Apokalypsis Book Two

by Kate Morris

  “Fuckin’ Ruskies, man,” the pothead said. “We shoulda’ nuked ‘em years ago.”

  “My aunt said that they’re calling this RF1 and RF2 for Russian flu one and two.”

  The kid kept rambling, but Tristan lost his ability to focus for a minute. It sounded like he was describing the same thing the young deputy in town had told him. He scrubbed a hand over his face and clicked the reverse button to back up the video to listen again.

  “She’s working with Doctors Without Borders, too,” he explained. “They’ve seen a lot of people killed from this. One doctor was killed, too. She’s a nurse, so she knows how to take precautions. Don’t mean she won’t get it. She said she wants to come home, but the United States is banning flights from her region.”

  “Fuckin’ government, man,” the doob smoker commented. He was literally smoking a blunt in the video. Tristan was getting a vibe from him that he was only there to add stupid comments every once in a while.

  “She also said that so many of the infected with the second strain are killing their patients with the first strain faster than they can even treat them. It’s crazy. They’re like sick psycho killers or something. The villagers are calling them night crawlers.”

  So that’s where the term must’ve originated.

  “It’s not good, man,” pot kid said. “I heard the survival rate’s like less than twenty percent or something, man.”

  “I heard the same,” the geek continued. “And the governments all around the world won’t take any flights coming in from Africa. Nobody wants this shit on their turf, but let me tell you, it’s too damn late. It’s here. People are…”

  The video feed went dead, a black screen appearing stating that the video was flagged for inappropriate content and removed.

  “My ass,” he said to the empty room and clicked on the one right below it also talking about the flu. Not even three seconds in, and the same thing happened. Then it happened twice more.

  “Coffee delivery,” Avery announced as she opened the door again with her bare foot.

  Tristan jumped up and helped her so she didn’t get burned by the steaming liquid in the mugs.

  “Thanks,” he said and stood near the open French doors, leaning his shoulder against the frame.

  “You look nice in that shirt,” she commented.

  Tristan grunted, “Yeah, I’m a real poster boy for polo shirts and khakis.”

  “Good thing you’re still in your jeans then,” she quipped with sass. “Find anything out while I was gone?”

  He debated what he should tell her and what he should leave out. Definitely the low survival rate in case any of her sick siblings in the hospital tested positive for it.

  “It seems like that deputy was right,” he said finally as she came over and stood against the other part of the door frame opposite him. “There are two strains. One is deadly. The other makes you really sick. I don’t know. We need more information than this. Nobody has actual concrete scientific evidence.”

  “They have their word. That’s proof.”

  He frowned. Could someone really be that naïve? “It’s the internet, Avery. Most of what comes out of it is bullshit.”

  She didn’t answer but stood there staring at him for a few moments. “Before I forget, I wanted to thank you for staying last night. I don’t know if I ever actually did. I was tired.”

  “Not a problem,” he said. “And you are welcome.”

  “Why did you?”

  He choked on his coffee he was about to swallow. “What?”

  “Why did you come here? I mean, I know you gave me a ride home, but why did you stay? You certainly didn’t have to. We don’t know each other all that well. It’s just that I’m stuck on the why part.”

  He took a deep, unsteady breath and held it. Tristan wasn’t even sure he understood fully the reason why he felt the need to stay at her house. It wasn’t a civic duty. He was a soldier in the U.S. Army, not a cop, not an armed security officer or a bodyguard, which was what she needed. This was not in his list of duties as an enlisted man.

  “I don’t know,” he said, shoving off from the wall and placing his coffee on a nearby stand, fully intending to begin their research again.

  “But why? That’s not an answer. You haven’t given me a straight answer yet, Tristan.”

  His name on her soft mouth did something to him.

  “I don’t know, Andersson,” he said, using just her last name and doing so with more force. Last night, he’d been a dick. Tristan knew it. He’d done it on purpose. He hadn’t wanted her snooping into his job with the Army. She didn’t need to know that about him. Or anything about him. Not his past, nor his present, it was all off limits to her snooping.

