“Aiden turned toward us.” She paused, taking a ragged breath.
“Mom she...”
“She filled his mouth with her other arm. Delaying him so we could get out. I don’t think she could have put him down even if she wasn’t bitten.” Zoe wiped at her eyes.
“It took a lot for me to get Candice in the car, she was twelve and didn’t get it. She thought we could call 911 and everything would be okay. I...I threw open the front drapes and she saw our street had become something else. The guy across the street had boarded up his house, the one next to it had the front door open and we could see feet sticking out. Bikes were overturned and abandoned and we could hear gunshots in the distance.
We got in the wagon and drove, even running over a few dead heads. The streets were getting thick but we just kept on driving south. Eventually we got here. Once in a while, when its dark I thank her for that sacrifice...and I wonder...if she, if Aiden still out there. Shuffling along in our house. In a weird way I want them to be. The shells of their life giving meaning to the home we loved. I want Dad to have wandered back to join them, I want...” She looked at me, those usually cheery eyes filled with a sorrow I never saw.
“None of those wants are real. It’s just corpses in an empty building. This is why I tell you this is my only home. The only one that matters. When it’s dark, thank him for his sacrifice and move on. You can’t honor what they died for by not living.”
She gave me a quick hug, then disappeared up the stairs to bed, undoubtedly desiring to hold her children and husband.
Poor Zoe, I still couldn’t imagine how it must have felt to have loved ones turned. I still found myself grateful how much I had been sheltered from the outbreak. Dad had picked me up from school with a car full of our stuff and my dog and off we went. No discussion, no sightings. We were early to the apocalypse, reserved seats in the VIP section of avoidance.
I still didn’t know why or how that was possible, I had theories and clues thanks to a little break in run we did a few months ago. Digging through old government files at the federal building had taught me two words: Project Moses. Which, based on the term I had come up with this elaborate explanation which involved the government collecting two of every viable profession and gathering them here in this small town to continue our species in the event of catastrophe. It wasn’t until I voiced my idea to Cole that I realized I was misinformed in the ways of religious text. I had completely ruined the story of Moses. A fact that had him bent at the waist, laughing so hard I thought he was going to piss himself. How quickly I went from a proud declaration, to sulking.
My family had never been big on the whole church thing, after Mom died even less. I think I went to Sunday school less than a handful of times and all of them occurring while I was still in diapers.
When he finally stilled his giggles, Cole had been gracious enough to offer me a Bible from his house to get my facts straight. Something I’d never taken him up on.
After I had gotten back on my feet, my time had been devoted to the children and my physical recovery. I had no time for theories and schemes, I only had time to deal with the now and plan for the future. A phrase my dearly departed Dimitri had taught me. I couldn’t change the past.
He had been so right.
Still, no matter how much I acknowledged or agreed with that fact. There was this dull ache for the truth of the past that itched at my brain. The human curiosity gene testing my resolve every time I had a down moment to have a wandering thought.
I managed to drag myself and the pile of blankets up the stairs to my bedroom. I got some clothes on and crawled into bed, but I couldn’t sleep. I tossed and turned and stared into the darkness.
Did Dimitri ever think of me when he was alone with his thoughts? Did I even make a dent in that immortal timeline of his? I pictured him on a yacht in a fancy suit surrounded by supermodels in France, the kind of life he had lead before coming to our little colonial colony by his own admission.
Yeah I didn’t hold a candle to all that. Ugh, why was I even thinking about him again?
I flopped on my pillow facing the wall. When it was dark and I was feeling depressed I took a mental trip to a different time. Not the past, but the future. I pictured a city in the clouds with a monorail and flying cars. Spaceships that could take us all over the galaxy and doctors that could cure anything. A place where classrooms were in gardens with waterfalls and teachers spoke only briefly of the great event of 2012. A world so far out of reach, but a world I had to believe in.
If someone like me had laid on their dirt cot in 1349 and dreamed of a day of cell phones and video games they probably would have been dragged out of their hovel and burned along with all the victims of the Black Death; even though those wistful dreams would one day be reality. We survived that plague, we’d survive this. Just a step backward in the long course of human existence.
It was curious how making myself-our struggle-feel insignificant helped me see the bigger picture of existence and perked up my mood. It could have been worse; viruses couldn’t be shot. It could have been bigger to fight; like dinosaurs or dragons.
It was in that miniscule bliss of obscurity that I began to drift to sleep, comforted by the trivial nature of our current trials.
The door flew open, the old hinges letting out a quick squeak of a protest at the motion. I reacted like most would to an unexpected visitor in the middle of the night, I sat up feeling suddenly more alert than I would have after three cups of coffee.
The tall figure in the doorway belonged to Cole, his clothes had changed from his fighting wears to a zip up fleece and jeans. No scent of blood came with him into the room telling me he had also made time for a rinse down. Something was off though, I could not see his face in the dark night but his shoulders were too squared, his stance that of a predator. I swung my feet off the side of the bed, approaching him.
“Cole? What are-?”
Cole pulled me to him in a tight hug, muscles trembling. Time seemed to stand still as he held me, his face buried in my hair.
