Using my free hand to help, I dragged my body forward while Kellan pulled. My bare arms and legs scraped against the rough brick, but in seconds, I was on top, sprawled out on my stomach beside Kellan as I desperately tried to catch my breath.
“Jump.” He didn’t even look at me before hopping down, landing on his feet on the other side of the fence.
I rolled more than jumped, but the result was the same—plus a few extra bruises—and I landed on the ground at Kellan’s feet. The brick wall and wrought iron gate separated us from the dead, but it didn’t stop them from slamming against the other side, snarling and moaning. Growling. Decayed fingers stretched through the openings in the gate while rotten arms reached over the fence, clawing at air. I couldn’t move. Couldn’t catch my breath. Couldn’t do anything but lie there.
“Get up, Regan,” Kellan snapped. “We have to go. Now. Before they figure out how to get over.”
I nodded and pulled myself to my feet, wincing with every painful movement. My legs were a scraped and bloody mess, and my arms weren’t much better. When I took a step, I cried out from the throbbing in my ankle.
Kellan had already started walking.
“I’m hurt,” I called.
He stopped and turned to face me, his face a mask of irritation. “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t carry you, Regan.”
“I need help,” I said. “Please.”
He cursed but came back anyway, allowing me to put my arm around his shoulders so I could use him for support.
“I’m not going to be able to run any more today,” I said.
“Shit.” Kellan looked around, his gaze taking in the back yard.
There was an above ground pool with a deck circling half of it, and a little shed that could have been a child’s playhouse. Lawn furniture was toppled over on a cement pad, and beyond that, the back door stood open as if waiting for someone to arrive and once again inhabit the house.
“We’ll go inside,” he said. “We can lay low and hope they get bored and leave.”
I gasped in pain when I took another step.
Kellan swore under his breath and muttered, “You’re dead weight, Regan. You’re going to get me killed.”
The words hurt worse than all my injuries combined.
The monsters were out there. I was sure of it. Kellan kept telling me we were safe, but I knew he was lying. I could tell because he wouldn’t talk to me, and he hadn’t looked at me since he’d helped me into the house hours ago. He hadn’t glanced my way once while searching for a safe place to hide, or even before we’d crawled into this closet and shut the door. He hadn’t looked at me since before he’d uttered those horrible words.
“How long have we been here?” I asked, keeping my voice low in case someone—or something—was in the house.
It was dark, so I couldn’t see him, but I felt Kellan’s body stiffen at the sound of my voice.
“I don’t know,” he said, his words cool.
I swallowed but couldn’t come up with any saliva. My mouth, which had been dry before we went out this morning in search of water, now felt like the sandy ground of the desert. Even worse, my head was pounding, and the intense heat in the closet wasn’t helping.
Kellan and I sat in silence a little longer, and I tried my best to stay quiet. With each passing moment, I could feel reality slipping farther away. Even surrounded by blackness, I could tell the edges of my vision had begun to darken, and my body was throbbing in places where it hadn’t before. The pain was inside. In my muscles and bones.
“Kellan,” I said, reaching for him, “I need water. I need—”
He shifted away when my hand brushed his arm, and I reached out again, trying to find him, but it suddenly felt as if he was being pulled away. Or maybe it was me who was being pulled away, because I felt like I was falling, tumbling down a hole. I grabbed at empty air, trying to hold on, but I couldn’t, and then it was too late, and everything went black.
“Regan.” Hands shook my shoulders. “Regan. Wake up. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please.”
Once again, I grasped at the darkness, trying to find something to grab hold of, trying to ground myself by clinging to Kellan’s panicked voice. My hands touched something warm and solid, and I briefly registered that it was Kellan. This time, he didn’t push me away, but instead let out a deep sigh.
“Sit up. Here.” He helped me up, his arms around me.
Something wet touched my parched lips, then my tongue. It filled my mouth, refreshing despite its warmth, and I sucked it down, desperate for relief from the throbbing dryness in my body.
