Love and Decay (Season 1): Episodes 1-6

by Higginson, Rachel

  That was just not going to happen.

  Kane’s eyebrows snapped together when I still didn’t respond and he impatiently demanded, “Just tell me that you at least understand what could happen to you. At least make me feel somewhat confident about taking you in there.”

  If my hands were free, this was the part where I would have clenched them into fists so I could punch him in his face.

  And then in the balls.

  “Why should you feel confident when I can’t even feel my fingers anymore?”

  He spun around and yanked open the door. His broad shoulders were rigid again and his face a mask of serious energy. He held the door open for me and gestured that I walk into an old classroom that had been turned into a kind of courtroom…. or throne room. It was confusing.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he mumbled in a sing-song voice that was meant to taunt me.

  I stifled the urge to roll my eyes and walked into the center of the room. A man and wife sat in rolling, leather desk chairs in front of a long white board at the front of the classroom. But this wasn’t just any classroom, this was a tiered band room.

  If I had to guess, I would assume that this was the largest of classrooms and placed near the back of the school. There were stackable cushioned chairs that lined up in rows of spectators as the tiers climbed higher. A teacher’s metal desk sat just inside the door with a man sitting behind it. He seemed like a clerk of some kind and as soon as Kane followed me inside he went over to talk to the man behind the desk.

  Most of the chairs were full and seated mostly by men. They stared down at me like they were sharks and I was fresh chum and they had been swimming for days and hadn’t tasted so much of a nibble of something delicious. They were clean for the most part and decently-shaved, unless it was obvious they were opting for the mountain-man look. Their clothes were in good condition and their skin tanned and healthy.

  The man and woman at the front of the room were no exception. Even the woman’s hair seemed well-tamed and styled with some kind of product.

  Other than the leering men, no one else offered a kind expression or friendly smile.

  They seemed to hate me on sight.

  Or be making silent wagers on what I tasted like with a little bit of Lowry’s.

  “Kane? Who is this?” the man in the head spot asked. His accent was thick, but his words were carefully pronounced. He had the same thick mess of black hair that Kane did and angular cheekbones set off with a broken noise.

  “More wanderers in the woods,” Kane shrugged casually and looked around the room bored and unimpressed. “We found them close to the edge of the forest.”

  “Any connection to last night?” his father pressed.

  “Yes,” Kane answered simply.

  Kane’s father looked me over from top to bottom, scrutinizing every aspect of me in all my hands-tied-behind-my-back glory. His brows rose just barely in surprise and a small smile tugged at his lips.

  Finally, he released me from his study and shouted at a guy in the back of the room, “Samson, go get Miller.”

  Samson was a fifty-something man with salt and pepper hair and overalls. He scurried down the wide tiers and disappeared down a hallway to the left of Kane’s dad to the practice rooms.

  “Make introductions, Son,” he ordered and nodded in the direction of the woman to his right.

  Kane looked over at me and admitted, “We came straight here. I don’t even know her name.”

  “Think she’ll be as difficult as those boys last night?” his dad laughed good-humoredly, but I had a feeling that did not bode well for Hendrix and Nelson.

  “She’ll tell us,” Kane assured him. “She just got done telling me that she’s not our enemy. If she’s not an enemy, then she’s our friend. And a friend wouldn’t withhold a simple detail like that.”

  Tricky bastard.

  But if Vaughan’s theory was right, then this was an easy question to be honest about.

  “Reagan,” I confessed with a steady voice. “My name is Reagan Willow.”

  There were a few moments of silence where my name just hung in the air stationary. Finally the entire room seemed to digest it before Kane continued.

  “Reagan,” he tested my name out on his lips and I wanted to take it back immediately, to hide it… bury it. “This is my father, Matthias Allen and my mother, Linley.”

  I had been without civilization for almost two years, still I had to stomp on my manners and ignore the instinct to be polite and receive their “hospitality” with grace. I wasn’t that girl anymore. I wasn’t the perfect cheerleader that mother’s adored and teachers could count on.

  I was a hunter. A killer. A survivor.

  So I stared at them and waited, putting puzzles together inside my head. Miller had said last night that he wanted to save his sister. He had also said he had a mother and while he would like to rescue her, he knew she wouldn’t come.

  Possibly this was because she was married to the head guy. Ugh. Miller!

  He also never mentioned his brother. How many other awful family members did he have lurking around here? Had this whole thing been a trap from the beginning? Had Miller lured us here under the pretense of free medicine?

  After several awkward minutes in which I didn’t acknowledge the introduction or attempt to make more conversation, Mathias asked another question, “Where are you headed, Reagan Willow?”

  Two truths. “South,” I said simply. Past Mexico.”

  A low chuckle started in the back of the room and rolled forward like an ocean wave of dark amusement. Matthias’s dark gray eyes sparkled with humor and I felt Kane relax next to me.

  Linley was the only one that didn’t seem entertained by my answer. “You’re not serious?” she asked in that lilting southern drawl.

  “I’m very serious,” I answered.

  “What could possibly be down there that could draw you into Mexico?” Linley pressed, her delicate features pinched with concern. She was beautiful, even in a simple white t-shirt and black yoga pants. She didn’t wear any makeup, but her shining dark brown hair was freshly washed and styled.