I felt his mouth moved against my locks speaking softly. “I could have lost you today. We forget...how fragile this life of ours is. So I’m going to kiss you. Once. Twice. A thousand times to make up for the day when I can’t.” His lips found my cheek, my neck, my hair. It was a moment relished. Although our earlier blood soaked hug had been enough for me to know he was safe and well, something must not have clicked with him.
“Hey it’s alright. We’re alright.” I put my hands on the sides of his face, giving him my best reassuring smile in the darkness. I knew he probably couldn’t see my features, instead I hoped the tone of my voice stood on its own.
He took my hands in his own, dropping them off his face, balling them over his heart. “No, we’re not. But we will be.” His heavy hands pressed mine into the skin above his heart. “I refuse to have it any other way.” Without another word, he picked me up and carried me back to bed.
So many people had shoved themselves into our little council chamber that the back was standing room only. I saw faces I knew and countless more that I had seen only in passing at one time or another over the last decade. Cole and most of the guys I hung around with were not accounted for, having critical day jobs that didn’t allow time off for stuffy meetings. On one hand I found that a blessing as they didn’t have to see me try to be official, on the other side though I wished for some emotional backup in the crowd.
The hall we used for our meetings had been the town hall since this little town had popped up at the turn of the century. Behind the big circular desk was a painting of Washington crossing the Potomac, looking very patriotic and determined. We even had an American Flag hanging in the corner.
I never put much thought anymore into the whole being ‘American’. I was pretty sure Washington was in no better state than the rest of the union. Still we taught the kids this history of the nation, the names of presidents and the principals they tried to uphold. The whole li
fe, liberty and the pursuit of happiness was still something we dreamed about.
The right to life was just difficult to ensure...
Images of the man who died on the wall flooded my mind. I fidgeted in my spot next to my father, trying to not make eye contact with either of the Grahams. The murmur of the crowd creating a symphony of background noise in the building.
I had tried to look presentable for my first day on the job, even put on my jeans that were devoid of both blood stains and holes. I didn’t have much in the top department and with the temperature drops I figured no one would fault me for layering on a tee-shirt and a fleece. I guess appearance wise I fit in well enough next to the men seated beside me. There were no suit coats in our little row, just a lot of functional bundling.
Daddy Graham was taking forever to get this party started, shuffling papers in front of him while saying something quietly to Zack. I started drumming my fingers on the desk until I got a nudge from my own father for doing it. The air was suddenly unbearably warm, my palms unapologetically sweating. There were too many eyes, too many people looking at me. I felt like a lemur at the zoo. I wanted to get up and run around, I hated sitting there, sitting here doing nothing. Why did I agree to this?
Looking down at my lap I tried to focus on my breathing, trying to draw in calm steady breaths instead of ragged bursts of air. It’s just nerves, I told myself. First day jitters, nothing more. That’s all it-
“This meeting will come to order.” Councilman Graham’s gavel came into sharp contact with the sound block.
At once the assembly was eerily quiet.
“I would like to begin by extending a warm welcome to our newest member, Miss Evelyn Younger.” Under the table my Dad made a hand gesture that commanded me to rise and do it bloody quickly. Trying to look as dignified as possible, I pushed back my chair and stood.
In a moment that felt like an eternity, there was silence. Dozens of blank stares focused on me. This was a bad idea, a very bad idea. I wanted to run, go home, hid in my bed and never-
Someone started clapping. A sole set of hands in the crowd, hands that belonged to Rylie Everen. The simple act from a great man, gave way to thunderous applause from all present. I didn’t know how to react, cheeks flushed I stared at the desk in front of me. When the sound didn’t stop I looked up over the crowd, my face feeling like it was over one hundred degrees. Nothing else coming to mind, I gave a little wave and sat down, hoping the act of my reduced height would act as a stop signal to the crowd. It took a moment, but they quieted down.
“First order of business; yesterday’s assault.”
“Repairs completed roughly 3 AM this morning by flashlight. The structure of the wall section has been examined and is back in acceptable condition. All bodies of the dead have been BnB.” My father’s official monotone voice gave a state of our security. It had been a long time since I had heard him used the phrase BnB. It wasn’t bed and breakfast, it was burned and buried.
“I would like to offer special commendation to Rylie Everen for his superior leadership and execution of our defenses.” Richard Mineral volunteered.
“Seconded.” Ellis chimed in.
“All in favor?” We all said aye. I admit, it felt ridiculous.
“Approved.” Daddy Graham scribbled something on a piece of paper then shuffled the stack.
“On the later part of that issue, we need to have a discussion with our vampire brethren.
An event of this magnitude hasn’t occurred since the deal was struck.”
“Agreed, I will speak to Yu and get an audience with-”
“Why not send Liv?” All heads turned to Zack Graham, whose handsome dark features were focused on me. Anger radiated from his eyes above a socially detectible level, a private message just for me. “Given her previous relationship with the vampires.” I shifted in my seat, face flushing. The fact that he had just thrown out what should have been confidential-as much as possible in a small community-information to all and sundry was unexpected and humiliating.
