By some miracle, none of us decided to venture out that day, and by the time dad flew in the next morning on the President’s orders, things were batshit.
It was three months before we had to evacuate from the city. Two more of us scrambling from place to place, trying to avoid the hordes, before we came across members of The Compound who were out on a recon mission attempting to find stranded Pures. Us. The people who are left who haven’t succumbed or been slaughtered.
◆◆◆
Walking around a bend in the path leading to the housing quad, I abruptly slam face-to-chest into a broad wall of flesh, effectively jostling me out of my morose musings. If it weren’t for the strong arms that quickly lace around my back, I’d likely have fallen flat on my ass in front of everyone wandering about.
Like they need to see me exhibiting any more fuck-ups than they already have after today.
Not able to hide my flustered blush, I look up, and up further - damn, this dude is huge - as I ramble out an apology before the person has a chance to berate me. “I’m so sorry!! I wasn’t paying atten—” My gaze finally meets that of the man whose arms I’m wrapped up in, and my tongue twists in my mouth, jumbling my words. “Uhhh, I mean….”
Wow.
He has eyes the color of a midnight sky, surrounded by black lashes so long they should be illegal if they’re natural. Dark blond hair falls carelessly across his forehead in a way that appears artful, yet carelessly placed. In utter contrast, he has it completely buzzed short on both sides in a way that makes me think ‘military’. His cheekbones and jawline look as though they were sculpted by the genius hands of Michelangelo himself.
Annnnd I’m staring.
A rough chuckle escapes the man and, held against him like I am, I feel it vibrate all the way to my toes. He smiles softly at me, showing his first flaw — there’s a chip in his front tooth that breaks the ‘perfect’ image he has going on. “It’s okay, I was a bit determined to get where I’m going and didn’t check ‘round the corner before barging past. Are you alright?”
Fuck!! He has an accent. One I can’t quite place, but I have a thing for accents — always have.
The thought shocks me as it crosses my mind… It’s an irrational tidbit to be flitting about in my brain right this moment, but I couldn’t un-think it if I tried.
“I’m, uh… I’m good. You can, you know, let me go now.” Taking a step back, I press against his palms where they’re splayed across my back, attempting to extricate myself. A tingling sensation alights in my stomach and I have to physically stop myself from gasping aloud when his hands press further into me, instead of letting go.
Now is not the time for this.
As if sensing my unease at being caged he abruptly drops his arms to his sides, glancing around at the gawkers we’ve seemed to accumulate. He awards them with a vicious glare for their staring, a low sound, not unlike a growl, escaping from between his full lips. “Move along, people — nothing to see here,” he barks, making me jump slightly at his tone. He doesn’t seem to notice.
The astounding thing is, they listen. His deep voice has an authority behind it even I find myself wanting to obey. He’s so distracting my mind isn’t even registering the tragedy of today — if it can.
Maybe I’m in shock? That actually could be a thing.
Turning back to me, he holds out a hand. “Hi, I’m Luca. I don’t believe I’ve seen you before?” He forms it as a question, one I feel obligated to answer after my episode of clumsy dipshitery.
“Saedie,” I reply, placing my hand into his. It disappears in his grasp, making me feel small and delicate. “It’s nice to meet you. My family and I have only been here a few weeks, so I haven’t really made the rounds yet.”
“Aw, they didn’t pull out the welcome wagon for a beauty like you? The atrocity!”
My emotions are on a roller coaster at the moment, and I genuinely can’t determine if he’s joking, so I stay silent.
A beautiful mess, maybe.
He must realize I’m not on the same page, because he lowers his voice as he lightly squeezes my hand in an entirely too familiar gesture for someone I’ve just met. “Hey, you okay?”
A burning sensation builds behind my eyes and it’s all I can to do hold back the torrent of tears I feel festering beneath the surface.
Pulling from my emotional reserves, I muster up a stiff smile for him. “I am. Just had a… day… today.” My voice tapers out and I look down at the dirt-strewn ground by our feet. As politely as I can, I pull my hand free of his. “I have to get going, I, uh… need to speak with someone.”