  “We started out following a lead,” I cleared my throat and pretended a little bit of nervousness. “But that was two years ago. I guess…. It’s just a direction to go.”

  That actually felt a lot like truth. The words burned in my throat and churned my stomach. Maybe the Parkers had been right from the beginning; maybe north was the way to go. We’d run into nothing but problems since we reached southern Missouri and I imagined it was only going to get worse. That was if we ever got out of this current predicament.

  “A foolish direction to go,” Matthias snorted. “Mexico has been overrun by Feeders. You wouldn’t make it past the border.”

  I nodded, not trusting myself to stay respectful if I opened my mouth.

  “Are there more of you?” Linley asked. Her kind eyes beseeched me to tell the truth. But I felt like it was smoke and mirrors- good cop, bad cop. They wanted something from us and this was the moment for my lie.

  I shook my head, “Just the four of us.”

  “One girl for all those boys,” Matthias leered at me.

  I narrowed my eyes and pressed my lips together in an attempt not to fly across the room and choke the living hell out of him. Kane stiffened next to me again, his body coiled with tension.

  That was the motivation I needed to stay silent. I could take Matthias’s jabs or digs, but I could not allow Kane to become somehow protective of me. I was certain of that.

  Matthias was scary.

  Kane was dangerous.

  Matthias looked over at his son and his eyes widened just a fraction, just enough for me to register his surprise. His gaze flickered back to me and he looked at me with an entirely different measure now as if instead of a prisoner, I was now a commodity, I was a possession.

  My skin crawled, my breathing picked up and my palms started sweating. I had to get out of here.

&nbs
p; Just then, Samson pushed back through the door, dragging a bound and gagged Miller. His eyes were both black and almost swollen shut and his bare arms and chest were bruised and lacerated. His dirty hair was now caked with dried blood and he looked like a child next to the man pushing him around.

  My stomach lurched and revolted against the idea that this little boy was abused or mistreated and that he was punished for leaving and for coming back, but most of all for getting caught with Hendrix and Nelson.

  Chapter Three

  “Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son,” Matthias crooned from his seat. He sat forward and straightened his back with excitement, at the sight of his son… at the sight of his own son bloodied and beaten.

  Miller was brought to stand in front of me, so that he could face his parents. His shoulders were as straight as he was able to make them and his chin tilted with defiance. My heart was breaking for him and I regretted doubting him, regretted implicating him in some elaborate plot.

  I understood why he was so desperate to get out of here now.

  Kane remained stoic next to me, not smiling with satisfaction like his father, but not weeping with despair either. In fact, the only emotional face in the room seemed to be Linley’s and she was hiding it well. Just the tiniest lines near her eyes stressed with the effort to keep still.

  “Hi, Father,” Miller greeted with a voice that sounded like he had a mouth full of marbles.

  Matthias’s good humor disappeared and his face became grave, “Have you learned your lesson, Son?”

  Miller nodded enthusiastically. I wanted to wince for him, but he never once acknowledged his own pain. “Yes, Sir.”

  “And what did you learn?” Matthias pressed.

  “Not to get caught, sir,” Miller spat out immediately.

  This time I did wince, but it was drowned out in the uproar from behind me. The spectators behind me stood to their feet and shouted down their disapproval at Miller’s words. He stood before me, relaxed, well as relaxed as his broken body allowed him to be, and confident.

  No, not confident… smug. He was still full of that cocky recklessness from last night.

  And for the first time in our brief twenty-four-hour acquaintance I realized I respected this kid.

  Matthias’s eyes flickered up to mine and watched my horrified reaction to how beat up his son was and how little sympathy he was getting from the crowd.

  He stared at me for a few minutes while the spectators settled and sat back down. Eventually he explained, “We’re a community, Reagan. Do you understand that? We take care of each other. We protect our own from the dangers of this fallen world. And we haven’t lost anyone yet, even while our numbers continue to grow. This was once a tiny, insignificant little nothing town. But now look at us.” He gestured around with his hands and grinned at me. “Flourishing. We are flourishing, even in this uncertain time of disease and death. People all over hear of our prosperity and safety. They flock to us, Reagan. They come in droves.”

  “I’ve never heard of you,” I shrugged.

  Kane’s hand shot out and gripped my forearm. With my hands still cuffed behind my back, his touch caused tingles of nerves to shoot up toward my elbow; but instinctively I knew he wasn’t trying to be cruel, he was trying to warn me. But his help was the last thing I needed, or wanted.

  With bitter cruelty, Matthias corrected me, “You’ve never heard of us until today. Now… now you’ve heard of us. Now you’ve seen what we can do. Now you understand.”

  Well, I couldn’t argue with that.

  “That is true,” I conceded and Kane’s grip relaxed a little.

  Matthias’s attention swung to his younger son and he asked a question that had me almost shaking with anxiety.

  “You met her last night, Miller. I know you brought the other two back with you tonight. But how many more were with her.”

  Miller tried to look back at me from over his shoulder, but his eyes were practically swollen shut so I doubted he could see me very clearly. Then he turned back around to his father and shrugged casually.

