Miller watched us with his usual air of irritation, his arms crossed and a scowl on his face. “What good is a farm? I mean, do you even know anything about farming?”
“You’re welcome to jump in with a suggestion,” Buck growled.
The corporal only pressed his lips together.
“Self-serving prick,” the older man grumbled under his breath, but not quite low enough that Miller could have missed it.
“As much as it pains me,” Devon began, “I have to agree with Miller.”
The corporal grunted like the announcement was even more annoying than being contradicted.
“I mean,” Devon continued, not even glancing the other man’s way, “it’s not like a farm can be easily fortified.”
“Where does that leave us?” Lisa asked.
She’d started twisting her hair around her hand, and candlelight shimmered off her roots, which were a good inch long and streaked with gray. I’d noticed it before and had been struck with the knowledge that she’d probably had to cancel her last hair appointment because of the virus.
“A hotel?” Kiaya was saying, her gaze moving from person to person. “I mean, I know the Western Motel wasn’t an ideal place to take shelter, but the concept wasn’t bad. There are rooms, and if it’s an actual hotel, you could fortify the entrances and be pretty secure.”
“It could work,” Devon said thoughtfully.
Buck was nodding, as was Lisa, but Miller’s glower had deepened.
Devon, as usual, didn’t give the corporal a moment of thought before going on, “Before we can even consider that, though, we need to figure out what we’re going to do about supplies. Food, water, and medical stuff are—”
“I brought the drugs with me,” Miller interjected.
Kiaya and I exchanged a look.
It was something that hadn’t occurred to me, but it should have.
When we arrived in Shamrock, we’d gone straight to the pharmacy looking for antibiotics. Hank, who we’d picked up in Amarillo, had been bitten, and while the injury had been a good thing since it told us not everyone who was bitten would turn, it had been on the verge of getting infected. We’d met Randall at the pharmacy, and he’d taken us back to the Western Motel where Miller had been in charge. Not just of the people, but of the medication they’d pilfered as well. Of course, someone as self-serving as Miller never would have left that medication at the motel. It didn’t matter that people were still there, because he might need it for himself down the road.
Devon stared at Miller for a few seconds in silence before giving a slight shake of his head and going on. “My biggest concern at this moment is finding more weapons.”
“Maybe some of the neighbors had guns?” Lisa suggested.
“Maybe,” Devon said, “but we need more than that. I mean, guns are good, but they’re also loud. We all saw how fast the dead responded to the sound of our cars.”
I swallowed when the images from the street flipped through my mind, my mom front and center.
“You’re thinking knives,” Buck said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Bats could work, too.” Devon’s mouth turned down as he thought about it. “Or even golf clubs if we can’t get our hands on anything else. Really, I’d be happy with anything that would help us kill these things quietly.”
Lisa’s head bobbed in agreement, but behind her, Miller was shaking his in obvious disgust. “You really think one of these girls could hit a zombie hard enough to kill the thing?”
He had an excellent point—I wasn’t strong, and Kiaya was thin and delicate looking—but the disdain in his words still made my back stiffen. It also helped wake me up.
“If nothing else, it could slow them down,” I snapped.
Devon patted my knee, the gesture less comforting this time and more of a reminder to keep my cool. As much as I’d hated him telling me what to do in the past, it was good advice right now, because telling Miller he was an asshole wouldn’t help our situation. Even if it was true.
“Rowan’s right,” Devon said. “Even if the hit only slows these things down, it’s better than nothing.”
Miller rolled his eyes in response.
It was a good idea, but like everything else we’d needed since arriving here, we wouldn’t find any bats in my house. I was an only child and hadn’t exactly been sporty, and my dad had been sixty-two years old and too busy to do things like play baseball on the weekends. He wasn’t even the typical doctor who liked to golf, which my mom had always loved, but I was now really regretting.
“We don’t have any bats or even golf clubs,” I said, thinking out loud, “But some of the neighbors probably would. I mean, the people who lived next door had two little boys.”
Devon was nodding, as was Buck.
“That’s an idea,” the older man said. “And it sure as hell would make me feel better ‘bout heading out to gather supplies.”
As usual, Miller had an issue with the plan. “Exactly how do you think you’re going to get inside these other houses? In case you haven’t noticed, the road is pretty full of zombies.”
“You know what, Miller?” Lisa jumped to her feet and turned to face him. “I’m getting sick of your bullshit. You bitch about every idea we have, but you haven’t contributed at all. What do you suggest we do?” She paused, her eyebrows raised in a silent challenge. When Miller said nothing, she snorted. “That’s what I thought. Now, shut up so the adults can talk.”
She sat back down, huffing, while behind her, Miller’s scowl deepened.
Devon let out an amused snicker.
“Going through the back yards to get into the houses might work,” Kiaya said, acting as if the outburst had never happened. “Most of them are fenced, right?”
All eyes turned on me.
“Yeah.” Mentally, I traced my way across the neighborhood. “A few have six-foot privacy fences, but most have shorter fences like ours. They’re only four feet high. Getting over them won’t be easy, but it also won’t be impossible, and staying in the back yards would keep us a hell of a lot safer than trying to go out the front door.”
