirst. If we were currently facing that kind of apocalypse, we’d simply have to hunker down and wait things out. It would be bad at first, but it wouldn’t take long for the infected people to die once and for all.
What would kill these zombies for good, though? It was hard to say because they were, after all, already dead. We already knew they could be severely injured and still move around. They didn’t need to eat or drink water, and it seemed unlikely that there was any kind of virus out there that would destroy them. Winter might help, assuming they could freeze, and summer would be beneficial because the heat would speed up the decaying process, but even the thought of the changing weather didn’t give me much hope. What could kill something that was already dead? It seemed like a riddle with no answer.
The truck’s tires thumped over something, jostling me back to the present. At my side, Rowan was staring out the window, watching the dead and buildings fly past with a sad expression on her face. This was the most she’d seen of her hometown since arriving at her house ten days ago, and her shock was evident in every line of her body. Her mouth was open, her eyes wide as they took in every detail, from the dead lumbering toward us to the open doors of the houses we passed. Windows had been broken at many of the businesses, and the glass scattered across the ground shimmered in the sun as if calling out to us. The door to CVS had been pried from the building and lay in the parking lot, and nearly every window in the nearby Mexican restaurant had been shattered. There was other vandalism, too. Words spray painted on walls, saying things like Fuck the Dead and Zombie Killer Klan. There were crude drawings, as well, which brought Jace and his group of underage thugs to mind. It wouldn’t have surprised me to learn they were responsible for the drawings, although I didn’t get why they’d risk their lives just to spray paint a few poorly drawn penises on the side of a building.
Dan turned left, driving past a couple shopping centers and into a more residential area. A few more turns and five more minutes of silence followed before he slowed to a stop in a cul-de-sac. The houses here were modest one- and two-story homes, but well maintained, and while most had their front doors hanging open, there were currently no zombies in sight.
Heath rolled his window down a little more and flicked his cigarette out then turned to face us. “Time to find out what you’re worth.”
Rowan’s back stiffened, but before she could say anything, I put my hand on her knee.
“Remember,” I said, staring Heath down, “ask for Devon.”
“I remember,” he said, disappointment in his tone. Then he lifted the radio to his lips and pressed the button. “This is Heath.”
I held my breath even though there was no doubt in my mind that Devon would be ready and waiting, and only a few seconds later, static crackled through the truck’s cab, followed by a familiar voice.
“Heath,” Gabe said, “you son of a bitch. I thought we agreed to play nice.”
My body stiffened. What the hell was he doing with the radio?
Heath’s lips curled up into a satisfied smile. “You agreed. I did not.”
“Devon,” I hissed when he’d released the button. “Gabe is not involved in this negotiation.”
Heath pressed his lips together, thinking, then he exhaled and pushed the button again. “I’m told to ask for Devon. It seems I have a couple of his friends.”
“He’s here. First, tell me if Lane is—”
His words cut off abruptly, and Devon’s voice broke through. “I want to know they’re okay. Let me talk to them. Now.”
Beside me, Rowan’s body seemed to turn to stone. She was staring at the radio, leaning forward like she was considering snatching it from Heath’s hands.
“Who am I speaking with?” Heath asked.
“This is Devon.”
“The boyfriend, I assume,” Heath said into the radio, his smirk directed at Rowan. “Ms. Summers seems very anxious to talk to you.”
“She’s there?” Like he was trying to control his emotions, Devon let out a long breath. “Let me talk to her. I want to hear her voice before we go any further.”
Heath didn’t reply right away, but he also didn’t make a move to hand the radio over to Rowan. In my short time here, I’d noticed that he enjoyed toying with people like this. Holding the little bit of power he had over their heads as a reminder that they were at his mercy. I imagined he had no power before all this. Imagined he’d wanted some but had never quite been able to grab hold of it. It was why he’d cheated on Lane, because he’d lost the control he had over her.
The radio crackled again, and Devon said, “Are you there?”
Heath sighed
as he held the radio out to Rowan, as if the act wore him out. “You have three minutes.”
14
Rowan
Like an excited kid who’d just been offered a piece of candy, I grabbed the radio from Heath. All the guilt I’d felt since making that impulsive and stupid decision at the farm had come rushing back at the sound of Devon’s voice, but there’d been something else, too. Excitement. A thrill that made my toes curl. I’d been a fool to rush off, a fool to think Devon wouldn’t have helped me if I’d just been patient. No more impulsiveness. From here on out, I was going to be logical like Kiaya. Or at least I was going to try.
