I wished I could have told her how much I loved her one last time, how forever grateful I was that I’d had the privilege of being her friend. But more than anything, I wished I could have made her one more promise—the promise that I would see her in the next life, and that I would be waiting for her with Shawn and Thomas. And that until that day, the three of us would be watching over her. Protecting her. Always.
As my convulsions begin to fade, Leisel hugged me one last time before letting me fall heavily down onto the mattress. Pressing her lips to the top of my head, she whispered her final good-bye. It was then that I knew it was time, and strangely enough, I was ready for it. I was heartbroken and devastated to leave her, but I was ready.
I wanted to go home, was desperate even to leave, to go back to before all this happened. I wanted to return to a simpler time full of laughter and love, to when I could still remember the feel of my husband’s breath on my cheek. I wanted to stare into his beautiful eyes again, the way they once had looked upon me, so full of life, and not the cloudy, desperate eyes that had haunted my soul for years now. I wanted to slip into my silky yellow dress, feel his warm hands around my waist, hear the sultry riff of the guitar echoing in my ears as we swayed together.
Smiling to myself, I whispered good-bye to my friend, the best friend a woman could ever have, and then I closed my eyes, falling backward into oblivion.
“Forgive me,” I heard Leisel say. “Please forgive me.”
And then there was nothing more.
Chapter Forty-Five
Leisel
I’d never been alone before. Not like this. Not so utterly, completely alone, without another soul in the world to speak with, to laugh with, to share even the simplest and most mundane of things with. As the days turned to weeks and the weeks turned to months, the silence was deafening at times; the echoing of my own footsteps, of my own breathing, sounded hollow and desolate.
Every day I awoke at dawn, washed, pulled my hair into a high ponytail, dressed in one of two pairs of formfitting cargo pants and a tight black T-shirt—outfits I’d begun reserving specifically for pillaging. Then I would make my bed from the night before and set out into the heart of the town to collect whatever resources I could find to bring back to the bed and breakfast. I was fortifying it as best I could, just like Evelyn had wanted us to.
There were more secure buildings, something I’d found during one of my many trips into town, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave the bed and breakfast. That wasn’t saying the inn didn’t have its advantages. It was off the beaten track down a gravel road, set far back atop a steep ravine, and partially hidden behind a smattering of trees. But more than anything, I wanted to stay because it held the memory of Evelyn within its walls, and I wasn’t ready to let her go.
First, I boarded up all the first-floor windows and doors, leaving only the service entrance in the back usable. For my own peace of mind, I rigged it with a rather impressive impromptu crossbar, using a block of wood I had mounted to the wall that extended across both sides of the door frame.
I’d left the first floor as it was, broken and in shambles, a mess of furniture and scattered belongings. From the outside looking in, it would seem to anyone or anything passing by just another broken-down structure, and nothing of worth. But on the inside, once you breached the second floor where I’d made my home, it was a veritable fortress.
Next, I’d left only one of the three bedrooms as is, using the rest of the furniture to create a blockade in the stairwell and hallway. Every day it was quite a feat climbing over the mess I’d intentionally made, but it was necessary protection against any sort of intruder. If the noise anyone or anything made while attempting to ascend the stairs didn’t wake me, then nothing would.
Even so, I took my safeguards one step farther, creating a fence of sorts, comprised of dozens of ski poles I’d pilfered from the ski lodge. Tying pairs of them together in an X pattern, I set them up all over the inn, the perfect killing tool for a clueless infected, and a somewhat useful deterrent for an unwelcome visitor of the living variety as well.
With the aid of a hand truck from the same supermarket Evelyn had been bitten in, I was able to transport the heavier things back to the bed and breakfast that I wouldn’t have had the strength to otherwise. It took long weeks to properly fortify the inn exactly the way I wanted it, in a way that made me feel safe, but it kept me busy. More importantly, it kept my mind off my grief.
