Twisted World Series Box Set | Books 1-3 & Novella

by Mary, Kate L.

  All this happened so fast that I barely had time to take it in between shots, and with each second that passed, the horde got closer to us.

  Donaghy shoved the injured man into the cab of their truck, then turned my way, his eyes moving from me to the crew at my back. “Go!” The fighter slammed his hand on the hood of the truck before running over to join me.

  The men who had most likely been charged with keeping an eye on the convict didn’t even hesitate. The truck’s tires squealed against the pavement, and a second later it was speeding off, leaving the rest of us behind in a trail of dust.

  I only got off one more shot before it hit me that Donaghy had no way to defend himself against the approaching dead. “You aren’t even armed!”

  “Never needed a weapon before.” He didn’t take his eyes off the advancing dead.

  I shook my head and squeezed off one more shot, then pulled a knife out of the sheath at my waist.

  Donaghy’s eyes grew to twice their size when I held it out to him. “You could get in big trouble for arming a convict.”

  “I have connections, remember?”

  He frowned, but took the knife from me anyway. “I wouldn’t count on Jackson’s help if I were you.”

  Jackson?

  My gaze went from the zombies in front of me to the convict at my side, then over my shoulder to my crew. It looked like they were just finishing up, which meant we’d be able to get out of here soon.

  I squeezed the trigger, letting off one final shot before backing toward the truck. “What does Jackson have to do with anything?”

  “I don’t know if he does, I just know he was pretty pissed off when he got home last night.” Donaghy stayed at my side, his back stiff and the knife in his hand. “What the hell happened between you two?”

  The zombies were getting closer. The wave that had rounded the corner last must have had quite a few fresh ones in it, and they had passed up the slower ones in their need to rip into my flesh. I glanced over my shoulder again and found my crew jogging toward the truck, but it was impossible to feel any relief at the situation we now found ourselves in.

  “Get in the truck!” the man who had driven us out here called. “Get it started!”

  Was he joking? I’d never driven in my life.

  “Shit,” I muttered and fired again.

  Less than six feet of space separated us from the horde now.

  “What are you waiting for?” one of my men screamed from behind me.

  I glanced toward Donaghy. “Can you drive?”

  The fighter shook his head, but grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the truck anyway. “No, but I’m willing to give it a shot.”

  He ripped the door open and shoved me in, then climbed in after me. By the time he had the door shut, the dead had gained another foot. They were now so close that I could actually see the maggots crawling through their rotting flesh.

  The keys hung from the ignition, and the second Donaghy turned them, the engine roared to life. The passenger door was yanked open and the cab was filled with shouting as the men in my crew yelled at each other to get in. Next to Donaghy, a zombie slammed into the side of the truck and a scream ripped its way out of me. My crewmembers climbed in, two of them throwing their bodies over the seat to get in the back row, while the third yelled at them to hurry. He climbed in next to me, and the second he was safely inside, slammed the door shut.

  The horde had converged on the truck. They were all around us, banging on the sides and the windows. One crawled onto the hood and another somehow managed to get himself into the bed of the truck.

  “Go!” one of the men behind me yelled, his voice echoing through the cab.

  Donaghy threw the truck into gear and we lurched forward so fast that my whole body slammed into the back of the seat before being thrown forward. The fighter’s hands gripped the steering wheel as we plowed through the dead, the tires bouncing over bodies while black and brown blood splashed across the windows. Donaghy pressed his foot down harder on the gas, and before I knew it, the dead were behind us.

  “Holy shit,” I breathed out.

  My heart was pounding so hard that it almost drowned out the sound of the crewmembers behind me as they shuffled and swore.

  “We have a stowaway,” one said.

  Something slammed against the window at my back, and I spun around. The zombie who had climbed into the bed of the truck had his face smashed up against the little window. His milky eyes peered at us through the glass as his mouth opened and closed like he was imaging what it would feel like to sink his teeth into us.

