Odium IV: The Dead Saga

by Claire C. Riley

  “I’m out of here,” I say, my laughter dying away from my lips and turning my words to throaty whispers. “I’m sorry, but I need to leave. Now. Tonight.” I turn away from the table and walk toward the door.

  No one stops me. In fact, one of Aiken’s underlings even opens the door for me.

  And then I’m out, and it’s me giving the dramatic last words as I turn tail and leave.

  Me who watched too many cowboy films as a kid.

  Me who dreamed of being the Lone Ranger.

  “Adios amigos,” I say, flipping them all the finger as I walk out of the room.

  Chapter Six

  The door slams shut behind me and I keep on walking, focusing only on the heavy stomp of my boots on the musty hallway carpet. The anger is there, burning below the surface like lava, and I can’t seem to shake it; I can’t make it disappear, no matter how much I try to make it go. I can’t swallow it down anymore and pretend that everything is going to be okay.

  Because it is there.

  It’s real and haunting and painful as hell.

  And it’s not going to be okay.

  My anger is begging to be felt, to be heard, no matter how much I want to pretend. I’m on a one-way train to doing something stupid and irrational, and I’ll probably get myself killed. Or worse, I’ll get Joan killed. And then what? Then what will I do? I’ll be responsible for another death. Another person I’ve gotten killed. The list is endless. A damned ocean of souls all snuffed out because of me, because of who I am.

  My steps slow as I near the end of the hallway, as the door leading to the outside gets closer and closer and my chance of leaving here unscathed goes amiss.

  “Goddamn it,” I mutter under my breath.

  I slow my steps, and by the time I’m standing in front of the door with my hand resting on the door handle, I’ve stopped. My body and mind frozen in blind panic. I’m panting—not from exertion but from the fear and anxiety of not knowing what to do. I simply have no idea what the hell to do anymore.

  I’ve wanted to ditch everyone and everything for so long, to go Lone Ranger-style. And this is it—my chance to finally be alone. But I realize now that it’s not what I want anymore. I want her—Nina. I want Adam and Joan, and Nova and Susan and Jessica, and even Michael. I want all of those sorry sons of bitches, but they’re all gone. Dead. And now it’s just me.

  The anger drives up my arms, and I curl my hands into fists and squeeze my eyes closed. But then all I see is her beautiful face. I lash out, my fist connecting with the wall in front of me, but there’s no pain as I pound it again and again, letting my skin split and the blood draw. I just feel empty, angry, and fucking lonely.

  I punch the wall one last time, just for good measure, and I feel something crack in my hand. But fuck it, I don’t even care. I stare down at my hand, watching the blood trickle over my knuckles, but all I’m seeing is white. White-hot anger.

  “You’re filled with a lot of rage,” a woman says from next to me, and I open my eyes and glare at her.

  “Kinda need to be alone right now,” I reply curtly. I look behind her, expecting to see a group of men coming toward me, but it’s just me, my broken knuckles, and this woman. She’s attractive and curvy in all the right places, and her dress skims the tops of her thighs, but it’s her boots that draw my attention. She may be feminine up top, but on her feet are a pair of big black boots that remind me of Nina’s. My heart pangs for her at the sight of this woman’s boots.

  “I haven’t seen you around here,” she says, leaning back against the wall as if we’re old friends from high school.

  I don’t reply, mainly because her voice is only just audible through the rage still burning through me.

  “These are good people. If you can believe that.” She laughs.

  “That’s funny to you?” I ask through gritted teeth.

  “Yeah, it is. I didn’t think there were any good people left until I came here.” She looks around us, her gaze appreciative.

  There’s something about this woman that manages to calm me down, and I feel myself taking a step back from the ledge of insanity.

  “What’s going through that head of yours?” she asks.

  I close my eyes and take a deep breath, feeling sick from the swelling anger inside me. “Nothing.”

  “Gotta’ be something or you wouldn’t have stormed off like your grandma just died.”

