Far Series (Book 1): Far From Home

by Mary, Kate L.

  “That’s another point for me, right?” Devon said, drawing my attention back to him.

  “Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled then focused on him. “I’m guessing you go to the gym a lot.”

  It was Hank’s turn to snort. “Seems a little too obvious.”

  “Seriously. I thought you were supposed to be learning new things about each other?” Devon lifted his eyebrows and smirked. “To answer your question, though, yes. I went to the gym every day or ran. Even did a few marathons. I was big into camping and hiking and all that stuff. Although this trip was my first time rock climbing.”

  “I should get a point for that,” I grumbled but paused to think about everything I’d seen him do or heard him say over the last few days. “You’ve been on your own for a long time, so you’re independent and self-sufficient.”

  His smile didn’t fade, but it did turn a little sad. “Like I told you, my parents died when I was young and my grandma right after high school. Thankfully, she left me everything, so I was set on a place to live, but I was eighteen years old and living on my own already, not a single family member to help me out. It was rough at first, learning to pay bills and do everything for myself, but I didn’t have a choice, so I did it.”

  “I can’t imagine,” I said, even though it wasn’t true. I was trying not to imagine what it would be like if my mom and dad were gone. “My parents do everything for me. Probably to a fault. My dad even takes my car to get the oil changed so I don’t have to worry about it.”

  Took, I mentally corrected myself, he took my car to get the oil changed, because he will never do that again.

  “You seem to be doing okay,” Devon said, trying to reassure me. “You and Kiaya took the initiative to head into town and raid the gas stations. That was something.”

  “It was Rowan’s idea,” Kiaya said.

  “Wanting to get the hell out of that town was a hell of a motivation,” I told her.

  “True,” she said, nodding.

  The conversation helped ease the atmosphere a little, so that by the time we reached the town of Shamrock, I was almost able to convince myself I was on vacation. That illusion was shattered the second I spotted a group of zombies stumbling across a deserted parking lot, headed for us.

  “Damn,” I said, slumping lower in my seat. “I was hoping we’d imagined them.”

  Devon only snorted.

  “We’re going to hit up the pharmacy first,” he said, looking back at Hank. “Get you some antibiotics. In the meantime, everyone keep an eye out for a good place to spend the night.”

  The kid gave him a grateful smile.

  Devon glanced my way. “Tell me if you spot it?”

  I appreciated that he made it a question instead of his usual order. What was more, I took it as a sign that he was really trying to ease some of the conflict between us, which was something I appreciated even more.

  “Sure,” I said.

  I wasn’t sure if we’d be able to find it easily, but I scanned the distant signs anyway. Odds were good that it would be near other businesses, so my plan was to find those and go from there.

  It ended up not being as easy as I anticipated, though, and we had to drive around in circles for a little bit. It was frustrating and stupid, and after getting a little tour of the town, I started to think we were chasing something that didn’t exist. The place was small. Maybe they didn’t even have a pharmacy, and we were wasting time and gas for nothing.

  Daylight was fading, but even worse was the fact that we’d drawn a lot of attention. More than once we’d passed a street we’d already been down to find a group of zombies where before there had been none. They were searching for us, following the sound of the engine, and if we kept going around and around like this we were going to be in trouble.

  I was just about to say as much when the word market jumped out at me from a sign.

  “There,” I said, pointing to it. “Most grocery stores have pharmacies, right?”

  Devon hit the brakes just as he was about to pass the road, then turned into the parking lot.

  The sign had made me hopeful, but upon closer look, I wasn’t so sure. It seemed to be a combination grocery store and Ace Hardware, which was just strange.

  “Maybe not,” I said, frowning.

  “It’s weird, but if they crammed hardware and groceries in one building, maybe they put drugs in there too?” Kiaya suggested, looking between us hopefully.

  “Maybe,” I said, but I sounded as uncertain as I felt.

  “There’s only one way to know for sure.” Devon yanked the keys from the ignition. “I’ll go in first. I want everyone to stay close and stay quiet. We move as a group. Got it?” He looked between us before focusing on Hank. “Are you armed?”