“Careful,” Kellan said. “Slowly.”
I couldn’t listen, I was too parched, and with each drop that slid down my throat, the fear of death slipped farther away.
It was then that I registered where I was. Not in the closet, but in a living room. On a couch. A large picture window took up most of the wall in front of me, and through it I could see the night sky. The yard we’d run across who knew how long ago stood empty and as still as the night. The horde was gone.
“They—” I swallowed, trying to get the words out. “They’re gone?”
“They are.” Kellan was at my side, kneeling on the floor and holding a bottle of SmartWater. “Drink more.”
I obeyed, taking the bottle and sucking it down, my gaze moving over the room. A television—now useless—sat in front of us, and to my left was a fireplace, and just past that a dining room table. Four wine racks were mounted on the wall next to it, flanking a huge picture of Paris. I stared at it as I drank, thinking about that faraway city and wondering if it had fared any better than Altus. It seemed unlikely. The last news reports to air had said the virus had gone global. Were there zombies stumbling around under the Eiffel Tower at this very moment?
“How do you feel?” Kellan asked, pulling my attention to him.
I swallowed another mouthful of water. “Better, I think.”
“Shit, Regan,” he shoved his hand through his dark hair, pushing it off his forehead, “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know it was that bad.”
“It’s okay.”
It was a lie. The water would help and my injuries would heal, but the words he’d flung at me had left a gash in my heart that I wasn’t sure would ever go away.
“No,” he said. “It isn’t. I didn’t mean it. I shouldn’t have—”
A bang from the other room made Kellan jump to his feet. The moonlight shining in through the picture window illuminated the knife in his hand. It was a big one his dad had used for hunting, but it was our only weapon. What good would it be against a horde of zombies?
A moan echoed through the house, and the hair on my arms stood up.
Kellan didn’t move, didn’t take his eyes off the doorway on the other side of the dining room table. He was still staring at it when he held out his hand.
“We need to go. Come on.”
I took his hand, but when I stood, pain throbbed through me, reminding me of all my earlier injuries. My ankle, especially, ached. I wouldn’t be able to run.
Kellan took a step, trying to pull me with him.
“I can’t. I’m too hurt to run.” I yanked my hand out of his. “Leave me.”
He tore his gaze from the doorway and focused on me, his eyes huge. “No. I won’t.”
“You’re right, Kellan. I’m dead weight. Don’t die for me.”
“Regan, no—”
A zombie stumbled into the room, arms out and grasping at air. The second he saw us, he moved faster, dragging himself around the table and heading our way.
Kellan gripped his knife and planted his feet, putting himself between the zombie and me. “Stay back.”
“Go, Kellan!” I yelled.
He ignored me, his focus on the creature.
The thing lunged when it was close enough, but Kellan was ready, his knife up. He was tall for fifteen, but not compared to a full-grown man, which was what this thing had been before the virus killed it. The knife hit
low, sinking into the zombie’s neck. He and Kellan went down, struggling, the zombie attempting to sink his teeth into flesh while Kellan tried to pull the knife free. Neither was making any progress. Kellan had his forearm pressed against the zombie’s neck, holding him back, but he wouldn’t be able to hang on forever. The zombie was too big, and we were too weak from all these weeks of fighting to survive.
Kellan grunted, and I moved, limping across the room and grabbing the first thing I laid eyes on. It was a small statue of an armless, headless woman with wings. There was a stone base on the bottom, not big but hard. It was all I had. This tiny thing was all I had to fight off a dead creature desperate to sink its teeth into the only friend I had left in the world.
I screamed as I swung the statue through the air, aiming for the zombie’s head. It hit his skull, sinking in with a sickening crunch that made my stomach convulse. Blood, dark and thick and pungent, burst from the split in the zombie’s head, but the thing didn’t stop. It didn’t even seem to notice it was injured.