“That is an excellent idea Zack.” Old Daddy Graham turned to me, in what was becoming clear was a much rehearsed skit. “What say you Councilwoman Younger?” At his other side my Dad was wearing a smile like a mask. His facade didn’t reach his eyes however, which were seething with rage. It was clear this little number he was not included on. This was a ‘getting even’ from the Graham family, a power play masked in an attempt to embarrass me on my first day.
They knew as well as anyone that Caius was three times as creepy as he was ancient. Dealing with him was no walk in the park, even for other vampires by Adam’s remarks.
This offer was put up to force me to decline, in doing so I would cast doubt on my father’s choice of my appointment and remind everyone that only big daddy Graham dealt with our vampire protectors. Our sole savior in this new world, our self-appointed king. Yeah right.
“I would be honored to act as liaison.” I gave them a million watt smile, my eyes carrying the telepathic message I hoped Graham read loud and clear.
Game on asshole.
The rest of the meeting was a blur, I was too busy being pissed off to pay attention to most of what was said. I caught the themes though; a seasonal projection, concern over lack of convoys from up north with supplies, then a few social matters; a birth announcement, and two housing variances. Through it all my ears were ringing, eyes focused on the strong jawline of Zack Graham, watching him with quelled anger every time he opened that perfectly formed mouth of his. To think how close I had come to having to sleep next to that jerk for the rest of my life. I thought back to his nasty reaction outside of the garage, the fist fight he got into with Cole-that neither remember thanks to Dimitri-about the whole wedding thing. There was a dark side to him for sure, an unchecked anger brought on by entitlement. A very dangerous attribute in someone with a position of power. Our peace and prosperity was not backed by any legislation, there was no army ensuring our rights, no elections no real courts. Our community had only existed for a decade, a blip on the timeline as far as civilizations went. We walked a fine line of order in a chaotic world of decay, it wouldn’t take much to tip the scales and ensure our ruin. Dad was right, when his generation was gone, I was going to have my hands full.
The loud clap of the gavel brought me out of my doldrums. Folks started dispersing from the hall.
When the meeting adjourned my father walked up to me, giving me a quick hug. “I didn’t know.” He whispered.
“It’s okay. I got this.”
“You make me proud Evelyn.” With a nod I left him to the long line of people piling up to talk to him and started through the crowd. There was someone I wanted to see.
I found him toward the back, hanging out by the city map that had been plastered on the wall in 1983 according to the plaque beneath it. He was unreadable, face buried under his dark hair, arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Hey.” I shot him my best smile as I spoke. Rylie turned to me slowly, his eyes were flat, lips in a thin line. “Hello.”
“I just wanted to say thank you,” for clapping, for trusting me, for letting me help, “for that.”
“For what?” He kicked up an eyebrow, clearly void of mind reading powers.
“Never mind.” I shifted my feet in the awkward silence that followed. I wasn’t sure why I felt the need to strike up a conversation with him. I really had nothing in common with Rylie that I knew of. I noticed he kept looking over my shoulder, my cheeks flushed. Had I interrupted something important? It would be par for the course if I had.
“Are you waiting for someone?”
“I need to turn in my report on Lyle’s death. I was waiting for the crowd to disperse.”
Lyle. That was his name. The man on the wall who had given his life yesterday. My stomach churned for a moment, images of his intestines wrapped around the arms of the deadheads devouring him flashing through my memory. Did he have a family? Had many cried when he was BnB?
&n
bsp; Stop it. I told myself.
“Would you like me to take it?” I offered to him, with my hand extended.
“I suppose that will work, you are on the council now.” He gently placed the sheets of paper into my palm. It was nothing fancy, just hand scribbled text by a pencil on an 8 by 10 lined sheet. Reminded me of social studies homework.
“I’ll get it taken care of.”
“Do you mind if I ask why?”
“Why what?”
“Why you’re in here, instead of out there.” He extended a thumb toward the door to accentuate the point. Made him look like a hitchhiker I’d be way too intimidated to pick up in the old world.
“I was nominated.” I blurted out, “by my father.” Like that follow up helped my case, if anything it just accentuated the preferential treatment. “I needed to do something helpful after...my injuries...I’m not fit for wall duty anymore.” I left out the legacy part and the part about the Grahams. In truth, I wanted to think it was more about service than one-upmanship. Rylie exhaled sharply and shook his head once. I didn’t get it, he was the first to applaud my appointment, why was he treating me like a usurper outside of the crowd? I didn’t want to think of the great Mr. Everen as two faced he was just too...honorable for that. An army of one.
Commercial worthy.
“If you ask me that’s a damn shame.” He muttered, turning away from me.
“What?” I took an uneven step toward him.
“You don’t belong here.” I heard him utter over his shoulder. The blood drained out of my face.
“I-” He whirled around to face me, his eyes carrying an intensity that forced the air to stay in my lungs, removing my ability to finish my retort. “You’re not a suit. You’re a soldier. Watching you out there during the event at the wall,” Rylie trailed off with a frown. The way he paused in his speech pattern I got the feeling he truly was a very caged person and was having problems with articulation, “we need more like you on the front lines where it counts, where you are useful, not caged in a little room debating crop rotations.”
The Blood Bargain (Book 2): Breach Page 5