The plan could actually work.
“Not bad,” Devon said, looking everyone over for confirmation. Well, everyone except Miller. “We could stick to the fenced yards so the dead can’t get us, sneak in the back, and take any supplies that might be useful.”
“Food, too,” Lisa said. “That way we don’t have to rush out until we’re ready.” Devon opened his mouth as if to object, but she stopped him by lifting her hand. “You’re right, and I know that. We’ll need to leave eventually. But I think it would benefit all of us if we waited a couple days. It would give us time to learn anything that might be helpful when going up against these things, and maybe we could even get in some quick target practice in the basement. The cement walls would muffle the sound pretty well, I bet.”
Devon was frowning when Lisa started talking, but sometime in the middle of her speech, his expression softened, and he started nodding.
“Not bad.” He looked toward Buck. “You think it would work?”
“Don’t see why not.” The other man scratched at his beard. “The problem is gonna be protecting your hearing.”
“My dad has earplugs,” I said.
Devon looked at me, his eyebrows raised.
“He works—” I had to force myself to keep talking. “Worked nights sometimes and had to sleep during the day. It helped block out the noise.”
Correcting myself had taken a lot of effort, and even though Devon didn’t keep his eyes on me—he was too busy looking everyone over—he gave my knee a squeeze to let me know he understood.
“Okay, then,” he said, blowing out a deep breath. “I guess that means we have a tentative plan. Now all we have to do is figure out the little details.”
“Yeah,” Lisa said, her expression as thoughtful as his.
The others nodded, and we lapsed into silence. Everyone else was probably thinking about what w
e needed to do to prepare, but I was going over what I was about to face. I once again mentally traced the path we’d take across my back yard and over the fence, then into the neighbors’ house. I’d babysat for the Mercers’ two little boys a few times, although they weren’t that little anymore. At the time, they’d been eight and six, but that had been three, maybe four years ago. Were they alive? Were their parents? If they’d died, what would we face once we got inside not just their house, but the other homes in the neighborhood as well? Bodies? Zombies? Other people hiding out?
It could have been any of those things.
My own worry was reflected in my friends’ eyes when I looked them over, and it hit me like a punch that this was life now. Uncertain and unknown. No matter what we did or where we went, we would face things we’d never experienced before, possibly never even imagined we could face. It made me want to throw up.
Devon patted my knee again. “It will be okay.”
I nodded but said nothing.
“We should make a list of things we need to look for,” Lisa said as she once again twisted her brown hair around her hand. It must have been a nervous habit. “So we’re prepared.”
“That’s a great idea,” Kiaya said.
Even before she spoke up, I knew she’d go for the idea. It sounded like her. She was organized and hard-working, had been at the University of Phoenix on a full ride. Even after classes were canceled and most people had gone home, she’d kept studying.
The two women talked as they gathered a couple candles and headed into the kitchen. Lisa set hers on the table in the small eat-in area then swiped the pad of paper and pen off the counter before taking a seat with Kiaya. Seeing the empty space beside the phone made the house seem even more foreign, because I couldn’t remember a time when a pen and paper hadn’t been there. They’d always been ready and waiting so I could write down messages when someone called, even after most people had switched to using cell phones.
“Rowan.”
I tore my gaze from the bare counter and focused on Devon.
“Buck could use a jacket before we go out.” He paused to let the words sink in, his blue eyes boring into mine. “Does your dad have anything that would fit him?”
I hadn’t realized what he was going to ask, and even though it shouldn’t have mattered and I knew Buck needed it, it still felt like a lightning bolt had hit me. The idea of someone picking through my dad’s things felt more final than vultures plucking the meat off a carcass, more intrusive than a voyeur watching an unsuspecting person through a window.
“He should. You can check the closet in his room,” I forced myself to say even as my gaze moved over Buck, silently comparing him to my father. “My dad was a little shorter, but not by much…”
Was. I cringed at the word.
Devon patted my knee, which seemed to have become a habit with him. “Thanks.”
I nodded automatically, and when the two men got to their feet, I stood as well.
Lisa and Kiaya were huddled over the notepad, talking quietly, and I looked between them and the two men as they headed for the hall, not sure where to go or who to join. Miller had moved from where he’d been leaning and was now standing in front of the fireplace. Staring at the pictures on the mantel, maybe? I wasn’t sure, and with his back to me, I couldn’t tell what he was looking at. Not that it mattered. I wouldn’t be going over to join him.
Almost on autopilot, I followed Devon and Buck as they headed upstairs.
They knew where my parents’ room was, and I knew they’d be respectful, but I felt compelled to accompany them, anyway. We were quiet as we went, Devon in the lead and holding the small battery powered lantern we’d taken when we left the Western Motel. It cast long, eerie shadows on the wall, reminding me of how I’d felt in my dorm the day Kiaya and I met. I’d seen a Facebook video that had freaked me out, and at the time, I’d felt stupid. Now, I knew my discomfort had been warranted. It had been my first zombie sighting, even if it had only been online, and the first hint of what was to come.
If only I could go back in time and warn myself to take it seriously.
