I inhaled sharply, turning to glare at her. “Don’t say that. Don’t even say that.”
Her face softened at my words. “I still think we’re safe, but you’re right. We should do better to protect ourselves. I should take you more seriously.” She stood up and came to sit next to me on the bed, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. “I promise to try harder if you promise to try as well.”
A rush of sadness and affection burst through me at her touch. I wanted to lean into her, smell her scent (vanilla, always vanilla), and feel that safety that I had felt when I was a kid when she used to sooth away all the bad dreams. I was still wary, oh so wary, but she had a point. We couldn’t go on like this anymore, not with the world like it is. I knew, at the very least, my dad would want me to try. He sent me here for a reason, and it was to be with people who loved me.
“I can try,” I said finally.
Her face burst into a smile, and I had to hide one of my own. I don’t think she had ever expected me to agree. “Okay then.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
AS MUCH AS I WISHED for things to magically be fixed as soon as we’d had that talk, it wasn’t that easy. You couldn’t just make six years of pent up anger, upset feelings and resentment go away overnight.
But things did get better.
We fell into a routine. We woke up in the morning, ate breakfast, and then spent most of the morning and early afternoon working on shooting and self-defense combat. We would break for lunch. After lunch, we’d work on plans, plans what we would do if Constance didn’t work out. We stocked up things in the barn, ready to grab at a moment’s notice if needed.
We also released the horses. We couldn’t afford to feed them, and we felt better knowing that they would have a chance on their own. If Awakened hit the farm…well, let’s just say they wouldn’t be on my list of things to protect.
After we worked on that, we would drift apart. We each made our own dinner whenever we felt hungry and disappeared to different parts of the house. I often took a plate up to my room, eating with a book in hand. Ash took to joining me in the room and perusing the books on my shelves.
“I can’t believe you’ve read all of these,” Ash said one evening, running his fingertips along the spines. “Some of these are thicker than my arm.”
I shrugged, my eyes darting quickly over the words on the page.
“I think you especially like this one,” he said, tugging at one of them and opening it in his lap. “It’s falling apart.”
I looked up from my book and smiled slightly at the huge tome in his lap. It really was falling apart. What was left of the cover was ripped off the back and the pages were brown and soft from so many readings. The cover had lost its bright color. It was beautiful. “It’s my favorite.”
“Mists of Avalon,” he read aloud. “What’s it about?”
I folded the page down of the book I was reading and set it aside. I brought my knees up to my chest, my chin resting on them. “It’s all about those King Arthur legends but told from a different point of view. It’s strong on the female characters, which is what I like. A lot of the female characters of the original stories are so…one-dimensional, so lacking. This story changes that. Besides, I just love the Arthurian legends anyway.”
He raised his eyebrow at me. “Interesting. I don’t know how you read so much.”
I thought about it for a moment. “There’s just something about reading a book that makes life so much better. No matter how bad the world is, you can always escape into a different world. It’s a beautiful feeling.”
Ash looked at me, nodding as he slid the book back onto the shelf and continued looking. “Ah, yes. Goosebumps, some good ol’ R.L. Stine. This is much more like it.”
I laughed and turned back to my book.
We had been in Constance for months. The days passed by and it started to seem surreal that the Awakened had even happened. Everything felt so…normal. Sure, we were practicing our gun skills every day, and Ash was getting better at trying to take me down. But it felt normal.
The weather was beginning to turn; the sun was out longer, the cold seeming to fade. Winter was finally breaking, and the beginnings of spring were finally beginning to show. I felt more confident in our abilities to survive in Constance, away from any Awakened, during mild temperatures of summer instead of the biting cold of winter.
We were spending an afternoon taking the winter things down from the house, opening the windows and doors to let some spring air in. I was taking the big blankets from all over the house, folding them and piling them up to be put in the barn.
I was eating lunch with Ash when my mother came in, a bandana tied around her long blonde hair.