I swung the statue again, and again, each time making the fracture in the dead man’s head bigger. On the fourth hit, the sharp point of the base stuck, and I had to jerk it free. I stumbled back when it came out with a wet, sucking sound. I was panting, sweating, my limbs trembling, but I lifted the statue again, ready to hit him one more time.
Only I didn’t have to. He was no longer moving.
“Kellan,” I gasped, dropping to my knees at his side. “Are you okay? Answer me!”
He shifted, and the zombie rolled off him, plopping to the floor at his side. Kellan, like me, was breathing hard, and he was covered in the stinking blood of the dead man, but he looked unhurt.
“I’m okay,” he said, pushing himself up.
His gaze moved to the zombie, his eyes wide, then back to me. He didn’t say anything, and neither did I. I was in shock over what I’d just done, and he probably was as well.
We still hadn’t moved when footsteps scraped against the floor in the other room. Kellan grabbed for his knife, but before he could find it, the beam of a flashlight blinded us.
I covered my eyes and turned my head, trying to save my vision but also trying to get a good look at whoever was standing on the other side of the room. After only a second, the beam moved down, revealing a grizzled old man and a guy in his late twenties with white-blond hair.
The older man let out a low whistle. “What do we have here?”
“A couple badass kids,” the blond guy said, aiming the beam of his flashlight at the zombie. “Did you do this?”
I swallowed. “I did.”
“Well, now, that’s mighty impressive,” the older man said.
He took a step toward us, and Kellan moved, grabbing his knife and putting himself in front of me. “Stay back.”
“We’re not going to hurt you.” The older man lifted his hands. “It looks like you could use some help.”
“We’re doing okay,” Kellan said.
The man chuckled quietly. “I see that. But you could be doing better.”
“We have a place,” the younger guy said. “It’s safe. There’s food and water. Electricity.”
Kellan frowned and looked at me. I wasn’t sure if he believed him, wasn’t even sure if I did. It sounded too good to be true, but sitting there beside that dead zombie, my body aching from head to toe, I knew one thing for certain. We needed help.
“We’re not going to hurt you.” The older man took another step toward us. “I promise you that.” He crossed the room, moving slowly, and knelt when he reached us. “What’re your names?”
I swallowed. “Regan. This is Kellan.”
“Hi there, Regan. Kellan.” The man smiled, and it lit up his face. He had kind eyes. Eyes that said he was being sincere. Eyes you could trust. “This is Blake, and I’m Jasper, and we can help you if you’ll let us.”
He held his hand out, and before I could second-guess myself or even talk it over with Kellan, I slipped my hand into his.
“There,” Jasper said, helping me to my feet. “It’s going to be okay now. I promise.”
1
Holding the scissors I found in the desk drawer like a knife, I stared at the people in front of me and tried to will my hand not to tremble. It didn’t work. I was too freaked out, and not just for myself either. For Kellan, too. This was it. This was my chance to prove I wasn’t dead weight. Kellan needed me, and I had to be strong for him if nothing else.
“Don’t come any closer,” I said, forcing the words to come out sounding firm. “We weren’t with those other people, and we have nothing for you to take. We just want to be left alone.”
The man at the front of the group stepped forward, and I tensed even more.
“We’re not going to hurt you.” He had a flashlight in one hand, which he kept pointed to the floor, but he raised the other hand to show he wasn’t armed. “We’re here to help.”
“We don’t need help,” I lied while the memory of how hot Kellan’s skin had felt against mine danced through my mind, making the tremors in my hand twice as bad. “We just need to be left alone.”
The guy took another step, moving his hand as he did. The gesture was slow, like he was trying to show us that he wasn’t going for a weapon, but it still made my heart thump harder.
“It’s okay. We’re like you.” He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up until it was above his bicep, then moved the flashlight so the beam illuminated his arm. The crescent scar screamed at me from his forearm. “We’re immune too, and we’re here to help.”