Quiet snores floated into the hall as we passed the guestroom where Randall, Mike, Lexi, and Hank still slept, but the office Zara was resting in was quiet. My bedroom door was closed, but my parents’ was open. I’d noticed it before, but it still made my gut twist because all I could imagine was my zombie mom stumbling from the room and down the hall. Then outside.
We reached the door, and Devon pushed it open, holding the lantern up so it illuminated the room in front of us. The image of my mom stuck with me as I stepped inside behind the two men. There, we paused, Devon and Buck so they could look around, and me so I could take in the sight of the king size bed.
It sat in the middle of the room, the sheets rumpled and the comforter hanging half on the floor like someone had gotten tangled in it as they stumbled from bed. Even worse were the stains. The sheets were soiled. I didn’t have a clue with what, and in the dim light couldn’t even venture a guess, but knowing everything it could have been made my stomach lurch. I had to close my eyes against the sight.
My eyes were still shut, but I registered the soft thud of footsteps followed by the rustle of sheets, and when I opened them, I found Devon standing beside the bed and the blankets now pulled up to conceal the horror. Too bad the damage was already done. That image would stay with me forever.
Devon headed for the closet with Buck, not saying anything but patting my arm when he passed me. It was surreal having him be so nice and caring all the time. Not because he was an ass, but because we’d butted heads since we first met and hadn’t gone more than an hour without sniping at each other. Even after we’d kissed.
With the two men in the walk-in closet, the room grew darker, but there was still enough light to see my parents’ wedding picture. It sat on the dresser and was covered in a thin layer of dust, something I’d never seen in my house before now. I picked it up and ran my hand over the glass, wiping the dust away so I could stare at my parents’ smiling faces. They were so young, barely older than I was. My mom’s hair had been lighter, more blonde than brown, and my dad’s thicker than it had been in recent years. It had also been black, not gray, and he hadn’t had the mustache back then. His bare face almost made him look like a stranger.
Footsteps entered the room at my back, and I turned, expecting to see Kiaya or Lisa, or maybe even one of the kids. It was Miller, though.
He aimed his flashlight at the picture. “Do you dye your hair?”
“What?” I asked, not sure what he was getting at.
With his free hand, he grabbed my braid and gave it a tug that was probably meant to be playful. It wasn’t.
“Do you color it? I mean, you don’t look Asian, but” —he nodded to the picture— “your dad.”
I jerked back, pulling my hair from his grasp. “I’m adopted.”
“Oh.” He looked at the picture again, frowning. “That explains a lot. You don’t really look like either one of them, plus I was trying to figure out how an Asian guy had a kid with blonde hair and green eyes.”
“My dad is only half-Japanese, actually.” I turned my back on Miller and gently set the wedding picture down, taking extra time to make sure it matched the lines that had been left in the dust when I’d picked it up.
“Huh,” was all he said.
I kept my back to him, waiting for him to leave. He was intruding on my grief, and I didn’t want him here. Not just in the bedroom either, but also in the house and in my life.
Anyone else would have probably gotten the hint and left, but he didn’t move, so I spun to face him. “Did you want something, Miller?”
“You can call me Marc.” He gave me lopsided smile, and just like when he’d tugged on my hair, I got the impression he was trying to be playful. It didn’t fit him.
Marc? Who’s Marc? I thought to myself.
Then I remembered asking him a few questions after we left Shamrock, a
nd how he’d told me his first name and where he was from—Delaware—but not much else. He didn’t seem like a Marc, and I couldn’t imagine calling him anything but Miller. He wasn’t exactly the easiest person to talk to. Still, we were stuck together, and maybe this would help him ease up.
“Did you need something, Marc?” I had to force myself not to cringe at how wrong the name felt on my lips.
“Just checking to see what everyone’s doing.” He looked toward the closet as if wanting to make sure no one was listening, then returned his focus to me. “I know we got off on the wrong foot, but I want to be a team player.”
I seriously doubted that.
“I hope that’s true,” I said, choosing to bite my tongue, “because when we’re out there, we’re going to need to work as a team. We can’t be butting heads, or someone will get killed.”
“I agree completely,” he said, taking a step closer to me. Too close. This guy had a serious problem with personal space. Like earlier, he reached for my braid, giving it a little tug that was neither playful nor welcome. “That’s why—”
“Miller,” Devon broke in.
He and Buck had stepped out of the closet and were headed our way, Devon’s focus on Miller and his expression icier than I’d ever seen it. It made him look like the cop he’d been before the world ended, and not for the first time, I found myself able to picture him in uniform. Devon fit the part, and not just because of his physique. He could switch from playful and charming to brooding and serious in the blink of an eye, and I would have bet money that he could be as intimidating as hell when he wanted to be.
“You need something to wear when we head out?” he asked the corporal.
Miller dropped my braid. Thankfully. “I have my uniform.”
“Thought you tossed it,” I said.
He wore his uniform the whole time we were at the Western Motel, but Devon had borrowed the shirt, and it had gotten covered in zombie blood. When he’d returned it, the corporal had tossed it out the car window rather than keep it. It was shortsighted on his part, because the fabric had been thick and sturdy. Ideal for preventing teeth from sinking into flesh.
Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe Page 3
