by Kate L. Mary
Andrew pushed himself up, his gaze no longer on me, but on Kellan. “Bullshit. You touched his head like you were checking for a fever.”
“I didn’t!”
My heart thudded out a beat that felt ominous, and next to me Kellan shifted. His eyes were open and redder than they had been when we first got here, and he was visibly shivering now.
“Move,” Andrew headed our way. “Back away from him.”
“He’s fine,” I argued, desperate now, trying to think of a way out of this. “He’s okay.”
“Regan.” Kellan’s haggard voice brought tears to my eyes.
When he twisted so he could duck out from under my arms, I desperately tried to hold on, but he wouldn’t let me, and then it was too late because Andrew was standing in front of us.
He shoved me back, away from Kellan, and a sob burst out of me. I wanted to throw myself over him, to shield his body with mine, but I couldn’t. It was too late. Andrew was already reaching out, already touching his face, and I felt certain that my world was about to explode.
“Shit,” Andrew growled.
On the other side of the couch, Kellan barely moved. His body was slumped, riddled with fever and exhaustion. He was shivering harder now, so that his teeth were actually chattering.
“What’s going on?” The man who’d been on guard stood, his hand on the gun at his waist, and around the room a few other men had also roused from sleep and were looking at us.
“He’s sick.” Andrew grabbed Kellan’s arm and turned it over, swearing when he saw the bite. “The fucking bite is infected.”
“No!” I finally found my voice. “It’s not. He’s okay.”
“He’s not okay.” Andrew dropped Kellan’s arm and it thumped against his chest. “He’s sick, and I’m not dragging a sick man across the country.”
This time when Andrew reached for Kellan, he grabbed his forearm and started to pull him to his feet.
“Stop!” I threw myself on top of him, desperate to stop Andrew, knowing what would happen if he managed to drag Kellan out of here. “Don’t, please.”
To my horror, I was sobbing. I couldn’t stop it, but I also knew it wouldn’t do anything to convince Andrew. He wasn’t the type of person who was susceptible to emotion. No, he’d only see it as weakness, and that wasn’t going to save Kellan.
Although I wasn’t sure if anything could save him at this point.
“Back off.” Andrew backhanded me.
It sent me flying, and I slammed into the arm of the couch and dropped to the ground. My ears rang, and I shook my head, trying to clear them, but it didn’t work. Instead, the noise in my head grew louder, drowning everything else out, but it made no sense. Nothing made sense, especially not when a sudden light burst through the room.
I closed my eyes as all around me a chorus of voices rose above the ringing and other sounds, and I opened them to find the room flooded not only with light, but with chaos. Andrew had turned away from us, Kellan forgotten, and all his men were up. They were yelling, but their words were incoherent, and all their attention was on the front windows, which seemed to be the source of the bright light.
What the hell was going on?
“Regan.” Warm hands touched my arm, and I turned to find Kellan at my side, his dark, sickly eyes focused on me and filled with worry. “Are you okay?”
“What’s happening?” I felt like I was yelling, but my voice seemed to make very little impact on the surrounding noise.
“I don’t know.” His hands, still bound, were resting on my arm when he looked around, and despite the heat, I was so thankful to have him next to me that I almost burst into tears again. “They’re fighting.”
“Who?” I asked. “Zombies?”
“No.” Kellan scooted closer to me. “There’s another group. We’re under attack.”
Figures darted through the brightness, running back and forth, and I finally registered the pop of gunfire. There was another sound, though, but I couldn’t place it. It roared, like a train or like…
The tornado. It reminded me of being huddled in the basement of the farmhouse while the tornado tore through the house above us. But that couldn’t be what it was. It had to be an engine. A vehicle or tank. A helicopter? No, that was crazy. But it was deafening.
The light streaming in through the windows faded long enough for me to get a good look around, and I realized Kellan was right. There was another group outside, in the parking lot, and they were attacking us. I wasn’t sure who to root for, though. If Andrew won, Kellan was dead, but we knew nothing about this other group. They might not care that I was immune. They might put a bullet in both our heads without even batting an eye.
Our chance!
Only a little bit ago I’d been thinking about what might need to happen to get us out of this. A distraction. That was what I needed, and this was it.
“They’re distracted,” I said, realizing this could be our opportunity. “We need to go, now!”
I started moving before he could respond, holding his arm between my hands, pulling him with me. The dark hall stood before us, and even though I had no idea where it went or what we would face, I knew we stood a better chance in the darkness of the building than we did with either of these groups. It was an office building, but if we were lucky, we might be able to find something we could use to defend ourselves. Scissors, maybe. I could use them to cut the zip ties, and then as a weapon if necessary. Yes. It could work. It had to!
We charged into the dark hall, reaching a turn less than twenty feet from the lobby, where I stopped. Darkness stretched out in front of us, seemingly never-ending. With no flashlight, I would have to feel my way through. I only prayed there were no zombies lurking in the shadows.
Kellan leaned against the wall at my side, panting. “What now?”
“We need to find something to cut these zip ties.” I reached for him, finding his hand in the darkness and pulling him to me. “Here, hold on to my belt loop. Don’t let go.”