  The kid frowned. “No.”

  Devon swore and shook his head but shifted so he could pull out one of the two knives he’d found. He passed it to Hank, who took it in with wide eyes as his fingers closed around it. He looked like he’d never seen anything like it before, which didn’t give me a lot of confidence in his ability to defend himself. Kiaya seemed steadier carrying the gun than Hank did with the knife.

  “Stick to the middle.” Devon threw the door open, mumbling to himself, “We need to find some more guns.”

  “We’re in Texas,” I said. “Doesn’t everyone here have a gun? Maybe if we just raid a couple houses?”

  Devon looked toward the small, nearby houses, his frown deepening. “I don’t like the idea of going into a building that might hold several zombies when we’re so unprepared. I’m the only one who has any kind of real training with a gun, and the last thing we need is for these things to get a jump on us.”

  “It’s a risk, I know, but one bite isn’t the end of the world,” I argued. “If we wait until we get to a bigger town and run into a group of them, we’re going to be in trouble whether or not we have an M16.”

  “You’re right. I know you are. I’m just nervous about the idea of taking too many risks when we still don’t know a whole lot. Maybe if we could find a police station.” Devon blew out a long breath. “We’ll talk it over after we get some medicine.”

  He got out before I could respond, but it was okay. He’d listened, which was all I wanted. He was as right as I was, which I could admit, so it made sense to talk it through before making a rash decision. Who knew? This was Texas, so it was possible we’d find a shotgun under the counter at checkout. I’d seen enough movies where people did that to believe it might be real somewhere. Even if it was a long shot.

  We headed toward the building in a group, guns out and ready and Hank in the middle with the knife. Devon was right about one thing. We needed more weapons.

  In the distance, I could see figures stumbling between houses, but it didn’t seem like they were headed anywhere in particular. My guess was they were waiting for something that sounded like dinner, which meant we needed to be as quiet as possible. This might not have been a huge town, but even so, a thousand residents translated to over eight hundred zombies, which was more than I ever wanted to run into.

  Devon paused at the front doors, which I was relieved to see weren’t automatic, and took a moment to peer in through the glass. Like everywhere else, the power was out, but a faint glow at the back of the store told me they had some kind of emergency lighting. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough that we’d be able to spot anything lurking through the store.

  “Stay close,” Devon reminded us before pulling the door open.

  We filed in one by one, me behind Devon and Hank next, with Kiaya taking up the rear. The scent of rot hung heavy in the air. It made my insides convulse, but I forced myself to inhale through my nose. There was a very distinct difference between the smell of rotten food and the stink of death, and I wanted to figure out which one I was smelling.

  I sniffed a few more times and swallowed when my mouth filled with saliva. My stomach was threatening to release the snacks I’d eaten during the drive, and I did everything I cou
ld to keep them down as I sorted through the various smells hanging in the air. The scent of rotten food was heavy, making it hard to distinguish anything else at first, but by the time I’d taken three steps inside, I was positive it wasn’t alone.

  I grabbed Devon’s arm, and he paused to look back at me.

  “Do you smell it?” I said, my voice low. “Death.”

  He swallowed, and his gaze darted around. “Are you sure that’s what it is? I can only smell rotten meat.”

  “I’m sure,” I said.

  He raised the M16 and nodded, and I was suddenly very grateful we’d talked this whole bickering thing through. It was a hell of a lot easier facing the unknown when he wasn’t hellbent on contradicting everything I suggested. And vice versa.

  “Stay close,” he said again and kept moving.

  I could see the pharmacy sign at the back of the store, but I didn’t focus on it as we walked. I was too busy looking around, searching for the source of the smell. It was here. I knew it.

  We moved down the center aisle in a straight line, headed for the pharmacy, but only made it halfway before something scraped against the floor to our right. Heart in my throat, I turned, but the shelves were high, making it impossible to see into the next aisle. Devon waved for me to follow as he kept moving. I wanted to stay still and wait until I had a better idea of what to expect, but I followed anyway.

