Before the virus, Angus had been a miserable person. In and out of juvenile detention as a kid, always getting into fights. Stealing. Skipping school. He’d barely graduated high school, and had it not been for Axl, he probably wouldn’t have bothered at all. But his kid brother had always been his responsibility, and as ignorant as Angus had been, he’d known having a diploma would make getting a job easier. Not that he’d ever had a career of any kind. He’d spent most of his life going from one worthless job to another, usually getting fired for mouthing off to the boss. He’d done just enough to keep his brother fed and his own fridge stocked with beer—it wasn’t like their mom had given a shit whether or not Axl had dinner—and Angus had always thought that was enough. Thought he’d done right by Axl for all those years. Too bad he hadn’t.
Logically, Angus knew it wasn’t really his fault. He’d never had a dad around, and their mother hadn’t been a pillar of encouragement. A drunk and abusive—both physically and emotionally—she hadn’t hesitated to backhand him across the face when he was a child or tell him how useless he was. He was an accident, the reason his father left. Stupid. Worthless. He would never amount to anything. He’d heard it all by the time Axl was born, had cried himself to sleep too many nights to recall. The words had never stopped hurting, but by the time Angus reached his teen years, he’d learned how to deal with the pain. He’d shoved it down so his mother couldn’t see how it affected him, then take it out on someone else the second he left home. It had always frustrated him that no matter what he did or how old he got, she could still hurt him. That was why he’d worked so hard to make Axl tough. Why Angus had bullied his younger brother into being strong. He hadn’t understood that his actions were doing their own kind of damage, that much like the abuse Angus had endured from their mother, the things he’d said to Axl had made his brother feel small and unimportant and incapable of amounting to anything.
Even worse than that, though, were the selfish things Angus had done. He’d told himself he was trying to save his brother from the pain of failure when he’d told Axl college was a stupid idea, not trying to hold him back, but it had been a lie. The same was true of his brother’s high school girlfriend, Lilly. Angus had wedged his way between them, made Axl choose, the whole time telling himself it was to protect his brother from a broken heart. It hadn’t been, though. Angus had done it because he’d been terrified of losing Axl. Of being left behind. Of watching his brother outgrow him.
It wasn’t until they’d met Vivian that Axl became his own man. Angus had hated her for that. Even worse, he’d been jealous that his brother had a woman like that in his life, knowing it was something he could never get. She’d looked at Axl like he had all the answers, encouraged him, told him he was worth something. Said and did all the things Angus should have done when they were growing up but had been too stupid and selfish to.
From the second Vivian started traveling with them, Angus had known she and Axl were going to end up together. Hell, he probably knew it before they did. They’d gravitated toward one another immediately, stealing glances when they didn’t think anyone was looking, opening up about their lives. Angus had done everything he could to stop it from happening. God, he’d been such an ass. Hitting on Vivian, making lewd comments every chance he got, threatening her, and even going so far as to actually hit her. It was a wonder she ever forgave him. She and Axl had both sworn up and down nothing was going on, but Angus had known the truth, and it had terrified him.
He could still remember the moment when things between him and Axl changed for good.
They’d only been on the road for a few days, had picked up Joshua—the doctor—in the middle of nowhere, then Trey and Parv shortly after. When they’d stopped for the night in a small, rundown town somewhere near the Oklahoma/Texas border, Angus and Axl had gone hunting while the others set up camp, starting a fire and pitching the tent. Things like that. Angus had been silently seething since earlier in the day when they’d stopped to check out an abandoned car. The people had still been inside the tent, dead and ripped apart by animals, so they’d done the only logical thing. Scavenged supplies.
Axl hadn’t been able to take his eyes off Vivian as they searched the car—not that Angus could really blame him for that. The woman had been a stripper before the virus, and she was built like one, with curves that begged to be ogled. Angus had done his fair share of staring at her, but this had been different. The way Axl had watched her as she bent over to pick things up hadn’t been about her body. It had been her. Vivian. She’d been the woman for him from the moment they met.
“Gonna be pretty crowded in the tent,” Angus said as he and Axl headed into the woods to hunt later that day.
The sun had been setting and the sky was orange and brilliant, but the eerie quiet of the town had made it seem more ominous than pretty.
Axl looked at him out of the corner of his eye, his lips pursed as if he’d known what Angus was about to say. “Yup.”
“You and Blondie gonna get all cozy?”
The hard tone of his voice had made it perfectly clear how repulsive Angus found the idea.
“Shit, Angus,” Axl said, his irritation ringing in his words. “Would you drop it already? I ain’t interested, and even if I was, it ain’t like she wants me. You heard her what she said. She don’t date trash.”
Angus had let out a snort as he spit a glob of brownish saliva onto the ground, picturing it landing on Vivian’s face. “You can’t bullshit me, li’l brother. I see how you look at her. I get it. I do. She’s a hot piece of ass. But you and me is blood, and don’t you forget that.”
Axl swore under his breath. “Not like you’d let me.”