  I shake my head and open my eyes. “You saw that?” I ask in surprise because I hadn’t seen her in the room.

  She laughs again, throwing her head back as if it’s the funniest shit she’s ever heard. “Couldn’t really miss it, since you nearly busted in my face with the door when you stormed through it.”

  My gaze skips over to the door I had stormed through and then I look back to her apologetically. “I didn’t see you.”

  “I figured.” She laughs again. “Want to know what I see when I look at you?”

  “Not really.”

  She laughs and carries on like I didn’t just tell her no. “I see pain. It’s burning, bright and deep inside of you. It’s like a beacon calling to Him.”

  “Who are you talking about?” I snarl out, my jaw twitching as I try to hold back the vicious tsunami of words that’s bubbling up my throat.

  She points to the ceiling and I stupidly look up, expecting to see someone there. But of course there’s no one. It’s just a dank ceiling in need of a fresh coat of paint that it’ll never get. “I’m talking about the big guy.”

  “As in God?” I say in confusion. I stare at her, confounded, for several beats of my furious heart. “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “No, I’m not,” she replies, casually pushing off from the wall.

  I’m speechless, and I’m grateful when Aiken comes out of the room at the end of the hallway. He smiles when he sees me and this God-loving woman talking. When he reaches our side he smiles even wider.

  “I see you met Kelli. She’s one of our best shooters. Came here a couple of months ago after stumbling upon us. We fixed her up and she’s been with us ever since.” Aiken pulls a small tin from his pocket and takes out a cigarette before lighting it.

  “You saved my life,” Kelli replies, looking up at him.

  “And you’ve saved plenty of others since you arrived,” he returns. “Everything go okay today?”

  She nods. “As good as ever can be expected. I’m heading to bed. G’night, boss.” She turns and starts to walk away before glancing back at me. “See you around.”

  “You still leavin’?” Aiken takes another drag of his cigarette.

  “Yeah, I think so,” I say, looking back at him. I feel calmer now, like I’m fully in control of myself again. Maybe that’s what I needed—to let go, to explode and hit something. Because I can think clearer again now, and I’m ready to do what needs to be done.

  “Why?”

  “Because I don’t belong here,” I say, and though I feel frustrated, there’s no anger in my tone. I turn away from him and place my hand back on the door handle, yet I still don’t go, even though everything is telling me to.

  “So tell me, where do you belong?” Aiken asks. And in fairness to him, he doesn’t sound like he’s trying to be an asshole. It seems like a genuine question. But the truth of the matter is, I don’t have an answer for him. I don’t know where I belong anymore. I don’t know who the hell I even am anymore.

  Thief. Criminal. Friend. Foe. Somewhere between leaving the Forgotten and meeting Nina I’ve lost the Mikey I once was, and now I’m just a hollow shell. An empty sack of no-good air.

  “Nowhere,” I finally reply. “I don’t belong nowhere.”

  My grammar is shit, but the sentiment is still the same. I don’t belong anywhere. Or at least it feels that way. I don’t know if that will change in the future, but right now it’s how I feel.

  I finally push at the door and head outside, but Aiken’s voice stops me in my tracks.

  “We sure could use a man like
you around here. None of us really belong anymore, my friend. We just try to make it work the best we can.”

  The air’s cool on my heated face and I tilt my chin to look up at the sky, hoping to see some stars, or a sliver of moon—just something to make me feel anything more than empty. But the sky is dark. Not just dark, but barren and stripped back of everything. Devoid of life and light.

  “We’ve all been where you are. We’ve all felt that lonely ache in our stomachs. That ball of anger. And that tidal wave of grief. We’ve all lost someone, everyone, and everything. It’s the way of the world now. What I’m trying to say is that you don’t have to go it alone. We support each other here. No matter what.” Aiken hasn’t moved, yet his voice is louder. Perhaps it’s his words trying to get through to me, trying to worm their way into my head.

  I turn back around. “It’s the ‘no matter what’ that worries me,” I say with a heavy heart. “There’s been too much of that for too long, way too long, and I just can’t justify it anymore. I can’t put anyone else through my crap. And honestly, I don’t want to go through anyone else’s.”

