Apokalypsis Book Two

by Kate Morris

  “It’s just a kid and two women, you pussy,” another said, someone with authority in his tone. “I want those women. Get rid of the fuckin’ kid and go get ‘em!”

  “Alright, man, alright,” the other said. “C’mon.”

  He must have been talking to someone else or a small cluster of men because Tristan caught movement to their right of the front yard in a small grove of trees that was just thick enough to hide in. He hoped Abraham didn’t get edgy and start blasting away.

  Tristan eased his finger onto the trigger and pushed the butt of his rifle more firmly into his shoulder. He knew what was coming. This wasn’t his first game of cat and mouse. The mice just didn’t know what was in store for them yet.

  Four men fanned out across the front yard and closed in. There could be more coming at them from the back, but this was what needed to be dealt with first. He took a calming breath and pressed his cheek into the stock.

  Twenty yards, fifteen, inside the front yard’s mowed down portion, ten, breathe, squeeze. He took out the one in the middle with a headshot, which did exactly what he’d hoped. It sent the others running further out. In the next room over, Abraham fired his pistol and so did Spencer almost simultaneously. They both hit. Tristan watched the one closest to his side of the house panic and turn around to retreat. No retreats. He pulled the trigger in two rapid succession shots and hit him in the back. Then he swung back and scanned the front yard again. Abraham hadn’t killed his man. He was crawling away. Tristan finished the job with a single squeeze of the trigger. That was shit only a hardened veteran could handle doing to someone.

  In a turn that only served to piss him off, someone inside the wood line shot out the porch light and then the security light on the electric pole. It caused a muzzle flash, so Tristan took a risk and pulled the trigger. A second later, a man cried out in pain. Lucky shot. He’d take those any day of the week over skill. Many times, that’s all he had to go on anyway, even with the best-laid plans and years of training.

  He could hear them talking again, but the conversation was too low to pick up. It was irritating. He was not a patient man. So, he fired off three rounds into their general direction in the woods that sent them scattering. He caught sight of shadows scurrying across the yard until they hit the road. Spencer fired twice, hitting one. Tristan fired and missed because the asshole dove down into a ditch. Or maybe he did hit him, and that’s why he went down so fast.

  Spencer came running down the hall, “We…”

  “On it. Stay here with your brother, Ave.”

  He followed his friend immediately down the stairs and out the front door to pursue them. They couldn’t let them get away. The jog wasn’t hard; it was just hard seeing. Once they came onto the road, it was easier to see where the hell they were going because Renee’s house was still burning bright hot. He spotted one and sprinted until he closed the gap. Spencer beat him to it and shot the asshole with a headshot. Impressive. Someone had been doing their cardio.

  They were just coming around the corner where her house stood when a truck flew out of her driveway. Tristan raised his rifle and fast-like fired six rounds as Spencer helped. They took out the tires and the driver. It wrecked into the drainage ditch and smashed into the hill beside it with a jolting stop. They both approached cautiously.

  A man was lying in the road moaning, obviously ejected from the bed of the truck. Spencer shot him in the face. The passenger wasn’t dead, but Tristan ensured his entry into Valhalla a few seconds later.

  “Let’s check out the place,” he told Spencer and jogged to her property.

  “I’ll look around the barn,” Spencer offered.

  Tristan nodded. “I’ll check out the other one.”

  The building was dark and filled with equipment like tractors, those four-wheelers they’d ridden, and fence posts. Mostly just farm stuff littered the building. No signs of any more looters.

  He shut the man door again and circled the building to make sure nobody got left behind and was hiding from them until it was clear to make their escape. No escapes. Not tonight. Not after trying to hurt or take her.

  The security lamp on Renee’s electric pole was still lit, and he caught sight of Spencer approaching him from the horse barn. Then someone slammed into him from the shadows and took the guy down. Tristan ran over and butt stroked the man to the back of his head, which caused him to slump and keel over.