First, though, I had to get out of this situation.
My fingers curled around the radio as I lifted it to my mouth and pressed the button. “Devon?”
“Rowan.” The utter relief in his voice had tears welling up in my eyes. “Tell me you’re okay?”
“I’m okay,” I replied, blinking to clear my vision. “And I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
“It’s okay. We’ll figure this out. I’m just glad you’re okay.” A big sigh followed. “What about Kiaya and Lane?”
My gaze darted to Kiaya, who was watching me, and I pressed the button and once again lifted the radio to my mouth. “Kiaya is fine. She’s here with me. Lane had surgery and is recovering, but she should be okay.”
“Good.” Another long sigh. “What about Miller? Did he behave himself, or do I have to kick his ass?”
I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Matt is okay.”
“Matt?” There was a pause. “You’ll have to fill me in on that later. For now, we need to figure this thing out. Okay? Which means I need to talk to Heath again.”
“Okay,” I said but paused before handing the radio over. “Devon?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
“I miss you.”
There was a longer pause, and when he finally replied, emotion rang in the words. “I miss you, too. Now, let me talk to Heath.”
Without saying anything else, I turned to Heath and held the radio out.
He had an amused expression on his face when he took it, his gaze staying on me as he lifted it to his lips. “What a touching display.”
“Shut the hell up,” Devon replied. “I’m not here to chat or become friends. I just want to know what it’s going to take to get our friends back.”
“You assume I’m willing to negotiate.”
“I don’t assume anything,” Devon growled in reply, “except that you’re opportunistic. Well, this is your opportunity. What will it take?”
“Three women and one man is a big trade,” Heath replied.
“Three women and two men. We want the doctor, too,” Devon replied.
“I’m not sure Dr. Summers is willing to go, but if he is, he’s free to leave any time he wants.”
A pause followed. “What about the others?”
Heath tilted his head, his eyes on me as he thought. Another game. Heath was no fool. He’d made up his mind long before leaving the hospital.
He pressed the button. “Fifteen guns and five extra boxes of ammo for each.”
Devon swore. “That’s almost all the firepower we have.”
“You’ll have to find more.”
“We have kids here. You’re willing to rob them of the only thing that might keep them safe?”
“I have to think about my own people first. They’re depending on me to keep them safe.”
There was another pause, this one longer, then Devon said, “I’ll make it happen. I don’t know how, but I will. When do we meet?”
Heath grinned. “Today. At three o’clock.”
“Fine,” Devon replied. “Where?”
“The parking lot next to Hobart Arena.”
A pause, then Devon was back. “I know where that is. We’ll be there.”
“Looking forward to it,” Heath said, then added, “Oh, and Devon, make sure my old friend Gabe is with you. I’d love to have a chat with him.”
“Whatever,” Devon replied. “See you at three.”
Heath said nothing before setting the radio down. Then he turned to grin back at us. “Looks like you’re going home.”
“What about my dad?” I asked.
He faced the front as Dan put the truck in drive. “Like I said, I don’t know if he’ll be willing to go.”
“But if he wants to, he’s allowed?”
“Of course,” Heath said, shooting me a grin. “I’m not the bad guy here, Rowan.”
Sure, he wasn’t.
I sat back, and Kiaya took my hand, giving it a squeeze. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Yeah,” I said, letting out a breath.
Matt was waiting in my room when we got back, and he jumped to his feet the second we stepped inside, his gaze darting between us and his body tense with anticipation. “How did it go?”
“Good,” Kiaya said in her usual no-nonsense tone. “I think so, anyway.”
Matt crossed his arms, a concerned expression on his face.
“We’re leaving in two hours. Meeting Devon and the others to make a trade.”
“Fifteen guns,” Kiaya added.
Her tone was less reserved than usual, but she appeared as casual as always. Her stance relaxed, her eyes giving away nothing about how she felt. Her expression neutral. I wished for the hundredth time that I could be so collected.
Matt’s frown said he didn’t like the arrangement any more than the rest of us. “And Gabe agreed to that?”
“I seriously doubt he has a choice.”