Angus stopped walking then, turning to face his brother and grabbing his shirt, pulling Axl closer until there had only been an inch of space between them. “That’s ’cause I gotta. ’Cause you’d be out of here in a second if I didn’t, runnin’ off with the stripper like this was some goddamn movie. You’re weak when it comes to women, always lettin’ them get in your head, only thinkin’ with your dick.”
“Get the fuck off me, Angus.” Axl shoved him and Angus had actually stumbled back a few steps. “And stop tellin’ me what to do. You’re my brother, not my fuckin’ boss. I said I ain’t gonna screw her, but if I did, that would be my choice. You don’t got a say in that. Hear me?”
There had been fire in his brother’s eyes. It was the first time Axl had ever really stood up to Angus, and it had shocked him into silence. He was used to Axl telling him to shut up, but that had always been the extent of it. Angus was the one in charge. That was how it had always been, and Axl had never questioned it. Ever.
He’d drawn a line in the sand that day, Angus later realized. Axl had drawn a line and stepped over it and stayed there, and it had acted like a barrier between them. Not pushing them apart, exactly, but putting distance between them just the same. It had allowed Axl to start making choices for himself, allowed him to figure out who he was. It had made him stronger.
Angus and Axl had stood like that for a few minutes in silence, Angus seething but knowing he couldn’t push any harder. His brother had always done what he said, but Angus knew if he didn’t let it go, he would end up pushing Axl right into Vivian’s arms. Which was the last place he wanted his brother to go.
Finally, Angus forced out a laugh, working to sound unconcerned when he’d said, “Guess I can’t blame you for wantin’ to get in her pants.”
Axl snorted out a laugh in response, his anger easing. “You’re a dick sometimes, Angus. You know that?”
“Only sometimes?” he’d asked, the smile on his face becoming more genuine.
Axl had only shaken his head.
They’d started walking again, neither one talking. Angus’s free hand—the one not carrying his gun—had been balled into a fist, but as the silence of the forest engulfed them, he’d slowly been able to relax. Deep down, Angus had known he’d lost the little bit of control he had over his brother,
but he’d told himself it was only temporary. Once Axl screwed Vivian and got it out of his system, things would be back to normal. Angus was still the one in charge.
He’d been lying to himself.
Angus was still thinking about that day when something scratched to his left. He had the bow ready, an arrow nocked, and all he had to do was lift it and wait. The rain had picked up while he waited, and now the sky was more clogged with clouds, which were thick and gray and angry looking. He’d have to go back to the cabin soon. It was getting too dark. He hated the idea of returning emptyhanded, but staying out when it was this overcast was too risky. Better to go hungry one night than risk leaving Naya alone in this world.
More scratching sounded.
He held his breath, didn’t move a muscle, and prayed whatever was scratching nearby would show itself soon. And that it would be enough to feed them both.
The rustle of leaves told him the animal was on the move, and he tensed, listening. Waiting. The scratching grew closer, louder, and a second later a nearby bush rustled, letting him know where to aim. He shifted ever so slightly, careful not to make a sound. More movement, then the animal finally poked its head out.
The black ringed eyes of the raccoon zeroed in on him.
Angus released his arrow, and it went flying through the air, finding a home in the animal’s soft body. The raccoon let out a little hiss and jumped back, stunned, then it disappeared from sight. Angus already had another arrow drawn when he got to his feet, rushing toward the bush. He shoved the leaves and branches aside, searching for the animal, but all he found was a trail of blood.
“Shit.”
He followed it, tromping through the wet forest as the rain pummeled his head, his boots squishing in the soft ground, his steps loud in the otherwise silent forest—
Angus froze and looked around.
The forest had gone quiet.
He looked up, squinting through the rain. The day had darkened, and the gray storm clouds clogging the sky had thickened, and as if sensing something he couldn’t, all the animals had taken cover.
He needed to get back to the cabin.
Angus looked down again, his gaze following the trail of blood—which was slowly getting washed away by the rain—and considered his options. The raccoon couldn’t have been far, but it was moving in the opposite direction he needed to go, away from the cabin. They had to eat, but was it too much of a risk?
He looked over his shoulder, catching a glimpse of the cabin’s roof through the trees, then once again turned to the trail of blood. Naya needed food. If he hurried, he would be okay.
Moving faster than before, he followed the trail, his gaze darting from the blood to the forest around him. His heart pounding while a sheen of sweat gathered on his skin, making his shirt stick to his body. Less than five minutes passed before he broke through some trees and finally came upon the raccoon. It was lying on the ground, bleeding but still breathing, and staring up at him with silent accusations in its black eyes.
“Sorry, li’l guy,” he said, kneeling.
Angus pulled his knife and slit the raccoon’s throat in one swift motion. It was dead in seconds.
His gaze darting around the whole time, he got to work gutting the animal, hoping the smell of fresh blood would distract anything that might be lurking nearby. When he was finished, he grabbed the raccoon’s carcass and got to his feet, leaving the steaming pile of intestines on the forest floor.
Angus did his best to keep his footsteps soft as he moved, but he was going fast and breathing hard, and he was making too much noise. When a howl broke through the air, shattering the silence, he froze on instinct. His heart was thudding harder now, loud in his ears as a second howl followed the first.