  When he turned, she was right there, having moved silently to corner him. If he’d had his mug still in his hands, theirs would’ve clanked together like they were toasting something.

  “Why?”

  “Because dammit,” he said and swiped a hand through his hair. “You seem to get yourself into a lot of bad situations. You’re kinda’ expert level at finding trouble.”

  “So? You’re not my personal protector. I can take care of myself.”

  He snorted, the sound loud and condescending in the office as he meant it to be to put her off. It didn’t work. She was a tenacious little person. “Yeah, okay. Let’s just say for the sake of argument that you can’t. And that’s why I stayed the night. It’s not ‘cuz I think you’re cute and wanna’ get in your pants, okay? I’m not lookin’ to be your boyfriend or anything, so don’t even go down that road. It’s a dead end, Sugar. Nothing there for you but disappointment. I just felt bad since you witnessed a lot of heavy shit, and then your mom had to take the sick kids to the hospital,” he just kept going because backing down from this steaming pile of lies was not an option.

  “And you aren’t responsible for me,” she pointed out.

  “I didn’t want you here alone without a weapon in case one of those things showed up, like the one that followed you on the road. What are you gonna’ do? Hit it over the head with your fucking cello? Your whole house is a soft target just like you. You don’t have a fucking clue, lady.”

  She looked like she might cry. Good. He didn’t want a girl like Avery Andersson pining after him like he was some sort of idol. He wasn’t. He was probably just as bad as the men the government sent him and his friends to kill.

  She poked her slim nose in the air and said, “I don’t appreciate that.” Avery walked toward the balcony. “As a matter of fact, I think you should go.”

  “What?” That wasn’t the response he thought he’d get. He was only trying to get her off his back.

  “Yes, please.”

  He huffed. “So, the first time someone in your life criticizes you, you throw them out. Is that how it is, huh?”

  She inched her chin a tad higher. “I suppose it is.”

  Tristan actually snorted. “I told your mother I’d stay and…”

  “You are under no obligation here. I’ll explain it to my mother. I want you to go. We’ll be fine. I have a lot to do today anyway with my mother and father being gone. I don’t have time to sit here watching silly, and probably fake internet videos with you. I actually have adult responsibilities, Tristan. The children need to be taken care of. I can’t just worry about myself.”

  “Wait. Calm the hell down,” he interjected, pointing his index and middle finger at her at the same time. It was how he barked orders in his unit. Men listened to him. Some cowered. She didn’t.

  “Please leave, sir. Now.”

  He turned, pissed off and angry at her immaturity and naivete, and left the room. Then he grabbed his t-shirt from the guest bedroom bathroom, growled at her sexy, discarded, naughty lingerie and stormed out of her house. As he approached the heavy entrance gate, it opened automatically swinging inward. Then he was on the road.

  Tristan cranked up the station that played rock music all day and flew down the country road. H
e didn’t need to stick around where he wasn’t wanted. He didn’t need her. She needed him! Good, she was done in his life now. She could take care of those kids and that property by her damn self. He didn’t put up with women talking to him like that. Now he was free to do whatever he wanted for the next twenty-four hours of his long weekend. He didn’t have to babysit a rich snob in her parents’ mansion. He’d never have to see her again. She was a stuck-up bitch. Screw her. He was glad he didn’t have to be around her anymore.

  Terror. Pure and undiluted terror. That’s all people felt anymore. Where was their next meal coming from? Which family member would succumb to the virus next? Would they catch the second one and try to hurt them?

  Terror had a knack for working its way into a person’s life, settling in on their nerves, getting comfortable, and never vacating. She understood this. Most of her life she’d been afraid for one reason or another. It was why she didn’t move away, go to university abroad, date. Now, none of that mattered. The fears of the past were replaced by new ones.