Although hard work kept the pain away during the day, nothing could stop my mind from wandering in the dead of night. That was when I missed Evelyn the most, when it was only me and the moonlight, the sweet scent of flowers wafting through the open window on a cool breeze. I ached for her then—the sound of her voice, the glint in her eyes, the way her hand felt when her fingers were intertwined with mine.
But most of all I missed her presence. Just knowing she was there, sleeping beside me, walking next to me; no matter what, she’d always been there.
And now she was gone.
I’d thought about ending it, just letting go. It would be easy to put a bullet in my head, quick and painless. I could be with her again, with Thomas too. With everyone I’d lost. And a couple of times, during a few very dark nights filled with long bouts of crying and feeling more alone than I ever had before, I almost did just that.
It was the guilt that stopped me each and every time. The many lives that had been lost just so we could reach a safe place like this one. Thomas and Shawn, Alex and Jami, and Evelyn. They had all died trying to survive, trying to ensure we would all survive. How selfish would I have to be to take my own life when they’d given theirs for me to be here, in this very place?
This was all we’d ever wanted. Somewhere untouched, somewhere safe and quiet. Somewhere we could live out our lives in peace. I couldn’t waste it, couldn’t let it all be for nothing, so I focused instead on the fact that we had all actually made it. Because through me, they had all survived, even if it was only their memory.
So I kept going, kept surviving, and soon the days began to blur together, each one the same as the last. Peaceful and quiet, with the exception of the occasional infected that I always quickly disposed of.
I developed a routine, one I stuck to and could count on. After my walk through town each morning, I’d make myself breakfast, and after breakfast I would read a book from the large collection I’d been slowly amassing. Lunch, I usually spent outside, my legs hanging over the edge of the steep ravine, humming to myself, and every evening, just as the sun was setting, I had my dinner with Evelyn.
With the aid of an actual shovel, I’d buried her close to the bed and breakfast, wrapped in the same comforter she’d died in, near a small grove of trees where the grass and wildflowers grew thick and tall. Her grave sat directly beneath one very large tree, its heavy branches comfortably shading the area, and its thick trunk perfect for leaning against.
“I need to learn how to hunt,” I said, wrinkling my nose at the newly opened can of creamed corn. “I swear this stuff has gone bad.”
Many times I’d planned on setting up a target practice area, but I was loath to waste my bullets, and even more afraid that the gunshots would alert either any nearby infected or living that happened to be passing by. So I stayed quiet.
Scooping the first spoonful into my mouth, I swallowed it quickly, hurrying to lift my bottle of water to wash down the foul taste.
“God, I miss you, Eve,” I said as I set down the can of food and placed my hand upon the small rock. “Everything seems so meaningless without you here.”
And it did. All of it, even eating seemed pointless without someone to share the food with. With each passing day I was growing number, but at the same time I was feeling more and more empty. The idea of living became infinitely harder than that of not.
“I just wish—”
An unfamiliar sound silenced me—the crunch of a footfall, the sound of a rock skittering across pavement—and I reached for the gun
at my hip. Standing, I ran quickly behind the tree, waiting for what I was sure was an infected to reveal itself. If it was only one or two, I wasn’t worried; I could take them out without breaking a sweat. But any more than that…
I’d been purposely starting the Jeep once a day for this very reason, keeping it loaded with supplies, just in case I needed to get out in a hurry. Patting my weapons belt, I breathed a sigh of relief when I found the key hanging beside my knife holster, home to a heavy-duty serrated blade.
“Hello?” a deep voice called out. “Anybody here?”
Surprise welled in my gut, freezing me in place. It wasn’t an infected, but a living, breathing person. How many were there? Where they from Purgatory? Had they found me?
As my panic grew, more and more questions arising with each desperate breath I took, the voice called out again.
“I’m not going to hurt you, miss. I’m alone, just passing through, looking for food.”
He knew I was here and had seen me, he’d made that clear, so hiding would be futile.
“I’m setting down my gun,” he called out. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t need to be afraid of me.”
