Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe

by Mary, Kate L.

  “I have more than one.” Miller tore his gaze from Devon and looked at me again, and as always, he tried to soften his expression. “Standard issue.”

  He winked, and I shifted, wishing I could escape him. There was nothing more awkward than someone who couldn’t take a hint.

  Devon moved to my side, standing close enough that our arms were touching. “That’s fortunate.”

  Annoyance flashed in Miller’s hazel eyes as he shoved his hand through his shaggy brown hair, and I was reminded of the many questions we had about who he really was and where he’d come from. He said he’d been working at one of the checkpoints, but no one knew that for sure, and it would have been easy enough to take a uniform off a body as he was passing through. It even seemed like something he would do since it was clear he liked the power the status of being a soldier had given him. Then there was the fact that he’d offered very little information about his past, that he never drew his weapon on instinct, and that he’d called his Army post a base. His hair was another thing I hadn’t thought of until now, but it was too long. I hadn’t known a lot of military people in my life, but the older brother of one of my high school friends had enlisted after graduating, and he’d had to get his hair cut. It had been shorter than Miller’s before the makeover.

  Buck cleared his throat and held up whatever he’d dug out of the closet. “Thanks for this.”

  The deep shadows prevented me from getting a good look at it, but it didn’t matter. Or at least I told myself it didn’t. The tightness in my gut said I was a liar.

  “You’re welcome. And in the future, you don’t have to ask. Really.” I gave him a sincere but sad smile. “My dad doesn’t need any of those things. Not anymore. You’re welcome to them.”

  Buck returned the smile. Like mine, it was tinged with sadness.

  I didn’t know much about his past other than he’d lived in Shamrock his whole life and was a retired mechanic, and I suddenly wondered if he’d lost family when the virus ripped through the country. Had he watched his loved ones succumb to the virus before taking shelter at the Western Motel? Was that the reason for his drinking, or had that started before? Maybe after some earlier trauma he hadn’t been able to get over.

  Now wasn’t the time to ask, so I filed the questions away for later. Maybe when we had that drink of scotch. Assuming I decided to enable him.

  “I think it would be smart to head out sooner rather than later,” Devon said. “That way, if we can’t find the things we really need in the nearby houses, we have enough daylight to head somewhere else.”

  He was right. God, I hated that he was right.

  “That’s a good idea,” I forced myself to say. “I think I should change.”

  “Yeah. That might be a good idea.”

  Devon’s gaze swept over me, taking in my thin shirt, and I became very aware of how low the V was and the way the fabric clung to my body. The expression in his eyes said he was thinking the same thing, which made it difficult for me to turn away. I did, though, forcing myself to leave. His gaze bored into me as I walked away.

  2

  I dug through my closet, unsure of what I should wear and hating everything I came across. It was all so useless. Little tops with spaghetti straps and short skirts, tight leggings that were way too thin for this new world of horror. The frivolousness of it all made me want to scream.

  Ripping the items out one by one, I tossed the clothes aside—hanger and all. One after the other, shirts and dresses flew across my room, forming a pile in the middle of the floor. A mountain of impractical and pathetic items that had no place in this new world.

  Once I’d stripped my closet almost bare, I pulled out a thick wool sweater I reserved for the coldest of days. It had belonged to my dad at one time and swam on me, but combined with leggings and a pair of ninety-dollar UGG boots, it had looked adorable. It also happened to be the thickest thing I owned.

  I stared at it, trying to decide if it was practical and if I would be too hot. Ohio was cooler than Phoenix, but it was only September, and I didn’t have a clue what the temperature was. Since my phone was long dead and there was no electricity to charge it—not to mention the fact that the Internet was most definitely gone for good—I had no way of checking either. Not that it mattered. The big question was whether wool would protect me from a zombie bite. I had no clue.