  People didn’t have the luxury anymore of being afraid of poverty, their lack of success in their careers, being a failure as a parent, or having relationship disasters. Everyone was terrified they were going to lose everything, their homes, their food, their children, their loved ones. Everyone was just terrified they wouldn’t live to see the next day. She was no different.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Avery couldn’t believe the nerve of Tristan Driscoll. He was exceedingly rude. Actually, he was withdrawn, moody, arrogant, and sometimes a little crass, but today, he was downright rude. He had been like that last night right before they’d both turned in. Today, however, he went too far. She wasn’t a helpless female, a damsel in distress, and she didn’t need him. This wasn’t the dark ages. She could take care of herself. She had value and worth.

  So, the first thing she did was make a light lunch for the kids, ham and cheese roll-ups in tortilla shells, with carrot sticks on the side. See? Value. She could take care of others, too.

  “Come in with us, Avery!” Finn implored from the edge of the pool as she set the tray of food and juice boxes on the table of the outdoor dining set.

  “I have some things I need to get done around here, sweetie. Maybe later.”

  It was really nice out today, the temperature hovering at a balmy, eighty-two degrees. The chlorine from the pool water being splashed permeated the air with an ultra-clean sanitary scent, which made her glad the kids were swimming in it in case they touched something in the house she hadn’t yet scrubbed down. And they couldn’t ask for nicer weather. She did like skiing, probably from her Swedish genes, but Avery certainly appreciated a nice long Indian summer, too. Next week, the weather channel predicted a big shift when the temps would fall to the forties and fifties and call for rain, too.

  She waved to the kids, thinking about the preparation it took to close down the pool. For quite a few years, she’d helped her father and Abraham close it down for the winter season, but if he didn’t come home next week to do it, she’d have to figure it out with Abraham’s help. Her mother was never any help with things like that.

  After cleaning up the mess she’d made in the kitchen from lunch, Avery collected laundry from the children’s rooms and threw in a load. There were two more waiting in the wings. It was always like this, laundry being the biggest chore around the house other than cooking.

  Her phone buzzed in her pocket, and she answered, half expecting it to be Tristan with an apology. No such luck. It was Renee.

  “I can’t believe that happened last night,” Renee said. “How are you holding up?”

  “Fine,” she told her friend and then explained the situation they came home to. Renee was devastated.

  “Have you heard anything yet?”

  “No, I sent Abraham a text this morning, but I haven’t heard back from him.”

  “Oh, Ave,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I hope they’re feeling better today. Geesh. You’ve got a lot on your plate.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m sure my mother is handling it. She has friends at the hospital. They’ll do what they can to make sure the children are well taken care of.”

  They spoke a few more minutes about the kids before Renee asked, “So, I heard Tristan stayed the night over there, huh? Things getting pretty serious? Has he kissed you yet?”

  “What?” Avery asked with a blush on her cheeks as she folded the last load of clothing from the dryer that someone forgot. “No, of course not. And I don’t want him to, either. He’s annoying and rude and…and a chauvinist pig, actually. And, as a matter of fact, I just asked him to leave a few hours ago.”

  “Why? Did he get too handsy? You know, that dude’s got some serious muscles on him, Ave. Ya’ don’t have to live like a nun, my girl. You should ride that cowboy. Make him take you to bone town.”

  “Oh, my God. Remind me again how we’re friends?” Avery teased and got a bawdy laugh from her best friend. “Bone town is not a real town.”

  “Oh, yes, it is. You just haven’t been there yet.”

  Avery chuckled, knowing full well what her friend meant. Renee could and did so often make her blush. “It doesn’t matter. He’s rude and has bad manners and insulted me. More than once, actually. I don’t need someone to talk to me like that.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Basically, that I’m nothing more than a child, that I can’t take care of myself, and that I get myself into so much trouble that he has to keep coming to my rescue.”

  Renee just laughed, which irritated Avery. “That’s kinda’ true, Ave. I mean, lately. Of course, none of this weird stuff was going on in our lives before two or three weeks ago.”

  “That’s no excuse,” Avery said. “I’m not going to be talked to like that, even if you think he does have nice muscles and stuff.”