  Each step I took had my heart beating harder, but I kept going, putting one foot in front of the other and telling myself to stay prepared. My hands were shaking when I clicked the safety off on my gun, and even though I wanted to move my finger to the trigger, I told myself not to. I was trembling too much to trust myself, and the last thing I wanted to do was shoot Devon. Or myself.

  Footsteps scraped against the floor this time, the sound distinct and loud in the small store, and I brought my gun up, aiming it at the end of the aisle as I waited for whatever was lurking in the shadows to make itself known. Less than ten seconds later, a figure appeared, big and lumbering, and I made my move. I slipped my finger up, positioning it over the trigger, and lined up the sights the way Devon had told me to, and squeezed the trigger.

  A boom echoed through the store, and Kiaya screamed, Hank let out a squeak, and Devon swore. He covered his ears and jerked away, and I realized I’d fired the gun literally right next to his head. The figure ducked and dove, and something about the movements struck me as wrong. They were too fluid and coordinated. Too human.

  “Shit, Rowan.” Devon grabbed the gun out of my hand. “You trying to give me a heart attack?”

  “I was trying to shoot a zombie,” I snapped, but my face was burning.

  “If it had been a zombie, I would have understood. As it is, you’re damn lucky you’re a bad shot.” He snapped the safety back into place and handed my gun back before lifting the M16. “Come out with your hands up. I’m not going to shoot you, but I want to get a look at you before I decide what happens next.”

  “Promise,” a deep voice replied.

  “Yeah,” Devon said, sighing, “I promise.”

  The figure reappeared, and even though I’d already accepted that it wasn’t a zombie, I stiffened. He was large, tall and heavy, but when he stepped into the light and his face came into view, the terrified expression in his big, brown eyes made all my uncertainty disappear. He was in his thirties, I guessed, dark skin and hair that was cut short, and big, meaty hands raised above his head. Despite his size, he had a gentle air about him that was impossible to overlook. Even Devon must have seen it right away, because while he didn’t lower his gun completely, his stance did relax.

  “I don’t want any trouble,” the guy said.

  His hands were up, and there was something clutched in the right one, making me stiffen until I got a good look at it. A Hershey bar.

  “We don’t either,” Devon replied. “We’re just passing through. Needed some antibiotics. After that, we’ll be on our way.”

  We’d planned on staying the night, but I knew why he was omitting that part. No need to give this stranger any more information than necessary. Even if he seemed trustworthy.

  “You sick?” the guy asked, concern in his voice as his gaze moved past Devon to the rest of us.

  He looked from Devon to me, then back to Hank and Kiaya.

  “He was bitten,” Devon said, nodding to the teenager at his back.

  The guy’s expression changed in a blink, all his worry melting away and replaced by fear. He backed away, his hands still up, and shook his head. “Stay back. I can’t get sick. They need me.”

  “It’s okay,” I assured him. “It was days ago. He’s fine. We’re just trying to prevent infection.”

  The guy froze, blinking in confusion. “Days ago?”

  I turned to Hank. “Show him.”

  When the kid stepped forward, the guy took another step back.

  “I’m not going to do anything,” Hank assured him. “I don’t even have a gun. Just this.” He lifted the knife, then passed it to me when the guy’s eyes grew wider.

  Hank lifted his hands then, mimicking the guy, then waited a second before taking another step. When the guy didn’t move, Hank took another, slowly lowering his arm and twisting it so the bite was visible.

  The guy in front of us didn’t lower his hands, but he did move forward. His gaze focused on the bite, and his expression changed, becoming thoughtful at first, and then relieved.

  “Is this real?” He looked up at Hank. “You got bit, and nothing happened?”

  Hank shrugged. “Real enough that it hurt like a bitch.”

  The guy let out a laugh and finally dropped his arms. “Wow. Wait ‘til everyone hears! They’ll be so happy.”

  “Well, I don’t know about happy,” Devon said, “But it does take away one big worry, that’s for sure.”

  He had his gun down, and now that the guy had relaxed, he started walking again, heading for the pharmacy, which luckily wasn’t locked up.

