Atlas (Apocalyptic Cries Book 1)

by Adalie Jordin

  Fucking hell. This is sickening. Why would anyone do such a thing to Gladys of all people?!

  It’s not as if she would have been storing state secrets in her aging mind that someone might need access to. She was a freaking loving, doting, grandmotherly type that always tried to see the best in people. We weren’t ever close, per say, but she was the first person to show me genuine kindness here at The Compound.

  Rage and sadness thunder within me like they’re performing an Irish clog dance. She deserves more dignity than he’s offering, and it’s wrong. So fucking wrong. But as a tiny sliver of logic enters my overwrought mind, I realize I can’t do anything. Exposing myself now would prevent me from ever getting any more information than what I have right this moment.

  I bottle up my rampant emotions, storing them away in a filing cabinet at the back of my mind under lock and key.

  Focus.

  Instead of giving this deplorable excuse of a human being the beat down he deserves, I stay immobile and do the only thing I can think of…. Bear witness to Gladys’ burial by incineration. Biting the inside of my check to distract myself from the tears threatening to fall, I watch the entire horrid scenario play out until the last of her flesh has turned to dust. A new layer of death in their fiery chamber of secrets and lies.

  It takes more time than what you’d imagine, for a body to fully cremate. I didn’t know that Before. The movies made it seem like a much smoother process, glossing over the gritty bits. Reality is a bitch.

  I guess I know a lot of things now that I never would have otherwise.

  CHAPTER 7

  I kept a burial vigil over Gladys and PPE-dude for three hours. By the time he shuts down the furnace and rolls up the body bag, my knees and ankles are so stiff I can hardly shift them, my legs having fallen asleep at some point I don’t recall.

  I know I’ve gone grossly past the time I’d given myself to get back home, but it can’t be helped. Back here, in this dank hallway where Atlas stores its darkest travesties, I’m not concerned a random passerby or guard will stumble upon me. They’ll have safeguards in place for that. Which is why I’m honestly surprised no one has tracked my presence so far.

  Shrugging it off as a problem for a later time, I duck as far behind the gurney I’ve been hidden behind as possible, tucking my still tingling legs up to my chest and resting my forehead on my knees. Thick ebony curls drape down over my back and arms, covering any exposed flesh that might draw the eye.

  I hope that, as PPE-dude’s footsteps grew closer, it will be enough to make me near-invisible in my little hidey spot. There is no way I’ll be standing up in the next ten minutes or so without making a shit-ton of noise. Jelly-legs are no good for sleuthing.

  Turns out it doesn’t matter as PPE-dude strolls right past me without a care in the world. Peeking out from under my mass of hair as his footsteps recede down the hall, I catch a glimpse of his head buried in the screen of a tablet, its glow lighting up the front of his mask. His attention is solidly focused, like he knows his path with enough memory that he doesn’t need to glance up once before rounding the corner out of sight.

  There must be some deep fucking pockets in all that protective gear somewhere, to hide a full-size iPad. Jeez. Not important right now though.

  I wait until I’m confident my legs will hold my weight before hoisting myself up to stand. Stepping out into the open space between the rows of gurneys, I walk over and jiggle the handle of the furnace room door. I expect it to be hot, after how long the fire was burning to rid Atlas of Gladys’ remains, but it’s cool to the touch. And locked.

  Of course. It was worth a try though.

  Debating using a hairpin to try and pick the lock I nearly jump out of my skin when a silent alarm buzzes from the phone in my back pocket, telling me it’s time to get up and go to the gym. I groan aloud at the reminder.

  No way am I staying in this building one moment longer than I already have today. The equipment in the gym isn’t worth the memories that I’m positive would hound me the entire time I remain under this roof.

  If I want to keep fit, I’ll improvise from here on out. At least until the images of melting flesh fade away.

  ◆◆◆

  I make it back to the observatory without incident. I’d seen a few Compound members on my trek, but not any near the Sports Complex, so I’m fairly certain my antics of the night won’t be found out.