“Right then.” Luca ducks his head down to my level and waits until I meet his gaze. “I’m glad to have literally,” he smirks, “ran into you, Saedie. I hope to see you around, and that someone can put a smile in those ocean eyes of yours.” With that, he steps around my stiff form and carries on down a path to our left as though our conversation was just another day in the life for him, when it’s left me with even more emotions swirling around that I don’t know how to process.
I can’t dwell on it right now anyway. I have a task to complete, and until I do, I can’t let my unsteady emotional walls crumble at my feet.
Stealing myself, I stand up straight, pulling my shoulders back. I have to hold it in a little while longer - just until I can talk with Mom. I can’t let someone else deliver the news of Dad…. Of his… that he — I can’t even make myself think it, so instead I put one foot in front of the other as I walk toward breaking my mother’s heart.
CHAPTER 2
As I finally make my way to our open door, my steps stall in hesitation – procrastination at its finest. Quietly, so as not to disturb her yet, I take in the scene before me.
Mom is hunkered down on our borrowed couch, legs wide to accommodate her massively pregnant belly as she bends between them to pick up another hand-me-down baby onesie from the weathered laundry basket at her feet. Gravity causes her softly waving curls, a shade of brown so dark it almost looks black, to slip down on either side of her face, blocking her view of anything past it. She has to swat it back to see what she’s doing, which clearly frustrates her to no end. She’s always hated her hair, whereas I couldn’t be more grateful it’s one of the traits she passed along to me.
Beyond and around her, the rest of our two-bedroom dorm - which we’d been extremely happy to find available when we arrived - is decked out in everything we’d managed to bring with us from home when we had to abandon it. A quilt Gramma made is draped over the lone armchair to her left, situated a pace away from the couch in the middle of the room. A few pictures are nailed to the back wall above a wooden curio cabinet.
The bedrooms grace opposite walls of the space, facing each other across the minuscule living room. Mom and Dad claimed the one on the left with a queen size bed, and I share the one on the right with Jer. We have to sleep on the same double mattress when he isn’t in the infirmary, which isn’t often, but I honestly don’t mind. The sound of his breathing close-by keeps me calm on the nights he’s here.
We have a working kitchenette to the right, tucked up in the corner just inside the doorway. It sports a small sink, hotplate and mini-fridge, two of which are sheer luxuries now. Not surprisingly, we’ve been told to only use water from the appointed safe zones of the building, so things like washing clothes or personal hygiene are always performed elsewhere. Right now the sink is filled with infant items people donated when we first arrived, to help out once my new little brother or sister is born - which should be any day now.
It’s a miracle Mom has even carried to term, at her age, and with the constant state of crisis we lived in up to this point. Since she was under twelve weeks when the world went to shit, she only had a chance to go visit her OB once. It was one of those initial appointments women have to confirm what they already suspect — a baby on the way.
It’s only been since Atlas found us that things have settled somewhat. At least we aren’t on the run any
more, and with the tech they have here, Mom’s been monitored closely for the last few weeks. Jer, too, with his diabetes being so out of control.
We’d been freakishly lucky up to this point…. Yes, we’d lost family — but we hadn’t lost us. Despite his frequent absences in my childhood, Dad’s the glue holding all of us in a tight embrace of a life we know could be extinguished at any moment.
Or he was.
Mom looks so content in this moment and my heart rips straight in two knowing I’m about to ruin everything for her.
As I step fully into the room, I slide the backpack carrying Jeremy’s meds gently to the floor and tuck it behind a crate to my left. I’m not hiding it per say, but I’ll need good news to deliver after I force these words burning up my soul out of my mouth.