  “Slow down,” the guy with the beady little eyes said as he twisted in his seat.

  Donaghy eased up on the gas and the truck lurched awkwardly, throwing everyone forward.

  “Shit.” Beady eyes narrowed on the back of the fighter’s head. “Keep it steady.”

  “Sorry.” Donaghy’s hands tightened on the wheel. “It’s my first time.”

  “Why didn’t you drive?” the guy at my side asked.

  “Because I don’t know how.” I turned to face him even though heat had crept up my neck to my cheeks. “Until today, I’ve never set foot outside the walls of the city.”

  All three crewmembers cursed at the same time, throwing out a rainbow of profanity that filled the small cab. Donaghy tilted his head and his neck cracked as his hands tightened even more on the steering wheel. I kept my head up even though I felt slightly ashamed for putting my crewmembers in danger. It hadn’t been my choice, though. Hanson, or whoever it was that had it in for me, had made the decision to send me outside the city with no experience and little training.

  “Gotta take care of this guy,” the crewmember with the shifty eyes said from behind me.

  I twisted in my seat as he eased the little window open, giving himself just enough room to stick the barrel of the gun through the hole. The zombie’s fingers worked their way in, reaching for us. The thing opened his mouth and my crewmember took the opportunity to shove the barrel between the creature’s decaying teeth. When he pulled the trigger, the zombie’s head exploded, sending down a waterfall of dark brown blood, brain matter, and bone.

  “He was a fresh one,” my crewmember said, pulling his gun back inside and shutting the window. “The virus must have just turned him.”

  He was right. The thing’s blood still had a brownish tint to it, which meant he hadn’t been dead long. Maybe only a matter of hours.

  Back before the virus mutated, people died and then turned, and by the time they came back, their blood was thick and black. Now, though, the virus turned them slowly, making them monsters before they had even died. It was torturous watching the change, but at least it gave us a better shot at saving people who got infected. If we could get them the right vaccine before the virus got too far, that is. Problem was, the virus had mutated so many times now that we didn’t always know what strain we were dealing with. The vaccines they’d made from my uncle’s blood weren’t always good, and Angus was dead now. There was no chance for them to create a new vaccine when they didn’t have the blood of someone immune to work with…

  Unless that note was telling the truth and Dad was immune. Then it might make sense that they had him.

  I turned to face the men in my crew, looking them over slowly before asking, “How did you know my dad?”

  The guy at my side looked away. “Everyone knows your family.”

  “That’s not what I mean and you know it. When I told you who my dad was, you acted nervous. What do you know that you aren’t telling me?”

  “Nothing,” the guy behind me snapped. “We heard he died. We felt bad.” His beady eyes were narrowed on my face when I turned to face him. “That’s it. Don’t go looking for trouble unless you want it to find you.”

  I looked the three crewmembers over, but none of them would meet my gaze. There was definitely something going on that I didn’t know about, but these guys didn’t know me well enough to share it. I needed to get them
on my side if I wanted them to trust me.

  “Have you guys met Donaghy?” I asked, jerking my head toward the fighter who was driving us—a little slower than necessary—back toward the gate. “He’s fighting at Dragon’s Lair tonight and I’m serving drinks. You should stop by.”

  Donaghy’s head turned my way long enough for him to give me a puzzled look, but I ignored it.

  “You’re serving drinks at Dragon’s?” the crewmember at my side said doubtfully.

  “Yeah.”

  Despite the tension still lingering in the car, the man with the beady eyes grinned. “Gotta see that.”

  “Good,” I said, faking excitement. “I’ll see you tonight then?”

  When they nodded I felt like letting out a sigh of relief. I’d get answers from them tonight. After a few drinks, people were always more willing to share their secrets.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Donaghy

  Meg’s been on my mind ever since I drove back through the gate this morning. She wasn’t really out of her element out there—she’d handled herself a lot better than I had expected her to—but she wasn’t totally prepared either. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why the hell someone sent her outside the walls in the first place. The other people on her crew were all men, and it was obvious just by looking at them that they’d been outside more than their fair shares. But Meg was clueless.