  Storing away my messenger bag in a cabinet I’d started using as a closet, I plop down into a seat far away from the door. I keep it barricaded now, so that if anyone happens to stumble upon the room while I sleep, they’ll think it was damaged by one of the earthquakes and pass on by. There are quite a few buildings on this side of campus that sustained damage in the last quake, so it’s entirely plausible.

  Basic, but effective.

  Sniffing the front of my shirt, my eyes begin to water from the stench. I hadn’t noticed it with everything going on, but burning flesh leaves a disgusting aroma in the air that clings to anything unlucky enough to be close by. I need a shower, and a change of clothes, pronto. Too bad I don’t have running water.

  I’ll have to venture back across the quad if I want to scourge myself of this noxious odor. I’m just not up for it right now…

  Instead, I get up and rummage through the stash of clothes I managed to accumulate over my time here at The Compound. The Incubator tried to keep me from getting my things, but lock picking is a skill I’d mastered in high school - for shits and giggles, sue me - and it served me well when she pulled her crap.

  A few weeks back, tired of scrounging in the leftovers pile The Compound provided to newcomers, I’d snuck back into the dorm and gathered up my meager belongings. I’d thought about taking some of dad’s things too, to remember him by, but that felt petty.

  I did dig around and find an old necklace he used to wear all the time. It’s gold and has dog tags hanging off it, along with two tiny circular pendants that house mine and Jeremy’s birthstones. He’d stopped wearing it when we came to The Compound for some odd reason, but I never thought much on it. Now I’m just grateful to have something he treasured so much.

  Fuck her if she notices it missing. I loved him too.

  Pulling off my rancid outerwear, I slip into a pair of worn out sleep shorts and a baggy tee. They aren’t cute, but they’re beyond comfortable, and I need rest. My shifts in the infirmary are staggered, and I often just trade out with Nurse Nance when she needs a break, so I don’t have anywhere to be for the next several hours.

  Settling in for the long haul, I force my racing thoughts of the night to cease, falling into a fitful sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  A pounding on the door wakes me too short a time later, and has me leaping up from the chair I’d been sleeping on. I huff, stumbling a bit from the rapid movement.

  Who the fuck could that be?

  No one knows I claimed this place but me, so who the hell is knocking on the door like the friggin’ police preparing for a raid?

  The only person who’d even think to come here is…. Shit.

  Glancing down at my rumpled clothing, my eyes dart around the room in a nervous panic. No way is he seeing me in my pj’s — shit just isn’t happening. Gaze landing on an over-sized hoodie thrown atop a projector, I rush over and pull it on, satisfied enough that it will hide anything embarrassing as it falls to just above my knees.

  Bodily shoving aside the podium I’d been using as a barricade, I crack open the door a few inches.

  Standing outside, fist poised to give it another hammering, Luca’s expression is fierce. “Where the hell have you been, New Girl?” He demands, hand dropping to his side as his deep blue eyes traverse my body, heating me up from the inside out.

  My jaw drops, annoyance coursing through me, mixed with heady desire. He wants to treat me like a pariah in front of an entire cafeteria filled with people, then show up at my door a week later and demand to know my whereabouts?

  Woah, boy,
you have no right.

  “Wherever the hell I’ve wanted to be, Luca.” My tone is acerbic, but the nerve of this guy is astounding.

  Swaying back like I’ve hit him, his expression quickly shuts down into a blank slate. No emotion showing through.

  “You’ve missed a lot of training.”

  Obviously.

  “At first I thought maybe things with your dad finally caught up to you, but then I started to wonder if you’re avoiding me.”

  He looks up at me through long lashes, eyes meeting mine and allowing me a glimpse of the hurt within his gaze.

  What does he have to be hurt about? It was me that got snubbed.

  Floored, I don’t respond immediately. For him to be hurt, it has to mean he cares - even a little - right?

  “Look, Luca --”

  “Wait, just… Can we talk? Please?”

