Far Series | Book 2 | Far From Safe

by Mary, Kate L.

  I prayed the zombie woman would be easier to control than her husband was proving to be. Mrs. Mercer had been such a small woman, barely over five feet tall, but she’d also been an obsessive runner, and while she couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds in life, she’d been fit. Now, though, she looked shrunken, the muscle she’d worked so hard to build rotting away, leaving her arms and legs looking skinny and frail. Her brown hair was limp and greasy and seemed to be falling out in clumps, and there were open spots on her scalp that oozed thick, black goo. The stuff was as pungent as the woman’s decaying flesh, and the closer she got to me, the more my eyes watered.

  She growled and stumbled toward me as I planted my feet, ready and waiting for the inevitable confrontation. My knife was gripped in my right hand, and I tightened my fingers, wanting to make sure it didn’t get knocked free.

  “I’ll hold her,” Buck said.

  He stood at my side, looking just as determined as I felt, and when she made her attempt at a death lunge, he was ready. Buck got her by the arm and spun her around, making her stumble and fall. She landed on her stomach and in seconds was working to get up, but it was too late. Buck was on her, his knee in her back as he pinned her down, and I moved into position.

  “Here,” he put his finger to the base of her skull, “you should be able to get the brain pretty easily.”

  He had his knife out and could have easily done it himself, but he waited. It was like he wanted me to learn. No, more than that. He wanted to teach me. To make sure I could take care of myself whenever I needed to.

  I sucked in a deep breath then blew it out before plunging the blade of the knife into her skull where Buck had indicated. It sank in, squishing into her brain, and my stomach convulsed. Until now, I’d only killed one zombie. Charlie, back in Shamrock after he’d turned. It had been over almost too fast for me to register it, though, and this was so much worse, because I’d known this woman.

  I pulled my knife free, the blade sliding out coated in brain matter and black goo. My stomach convulsed again, and I gagged and turned away, only to come face to face with a picture of the Mercers. All four of them, smiling and happy. Alive.

  Dear God, please don’t let the boys be here.

  “You okay?” Kiaya asked, coming to my side.

  She and Devon must have triumphed over Mr. Mercer while Buck and I took care of his wife, and the room was now horribly silent.

  I swallowed, hating the bitter taste of bile that had filled my mouth. “I knew her.”

  Tears had sprung to my eyes, and I wiped them away with the heel of my hand, the action violent. I was annoyed at myself and pissed that this was something I had to face, and even more furious that it wasn’t over and wouldn’t be for a long time. This was just the beginning, and who knew what we would face next.

  “I know it’s hard,” Kiaya said, her voice gentle. “Especially since you knew them.”

  “Harder than I would have thought,” I mumbled.

  Behind her, Devon stood watching. At his feet, Mr. Mercer’s body lay motionless and barely recognizable as the man who used to live next door to me. I could picture him perfectly, doing yard work on Saturday morning in the ratty old shirt he seemed to have saved just for the chore.

  He’d always stopped when he saw me, no matter what he was doing, and called out, What’s happening with you, Rowan?

  The last few years, the attention had irritated me, because it had felt like an interruption or an intrusion on my time, but I’d known I couldn’t ignore him even if I was in a hurry to meet friends. My parents would have been mortified if I’d blown him off. Still, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been overly friendly, and the realization made me feel ashamed of myself. Ashamed of who I’d been and how easily I’d taken life and people for granted.

  Unlike her husband, Mrs. Mercer had never taken the time to talk to me, but she’d always smiled. Always waved. Always looked so happy. Now she was little more than a pile of rot.

  “Think about it this way,” Kiaya said when I didn’t look away from my neighbors’ motionless bodies. “You put her out of her misery. Wouldn’t you want someone to do that for you if the situation were reversed?”

  My head snapped her way, the truth of her words sinking in and making me sicker than ever before. Yes, I would have wanted that. Never in my life could I have ever imagined a more horrible existence than walking around like this. Being stuck inside a rotting corpse, not having any control over what I did. It was sickening and repulsive.