My motion causes Mom to look up and a beautiful smile lights up her face, causing age lines to make an appearance at the corners of her mouth and eyes. It’s a rare smile, usually one she saves for Dad or Jer, but now she chooses this moment to gift it to me. Fuck. “Saedie! Where’d you get to all day? I was going to ask for your help setting up the crib.” Continuing to fold as she talks, her words pick up speed, “Your dad and I were supposed to do it a few nights ago, but then that horde came through and he had to go out with the Commander.”
I haven’t said a word yet, but I can see her cerulean eyes beginning to dim as she takes in my expression, and that I haven’t come closer to offer a hug like I normally try to do. She isn’t usually receptive, but that doesn’t stop me most days.
“What’s wrong? You look upset. Did something happen with Jeremy?” She asks, huffing as she puts effort into scooting her body to the edge of the couch cushion. “I knew we should have pushed harder for Commander Nyler to send out a party for a medicine run!”
“No, no, it’s not…” This would be the perfect time to tell her about the medicine, but my voice cracks halfway through. I clear my throat. “Jeremy is the same. This is about….”
I can’t! I can’t do this to her! What if she loses the baby because of the stress? What if it somehow makes her sick and I cause both my parents’ deaths?
“Saedie Jane Walton, you look at me right now and tell me what’s got that head of yours spinning all topsy-turvy.” She scolds. Mom is originally from Georgia, so she has a very Southern twang when she starts to get worked up about something. She likes to smother it, only show the posh front she’s known for in society, but sometimes she just can’t. Like now.
Meeting her gaze, I swallow my fear and shame. I’m the only one who can do this. The only one who should do this.
It’s my fault, after all.
“It’s about Daddy, Mama.”
“What about him? He stepped out to help with some of the new Pures that came in last night, but he should be back soon. Does he need to be here for this conversation?”
“No, Mama. Daddy is… He’s….” Taking a deep breath, I push the words past my lips, though they scorch my throat and heart on the way out. “Daddy died today, Mama.”
Her face goes blank as I drop to my knees and crawl on the floor to take her shaking hands in mine. Sitting back on my heals, I look up at her horror-struck expression and can’t stop the tears that begin to pour down my face in hot rivulets.
Nonsensical words rush out as I try to explain what happened, but I’m not sure she understands any of it. It’s like the light has left her and she’s just a shell sitting here before me.
“Mom!” I cry. “Mama, please look at me. I’m so, so sorry.” My voice is trembling so bad it barely makes a sound. “I never meant for this to happen. I don’t even know why he was there; I swear!” Another hiccupping sob escapes. “He wasn’t supposed to be there!”
My distress pulls her back from the abyss, and looking down at me, she raises her hands to either side of my face, gently cupping my cheeks. The move is a surprise to me, one I’ve only ever seen her do with Jeremy, so I almost pull back, thinking she’s about to slap me for what I’ve done.
“This is not your fault. It is not. Do you hear me?” Her tone means business, and it’s one Jer and I quickly learned to listen to. Only this time I can’t, because she’s wrong. So wrong.
“But it is, don’t you see?” I scoot the laundry basket to the side with one of my knees and nudge even closer to her. “I left. I left The Compound without permission, and I didn’t tell anyone.”
“You what?!”
I don’t mean to, but I cower under the vehemence behind her words. If anyone could see me right now, I’m sure they’d think I look like a cowed dog. It’s a habit though, even at twenty and after living on my own for the last two years.
“I had to find Jeremy insulin, Mom. I had to. No one else was willing to risk leaving the safe confines of The Compound to do it, and I can see he’s getting worse.” My breaths slowly evening out as I talk — I need to make her understand.
“I heard there might be some supplies left at the old hospital down the road, and I had to see for myself. What if it was his only chance?”
Mom is speechless as she listens, and I can only hope the words tearing their way out of me matter. “Who gave you that information, Saedie?”
“One of the guys who came in last night, that ones that D— the ones that Dad was supposed to go help today. I overheard them telling Commander Nyler that the hospital had been shut down pretty early on, so there was a possibility of finding crucial medicine and equipment inside.” I pause, starting to get pissed, “But Nyler didn’t listen, Mom! He didn’t care! He brushed the man off and told him to leave it for another day. Even though he knows there are people here that could use what we might have found. He still refused.”