The hunt was on, and he was the prey.
Chapter Eleven
Angus started running.
He jumped over logs and shoved his way past branches, panting from the exertion but not slowing down. Over the crunch from his own footsteps and the panting breaths in his ears, he could make out the scratching rustle of something else moving. It was fast and getting closer. It was coming for him.
The house came into view, and he pushed himself to move faster. He scrambled up the steps when he reached them, his heart thudding in his ears, and was only halfway up when the door opened to reveal Naya. Her eyes were full of terror when they darted past him, widening even more, and she waved for him to move faster.
“Hurry!”
Angus was already running, but a cramp had started in his side, and he had to force himself to keep going. He carried the raccoon in one hand and the bow in the other and had no free hand to press against the stitch in his side, but he was so close that he told himself it didn’t matter. Seconds. He would be inside in seconds.
He rushed up the rest of the stairs, barely noticing the way they bowed or the creek of the porch under his feet. Then he stumbled through the open door and Naya slammed it shut. Angus was trying to catch his breath when he heard the click of the deadbolt. The other locks followed, and just in time. Seconds later the creature slammed its body against the door.
Naya yelped and stumbled back, favoring her good ankle, but didn’t look away from the door as more thuds followed.
The door was sturdy and reinforced, and Angus was pretty sure it would hold, but he still grabbed the girl’s shoulder and pulled her away. “Get back.”
Naya obeyed, limping to the couch and sinking down, then pulling the blanket around her like it would protect her from the thing trying to get inside.
“I’m sorry,” Angus said.
Naya turned her round eyes on him. “Why are you sorry?”
“I shoulda come back sooner.”
“You made it.” She waved to the raccoon, still clutched in his hand and now dripping blood onto the floor. “And you got dinner.”
He could only nod.
His heartrate still hadn’t returned to normal, but it had slowed a little. Even better, the pounding had stopped. The creature had probably been drawn away by the smell of fresh blood. It would be back, though, as soon as it was finished devouring the raccoon’s guts. It would stay outside the door until the sun came up, pounding over and over again, relentless in its determination to get in and only leaving when morning dawned. Again, the creature would return, though. As soon as night set in. Not just one night, either. All of them. Every night they remained in this house the creature would come back—and the noise would draw others. Which meant Angus had to do something about it if they wanted to live. Just like he should have the first time. If he had, maybe Vivian wouldn’t have died. Maybe he could have saved her.
They’d been in New Atlanta for months, had gone there after Senoia fell, and while things weren’t perfect, they’d been relatively safe. The Church had been in full power by then, and everyone within the walls was a believer except the two of them. They were also two of the few people who knew the truth about what had happened inside the CDC. Most people believed Angus had died shortly after arriving in Atlanta and eventually came back from the dead so he could wipe out the zombies and save humanity. It had been a crock of shit, and Angus had wanted to punch something every time someone mentioned it, but he’d known there was no point. The people had been brainwashed.
Before he and Vivian arrived in New Atlanta, Angus hadn’t known how this new creature, this hybrid zombie that wasn’t even dead, would play into The Church’s teachings. When the High Priestess greeted him that first day, though, smiling like he was an old friend instead of a man who detested her, he’d learned the horrible truth.
The woman in charge of The Church had been wearing the same thick, red cape that made Angus sweat just by looking at it. She’d lowered the hood dramatically when he and Vivian stopped in front of her, a smile on her face that had gotten lost somewhere between tranquil and triumphant. The temple—an old church that had been converted for the cult—was dark, lit only by the light streaming in through the stained-glass windows and the candl
es set up around the room. Other followers were gathered in the room as well, all of them kneeling as if in the middle of prayer, and they seemed to be totally unaware of the arrival of Angus James. Something he’d been grateful for.
No matter how many times Angus saw the High Priestess, he’d never stopped being shocked by her appearance, and that day had been no different. Her blonde hair had always been so fair it looked almost silver, but now that age had grabbed hold of her, it appeared grayer than ever. Her lashes and eyebrows were the same light shade of blonde, giving her face a hairless look that brought a lizard to mind—or even one of the hybrid zombies—and her pale, blue eyes were almost colorless.
“I told my flock you’d return,” she’d said, flashing him a smile that made her eyes sparkle with something that looked like madness.
“We really gonna do this again?” he’d asked, an exhausted sigh coming out of him.
The High Priestess’s smile had only grown, and she’d lifted her hands to the ceiling as if gesturing toward heaven. “I am but a messenger, my lord.”
Angus snorted out his disbelief.
Vivian stepped forward, choosing that moment to take over the conversation. “What are you talking about?”
The High Priestess had never had much patience for the people in their group except Angus and Axl, and she’d barely glanced the other woman’s way before saying, “You have returned so you can destroy the scourge currently terrorizing our world.”
“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Angus grumbled in response.
He’d just celebrated his sixty-seventh birthday—not that it had been much of a party since all their friends were dead—and he was too worn out, too dejected, to humor the crazy woman in front of him.
Broken World | Novel | Angus Page 19