Peeking out from behind the tree trunk, my gun hand steady and sure, I could make out the blurry sight of a man standing some ways down the road. True to his word, he bent down, allowed his rifle to fall lightly to the ground, before standing tall and raising his hands in the air.
Slowly, holding my gun out in front of me, my other hand wrapped around the hilt of my blade, I came out from behind the tree and made my way toward the road. Scanning the surrounding areas, I searched for any other signs of life and found nothing.
Coming to a stop at the edge of the grass, leaving a good ten feet or so between us, I assessed him cautiously. He was filthy, covered in dirt and grime, as if he hadn’t seen a bath or clean clothes in weeks, maybe months. His long brown hair, graying around his temples, was pulled back, becoming dreadlocked, as was his long beard. A large hiker’s backpack was seated high on his back, the straps covering his shoulders worn and thin, and a variety of weapons affixed to the pack dangled behind him.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated, his shadowed eyes meeting mine.
I didn’t trust him, not for one second. I would never be so stupid to just blindly trust anyone ever again, but there was something about him, something familiar that niggled at my memories. The long ratty brown hair, the scruffy beard, the way his shoulders sagged sadly. Though he was thinner now, not as bulky as I remembered him, and his facial features were somewhat gaunt, darkened, and drawn.
And that was when it hit me, who he was.
“You,” I whispered, letting my hand holding the gun fall to my side. I said nothing else, unsure of what to say. How did you a greet a man you hardly knew, a man whose first and only meeting with you had resulted in the death of his daughter?
Cocking his head to one side, he dropped one arm but raised the other to shield the dwindling sun from his eyes. Squinting, he scanned me from head to toe, his eyes widening with surprise when he once again reached my face.
“You,” was all he said.
For a moment we just stood there, a mere ten feet from each other, simply staring, until the prolonged silence began to feel somewhat awkward. Clearing my throat, I shifted on my feet and gestured toward my makeshift picnic.
“Hungry?” I asked tentatively. “I have food and water and…” I ran my gaze down his tattered and dirty clothing a second time. “And clean clothes.”
His gaze swept the area behind me. “Is it just you?” he asked. “What happened to…” He paused, his eyes again finding mine. A moment passed and his expression shifted, suddenly filled with understanding and compassion.
I shook my head, momentarily averting my eyes. “It’s just me now,” I said quietly.
Reaching up, he placed his hand on the back of his neck and sighed heavily, his eyes taking on a faraway look. “Lonely life, isn’t it? Lonely fucking life.” Refocusing on me, he said, “You sure you don’t mind company? I’ll understand if you don’t. Can never be too careful these days. Only need myself some food and a good night’s sleep, and I can be on my way.”
Fumbling for the right words, struggling to corral my thoughts, I shook my head again. “No,” I said hurriedly. “No, it’s okay, you can stay as long as you need to. I have a can of creamed corn on hand if you want it.”
“Creamed corn?” He wrinkled his nose and gave me a small smile. “Guess beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”
I smiled back. “I’m a horrible shot, so hunting has been out of the question.”
His eyes widened slightly, and again he did a visual sweep of the area. “Game good around here?”
Nodding in answer, I let out a soft snort. “Not that it matters when you can’t shoot it.”
Still smiling, he lifted his shoulder and shrugged. “I could teach you. Aiming isn’t hard. It’s all about your breathing.” Suddenly, he held out his hand. “So we got a deal, then? You give me place to stay, and I’ll make you the next best gunslinger in the West?”
I didn’t know him from a hole in the wall, didn’t even know his name, but something innate told me that maybe I could trust him. Perhaps it was the same inkling that told him he could trust us when we came across his cabin in the woods on that awful day.
Stepping forward, I held out my hand. “Deal,” I said.
His filthy hand grasped mine, his fingers clasping firmly but gently, and gave me a quick and hearty shake.
“Name’s Joshua,” he said. “And it’s damn good to see a friendly face.”
“Leisel,” I replied, smiling again. “My name is Leisel.”