“Can you run to the barn and grab the bins in there?” she asked. “All the blankets should fit in those. We’re going to have to start planning for summer.” Her hand was held to her forehead while she stopped to think. She began muttering other suggestions to herself and I resisted the urge to laugh.
“Yeah, sure,” I said, taking my dishes to the sink. Ash started to stand up, but I waved him aside. My hand went automatically to the gun, hanging in the holster at my hip, and I felt a sense of relief and comfort at having it there. I ran my hands under the cold faucet real quick and then headed outside toward the barn.
I immediately halted mid-step when I heard it: the loud breathing, raspy, rough and absolutely terrifying. My hand flew to my gun, but I hesitated, unsure if I was really seeing what was in front of me.
It was an Awakened, on its own. He was probably mid-forties, maybe early fifties, dressed in a tattered business suit, not unlike the men I was used to seeing all the time back home. He was staring at me blankly, and I felt frozen in his stare, unsure if he was going to say something, or whether he was even aware of me standing in front of him.
I shook my head, pulling myself out of the hesitation, and yanked my gun out of my holster and shot him. The first shot hit him in the shoulder and dark blood came pouring out of the wound.
He looked down at it unfazed and back up at me, his eyes making contact with me. “That hurt, you know,” he said, his voice causing me to shiver with disgust. I aimed again and this time I was much closer, the bullet sailing straight through his cheek. Before he could react, I’d shot one last time, and he went crashing to the ground. I lowered my arm, shaking, and crossed over to the body. I pulled out the knife that I tried to keep with me at all times and stabbed him in the face. Blood spurted up at me, covering my hands. I looked down at the body, feeling like I was about to lose my breakfast.
“Zoey?”
I looked up and back at the house. Both Ash and my mother were standing there, looking horrified.
“Is that…” my mom asked, lowering her hand from where it was covering her mouth.
“Yes,” I answered, looking over my shoulder at the body on the ground. I was shaking uncontrollably, and my eyes met Ash’s for a moment in solidarity. “I need to get rid of the body.”
“I’ll get it,” my mom said, though she looked absolutely sick at the idea.
“It’s fine,” I said, sliding my gun back in the holster. My shaking fingers caused me to miss a few times, and I almost threw it on the ground in frustration.
“Zoey.” I looked up at her, and saw that she had calmed herself and now looked determined. “I’ll clean up the body. Go inside. Clean yourself up.”
I climbed up the steps of the porch and made my way to the front door. I found my way blocked by Ash. “Move,” I said, sharply.
“I was coming outside to help you,” he said, “with the bins, I mean. I can’t believe there’s an Awakened here.”
“Was here,” I said, a flash of anger bursting through my veins. He had seen the Awakened, had seen me hesitate, and he hadn’t even moved. He hadn’t even thought to help me. The rational part of my brain was telling me that I was overreacting, that I wasn’t thinking logically. “Move,” I repeated. When he stayed there, in front of me, I pushe
d past him and made my way into the house and into the kitchen, ready to get the hot and sticky blood off my hands.
I leaned against the kitchen counter, letting the water run, focusing on the sound of the water hitting the stainless steel sink, anything to get my mind off the Awakened that I just killed in the front yard. I could hear my mother moving around in the shed outside, trying to find some way to dispose of it. I couldn’t think about it. Every time I fired a gun, every time I hit something, I couldn’t think about it. I was killing people, humans that had lives and families, until they got the stupid virus and had become these hungry, blue, terrifying monsters.
“Are you okay, Z?” Ash had followed behind me, and I felt my teeth start to grind.
“I’m fine, Ash,” I said tersely. “No thanks to you.”
He walked next to me and shut off the water. “Hey, I knew you had it. You’re like a little spitfire with that gun of yours.”