I stared at the scar, knowing what it was but finding it hard to register what he was saying. It was clearly a bite, and not just any bite. It was human, from a zombie. There was no other explanation. This man, whoever he was, claimed he was like me—immune. Not just him, but the other people in his group as well. That was what he’d said. We’re like you. But how did he know I was immune? Had he followed me from Oklahoma, or was it possible he’d been tracking Andrew and his men? If that was the case, why hadn’t he come to our rescue earlier?
I didn’t have answers to those questions, but it didn’t matter, not when much more pressing questions presented themselves. Could I trust him? Could he help us? And even more importantly, did the man standing in front of me know Kellan wasn’t immune?
He was behind me, crumbled on the floor and burning with fever. Only a couple days ago, a crazy man had attacked us while we were out fishing, biting Kellan. That bite was the only reason he was here now. When Andrew and his men cornered us outside the hangar, Kellan had lied about being immune, convincing the asshole who’d been about to drag me away to take him, too. I understood why he’d done it, had even looked at it as an advantage, knowing I would have a better chance of getting away if Kellan were with me. But the bite was likely to kill him unless I did something to stop the infection. He needed medical attention—antibiotics and something to clean the wound—then we needed to get back to Oklahoma so we could see what had become of our friends. They’d been gathered outside the hangar on Altus Air Force Base the last time we saw them. Blake had tried to help, but he’d been outnumbered, especially with Christine too focused on her dad to lend a hand. Andrew had shot Bill. Was he still alive? Were Blake and Christine and Scott? I had no clue. Wouldn’t until we got home. Assuming we did.
Now I found myself standing in the dark office Kellan and I had retreated to when the chaos had broken out, frozen and still brandishing the scissors I’d found in the desk. It was a desperate attempt to look tough, one I knew wouldn’t fool anyone for long—if at all. The man in front of me, the one with the scar, stared at me with unblinking pale blue eyes, waiting to see what I would do. Behind him three other people stood, two men and a woman, but the shadows prevented me from making out any of their features.
“We need to go,” the woman said.
The man at the front of the group nodded, still not lowering his arm and still not taking his eyes off me. “We aren’t going to hurt you.”
/>
I had a sudden flashback to nine years ago when Jasper found Kellan and me. Back then, all it had taken was one look into his kind eyes to know I could trust him. If only I had that certainty now. I didn’t, but I also didn’t have the luxury of saying no. Not when Kellan was at death’s door.
Swallowing, I lowered the scissors. “We need help. He’s sick. An infected bite. I need to get him somewhere safe and get it clean. Antibiotics, too. Please.” I whispered the last word, hating how desperate it made me sound, but knowing there was no hiding it now.
The man finally lowered his arm, pulling his sleeve down when he did so the scar was once again covered. “We’ll get him fixed up. I promise.”
A half-sob, half-sigh of relief burst out of me, making it impossible to do anything but nod.
The other two men moved into the room, passing me and heading to where Kellan sat slumped against the wall. The woman stayed where she was, holding the flashlight steady so it illuminated the room. Even in the soft glow, I couldn’t miss how flushed Kellan was. He looked like he was barely hanging on.
He groaned when the men dragged him to his feet, and I started to move to his side, but the leader stopped me.
“They’ve got him. We need to go. Now.”
I shot one last look toward Kellan before nodding in agreement.
He was with me. I wasn’t leaving him.
It was a hard thing to keep in mind when I turned toward the door and he was no longer in my line of sight. Turning my back on him made my heart feel like it was on the verge of splitting in two. If I lost him, I was pretty sure it would.
It wasn’t until I’d stepped into the hall, trailing after the man with the scar and the woman with the flashlight, that I remembered why we were here and what had happened to bring us to this moment. Andrew had brought us to this office building, a pit stop on the way to Atlanta. He’d been ready to put a bullet in Kellan’s head when these people attacked, giving us a chance to get away.
Where was Andrew now? Where were his men? There was no more fighting, no more gunshots. I could hear a few distant noises I couldn’t quite place, but the roar I’d heard earlier was gone.
The Oklahoma Wastelands Series Box Set | Books 1-3 Page 57