  Her friend snorted and laughed once. “So do you, stupid. I’ve seen you looking.”

  “Haven’t even.”

  “Uh-huh. Oh well, you can stick the memory of him in your spank bank for later.”

  “Again! How are we actually friends?” she joked.

  Renee laughed. “I’ll put him in my list then. Oh, hey! I forgot to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Spencer went over to the neighbor’s place today, you know, Mr. and Mrs. Quincy? The cops were there. We could see their lights going. Anyway, I guess two of their cows were killed last night and one of their dogs. You know they breed Pointers.”

  “That’s terrible!” Avery gasped, holding a hand over her mouth. “What did it? Did they say?”

  “No, cops were mum. Said it was probably a bobcat. Like, seriously? We’re country kids. Duh! Bobcats can’t kill a dog unless it’s like a three-pound Yorkie or something. Plus, we rarely see those over here. Maybe out by you but not here. There’s too many people around. And a cow? Forget it. It’s rare that a pack of coyotes can do that, let alone a bobcat. I don’t know what’s going on with these cops. It’s weird. Spence said he thinks it was one of those things, not a wild animal, that did it.”

  Avery frowned at that. She didn’t want to think about one of those crazy people ever again, but she felt obligated to tell her friend some of the information she and Tristan scoured from the internet. “Yeah, hey, Renee? I’m gonna send you some stuff through…”

  “Don’t bother. Spencer and Tristan have been sharing links all afternoon. I’ve seen it all, too. Tristan said he’s on his way to one of the hospitals right now. He wants to see it for himself. Spence said he’d go with him, but Tristan said he works better alone.”

  “Oh,” she said softly, somehow hurt that he shared everything they found together. Her emotions didn’t make sense once she thought about it for a second as her friend kept talking about the links, the videos, and the stories that kept disappearing off the internet. He had every right to share anything he wanted. She had no say in what he did. Plus, he was a jerk. It was no surprise that he wanted
to go to the hospital alone. Of course, he did. What better way to not have to be around people?

  “I don’t know what to make of any of this, Avery. I’ve never seen anything like that guy last night. What the heck was wrong with him? Do you think it’s this flu people are talking about?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe.” Yes. Definitely.

  “I’m freaking out over here. My parents are in Utah. I called them and couldn’t get ahold of them. I left them a message about this. I told them they should come home. Did you get ahold of your dad yet?”

  “Yes, he’s trying to get a flight home.” She hoped. He should’ve known something by now.

  Her phone vibrated, and she pulled it away from her face. “Oh, hey, Abraham’s calling. Let me call you back,” she said, didn’t wait for an answer, and selected her brother’s call. “Hey, Abraham, what’s going on?”

  There was a long pause, then she heard her brother breathing hard.

  “Abraham? Can you hear me?”

  He sniffed. “Yeah, I hear you. Gimme a sec.”

  She waited a few seconds, her stomach clenching into knots. He sounded odd, upset.

  “Sorry, just stressed out,” he apologized.

  “Why? What’s wrong?” she blurted quickly, clenching her phone so hard she was afraid it would crack from the pressure.

  Her brother paused another half minute. “The girls are in comas.”

  “What?” she whisper-croaked.

  “Yeah,” he said, and she could almost see him nodding. “The docs said it wasn’t a bad thing. Said that sometimes the body does that to protect itself. I don’t know. I kinda’ feel like they’re making shit up to make Mom feel better. She’s losing her shit up here.”

  Her brother never swore. None of them did. Their parents didn’t tolerate it. He was clearly overwrought to speak that way.

  “And Cyrus?” she hesitated to ask.

  “He’s not great, either. Still puking. Fevers are so high they can’t bring them down even with medicines.”

  “Why don’t you come home? Let me come up and relieve you?” She wanted to be there. For some reason, Avery felt like if she were there, it would be better, that things would get better with the kids. It was stupid and was based in absolutely zero factual evidence other than her own need to feel more in control of the situation.