I shot him a scathing look over my shoulder, ignoring the heat I felt where our shoulders touched. He stepped even closer, the distance between us so small that I could feel the heat radiating off of him. I remembered the moment, at the side of the road, when he’d pressed himself on top of me, keeping me quiet while an Awakened ripped shreds out of my dad’s body before I woke up out of my stupor and shot him. My memory switched again, to when we were in the woods and the feeling of his lips on my neck and collarbone before he’d pulled away, or I had pushed him away. I felt a wave of hot lava sweep through me and felt ashamed.
“You know, shooting one of the Awakened? That was awesome. Like, freakin’ badass, Z. Every time you shoot one or take one down, it’s just the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, avoiding looking at him in the eye or getting closer than necessary to him. Sharing a bed with him at night was rough enough as it was, even if I could admit to myself that I liked it. But now, when the nightmares seemed far away, in the light of day, I wanted him away from me.
Ash didn’t seem to feel the same. He stepped in front of me, forcing me to step away from him, my back crashing into the counter. “What are you doing?”
“I don’t know,” he said, curiously. “Something I’ve wanted to do for weeks. Something I keep hoping you’ll let me do.” His hands came up to my waist, pulling me flush against him and I gasped quietly at the quick movement, my palms flat against his hard chest. “I feel like you want to, but I don’t know. I can’t seem to get a read on it.”
I didn’t answer and taking this as permission, he brought his mouth on mine. His tongue made a smooth movement of my bottom lip before sliding between them.
I wanted to push him away. I wanted to hate him, but it was the last thing I felt. It was never what I had ever felt about Ash Matthews. My hand reached up and grabbed a handful of his shirt, pulling him closer to me. I poured everything I had been feeling in the past few months into the kiss: the fear, the grief, the panic. I felt his hands move from my waist to grip my thighs as he lifted me onto the counter.
My fingers slipped into his belt loop. I pulled him closer to me, kissing him faster and more desperate than I had ever kissed anyone. I could feel him, every bit of him against me as we kissed. I wanted him more than anything; I couldn’t get enough of him. My hands fumbled at the hem of his shirt, and I started to tug it over his head before pulling him back to me. My hands were flat against his warm chest, and I wanted to rip my own shirt off. I wanted us to be bare, skin-to-skin.
Ash’s lips were on my jaw, my neck, dipping down to my collarbone and into the neckline of my shirt. I gasped as his hands lifted the shirt over my head, in one swift movement. He tossed it aside, before his fingers found their way up my waist, grazing my stomach, causing goose bumps to ripple across my body. His hands dipped underneath the fabric of my bra and cupped my breast; he pressed his lips tight against me again. I moaned, the sound loud in the echoing kitchen. My legs were wrapped around his waist, and he was moving against me, sending waves of pleasure through my body.
“Ash,” I panted, surprised at how desperate sounding his name was on my lips.
“Jesus, Zoey,” he breathed, his forehead pressed firmly against mine. “You are so goddamn beautiful.” I flushed at his words and kissed him harder.
His hands were at the button of my jeans, unsnapping them with ease. His fingers were sliding below the waistband on my pants to brush them lightly against them. A brand new feeling was shooting through my body. I heard myself moan again, my hands gripping his arms tightly, my knuckles white. His lips were back on mine, his tongue sweeping against my own, and I felt incredible; everything felt so incredible.
His hands came up to my breasts again, and I knew in a moment that my bra would be off, that more of my clothes would end up on the floor, and I registered vaguely that my mom was right outside. She could walk in any moment. I dismissed it as another wave crashed through me. My fingers fumbled, shaking, at the button to his jeans, pulling the zipper down. We were grabbing and pulling at each other, as if we could pull each other closer than we already were. Every move was desperate and hurried. I wanted to fall into him.
Who had I been kidding for so long? Why had I been denying it for so long? I was in love with Ash Matthews. I had been since his stupid bowl haircut and impossibly blue eyes had walked into my life in the third grade.
I gasped, pulling back, grabbing the gun from where I had set it on the counter and pressing it lightly against his stomach. “Don’t touch me again, Ash, or I swear I’ll shoot you,” I said, trying to ignore the heavy breathing we were both experiencing, and the fact that we were both slowly losing our clothes.