  He frowns and drops his cigarette to the ground before stomping on it. His fingers reach into his top pocket and he pulls out his matchstick and places it between his teeth again. I have a feeling it’s all to buy himself some precious seconds of thought.

  “You were right,” he eventually says.

  I cock my head to one side in confusion and he smiles, the glint of white teeth shining in the dark.

  “A tomato is a fruit.”

  Despite myself, I grin. “Told you.”

  Aiken laughs darkly—or maybe it’s just his normal laugh and it’s the mood that is dark. I’m not sure anymore.

  “I’d really like you to stay. Stumbling across you and your friends on the road was fate. I believe in fate, even though I know I shouldn’t. I can’t touch it. I can’t own it. I can’t make it mine. And yet I still believe in it. Meeting you was fate—though whether it was your fate or mine, I’m still not sure. I’m not even certain if it was a good thing or a bad thing. All that being what it is, I’d still like you to stay.”

  “You don’t even know me,” I reply, still feeling frustrated. Wanting to stay, and yet go. Like every other emotion inside of me, my desire for freedom is just as messed up as everything else.

  “I told you. I tested your worth, the color of your blood, and what I saw is what I need. You could have left, but you thought of the old broad and that kid of yours that you lost, and you sat your ass back down. That takes guts. Despite the guns and all the other bullshit that you see when you look around at us, we’re peaceful people. We don’t want no trouble,” he shrugs and smirks, “but we’ll give it if it means we survive.” By the looks of his face and his build, I have no doubt about that.

  Behind him, the sound of footsteps echo and he breaks my stare to turn and look. Three of his men are on their way toward us, each with their weapons at the ready and all of them looking stressed.

  “Trouble at the front gate?” Aiken asks.

  “Yeah, boss. Bunch of zeds. Aimee’s on night watch with Vicki. They need help up there,” Ricky says. His eyes glance at me briefly before disregarding me altogether.

  “You feel like giving us a hand,” Aiken asks me, his eyes narrowing fractionally, “while you decide what you’re doing?”

  I glance at Ricky but he doesn’t return my stare. If anything he looks vexed that I’ve even been asked to stay. Which of course only makes me want to help.

  “Sure thing. We can call it a thank you for fixing up my leg,” I say. “I won’t owe you then,” I add on, and Aiken nods.

  “And saving your asses back out there on the road,” Ricky replies. “Don’t forget that.”

  My jaw ticks in irritation. “You didn’t save all of us.”

  Ricky turns his body toward me. “Should learn to take better care of your kids then.”

  I step forward instinctually, but Aiken puts a hand on my chest. “Easy there.” He looks at Ricky with a hard scowl. “I was just telling Mikey what a strong and helpful community we are at Haven and how every NEO member looks out for one another. If he’s to join our community, perhaps you’d better be showing him some of that NEO hospitality.” He sounds pissed, and Ricky swallows nervously.

  “Sorry, boss.” He looks at me, his expression a little less aggressive. “We could use the help, if you’re willing.”

  “Sure,” I reply, trying to tone down my own anger out of respect for Aiken. But I can already tell that Ricky and I are not going to be best buds.

  “And Joan?” I ask Aiken.

  He smiles. “She’s already sleeping, my friend.”

  Ricky and the two men behind him begin to walk away, gesturing for me to follow. I glance at Aiken one last time before turning to follow them all. I’m not sure why I’m helping them, after all my internal ramblings about going out on my own and being selfish about survival. But here I am, heading over to kill some zeds for the sake of a safe place to sleep and a thank you for fixing up my leg.

  Damn it, I’m getting as confusing as Nina.

  Chapter Seven

  As we get closer to the main gate, the sound of deaders can be heard on the other side. The loud, guttural growling and moaning they make gets louder with each heavy footstep I take. The steps to get up to the perimeter come into view and I jog past Ricky and the others and began to climb. I’m not sure why it’s important to me that I get there before them. Maybe because I feel the need to prove myself. Maybe because I have the urge to kill some deaders and rid myself of some more of this rage.