  Deciding it was the best I could come up with at this point, I tossed it on my bed and began to strip out of my clothes. My yoga pants were too thin, so I pulled on jeans, then tossed the thin shirt I’d been wearing aside. I was just pulling on a sports bra when the sudden sensation of being watched came over me. The hair on the back of my neck stood on end, and I froze, holding my breath and listening. My back was to the door, but I swore I could hear breathing.

  I yanked my sports bra down over my breasts and snatched the sweater off the bed, pulling it over my head before spinning around. My heart was going crazy, and at the sight of my cracked bedroom door, it beat even faster.

  I hadn’t left my bedroom door open, had I?

  There was no way. I never left my door open, and I wouldn’t have been so careless when there were so many strangers in the house.

  I moved on to the door and pushed it open a little farther, expecting to see someone standing in the hall. The sun had come up, and light streamed from the open office door, illuminating the empty space in front of me.

  I blinked, confused and uncertain. Maybe I’d just been careless. Maybe.

  I stood there a moment longer, waiting for my heartrate to slow. Once it had and I felt like I could breathe more normally, I headed out, but I’d only taken a couple steps when a door creaked behind me. I spun around just as Miller stepped out of my parents’ room.

  My heart started pounding harder.

  “What are you doing?” I said, the words coming out more accusatory than I’d intended.

  His eyebrows jumped, and he lifted his right hand. He was holding something, but I couldn’t see what it was. “I needed socks.”

  Socks?

  For a moment, my brain couldn’t register what he was talking about. It was too busy spinning in circles, a dozen questions playing through my head. Had Miller been watching me change? He could have hurried down the hall when he realized I’d sensed him, could have even had time to dig a pair of socks out of my dad’s dresser. I didn’t like the guy, hadn’t from the first moment we met, but was he that much of a creeper?

  “You okay?” he asked when I said nothing.

  He continued toward me, and the closer he got, the more I had the urge to run. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t call him out on it or tell anyone because I had no proof. Plus, my mind could have been playing tricks on me. I could have just freaked myself out again the way I had so many times since this whole thing started.

  I pushed down my anxiety and said, “Yeah. I’m okay.”

  “Good.” Miller nodded, still studying me.

  His gaze was too focused and his thoughts too clear when he looked me over, and I didn’t like it. Especially on top of the creepy feeling from a few seconds ago.

  I spun around and hurried for the stairs, calling over my shoulder, “We should head down.”

  Downstairs, I found Devon in the kitchen with two empty duffle bags in front of him that I recognized as his and Kiaya’s.

  Zara was up and sitting at the small kitchen table, eating. Kiaya was with her, and sitting side by side the way they were, I was once again struck by how alike they looked. Despite the uncertainty and fear in Zara’s eyes, she was like a carbon copy of her older sister.

  Lisa was on the couch with Hank, examining the bite on his arm. His innocent-looking brown eyes followed her every move as she cleaned it, his focus more on her than what she was doing. Maybe he saw something of his own mother in her. It would be far-fetched since Lisa’s skin was as pale as mine and Hank was Native American, but he was young, only sixteen, and as a lone kid in this overwhelming situation, it might be
instinct to cling to any motherly figure you came across.

  “It’s looking better already.” Lisa lifted her gaze to his face, his arm still in her grasp, and her brown hair fell over her forehead. She swept it back with her free hand, and Hank once again seemed to absorb the movement. “You’re taking the antibiotics?”

  “Just like you told me.”

  His shoulder-length black hair was even more unkempt than the day we’d picked him up in Amarillo. We’d been driving through the city when we got swarmed by the dead. It hadn’t looked good, and I’d been seconds from putting a bullet in my own brain when someone—Hank, we later found out—had set off a car alarm. He’d done it on purpose, hoping to save us, and at the time I’d thought he was brave. I now realized it had been more out of desperation, because he’d barely spoken or participated since then.

  “Just keep doing what you’re doing,” Lisa said, turning her attention back to the bite, “and I’ll check it every day.”

  Miller passed me and headed into the living room, throwing himself onto the loveseat. His focus was on me, and I had to fight back a shudder of revulsion. When he didn’t look away, I turned my attention to the kitchen.