  I take a moment to debate before thinking ‘what the hell’. Apparently, I’m a sucker for good ole puppy dog eyes.

  Stepping back, I gesture into the expansive room with a flourish. “Come on in, I guess.”

  Relief washes over his features and he gives me half smile, “Thanks.” He says, brushing past me and striding into the room, taking in the changes I’ve made.

  It needs to be tidied up a bit, but it looks a lot more like a living space now, and a lot less like a forgotten hobby of the past.

  “You can, uh, sit if you want.”

  Flicking another grin my way, he perches on the arm of a chair not far from where I’d been sleeping.

  “Why haven’t you been at training?”

  Right out with it then, eh?

  Needing to find something to busy my hands, I start to clean. It’s a nervous habit.

  Picking up clothes strewn over the floor, and a few snack wrappers lying about, I look anywhere but at the gorgeous hulk of a man sitting across the room. Luca being in the space I’ve come to feel is mine is throwing me.

  “I haven’t been in the right mindset for training, I guess.” I finally say.

  “Because of your dad?”

  I glance up, “No, but it’s interesting that’s the second time you’ve mentioned him since knocking on my door.”

  “His loss was recent, New Girl. Two months isn’t a long enough time to work through the grief of losing a parent.” A sadness in his features tells me maybe he knows this firsthand, but I don’t feel confident enough to ask him about it.

  “You’re right, it’s not. But I am dealing the best way I know how.” Lifting one shoulder, arms full of odds and ends, I shrug, “Getting fit didn’t have much to do with Dad anyway.”

  Intrigued by this tidbit, he turns contemplative. “What was it about then? You seemed to be working through something…. It’s part of the reason I was so willing to help you.”

  “Part of?” I blurt.

  Of course that’s the only phrase sticking out to me. I mentally roll my eyes at myself.

  “Yeah.” He doesn’t give me anything else, waiting patiently for me to answer him fully.

  Trying to come up with a response that won’t make me seem like some whiny teenager — no twenty-year-old wants to regress that far — I take a minute. Placing dirty clothes in the crate I use for a hamper, I toss the trash and turn back around to face him.

  “Honestly?”

  “Please.”

  “I needed to know I wouldn’t put anyone else in danger by allowing myself to be weak any longer.”

  You could hear a pin drop in the silence that followed.

  “Saedie…” Shuffling over to me, my name on his lips is a demand for me not to look away. “You’ve not been weak a day since I’ve known you. You’re one of the strongest people I know.”

  Heart stalling in my chest for a beat, I inhale a quick breath. Damn, he knows how to charm a girl. I’d been ignoring my overwhelming attraction to him since seeing his handsome face staring down at me outside my room, but now it makes itself known once more.

  I take in his faded jeans, the way they hug his thighs, and the slight bulge under his zipper. His six pack is visible through the tight long-sleeve tee he’s wearing, and I have to take a second to calm my racing heart before I reach out and run a finger across them.

  Guys with abs are H-O-T.

  Sensing my change in mood, Luca takes a step closer, one hand coming up to rest on the side of my neck. His thumb strokes back and forth over my cheek, almost like he doesn’t notice he’s doing it.

  “Hey…” His breath whispers across my face, smelling of mint and coffee. “I’m here because I was worried you weren’t taking care of yourself and I wanted to make sure you’re alright.” Closing the last bit of space between us, his warm body presses fully to my front.

  My nipples go instantly hard as they brush against his chest with every breath I take.

  “But I’m also here because I saw the way you looked at me when you didn’t think I noticed, and I couldn’t let it eat at me any longer.” I go still, staring up at him from the wall of hair that’s fallen around my face. “I’m not supposed be touching you right now, but I honestly can’t stop.”

  What’s that supposed to mean?

  It’s like a dam breaks. Wrapping his free arm around my waist, he pulls me close enough that only the tips of my toes are touching the floor. My arms naturally weave around his neck as our lips clash together, each of us trying to devour the other.