Kellan’s fingers slipped through the loop and tightened.
“You have me?” I asked, even though I could feel him behind me, his heat was that intense.
“Yeah.”
“Hold on, okay? Don’t let go.”
“I’ve got you,” Kellan said.
I moved, running my bound hands along the wall as I took slow, measured steps. The noise behind us still echoed through the building, but in front of us there was only silence. Still, my heart pounded harder with each step, and I did my best to stay as quiet as possible, not wanting to draw out anything that might be lurking in the darkness.
When I reached a doorway, I paused and ran my hand over it until I located the knob. The metal was cold against my skin when I tried to turn it, probably because I was sweating, but it didn’t budge, so I left it behind and kept moving.
I reached another door and repeated the process, only to be let down again. Over and over I tried the doors lining the hall, but not until the seventh one was I rewarded for my efforts when the knob turned and the door swung open, and I hurried inside, pulling Kellan with me.
Carefully, I shut the door behind us, making sure it made as little sound as possible. Wherever we were, the room was silent, and when I inhaled, the only scent that filled my nostrils was dust and dirt.
“It’s clear, I think,” I said, whispering even though no one was around.
Now that the door was shut, even the noise from the lobby was muffled, but not gone entirely. They were still fighting, and the longer the battle stretched out, the more time we would have.
I reached behind me and urged Kellan’s fingers from my belt loop. “Sit down. Rest while I look around.”
“Just for a minute,” he said, and his clothes rustled in the darkness as he lowered himself to the ground. “Then I’ll help.”
The fact that he didn’t argue told me how horrible he was feeling.
“Don’t make a sound. I’m going to try to find scissors.”
I had no idea what kind of office this used to be, but I figured there had to be a reception desk of some kind, and odds were, there would be scissors either on it, or in one of the drawers. At least I hoped so.
I moved deeper into the office, my hands out in front of me. My heart was pounding, thudding in my ears and drowning out every other sound as I took small steps forward. When my hands made contact with something solid, I stopped and felt around, trying to get my bearing. It was a counter of some kind, so I followed it, holding on as I moved to the side, and then around the back. Once there, I felt around again, first over the surface, where I knocked over a cup filled with pens. My heart jumped as I fingered them, hoping to find a pair of scissors mixed in with the various writing utensils, but I came up empty handed.
It was okay. There were still drawers. I would find scissors in a drawer.
I knelt and felt around again, pulling on handles when I found them, searching the darkness by feel alone. They had to have scissors or something else sharp. They had to.
I hit the jackpot in drawer number three when my skin brushed against cold metal, and I wrapped my fingers around it, wanting to cry out in triumph when the sharp point pressed against my palm.
Now I just had to get back to Kellan.
It was easier than I’d thought it would be to retrace my steps, and I could feel the heat radiating off his body when I knelt in front of him. It made my heart pound faster, reminded me that getting away from Andrew was only the first step. I needed to find antibiotics, needed to make sure Kellan got better, and then we would have to make our way back to Oklahoma.
“Kellan,” I whispered as I reached for him, finding his chest first. “Hold up your hands. I have scissors.”
He did, and I grappled with them in the dark for a moment. I didn’t want to accidentally cut him. It only took a moment to get a feel for the situation, then I slid the scissors through the plastic binding his wrists and cut, and the zip tie fell away.
“Now me,” I said, passing the scissors into his hand.
He said nothing as he took them, and only a moment passed before I was free as well.
Without a word, he passed the scissors back and let out a breath as he sank back against the wall. “I can’t run any more, Regan. I don’t have any energy left.”
“You have to,” I said. “We can’t stay here or they’ll find us eventually. We have to go. We have to get out of this building.”
“I can’t.”
I opened my mouth to argue but was cut off by the sound of footsteps charging down the hall.
I turned toward the door even though I couldn’t see it, my heart racing. Until now, I hadn’t noticed that sounds had died away, but they had, and now someone was in the hall, probably looking for us.
The lock! Why the hell hadn’t I thought to lock the door when we came in? Because I’d been too worried about Kellan, too focused on finding scissors so I could free our hands and possibly have a weapon, and now it was too late. They were on their way. Who, I wasn’t sure, but there would be more than one of them, and they would be armed.
A sliver of light cut through the darkness, shining in from under the door, and I tensed. We were trapped, but whatever happened, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
I got to my feet, holding the scissors in my hand like a knife, and put myself between Kellan and the door. My heart thudded, and I held my breath, waiting. The sound of male voices echoed through the silence seconds before the doorknob rattled and turned.
It was shoved open, and light flooded the room, momentarily blinding me, but after only a second, the beam moved down, and I was able to get a look at the people in front of me. Four figures, but not all men—it wasn’t Andrew’s group. There was a woman with them. That was a good sign, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that just because she had breasts I could trust her.
“Don’t come closer.” I held the scissors up, ignoring the way my hand trembled. “We weren’t with those other people, and we have nothing for you to take. We just want to be left alone.”
The man at the front of the group stepped forward, and his face came into view. He was in his late-twenties, possibly pushing thirty, and startlingly attractive, with pale blue eyes and dark hair, and a square jaw that was dotted with a few days’ stubble.