  Then there was the conversation on the way back in. Meg asked the crewmembers questions about her dad, and she was right to act suspicious—they were clearly hiding something. Plus, they said that everyone knew her family, which pretty much confirmed my suspicions: Meg had connections. I didn’t know exactly what was going on, but it was obvious something big happened to Meg recently or she wouldn’t be working here—or on the shitty maintenance crew. I’d be willing to bet my right nut it had something to do with her dad and how she kept talking about him in past tense.

  I was in the ring doing pushups when the sound of the front door shutting echoed through Dragon’s Lair. I pushed myself up the rest of the way and paused, watching from the darkened ring as Meg walked across the room wearing the same black dress she’d had on last night. Her heels clicked against the cement floor, but even from all the way across the room I could see how shaky her legs were.

  When she was no longer in my range of vision, I went back to my pushups. Gritting my teeth and trying to focus on what I was doing. Not on what happened this morning. I had to get this girl out of my head. I couldn’t get involved in her mess. I had my own troubles. My own life. She could handle herself.

  It was impossible, though. No matter what I did, thoughts of Meg refused to stay away, and after only ten more pushups, I gave up.

  I flopped down on my stomach, ignoring the black and brown stains on the floor while I caught my breath. My heart pumped a spastic rhythm that had barely eased by the time I got to my feet.

  Meg was behind the bar when I stepped out of the ring. She lifted a glass of moonshine to take a drink, but her hand was shaking so hard that the liquid sloshed out.

  “Shit,” she muttered, but the mess didn’t stop her from taking a drink.

  “Bad day?”

  “Holy mother—” She practically slammed the glass on the counter before turning narrowed eyes on me. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.”

  “Sorry.” I slid onto the stool in front of her. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” She pressed her lips together before grabbing a grungy looking rag off the bar and wiping up the mess she’d made. “And you know what kind of day it was. You were there.”

  “True.” I drummed my fingers against the counter, trying to think of something to say. She was jumpy, but I didn’t think it had a lot to do with the zombies. Even though she shouldn’t have been out there, Meg had taken the dead out pretty easily. No. There was more going on with her.

  She poured me some ale without even being asked. When she slid it across the bar, I wrapped my fingers around the cloudy glass before she’d had a chance to let go. Our fingers touched and she looked away when her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

  “Thanks.”

  Meg nodded, but a second later closed her eyes and took a deep breath before blowing it out. When she opened them again, she was looking over my head.

  Even in the skimpy dress she looked out of place in this bar. The walls were so cracked that I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole place collapsed, and there was a layer of dirt covering everything that was probably at least twenty years old. I bet if we wiped the walls down, we’d find splatters of blood that dated back to the early days of the zombie outbreak.

  Why the hell was this girl here?

  “Why are you here?”

  The question I’d been dying to ask slipped out before I could stop myself, but I didn’t give a shit. I had to know. It had been a long time since I’d allowed myself to get involved in anyone’s business other than my own, but the moment I’d saved this girl, I was involved, and there was no going back now.

  She didn’t look my way. “You already asked me that.”

  “But you never answered.”

  Meg exhaled and slumped against the bar. It pushed her breasts together until they threatened to spill out of the dress and I had to fight to keep my eyes on her face. It wasn’t as hard as it should have been, though, not when I saw the tortured expression in her eyes.

  “My life has turned into a shit storm,” she said, the words coming out like a sigh, “and this was the only way not to get soaked.”

  My lips twitched with something that could almost be a smile, but I wasn’t sure. Smiles had been few and far between for me—I actually hadn’t been sure if I could smile anymore until I got here. Then the image of what a shit storm would actually look like popped into my head, and it was so graphic and repulsive that I found myself chuckling. Me. Laughing. Who the hell was this girl?