  I followed, smiling at the guy. “You with a lot of people?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded enthusiastically. “We’re at the Western Motel. Most of us aren’t from here, though. We were passing through and had to stop.” His smile disappeared like he just remembered why he was here.

  “We were in the same boat,” I told him. “Only in Vega, Texas.”

  He only nodded in response.

  Devon had just reached the pharmacy when the guy seemed to recover and said, “There are no drugs.”

  Devon turned to face him. “None?”

  “No.” The guy shook his head. “We took them all to the motel. But I came back for this.” He held up the candy bar, still gripped in his meaty hand.

  “Shit,” Devon muttered.

  We were silent for a moment, then the guy perked up. “You could come back with me. Everybody will be so happy to find out you can’t turn from a bite. I bet they share. It’s only a little, after all.”

  Devon looked at me and frowned, thinking it through.

  It was risky. This guy seemed okay, but it didn’t sit well with me that he was out here alone. Why hadn’t anyone come with him? Were they all cowards, selfish, or was he lying about everything he’d said?

  “How many people are at the motel?” Kiaya asked, sounding like she was thinking the same thing.

  The guy shrugged. “Twelve. Or more.”

  “That’s a lot,” I said.

  “We’re all on the second floor. We blocked the stairs so the zombies can’t get us. It’s safe there, and nice.”

  “And this group of yours,” Devon said slowly, “what are they like? A lot of men? Women? Kids?”

  “A little of everything.” The guy acted like he didn’t know what Devon was getting at. “They’re just people.”

  “They’re friendly?” Kiaya prompted.

  He frowned. “Some are. Some aren’t. Just like normal, I guess.”

  “We need to talk it over,” I said, looking between the others.

  Devon nodd
ed. “Yeah. It’s a risk no matter how you look at it.”

  The guy’s frown deepened like he still didn’t understand what our problem was. He seemed kind of slow on the uptake, but I wasn’t sure if he had some kind of cognitive issue or he was just naïve. Or outright dumb.

  “Give us a second,” I said, shooting him a reassuring smile.

  The stench of death still hung in the air, so I kept my eyes open as we headed to the side of the store. When we reached it, I discovered the source of the stench and cringed. A zombie was lying on the floor, its milky eyes open and staring at the ceiling. There was a hole right in the middle of its forehead.

  “What do you think?” Devon asked, focusing on no one in particular.

  “We need the drugs,” Kiaya said, “but that doesn’t mean we can’t get them somewhere else.”

  “True,” Devon agreed.

  Like the guy, Hank acted as if he didn’t understand our hesitation. “This guy seems okay.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t know if I trust his judgment when it comes to other people.” Devon glanced back at the guy, who hadn’t moved and stood watching us. “He seems a little too trustworthy.”

  “I think he’s just naïve,” Kiaya said. “Didn’t you notice that he acts a lot younger than he is? He’s like a big kid. That doesn’t necessarily mean the people he’s with are bad, but it doesn’t guarantee his judgment is good either.”

  So, she’d noticed the same thing I had.

  “I agree with Kiaya,” I said.

  Devon blew out a long breath. “That doesn’t tell me what you want to do.”

  Kiaya and I exchanged a look. She shrugged, and I mimicked her, and we both looked back at Devon, who was frowning even more.

  “You’re leaving it up to me?” he said, then focused on me. “I thought you didn’t want me making all the decisions.”

  “I wanted you to be open to listening if I had an idea, but I honestly don’t know what to do about this.”

  “Great,” he said under his breath.

  We stood in silence as Devon studied the guy, his mouth pressed into a line, his expression serious and filled with concern. Maybe it was shitty to leave it all up to him, but I trusted Devon’s judgment better than my own. He’d been a cop before all this, so odds were good that he’d seen a lot more than I had. Hell, Hank had probably seen a lot more than I had. My cushy existence had made things easy for me, but it left me feeling pretty unprepared for this world. And as much as I hated not being in control, I had to trust Devon knew better when came to some things. Like this.