  God, please don’t let that happen to me, I thought.

  “Will you do that for me?” I asked Kiaya. “If it comes to that, I mean.”

  Behind her, Devon seemed to recoil from my words.

  “Of course,” she said. “None of us should have to live like that.”

  Including my mom…

  “Let’s check the rest of the house,” Devon snapped then stomped from the room.

  Kiaya took my hand and gave it a quick squeeze before following him.

  Buck and I were only a couple steps behind them, and as we headed out of the room, he nudged me with his elbow and nodded to Devon. “He’s got it bad for you.”

  I flushed. Of course. Even in the midst of everything else, I couldn’t help feeling childish and self-conscious in the face of this thing—whatever it was—happening between Devon and me.

  “How do you know?”

  The older man let out a throaty laugh, and something about the light in his eyes made him look twenty years younger. “’Cause he can’t take his eyes off you. That’s how come I know.” Buck narrowed his gray eyes on me. “I’m thinkin’ the feeling is mutual.”

  I snorted but didn’t try to deny it. There was no point.

  “It’s a little strange in the middle of all this.”

  “Naw.” Buck shook his head. “The world endin’ may change a lot, but some things will never change. Love and even just plain old lust are two of them.” His eyes twinkled even more. “Not going to venture a guess which one you two are facin’.”

  I let out a choked laugh because Buck’s guess was probably as good as mine.

  The others had reached the stairs and stopped, and Devon shot me a look that didn’t make it seem like he was the least bit into me at this particular moment.

  “Can you please take this seriously?”

  Considering I’d almost cried and barfed just a few minutes ago, I couldn’t really figure out how I could have taken it any more seriously, but I didn’t argue. There was no point when he got like this. Plus, I did need to focus.

  Devon must have been satisfied that he’d thoroughly shamed me, because he headed up the stairs. Kiaya rolled her eyes before following, and Buck nudged me again, winking as he, too, headed up. I went last.

  Apparently, Buck was like a big kid.

  “Okay, what rooms?” Devon whispered when we were halfway up.

  “It’s been a while since I was here,” I said, having to raise my voice to over a whisper since I was all the way at the back.

  “Come on up here,” Buck said, urging me to pass him.

  I squeezed my way by him and Kiaya so I was at Devon’s side, and when he looked my way, I could tell his annoyance hadn’t faded completely. His jaw was set, making his already sharp features even sharper, and his blue eyes seemed to bore into me as he waited. We’d reached the top, and I was now able to get a good look down the hall.

  “That’s Tommy’s room,” I said, pointing a shaky finger at the door to my right. “He has to be around twelve now.” I pointed farther down the hall. “The third door is Michael’s. I think he’s ten.”

  Both doors were closed.

  Devon nodded, and this time when he looked my way, his expression was softer. “Do you want to stay back?”

  Yes, I did, but I couldn’t. This was my neighborhood, my hometown, and these two kids wouldn’t be the last people I’d known who I’d see like this. It was going to hurt, possibly even rip a part of me away that I wou
ld never get back, but it was also something that needed to be done. I had to learn to face the horror surrounding me and meet it head on.

  “I need to do this,” I said.

  Admiration flashed in his eyes as he nodded, and it fueled my newfound courage. “Okay.”

  Devon headed toward Tommy’s room first, and I followed. Footsteps told me Buck and Kiaya were on the way, but I didn’t look back to verify it. Even so, I could tell there was a decent amount of space between us. I wasn’t sure if they were keeping an eye on the other bedroom since we knew some of these creatures could open doors, or if they were just giving me space, but I didn’t give it much thought either. I was too focused on the closed door in front of us, too busy thinking about what was going to happen once we opened it.

  My heart thudded in my ears, growing louder with each second and reaching a crescendo when Devon stopped in front of the door. He paused, looking back at me thoughtfully, before turning back to the door. Then he rapped his knuckles against it.