  Spencer yelled out as if disgusted and shoved the body off of him. It was a woman. She was filthy, pale, and sweaty, even in her clearly dead state. Her eyes were wide open, completely dilated without a touch of color left, and the whites bloodshot. Crawler. She had blood on her mouth and chin. That wasn’t from him hitting her. It was old and dried up. She’d eaten something recently, raw, maybe even still alive at the time.

  “We need to get the hell outta’ here,” he ordered and jogged away with Spencer right behind.

  They gathered their trucks down the street and went back to Renee’s neighbors’ house where they picked up the others and sped off.

  “What about the animals?” Renee asked when they exited the trucks back home safely in Avery’s driveway. The front door opened and Kaia came out with Ephraim to greet them.

  “We’ll have to go back in the morning and hope for the best,” Tristan told her. “That was a hot spot, and not because of the fire. Those flames were gonna draw in a lot more of those things.”

  Renee frowned and sucked her lower lip into her mouth with worry. Spencer led her away.

  “Whose truck is that?” Abraham asked.

  “It was our lieutenant’s,” he answered honestly, not wanting to hide things he’d just have to explain later. “He didn’t make it. We had the same problem out there. Night crawlers and looters.”

  “We tried calling you,” Avery said. She hadn’t spoken the whole ride home.

  “I know. I tried calling you guys, too. Cells are failing.”

  “Why?” Abraham asked.

  He shook his head. “Not sure. Lines may be either jammed up from so many people trying to use them at the same time or else the phone companies are collapsing.”

  Tristan inspected the load from the base and was surprised that it was all still there. “We need to get this all unloaded tonight in case it rains.”

  “Or snows,” Avery added.

  He backed the truck up to the garage, sent Avery inside with Renee and the kids, and began stacking their stolen loot in the garage with most of the other stuff he’d brought home. They worked until four a.m. to get both trucks unloaded. Then Spencer went to the apartment above the garage with Renee.

  Tristan took a shower in the guest bedroom and did a perimeter check one more time. The kids were dead asleep. He went up to Avery’s new room, her parents’ former bedroom, and found her asleep, too. However, he stepped on a squeaky board trying to make his exit and woke her.

  “Hey, come here,” she instantly said in a groggy, sexy voice. Then she pulled the covers back and patted the empty space in front of her.

  Tristan joined her, lying down and pulling her into him.

  “You okay?” he asked quietly. A nightlight in the bathroom allowed him to see her. Either that or he was becoming a creature of the night like those crawlers.

  “Yeah,” she said and rested her hand against his smoothly shaven cheek. “I think so.”

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there tonight. That won’t happen again.”

  Her fingertips traced his brow bone. “I want you to teach me and the kids how to better defend ourselves. There are going to be times when you won’t be able to be there for us, Tristan.”

  He nodded but frowned. He didn’t want that to be true.

  “Promise?”

  “Yeah, I promise,” he vowed and meant it. Tristan knew there might be more times like tonight when chance, fate, or circumstance might separate them, and as much as it caused a constriction in his chest just considering it, he had to admit that she was right. They needed training
to better take care of themselves. “Are you okay? I know you had to shoot someone tonight. That’s not easy. Especially the first time.”

  She nodded. “I’m not going to think about it. All I care is keeping the kids safe, feeding them, and being with you.”

  “Compartmentalizing the hard stuff definitely makes it easier to get through something like this,” he said, commending her on such fast strides in wartime behavior and gut survival instincts. Of course, her mother had been a shrink.

  “I just want this to last,” she said and stroked her fingers through his hair. “As long as it can, Tristan.”

  She nuzzled into his neck and kissed him there, and although it made parts of his tired body twitch to life, he kissed her forehead. Tristan knew what she meant, though. He wanted the same thing. Just one more day, one more week, maybe if they were lucky, some years together.

  “You shaved,” she commented and touched his chin with her lips.

  “Yeah, didn’t want to scratch your chin.”

  “What makes you think I’ll let you kiss me again?”