  “There was another guy,” he explained.

  My heart slammed into my chest cavity at his lie. How did he know to lie for us? Why did he lie for us?

  My thoughts whirled with fear for Haley, Harrison and King, for Page and her sickness. This was all for them. If we got out of this it was to get back to them.

  “Just one other guy?” Matthias pressed.

  Miller let out an impatient sigh, “I told you last night and I will tell you again this morning. I wasn’t runnin’ away. I was goin’ for a walk. And then I ran into these guys. They made me bring them back in here. They forced me to! But it was only her and another guy that stayed behind. They kept talking about a contingency plan. I guess it meant they would come after them if they never showed back up.”

  Silence met his explanation and I forced my body not to wiggle under the intense scrutiny of the room.

  “Give us the story, Reagan,” Matthias demanded.

  “Like I said, we didn’t know you were here. We ran into Miller by accident.”

  “Then why send the scouting party ahead?” Linley asked in a quiet, stern voice.

  “To see if it was safe. We had never heard of you. And in our travels we’ve run into a lot of bad guys. Even you guys handcuffed us and dragged us through this interrogation. The last settlement we were at stole our guns and ammo and syphoned our gas. We don’t trust people. We were trying to be cautious.” I was practically pleading with him to believe me. Most everything I said was truth.

  “You’ve never heard of us? When’s the last time you’ve been around people outside of your own party?” Matthias asked carefully.

  Hope bloomed in my chest at the realization he was starting to believe me. “Not since the settlement where everything was stolen from us. Weeks ago- states ago. We haven’t been around other people since. We’ve been avoiding settlements and other people ever since.”

  “Do you know why our country fell, Reagan?” Matthias asked, changing the subject so abruptly my head spun. I shook my head- truth. I didn’t know. The news just stopped one day. My parents were killed three days later. Haley and I went on the run twenty-four hours after that. I wasn’t convinced there was no government, but I hadn’t seen any kind of political organization since the day the news stopped. I didn’t know what happened, but I assumed we just fell apart. Matthias decided to enlighten me, “Our government imploded, plain and simple. With all our troops scattered around the globe and more than half of all the government officials infected with the virus within days of the outbreak, there was no one left to organize us and to rally us.” His deep southern accent floated over each word, sinking low on the consonants and pronouncing each syllable with conviction and enthusiasm. He was like a preacher…. or cult leader.

  If they tried to serve me applesauce, I was so out of here.

  Matthias continued, “They failed us, Reagan. When we needed them the most, they couldn’t give us a cure, or a solution or protection. They just dissolved.” He made a wiggling motion with his fingers that was supposed to symbolize something disappearing, I guessed, but it looked so much like jazz hands that I had to press my lips together to keep from smiling. “And they left their citizens in dire straits. They left us to die. Our people need a stronger system; they need someone who can keep them from falling prey to these animals, who can offer them hope for the future.”

  Ah. Okay, this guy was bat shit.

  Everything was becoming clear now.

  “And that person is you?” I asked with a raised eyebrow.

  Annoyance flashed in his dark eyes. “Kane, give our guest a tour of the town.”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered immediately.

  Kane prompted me to move toward the door by tugging on the arm he was still holding. He reached out to the handle and pulled it open for me. The dreadful sound of pained moaning in the hallway filled the room immediately, but Matthias’s voice could be heard easily
through the noise.

  “And when you’re finished, Kane, set her up where you see fit. Miss Reagan Willow is going to be staying with us for a while.”

  Kane led me out into the hallway and away from the band room/throne room. His hand was still on my forearm as he pulled me down the center of the corridor- away from the reaching hands of the emaciated Zombies.

  We retraced our exact path, even past the glassed office-ish room that was guarded by armed men and housed Hendrix, Nelson and Vaughan. They all stood at the window watching my approach. Matching tortured looks as they were forced to do nothing but watch silently as I walked by.

  I held Hendrix’s gaze and tried to convey a sense of confidence and hope into him, but his blue eyes were bleak with fear. His jaw was clenched tightly, his hands fisted in front of him as they rested on the glass.

  “Can I speak to them,” I asked Kane quietly, never tearing my eyes away from Hendrix.

  “No,” he answered simply and then pulled me out the front doors and back into the warm sunlight.

  I blinked against the blinding sun and dipped my head to avoid the worst of the light. I wanted my hands back. The metal was starting to cut into my skin and my arms felt like dead, tingling weight.

  It sucked.

  Kane stopped walking and let me adjust to the brightness outside. He turned me around so that my back was to him; I felt his fingers brush down my forearms. A flare of panic stampeded in my chest and I held my breath while I waited for him to do whatever he was going to do with me.

  His calloused fingers came to rest on my wrists and after a few seconds of adjusting, I heard the click of the key and the cuffs fell away. My arms fell limply to my sides and I worked my fingers, hoping to restore the flow of blood and feeling.

  Whirling around to face him, I demanded, “If you hurt them, I will kill you.”

  “So many threats,” he sighed sarcastically. His gaze collided with mine holding me in an intensity I didn’t understand. “If you hurt me, I will kill them.”