  “What are you do—”

  My words cut off when something banged against the other side of the door, and I jumped. A moan followed.

  I wanted to shrink back, but I stood my ground, ignoring the tremor in my legs and the moisture that had collected on my palms. Devon sucked in a deep breath as he reached for the knob. Another bang made me jerk, and I had to bite back a yelp. Devon wrapped his fingers around the knob. He exhaled. Slowly, he turned it. I held my breath, waiting. Wanting to run. Wanting to scream.

  Another thud sounded, and Devon acted. He shoved his whole body against the door, and it swung in, hitting the thing that had once been Tommy. Caught off guard, the zombie went flying across the room and slammed into the bed, bouncing once before tumbling to the ground. He snarled and tried to scramble to his feet, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up. I was frozen, trying to reconcile the thing in front of me with the child I’d babysat only a few years ago. He looked nothing like that kid, and not just because he was taller and broader, but because he was now an undead thing. A creature made of nightmares who wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into us.

  The zombie was still down, but he was on the move, pulling himself forward. He seemed to not be able to decide if he should stand up or just crawl, and he ended up doing a crab like walk in his hurry to get to us. It was that movement, which was so unnatural and sickening, that snapped me out of it. That made me see this poor, pathetic creature for what it was.

  Kiaya was right. They needed to be put out of their misery.

  Devon was moving toward the boy when I rushed forward, knife up. The thing that had been Tommy snarled, but it was cut short when I slammed the blade of my knife into his left eye. He dropped, taking my knife with him, and went still.

  The room was deathly silent.

  I was panting, having a difficult time trying to catch my breath and practically on the verge of hyperventilating, and I couldn’t move. All I could do was stare down at the body.

  “Rowan.” The sound of my name when Devon whispered it seemed far away.

  I lifted my gaze, almost in a trance, and met his.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I nodded, swallowing. “No one deserves to live like that.”

  “I don’t think they’re alive,” he said.

  “It doesn’t matter.” I knelt so I could pull my knife free, and it came out with the same sickening squish as it had when I’d pulled the blade from his mother’s head. “Alive or not, no one deserves to be stuck in limbo like that.”

  Before standing, I wiped the blade on Tommy’s already soiled shirt.

  Devon was watching me closely, almost like he thought I might crack and crumble to pieces, so I turned away. “Let’s take care of Michael.”

  Kiaya, too, watched as I passed her, as did Buck. Heavy footsteps hurried down the hall after me, telling me Devon was on the way, but I didn’t look back. I was focused on one thing. One singular thing that needed to be done. Putting the dead out of their misery.

  3

  “We should split up,” Devon was saying. “Search every room, cabinet, and table for things we might need.”

  “There’s a finished basement,” I said.

  The words sounded robotic. Hell, I felt robotic. All I could do was stare at my hands. At the little specks of black blood on my fingers. Was I in shock? Maybe. It was also possible that I was as much of a zombie as the things I’d just killed, because at the moment, I didn’t feel the least bit in control of myself or my actions. Especially not my actions.

  The frown Devon had worn since the moment I barged into Michael’s room and slammed my knife into the kid’s head deepened. The thing—zombie or undead or whatever you wanted to call it—had barely had time to react. One second, the door was shut, and I’d been outside, then I was in his room and it was at my feet. Unmoving. I barely remembered doing it, and I’d turned to find the others standing at the door. Kiaya and Buck shocked, Devon looking pissed.

  “Kiaya and I can take the basement,” Buck said. “You two search up here, and we’ll meet on the first floor.”

  Devon nodded but said nothing, his gaze intent on me.

  Buck didn’t look my way before heading down, but Kiaya eyed me carefully like she wasn’t sure who I was. Like I was an imposter. Maybe she was right, because I sure as hell didn’t feel like myself right now.

  Once we were alone, I turned so I could start searching Michael’s room, but Devon grabbed my arm.