  It’s not a gentle kiss, and it’s not sweet or anything else a first kiss should be. It’s a meeting of two souls who’ve resisted each other for too long. Weeks of un-addressed desire pour out into this moment of pure bliss.

  I can feel my knees going weak, but Luca just holds me tighter, taking my weight like it’s nothing.

  I can’t get enough.

  A mewling noise escapes me as he presses his tongue to the slit of my lips, and I automatically open for him.

  Holy gods, he tastes like spice and honey.

  One hand moving down to grab my ass, he yanks me upward, forcing my legs to wrap around his waist or risk falling over. His strength makes me feel delicate, turning me on even more.

  I can’t get close enough. I’m not even sure I’m breathing at this point as he starts to walk across the room, me still safely in his arms.

  I break the kiss for a second, inhaling deeply in a failed attempt to catch my breath. To knock some sense into my lust-ridden brain. Instead, I find myself being swallowed up in his smoldering gaze. “Fuck.”

  There’s a want so deep in his eyes that I can’t possibly look away.

  He sears our lips together once more as a need for his body pulses through me. My hips roll inward involuntarily, closing whatever distance remains between us. An electric shock jolts through me as my clit presses against the very apparent bulge in his jeans through the thin layer of my sleep shorts.

  He groans, the sound vibrating through me. His steps become more urgent, and I’m genuinely surprised he doesn’t trip over anything as he cuts a path across the room and roughly presses me into the wall. “New Girl, if you want me to stop, you better tell me now, because if you do that again, I make no promises on my ability to hold back.”

  His words bring a small spark of coherence into my overstimulated brain, and I take a moment to fully grasp the situation we now find ourselves in.

  Me, wrapped around his body like I never want to let go, and him, trembling in his effort to hold back his desires. The sheer hunger for my body written across his face sends a trace of fear jolting through me. Not of Luca, but of what we’re so close to doing. I’m treading into unknown territory and find I don’t know where to go from here. My lust starts to cool, embarrassment at admitting my virgin-status to him taking hold.

  He immediately notices the change in my mood, offering me a crooked smile. “I would never force you to do anything you’re not comfortable with. You’re just….” His dick gives a pulse that I feel all the way to my toes, but he back offs, creating space between our heated bodies — a feat in and of its
elf.

  “I’ve wanted to taste you for months,” he confesses, his English accent becoming more pronounced with his clear arousal. “But I can feel you locking up on me.” Softly caressing my leg with the hand that had been on my ass, he presses one more sweet kiss to my swollen lips.

  “Why don’t we just hang out for a bit? I don’t have anywhere to be for a few hours.”

  He starts to untangle the chaos we’ve made with our bodies, unhooking my ankles from around him and letting my legs drop to the floor. He braces me as I catch my balance, a whispered ‘okay’ floating past my lips — even if what I really want to say is ‘hell no!’.

  He doesn’t immediately back away, basking in the last remnants of sexual tension floating in the air. Ever so slowly, he steps back a little, hands coming to rest at my elbows. His eyes roam all over, taking in my rumpled clothes, kiss-reddened lips and still heaving breaths. It’s like he’s memorizing this moment.

  Gaining his fill, he takes another step away, surprising me as he reaches down, taking my hand in his. It’s a touch that has nothing to do with sex, and yet a shiver races through me nonetheless. “Come on.” He tugs me to a seat, relaxing his large frame into the next closest one. “Tell me about you, New Girl. I want to know everything.”

  You can’t have everything. Nobody gets that. But I’ll give you some.

  So, we talk…. Not about anything deep, or overly depressing, but about our favourite foods… where we’ve always wanted to travel, but can’t any longer because of the oppressive threat of being infected by ODR at every turn.

  He tells me about growing up in England with just his Mom initially, his dad being stationed in the U.S. for most of his childhood, then eventually his step-dad joined the picture. He confesses how he always wished he’d had a brother, and he’s envious of my relationship with Jeremy. I can see the love in his eyes as he talks about his family, but also a sadness, too. Just like when I glimpsed it before though, I don’t want to venture there.