  “We could use a few more bags,” Devon said when I was facing him.

  I nodded, but my mind was still playing over what had happened upstairs. Should I mention it? Without any kind of proof, it seemed stupid. I didn’t want to cause an issue where there wasn’t one. Still, something about Miller had bugged me from the beginning, and I wasn’t alone in that.

  Devon frowned when I said nothing. “You okay?”

  No, I was definitely not okay. I was freaked out and uncertain, but I also knew Devon would kick Miller’s ass if I brought the whole thing up. I didn’t even know if the guy had actually done something wrong. Hell, I didn’t even know if anything had actually happened.

  “Yeah. Just trying to remember where to find bags.” I swept a flashlight off the counter and headed for the stairs. “There should be a few in the basement.”

  We had one unfinished room in the basement, which we used for storage, and aided by the flashlight, it only took a few minutes of digging to find two extra duffle bags. Once I had them, I hurried back upstairs and set them on the counter in front of Devon, who was now checking a couple guns. He must have collected them from Kiaya and me when we arrived—not that I remembered. I wondered where he’d stashed the M16 Miller had been so envious of.

  The curtains blocked out most of the sun’s rays, but the house was still lighter than it had been before we’d gone upstairs to raid my parents’ closet. In the kitchen, rays broke through cracks in the curtains’ defenses and cut across the dark hardwood floor, and I watched as dust motes floated through the brilliance. Suddenly, I remembered being a child and doing this same thing during the colder months. I’d lie on my back in the sunshine, watching the little specks dance through the light as I pretended they were fairies who’d come to take me somewhere warmer. I had the sudden urge to do the same thing now, but like then, I would only be disappointed. No one was coming to take me away from this place.

  The soft thud of footsteps entered the room at my back, and I turned away from the dust show. Mike stood in the doorway, his eyes hazy from sleep as he looked the room over.

  I smiled down at the little boy. “You get some rest?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded a few times, and even in his still groggy state, he seemed older than his ten years. “But Uncle Randall snores.”

  “I heard him when we passed the room,” I said, my grin growing wider.

  “It could draw the zombies.”

  My smile faded.

  I should have known Mike wasn’t just doing the typical kid thing and complaining. No, he was bringing up his uncle’s snoring because he was genuinely concerned.

  I knelt so we were eye level. He was small for his age, but more serious than any kid I’d ever encountered, and more like an adult than even his uncle. Which made sense. Randall had some kind of cognitive delay and according to Lisa, he’d been babied by his mother before she died. After that, he’d gone to live with his sister, Beth, who had been Mike and Lexi’s mom. When she died, along with their younger sister, Mike had taken it upon himself to look after both his sister and his uncle. But that was before we came here, and he didn’t have to do that anymore. Not alone, anyway.

  “Mike, you know we’re here to help, right?”

  He nodded, but his expression didn’t change, and right before my eyes, he seemed to age another few years. “It’s still up to me to look after Lexi. Mom made me promise before—”

  He looked down, and it was the first time since we’d met that he actually seemed his age.

  “Hey,” I whispered, trying to keep my own emotions from my voice. “You did it, you looked after her, but now there are other people who can help, and it doesn’t have to be totally up to you.”

  He ventured a look up, and the tears shimmering on his dark lashes were like hands around my neck.

  “Okay?” I managed to get out.

  “Okay,” he whispered.

  I patted his arm and stood. “Why don’t you get some breakfast? There isn’t a lot, but we’re going to go out soon and try to find some more food in the neighboring houses.”

  He only nodded in response.

  I watched him head off, sniffing back the tears threatening to break free.

  Kiaya was still at the table, but she got up and met Mike in the kitchen so she could help. I was glad she was here to do it. Not because I couldn’t have, but because she was better at dealing with that kind of stuff. I was afraid if I followed him in there right now, I’d start sobbing, which would only make him feel worse when he was already hurting.