To my surprise, Ash laughed, as if having a barrel pressed to his hard stomach was something he experienced every day. His stupid sexy naked stomach. How had I let myself get so far in? “You seemed to be enjoying it, the way I see it. It’s the end of the world, Z. You’ll ask for it again.”
I pressed the gun harder against him. “No, I won’t.”
He pulled away, creating a bit more distance between us, one of his hands pressed against my bareback. His other hand dipped lower again, right between my legs, right at the spot that had caused me to shudder with pleasure before. How was it possible that I wanted him to stop and continue at the same time? “Why do you keep denying this?” he whispered, his lips against my ear.
“Denying what?” I cried, pulling away from him and tugging his fingers away from me. I suddenly felt embarrassed, sitting on the counter, my face red, my breathing heavy, with my legs wrapped tightly around his waist. My pants were unbuttoned, my shirt laying forgotten on the ground and the straps of my bra were falling down my shoulders. But I didn’t feel like some kind of sex goddess anymore, just a girl that had gotten carried away in the moment. “Denying that you’re driving me insane, that you’ve been driving me insane and teasing me since the third grade?”
“Those were only ever jokes, Z. I was kidding with you,” he said, sounding confused. He still had a firm grip on me, and I knew it wouldn’t be long before my mom walked in on us in this precarious situation.
“It’s never not felt that way,” I said firmly. “You’ve made my life at school miserable since you made fun of me your first day at St. Joseph’s. You’ve made me cry with your all your teasing. How can I sit here and just let this happen and just forget all of that? We can’t tear each other’s clothes off without any regard to the past. Or at least, I can’t do that.”
“I made you cry?” he asked.
I sighed. “Yeah, you made me cry. Not recently but yeah. Several times. You hurt my feelings. You made me feel so low.”
He paused for a long moment. “I never meant it that way, ever. I panicked that first day. I was the new kid, and I wanted to fit in and make friends. I knew immediately that I had been stupid to you, and I wanted to fix it, but I was nine! I didn’t know how to fix it, come on.”
“I don’t think being mean was the way to go about it,” I said, my voice loud. “Pelting me wit
h water balloons while I walked Bandit or filling my locker with glitter or stealing my clothes so I’d have to wear my PE clothes all day? You thought that would make up for it? Not exactly the right way to apologize, Ash.”
“I was an idiot, Zoey! I am an idiot. I liked you!” he said, sounding frustrated, his fingers flexing tightly around my waist. “I liked you, and I’d messed up, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I kept thinking, if I could make you laugh, you’d see that. I didn’t know how else to show you. I have never liked anyone that much, so much that it never goes away.”
“Wait, what?” I said, shaking my head, hardly daring to believe the words that were coming out of his mouth. “Did you just say…”
“I…like you, Z,” he said softly, his blue eyes meeting mine. “I have ever since my first day at St. Joseph’s. I remember you in your little plaid uniform dress, and your hair was so long. I swear it was past your butt. You had this huge book in your hands, so big that I thought you might tip over from the weight. But I cared too much about fitting in, and I chose that over helping you that day in the cafeteria. And I guess I never grew up and learned how to tell you. I just made a big joke out of it all because I couldn’t handle how much I liked you, and how much I still like you.”
I paused, a flurry of emotions rushing through me. I felt happy but wary, excited but anxious. “I don’t know what to think,” I admitted after a long pause.
“I know. I can understand that,” he said, his hands moving from my waist to my back.
I covered my face with my hands. “I seriously, I don’t…I don’t know how to handle this. I mean, you like me? That doesn’t just erase all those things you did to me. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what you want from me.”
He laughed, one quick laugh, full of nerves. This surprised me; I had never experienced that coming from Ash before, not when it came to me. He gently pried the gun out of my hands and put it on the counter next to me. “Can you please just kiss me again?” he said, his voice low and full of desire. “I can’t stand being this close to you, and not kiss you.”
The Awakened Page 18