  Or maybe it’s because I know it’ll piss Ricky off that I get there before him. Yeah, I’m almost certain it’s the last option.

  I realize, as my head pops up to floor level, that these two people up here have no idea who I am. And I of course realize this almost too late as a boot comes toward my face. I manage to duck out of the away before I get a throat full of my own teeth.

  “I come in peace!” I yell.

  “There isn’t any peace anymore,” a female voice replies.

  “That doesn’t sound very New Earth Orderly,” I call back. “Name’s Mikey, I’ve come to help—Aiken sent me.” I take a chance and lift my head again, letting my gaze travel up to her.

  “He hasn’t mentioned anything to me,” another woman says from farther back. “Last I saw was you being dragged in kicking and screaming.”

  I snort out a laugh. “I was not screaming.” But I grin despite myself and know that I already like her.

  “Vicki, just give him a damn weapon,” Ricky says impatiently from below me.

  Vicki steps back, and I climb the rest of the way up, eventually coming to stand beside her. She looks me over once to assess me, and finally happy, she hands me a rifle and a seven-inch knife from a basket.

  “Over here,” she says with a jerk of her head, her gaze only once drifting back to Ricky.

  I follow her to the edge of the platform and look down to the other side. A large group of deaders are below, all looking up at us with a hungry glint in their eyes. Arms reaching, foul smell emanating, you know how they are. It’s hard to distinguish how many are there, but if I had to take a rough guess, I’d say less than a hundred and more than one.

  What? I said it was a rough guess.

  “Where did they come from? We haven’t seen a cluster like this for weeks,” Ricky says as he moves to stand next to me. The other two guys are already moving their way farther along the perimeter, and a couple of the deaders that were watching have followed them along, looking up hopefully.

  “I think they came out of the lake. I was doing a perimeter check with Kelli earlier today and it looked like there’d been a disturbance at the water’s edge. I’m thinking something big got taken down,” a Milana Vayntrub lookalike interrupts while looking through her scope, one eye squinting against it.

  She’s younger than Vicki, with pale-as-snow skin and long dark hair tied back at the n
ape of her neck. She’s beautiful, but of course she’s not Nina.

  “Well shit, that’s not good,” Ricky says.

  “Death never is,” she retorts, still without looking away. “I think we can handle going hand to hand rather than waste the ammo.” She finally pulls her eye away from the eyepiece and looks at me. A small frown puckers between her eyebrows. “I’m Aimee by the way.”

  “Mikey,” I reply. “I’ll come down with you.”

  Aimee laughs. “I’m not going down there. I’m a sharpshooter. I’ll pick off any zeds that get too close and keep an eye on any more coming.” Her gaze shifts to one of the other men. “Phil and Ricky normally go out. I’m sure they’d be happy for the help.”

  “Whatever works best,” I reply.

  Ricky, Phil, and I head back down the ladder and over to where the main gate is. Alfie and a huge beast of a dog, which looks like a German shepherd, are waiting for us. He nods a brief hello and begins to pull on a large chain. The main gate begins to open and all three of us and the dog slip outside, and then the gate closes behind us immediately.

  Phil reaches down and pats the dog on the head as we begin to follow the stench and the growls. It lifts its nose to the air and nuzzles the palm of his hand, and I’d think it was a touching scene, but instead I’m left wondering how the hell I got myself into this mess as we come face to face with the deaders we were just watching.

  Up close they’re worse than expected. Their waterlogged bodies are bloated, and the stink from them is unbelievable. I’m only glad that it’s dark and I can’t see them too good in this lighting.

  I grip the handle of my knife as the deaders begin to catch wind of us and turn in our direction. They stumble forward, the sound of their hungry growls getting louder and more eager the closer they get. I dance around the first one and come up on its back before it can turn, and then I slam my knife through its skull before it can turn to grab me.