“Yeah.” Matt blew out a long breath and ran his fingers through his brown hair, mussing it. “Devon won’t let him argue.”
“We need—”
A knock at the door cut off whatever Kiaya was going to say, and I turned just as Ryan stepped into the room.
His gaze moved over us, stopping on Matt. “Your friend?”
“Matt Miller,” I said, waving to him. “This is Ryan Shelton. Dr. Shelton. He’s a surgeon.”
Matt seemed to grow more tense. He hadn’t been at the hospital long enough to realize how few of the people were a threat, and he looked like he was preparing for an attack with the way his feet were planted and how he’d clenched his fists. It was unnecessary, but it was a nice change from how he’d acted before coming clean with us, always cowering behind someone else or refusing to help. Now, Matt actually looked like he was prepared to defend us if need be. It was odd how quickly he’d changed.
“Nice to meet you,” Ryan said then cleared his throat. “Speaking of being a surgeon, I came to give you an update on Lane’s condition.”
“It’s about time,” Kiaya said.
The doctor frowned and gave a little shake of his head. “I’m sorry. I knew Heath was coming here and I assumed he’d fill you in.”
“I told you already,” I snapped, “Heath wants her dead. He doesn’t give a shit about her condition, and there’s no way he’s going to let us know how she’s doing.”
Ryan’s gaze moved to the ground, and his frown grew deeper. “I don’t even know what to say about that.”
“Forget it.” I waved as if swatting his words away. “Just tell us how Lane is doing.”
“Yeah,” he said, looking up. There was a troubled expression in his green eyes. “Okay.”
He came farther into the room, stopping in front of Kiaya, Matt, and me. “She’s doing a lot better. Her blood pressure is up, and although she’s in pain, she’s stronger than she was yesterday. I’m confident she’ll make a full recovery assuming she takes it easy for a while.”
“Good.” The sigh Kiaya blew out sounded exhausted even though her expression hadn’t changed. “She’ll be able to rest better, I’m sure, once we’re out of here.”
“Heath says you’re leaving soon?” Ryan said, his gaze moving between us.
“Not soon enough,” I grumbled, still irritated by his refusal to believe that Heath was anything but a saint. Then again, he wasn’t the only one.
“What about my dad? Have you seen him? Is he coming to talk to me?”
At that, Ryan’s gaze returned to the floor and he shifted his feet uncomfortably. “Yeah. He’s checking on a few patients at the moment, then he plans to come to talk to you.” He ventured a look up, but his expression was no less unnerving. “He’s busy, Rowan. There’s a lot for him to do here. Remember that.”
An uneasy feeling swirled through me. Why did it feel like Ryan was preparing me for something? Did he know something I didn’t? Could Heath be right? Was my father planning to stay here?
Ryan looked down again. “Um, Kiaya—” He paused as if thinking something through. “And Matt, I guess. I was thinking you might want to see Lane. It will also give Rowan a chance to talk to her father alone.”
“Yeah.” Kiaya looked my way. “As long as it’s okay with you?”
“Yeah,” I replied, although part of me was terrified at the thought of being alone with my dad. “I’ll be okay.”
I hoped that was true.
Ryan moved for the door, pausing at the threshold to pull a remote from his pocket. He pressed a button, and Kiaya’s collar beeped, then he repeated the process with Matt’s. A second beep followed.
“This way,” Ryan said, waving to the hall. To me, he said, “Your dad will be here soon.”
“Thanks,” I replied, hugging myself.
Matt shot me a quick—and sympathetic—look as he followed Ryan out, but Kiaya paused at my side.
“It’s going to be okay.” She placed a hand on my shoulder. “We’ll be out of here before you know it, and your father will be with us.”
My response almost got stuck in my throat. “I know.”
A quick smile that was tight and didn’t reach her eyes, and Kiaya was heading after Ryan and Matt. Then I was alone.
Like my first night here, I paced while I waited. My arms were crossed, and every inch of me was tense with worry, and I couldn’t stop myself from glancing toward the clock every three seconds. Ryan had said Dad would be here soon, but time seemed to move at a pace that could have rivaled a turtle crossing a highway. It felt as treacherous, too. Like I was waiting for the death squad to take me to my execution and not a visit from my father.
Far Series | Book 3 | Far From Lost Page 24