“I don’t understand, what does this have to do with your father? Is he truly gone? Did you see… did you actually see him die, or did you just leave him there?!”
Her cold words strike me like a blow, and I fall back on my butt, hands slipping from hers to brace myself on the ground behind me.
Did my mother really just ask me that?
“Mom, I … How could you… Of course I didn’t just leave him there. Zerks came as I was about to head back here, and Daddy turned up out of nowhere, grabbed me and started pulling me through the hospital.
“I don’t know how he knew I was there; he didn’t have time to explain other than to say he’d followed me, but he saved me, Mom. He appeared right when I needed him, and he kept the Zerks from getting to me.”
Dad’s heartbroken gaze flashes before my eyes as he looked up at me from the floor, the arrow sticking out of his broken flesh.
Wait, arrow? It hadn’t occurred to me before but Zerks didn’t use arrows. They couldn’t. We were told from the beginning that once the infection took hold, the human - intelligent - part of the brain shut down. They lived off pure instinct. Tools and weapons weren’t supposed to be in their repertoire.
But I know what I saw.
“They shot —” I stop myself, unsure if I should go into detail with her when she’s so visibly shutting down right now. I can’t even recognize my own mother and that is my fault.
“They shot what, Miss Walton?” A new voice sounds from the doorway, sending a jolt of fear down my spine. I’d forgotten to shut the door in my haste to explain to Mom.
Turning slowly, I look over my shoulder to stare at the hideous man filling up the door frame. Commander Nyler is, or was, an actual Army Commander before ODR hit, and he’s not given up on his vows to our country. A country that sent him off on multiple war tours and left him with deforming scars all over his face.
I’ve always felt something off about Commander Nyler that I couldn’t quite place, but the pure violence in his cutting gaze has me cowering back against the couch.
Mom shifts so I’m not touching her, even by accident. I almost crumble at the movement. She’s distancing herself from me because he’s here. Showing this man - the self-imposed leader of Atlas - with her actions, that she doesn’t condone what I’ve done.
&nb
sp; I’ve never been one to shy away from confrontation, but Nyler is a whole other entity — one I’m unequipped to handle in my current state.
“Go on, Saedie. Finish what you were going to say.” He orders. “The Zerks shot what?”
“An arrow,” I whisper. “They shot an arrow straight through his heart.”
If I hadn’t been watching Commander Nyler as closely as I am, I would have missed the flicker of unease that slid across his face at my words. What I didn’t see though was even the teeniest hint of surprise.
Holding on to that realization, I force this moment to form a bubble of memory in my subconscious, to look back on later when I have time to myself.
Since day one I’ve been suspicious of Nyler’s motives — especially when the initial screening we underwent upon arrival delved way deeper than needed to prove my family’s lack of infection.
If he, and possibly the rest of Atlas, knows something about the Zerks that they’re keeping from the rest of us, I will find out.
“That’s impossible, Ms. Walton. Zerks do not possess the capability of higher thinking, nor the dexterity to wield a weapon such as a bow and arrow.” His voice holds false confidence, like he’s spewed similar lines before and it’s a practiced speech now.
Deciding on the spot that I don’t want any more attention drawn my way, especially if I plan to investigate what he’s hiding, I pretend to be comforted by his assurances. “I’m sure you’re right, Commander. It all happened so fast, I must have imagined that part.”
“Hmph.”
It’s in this moment, in the silence between our conversation, that I begin to wonder why Mom hasn’t piped in again after her cruel accusation. Glancing over my shoulder, I see nothing but the outfit she’d been holding earlier in place of where she’d been sitting only minutes ago.
How I didn’t feel her over-encumbered body shifting off of the couch, I have no clue. Lately her getting to her feet has become a whole shebang - with her needing someone’s hand to stand without falling back under the weight of the baby.
Atlas (Apocalyptic Cries Book 1) Page 2