Epilogue
Evelyn
“Grab me some coffee, babe?” Shawn tore his eyes away from Thomas and their heated discussion over the latest upset regarding their favorite sports team, and quirked a brow at me.
“Who needs coffee when we’ve got lemonade?” I said as I slipped out of the partially open screen door and onto the porch. Leisel and Thomas’s six-month-old black Labrador retriever ran circles around me, nearly tripping me as I attempted tottering over the uneven ground in my three-inch heels.
Wearing my favorite summer dress, long and silky, the shade of the golden sun, my strawberry-blonde curls piled high on top of my head, I was carrying a tray loaded with glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. Setting it down on the table, I pursed my lips together in a sly grin and winked at my husband.
“I spiked it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders matter-of-factly.
“Of course you did,” Thomas said, laughing as he reached for a glass. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”
“Thanks, gorgeous,” Shawn said, pulling me onto his lap.
Winding my arms around his neck, purposefully letting my hands slip up into his messy brown hair, together we shared a long kiss. I could never get enough of him, and it was the same for him, our passion for each other only increasing with every passing day. Shawn’s breath washed over my face as we pulled out of the kiss and I stared into his eyes, smiling softly as I wiped a smudge of my bright red lipstick from his mouth.
“Why do I always get hit when I do that?” I heard Thomas say aloud.
Grinning, I glanced away from my husband, looking across the table at Thomas, who was smiling widely, showcasing the pair of dimples that Leisel adored. His light blue eyes glinting with humor, his ruddy hair glinting golden in the sun, he glanced at the empty seat beside him. “She never lets me kiss her in public.”
“But does she let you kiss her when you’re alone?” Shawn asked. “Because that’s all that matters.”
Thomas’s grin grew even wider, and a tad bit devilish.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” I said, smirking. “Speaking of which…where is Lei? It’s not like her to be late.”
Thomas shrugged. “She had a few things to do, she can’t make it.”
Thinking of the chocolate cake I’d made
especially for her, I frowned.
“Don’t worry, babe,” Shawn said, running his hand up my back. “You’ll see her again, and then you can ply her with as much of your awful cake as you like.”
“Hey!” I shouted, my tone tinged with laughter. “It isn’t that bad!”
“It is,” Thomas said, nodding gravely. “It really, really is.”
Pressing my lips together, trying to stifle my laughter, I shook my head at them both. “You’re awful, you know that?” Feigning anger, I folded my arms across my chest and glanced up at the sky.
“Hey,” I said, squinting. “Is that an eagle?”
“Looks like it,” Shawn said. “Weird, huh? When have we ever seen an eagle around here?”
“Beautiful birds,” Thomas murmured, shielding his eyes to watch as it soared through the sky above us.
Snuggling closer to my husband, I couldn’t help but wish Leisel were here. She loved little things such as this. She always loved the little things.
“Ooh!” I said, jumping upright. “Give me your cell phone, Tom! We should take a picture for her, so we can show her when she gets here!”
Thomas slid his phone across the table and I quickly lifted it, swiping hurriedly to the camera app, then snapped several pictures before the eagle had flown out of sight.
“Yeah, so, before my beautiful wife interrupted us,” Shawn said, his attention back on Thomas. “What I was saying was that it isn’t the fault of the owner, it’s the fault of the goddamn recruiters! If they’d paid more attention…”
Sighing noisily, I tuned out and untangled myself from Shawn. Standing up, I headed for the house. Once inside, I closed the screen door behind me and glanced around my kitchen, at the chocolate cake sitting beside an opened bottle of vodka, at the sink piled high with dishes from dinner, and at the refrigerator, covered with colorful photographs of friends and family, taken throughout the years, and paused on my favorite one.
It was of Leisel and me, her in a plain white T-shirt and coral cropped pants, me in a black camisole and matching skirt, our arms looped together as we mugged for the camera with wide smiles on our faces.
Thicker than Blood Page 37