  He grinned and pulled her closer, his hand sliding over her hip and around to cup her bottom. She hiked her leg up over his own hip, which brought them infinitely closer. Then she pressed into him seductively.

  “I think you might want me to,” he teased and slipped his tongue past her lips. Her hand slid between them. Tristan snatched it. “Not tonight, Avery. Yesterday morning was your first time. I don’t want to hurt you.”

  She pushed him over onto his back and straddled him, only because he allowed it. Then Avery Andersson, sexy homeschool minx, ground herself down against him as she swiftly pulled her satin nightie off and tossed it aside. Her tiny lace panties were all that was left. In the sunlight yesterday morning, she’d been like a blonde beach babe, all sexy and tan. In the moonlight, she was like a silvery, pale goddess astride him.

  “We don’t know how much time we’re going to get in this, Tristan,” she said, kissing his mouth, then his chin and his chest. “I’m not going to die tomorrow wishing I’d been with you again. We can’t afford that.”

  Her words rang true, but at the same time hurt something deep inside his chest. Tristan didn’t want to think about losing her. That made him swiftly but gently swing her in his arms until she was on her back and he was over her. This time, he took his time like he’d wanted to in the morning. He was more in control, the way it should be, and he lingered over her for an infinite amount of time before actually joining their two bodies to become one.

  A long time later as she fell asleep in his arms, Avery Andersson whispered, “I love you too.”

  Tristan’s heart opened up to receive her love and give it in return. She felt so good in his arms, so right. He was never going to let anything separate them.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Over the next three weeks, things changed again, but not for the better. They were able to salvage a lot from Renee’s barns like fencing materials and the four-wheelers, but the house was completely gone or so Tristan told them the next evening after they had the horses and cows moved. Two cows were dead, which left them with eleven. Three horses were gone, too, so that left four. They weren’t sure if the animals got out in the hysteria and confusion or if they were killed by those crawlers. She also wondered if Tristan knew and was keeping her from the grisly truth.

  Tristan and her brothers and Spencer also brought back two loads of looted items from Renee’s dead neighbors’ homes on either side of hers. They said they turned the dogs loose since it seemed cruel to leave them. Avery wondered if that was also cruel since they were domesticated animals and wouldn’t know how to survive, but he assured her they’d be fine. It was better than leaving them to starve in their cages. And Tristan said it wasn’t a good idea to bring them home because they’d be more mouths to feed.

  It was November, and the temperatures were dropping as Ohio prepared for winter. Tristan, Abraham, and Spencer worked hard every day cutting firewood and splitting it for the coming cold weather. Sometimes the electricity would flicker. A few times it went out for a full day before it was restored. Cell phones weren’t too great at all now.

  “I think we’ve got enough food to get through the winter,” Tristan said as they snuggled in bed a few extra minutes before the whole house would be up.

  “You think so?”

  “Yeah, the garage is getting pretty full,” he stated. “Sorry I had to move your dad’s boat and two of the cars out.”

  “That doesn’t matter anymore,” she said and smoothed a lock of his hair from his forehead. He was clean shaven for about a week before the neglected stubble gave way to a light beard again. She didn’t care either way. Tristan was so breathtakingly handsome, Avery wasn’t about to complain. “Nothing matters like that anymore.”

  “But that was his collection,” he said. “And I’ve seen the pics of you guys on that speedboat. I feel bad…”

  Avery silenced him with a quick kiss to his mouth. “Don’t. You…you’re doing what you have to do to keep us alive, Tristan. Without you…” she paused and shook her head. Her eyes narrowed with the intensity she felt in her heart for him. “I can’t even think about those words.”

  “You don’t have to, either,” he promised and pulled her tightly against him. Then he kissed her forehead. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  His words hung heavy in the air and forced Avery to consider that the alternative could easily happen, too. He could be taken from them. He could get sick. He could be attacked by one of those things or a looter. Abraham told her the other day when they went up north to the city that someone tried to steal his truck, and Tristan had to shoot the man. Not before he got off a shot of his own, though, which luckily pierced the side of the truck’s bed instead of Tristan. She didn’t want him or her brother leaving their compound again.