  “I seriously doubt it’s as bad as you think it is.” The half-grin on my face felt foreign and awkward, but a part of me liked it. Like how it felt to know that I still had feelings other than rage and hate and bitterness buried deep inside me.

  Meg stood and crossed her arms, her green eyes crackling when she focused them on me. “Why’s that exactly?”

  “Don’t get all pissy.” I was still grinning when I took a sip, and my gaze was still on her. Her eyes were blazing like she was seriously considering punching me in the throat. I almost laughed again. “I’m just pointing out that anyone who is friends with the Regulator’s son and has an uncle high up in the ranks of enforcers—in New Atlanta—isn’t doing too bad.”

  “My aunt is also the Judicial Officer,” she fired at me.

  Shit. This girl was even better connected than I thought. “You’re shitting me.”

  “No.” Her arms dropped to her sides. “But none of that helps find my dad, or brings my mom back from the edge of the cliff she’s about to jump off of.”

  My smile faded and I hated that it was gone. “There are no cliffs around here, so I’m assuming you’re talking metaphorically.”

  “You assume right.”

  The conversation from earlier popped into my head, and once again I found it impossible to keep the questions inside. “What happened to your dad?”

  “I don’t know.” She exhaled and her body slumped forward once again until her arms were resting on the bar. “He disappeared about three weeks ago. Left one morning and never came back. They told us he went out on a run and got cut off from the group, but they never found him. Never found any signs that he’d been killed or injured or even taken by another group. He just vanished. But you know how it is. These days, if they don’t find you in twenty-four hours, you’re presumed dead. And with good reason.”

  Damn. I’d kind of thought her problems were all in her head. The drama of a girl barely out of her teens who didn’t know what it meant to have real issues. Not the kind of problems that threatened to kill you when you weren’t looking—or worse.

&n
bsp; “I’m sorry.”

  “It’s not your fault.”

  “Are you going to tell me it’s no one’s fault? Just the way the world is now?”

  The bitterness in my voice surprised even me. I was sick and tired of the assholes who ran this country using the zombies as an excuse to fuck everyone over. Apocalypse or not, people still had the ability to choose to be decent human beings.

  “No.” She lifted her gaze to hold mine. “In fact, I’m starting to think my mom’s insane ranting isn’t as crazy as I thought it was.”

  “You’re going to have to elaborate on that for me.”

  Meg looked around like she was afraid someone was listening as she leaned closer. “Ever since Dad disappeared, my mom’s been raving like a lunatic. Talking about how they took him. Just like they took my uncle.” She blinked. “I guess I need to go back further than that.”

  “Further than what?” She’d lost me. Maybe her mom wasn’t the only one slightly unhinged.

  “My uncle was Angus James.”

  She said the name like it was some major revelation, but it still took a moment for it to sink in, and even then I thought I had to be wrong. “Angus James?”

  “Yeah, Angus James. He was the first immune person to arrive in Atlanta and the CDC used his blood to help create the original vaccine, as well as the two others they needed when the virus mutated.”

  Damn. This girl was like apocalyptic royalty. Literally. At this exact moment there were probably hundreds of people saying a prayer to the great Angus James, hoping he would save them from starvation or sickness or the zombies. Hell, probably even the government. And Meg was here. Working in this shit hole excuse for a bar while begging for leftovers from the scum of the city.

  “You can’t be serious.” For the first time since they arrested me in Dayton, I found it impossible to maintain even a little bit of my air of indifference.

  “I am. Even though my parents saw my uncle’s body for themselves, there were always rumors that Angus was actually alive. That the CDC was keeping him in a chemically induced coma so they could use him however they wanted. It was far-fetched, and there was nothing to support it, but the rumors didn’t stop until—” Megan’s voice broke and she looked away. “I was eight when he finally died.”