  “Talk to me, Rowan.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I said. “I did what had to be done.”

  “What you did was reckless.”

  He was still holding my arm, so I jerked free. “He was a little boy. No, it was a little boy. No, not a boy. A thing. It was—”

  I stumbled over the words, trying to make sense of how I felt and how I saw these things. Trying to make sense of what I’d done to Michael. Sweet little Michael who’d begged me to read him an extra story before bed, who’d snuck downstairs so he could curl up with me and watch television, who’d fallen asleep cradled in my arms. Who’d trusted me.

  My hand flew to my mouth as a sob bubbled up in my throat, threatening to burst out of me like lava from a volcano. My shoulders shook, and my eyes filled with tears, and then the dam broke and the sobs spewed out of me, making me tremble. In seconds, I was in Devon’s arms, my face pressed against his chest as he held me tight. I felt ready to crumble, ready to fold under the weight of all this.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “How?” I managed to get out through the tears. “I th-think I’m g-going c-crazy.”

  I couldn’t even explain what I meant because my emotions were all over the place. One minute I was terrified and the next angry. One minute I wanted to cry and curse and give up, and the next I was praying to God to protect me. It was like I was in a sea of emotions, being tossed by the waves, and there was no controlling any of it.

  “That’s to be expected, Rowan. Don’t you think we’re all going through the same things? Don’t you think I want to cry sometimes?”

  I shook my head, but I was crying too hard to get out any words.

  “You’re wrong. Seeing a kid like that…” He swallowed like the words had stuck in his throat. “That’s not an easy thing for anyone.”

  “I don’t know if I can do this, Devon. I want to be strong, I want to fight, but this is—”

  Impossible was what I wanted to say, but I wasn’t brave enough. Not that it mattered. He got the point.

  He pulled back, holding on to my shoulders so he could look me in the eye. “You can do this. I know you can. Will it be hard? Hell, yes. This is going to be the hardest thing anyone still alive has ever done. But you aren’t alone. We’re here, and together we can make this work. And listen to me, Rowan,” his gaze held mine, his blue eyes intense, “don’t ever be ashamed to tell us when you’re struggling. Don’t be afraid to say you’re hurting. Do
n’t hesitate to say you aren’t up for something. Ever. I want you to be safe.”

  The conviction behind his words touched me more than anything he’d done so far, and even though we were in the middle of something stressful and dangerous and my face was smeared with tears—and possibly snot—I did the only thing I could think to do. I lifted myself on my toes and kissed him.

  It was quick and sloppy and seemed to take him totally by surprise because he didn’t respond at all, and even though my face was on fire when I pulled away, I didn’t care.

  The smirk he shot me didn’t hide the shock in his eyes. “I knew you couldn’t resist me.”

  “It’s the macho charm,” I said, wiping my hand across my face. “Gets me every time.”

  “Except when it came to that ex of yours,” Devon said. “What was his name again?”

  “Doug.” I waved my hand dismissively. “I’m sorry I ever mentioned him.”

  “I hope at this point I don’t still remind you of him.”

  I had to bite back a grin when I looked up. “Not in the least.”

  Once again, my emotions had gone full circle. It was starting to give me whiplash.

  I sucked in a deep breath, trying to push my anguish down and get myself under control. We had a mission to accomplish and people at my house who were counting on us. We needed supplies.

  Turning toward Michael’s room, I did my best to avoid looking at the crumpled body on the floor in front of me. “Let’s see what we can find.”

  Devon followed me into the room silently.

  Since the kid had only been ten years old, I didn’t expect to find much that would be of use to us, so it wasn’t a surprise when a quick search of the room only turned up a novelty Spiderman flashlight and a handful of batteries—liberated from various toys and games. I handed the items to Devon, avoiding his gaze as much as I could, and he took them wordlessly. The following zip told me he’d stuffed them in his duffle bag, but once again, I didn’t glance his way before heading into the hall.