“We’re not going to hurt you.” He had the flashlight in one hand, which he kept pointed to the floor, but he raised the other to show he wasn’t armed. “We’re here to help.”
“We don’t need help,” I lied. “We just need to be left alone.”
He took another step, moving his hand as he did, slowly, like he was trying to show me he wasn’t going for a weapon. It still made my heart thump harder.
“It’s okay. We’re like you.” He pushed the sleeve of his shirt up until it was above his bicep, then moved the flashlight to illuminate his skin. Or, more accurately, the crescent scar on his arm. “We’re immune, too, and we’re here to help.”
To be continued…
Thanks for reading! If you’ve enjoyed The Brightest Darkness, please consider taking the time to leave a review on Amazon!
Acknowledgments
Revisiting the city of Altus was fun, if not somewhat challenging this time around. I’d planned on putting this book out much earlier, but family and personal responsibilities forced me to put it off for a little bit. Not just once, but twice. To say I’m relieved to finally have it done is an understatement! I hope it’s worth the wait.
A very big thank you goes to Jan Strohecker for being my first reader and giving me a big dose of honesty. During the writing of this book, I had a lot going on, and the first draft was definitely not my best work. Thanks to Jan, I was able to read it again (and immediately see that she was right), and fix the issues with plot and characters. Not only that, but while chatting with her about the series, she was able to give me some great ideas for the next book. Thank you so much, Jan, for not only reading it once, but twice, for your invaluable input, your proofreading, your ideas, and most of all, your time. I truly appreciate it!
Just like before, the places I wrote about are real and actually exist in Altus, OK. When we lived there, my husband was a C-17 instructor pilot, and I’ve been inside one of the planes on multiple occasions, so not only did I want to make sure they played a part in this story, but also I thought one would be a fantastic place for a group to live.
Thank you also to Laura Johnsen, Carey Monroe, and Mary Jones for being early readers. I really wanted to get some readers who have been to the area to give the novel a once-over before publication, and all three of these ladies have either lived in or still live in Altus, which was perfect! Thanks also to Courtnee McGrew, Karen Atkinson, and Tina Young for reading through in search of typos. Your enthusiasm is amazing!
I also want to give a shout out to Lori Whitwam, my wonderful editor, and Amber Garcia, whose PR skills know no limits. Thanks for working with me and being so amazing at everything you do!
Another big thank you has to go to Dean Samed at NeoStock Photos for the stock photos. It’s so hard to find stock images with women holding weapons where they aren’t dressed sexy, or even worse, completely naked. I found this group thanks to the suggestions of some really amazingly supportive Indie authors, and it’s been a huge help. Not just for the stock images, but for the Photoshop tutorials. I love designing my own covers not just because it’s cheaper, but because it’s fun, and thanks to NeoStock, my skills are getting so much better!
Last but not least, my family. While I loved writing this book, it was a struggle in the beginning because I kept comparing it to Broken World and wondering how the fans would react. My husband, as always, was helpful and encouraging, while my kids did their best to stay out of my way so I could finish by my deadline. Thanks for being so supportive!
Broken World
Chapter One
The car sputters when I maneuver it into a space, but it doesn’t die. Not yet, anyway. The small orange light screams at me f
rom the dashboard—check engine. Ten hours, that’s how long I’ve been on the road. I didn’t really believe this piece of shit would make it all the way to California, but I’d hoped it would at least get me halfway there.
I squeeze my eyes shut and rest my forehead on the steering wheel, right between my clenched fists. The orange words dance across the back of my eyelids. Even with my eyes closed I can’t escape them. They taunt me. Check engine. They may as well be you failed. That’s what it feels like.
I jerk the keys out of the ignition and grab my travel papers off the dashboard, shoving them both in my purse. Leaving the papers behind would get my car broken into for sure, plus I’ll need them if I run into a cop. If my papers get stolen, I’ll be stranded.
The diner is the type of place I would normally avoid. It’s nothing more than a truck stop really, probably fifty years old or more. I’m sure the walls are coated in grease, and the bathrooms most likely haven’t been cleaned well since the late eighties. It’s full of truckers and white trash. People who remind me of the life I ran from. But I don’t have a choice. I have to pee, and this is the only route open that leads to California.
The inside is exactly the way I imagined it. Old booths with cracked seats covered in duct tape, the walls brown and grimy. The grease invades my pores and nostrils the second I step in. It goes down into my lungs and coats them in a thick, oily film. I want to get in and out of this place as fast as possible.
I’ve only taken two steps when a man stops me. He’s big and round, and his face is red and sweaty. The pits of his shirt are stained an ugly yellow-brown color that smells as bad as it looks. Even over the grease and cigarettes his pungent odor burns my nostrils. He also has a gun strapped to his chest.
“Papers.” He holds his hand out expectantly. His face is hard.
My heart pounds as I pull the papers out of my purse and hesitantly hand them to the man. Hopefully, he actually works here and he’s not robbing me. I hold my breath while he slowly unfolds them, then exhale when his eyes narrow on the fine print. His mouth is pulled into a tight line when he nods.