  Compound. That’s what her parents’ pride and joy, their architectural masterpiece and dream home was now. A bunker. A compound. Tristan worked hard every day reinforcing things like the windows and walls of glass, which all had pieces of lumber nailed down like slat boards horizontally across each one. It made her sad when he’d told her it was necessary, but Avery wanted to keep the kids safe. Whatever he suggested, like moving the boat and cars out of the barn and covering them with plastic tarps for the winter, was going to be met with no resistance from her.

  “Well, I’m sorry to inform you,” she started in a more lighthearted tone, “but you, sir, are stuck with me, too.”

  He slid his hand down to cover her bottom. “That’s not exactly a burden.”

  Tristan buried his head in her neck, which caused her body instantly to respond and arch against him. She, in turn, pulled her hand out from under his strong arm’s weight and allowed it to trail down his bare stomach. He snatched her wrist.

  “Look, little minx,” he said with a grin in the early dawn light, “I need to leave soon. It’s the best time of day to get moving. They rest during this time. Or hibernate or whatever the hell they’re doing.”

  She tried to hide her frown by kissing his chest. She didn’t want to talk about night crawlers or what people were learning about them.

  “Let’s pretend instead that we’re a normal couple,” she suggested and pulled until he released her wrist. Then Avery slid her palm down to cover him through his boxers. His entire body was more than a little awake. “That we’re just…on our honeymoon in the Bahamas or something.”

  “Honeymoon, huh?” he asked and kissed the side of her mouth. She held her left hand up to force him to look at the ring again. He chuckled. “So, you own me now, is that it?”

  “Yep,” she said with pluck. “Exactly. Now, perform.”

  He swatted her bottom, flipped her onto her back, and ‘performed’ in exactly all the indecent ways she wanted him to. Avery never imagined she’d like the things he did to her. Whenever she used to think about the man she’d marry someday, it was always someone like her father, someone intellectual
and scholarly. It wasn’t that she thought Tristan wasn’t smart. He was just so different. He was a man of action, not reaction. He took control of situations that seemed uncontrollable. He was the same way with her in bed. They didn’t really make love. Or, at least, not in the way that she figured it would be like someday with her future husband, the intellectual. She assumed it would be mildly pleasant, mutually respectful, and tactful. It was nothing like that with Tristan. He took and demanded and gave so fully of himself, too. He would devour her as if her smallest responses were the oxygen keeping him alive. He pushed until her body lost control, absolutely refused to allow her to hold back. He was aggressive but gentle, rough but in a sensual manner. And he was insatiable, sometimes animalistic. One night in the dark afterward, she had asked him if he was always like that. His answer of ‘never before you’ sent her over the moon and had started another round of intense passion.

  When it was over, Tristan kissed her bare shoulder and rose to leave her. She rolled over onto her stomach and watched him dress, a smile playing on her lips. He had a tattoo on his back, too. Before a few months ago, she never would’ve even talked to someone like Tristan. Not because she was judging him, but simply because he was a frightening looking man, the intensity of someone like him too much to handle. Huge, intimidating, very dark. He had scars, a lot of them, on the inside and out, but she loved him anyway, every last messed up thing about him. Avery knew he wanted to take care of and protect her, but she felt the same way about Tristan.

  He turned as he pulled on his jeans and caught her staring, “No, no. Oh, no you don’t. Don’t do that, Angel,” he warned. “I gotta go. I can’t stay in here all day with you. Some of us have responsibilities, work, and jobs to go to.”

  She chewed her thumbnail and offered a pouty face. He obliged and bent over to kiss her. Then he pulled her hip toward him and swatted her behind. It didn’t hurt, but it did make her want Tristan to get back into bed.

  “Move it, woman,” he stated. “You gonna send me to work on an empty stomach?”