  I stood on the other side of the counter, across from Devon, watching him mess with the guns but barely absorbing what he was doing. He also had the two knives we’d found when scavenging supplies from cars, as well as the longest kitchen knife my parents had owned. I could picture my mom as I stared at it, the blade slicing through carrots with expert precision as she hummed a tune that was slightly off-key from what the original artist had intended.

  Randall’s lumbering footsteps pulled me from my thoughts. He was silent when he stopped in the doorway, his gaze as groggy as Mike’s had been as he took everyone in. At his side, Lexi looked barely awake, and she clung to her uncle’s hand the way most children did a beloved stuffed animal.

  “Morning,” Kiaya said when she saw them and once again got to her feet. “Are you hungry?”

  Randall seemed to perk up at the mention of food. “Yeah.”

  “Come on over,” Kiaya called.

  Lexi, like her uncle, had perked up, but when she let go of Randall’s hand and headed toward the kitchen, I got the impression it was Kiaya and not breakfast that drew her that way. Randall followed the little girl to where Kiaya was already preparing something for them to eat—dry cereal. We were short on rations, so it wasn’t much, and the disappointment on Randall’s face told me he wasn’t thrilled by the portion, but he didn’t complain. Thankfully, because we didn’t have a lot of options at the moment.

  Once the kids and Randall were eating, Kiaya came over to join us, and Buck and Lisa must have seen it as a sign that things were about to happen, because they did as well.

  The jacket Buck had scavenged from my dad’s closet was one I’d never seen before. It wasn’t too thick, but the stiff brown fabric looked sturdy enough to protect him from a bite. I couldn’t picture my dad in the thing, and I was thankful to be spared a little bit of emotional turmoil. At least for the time being. Eventually, I’d be forced to acknowledge what I hadn’t yet said out loud. That my dad was gone and was never coming back. Not yet, though.

  Devon had already finished with the guns and had the weapons lined up on the counter in front of him when he looked us over. He was frowning, which made his lips pucker slightly and also deepened the dimple in his right cheek.

  “I think we should take a small gr
oup on this first run. It will be easier to avoid notice that way.” He turned his gaze on Buck. “You up for it?”

  I couldn’t help thinking about the scotch the older man had downed, wondering if him going was a good idea. Wondering if Devon had noticed.

  Buck’s head dipped once. “Whatever you need.”

  Devon nodded as well then scanned everyone again, his gaze stopping briefly on Kiaya before moving to me.

  He was frowning when he said, “And I think Kiaya and Rowan should go.”

  “You can’t be serious,” Miller snapped, making me turn.

  He’d been by himself in the living room doing who knew what, but now that he had something to bitch about, he moved to join the rest of us.

  Devon said nothing.

  “They have almost no experience shooting!” Miller threw his hands up in exasperation.

  “I’m not thrilled about it,” Devon said calmly, “but we need to make sure we can carry a good haul back. Plus, I’m thinking about the possibility of going into a house and running into the occupants. Alive. For one, Kiaya and Rowan look harmless. Innocent, even.” Predicting how the comment would bother me, Devon shot me an apologetic look before going on. “Secondly, they might recognize Rowan as a neighbor and be less likely to shoot first and ask questions later.”

  “What about her?” Miller snapped, nodding to Lisa.

  Devon was nodding, his expression still thoughtful even though there was a flash of irritation in his eyes. “I thought about that, trust me. Lisa is a woman and a good shot, but it’s just not the same. The second you lay eyes on her, you can tell she’s tough. I think she would come across as a threat to someone who’s already jumpy.”

  “He’s got a point,” Buck said, a small smirk just visible through his scraggily beard.

  Lisa shot Miller a challenging look. She also looked a little proud of herself. She’d told me she was a survivor of sexual assault, and I had a feeling she’d worked hard to make sure she would never again come across like a victim. This was probably the best compliment anyone could have ever given her. I wasn’t sure Devon was even aware of it.