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

by Higginson, Rachel

  My hand slid up Hendrix’s throat and I cupped his scruffy jawline. “Never again.”

  Episode Six

  Chapter One

  686 Days after initial infection

  “Holy shit!” King shrieked like a girl, like a squealing, frightened, out-of-her-mind-with-terror girl. I was pretty sure he couldn’t even blame it on puberty at this point. The yelping scream that just ripped from his lungs was pure, panicked fear.

  The sound of a gun, loud and ringing in my ear, overpowered both King and the Feeder that almost made a snack out of his face. I sucked in a deep breath and shook my head at him.

  “That was close,” I panted and struggled to catch my breath. King wasn’t the only one scared out of his mind.

  He dropped his smoking gun, “Fu-”

  “Cuss jar,” I whispered and raised my arms to prepare for our next encounter.

  “I didn’t finish,” he murmured with a ragged breath.

  “Are you okay?” I peered into the darkness and prayed that this aisle would be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe. Please be safe.

  “I’m fine,” he assured me quickly. “Just a little… uh, I didn’t see that one.”

  “Me neither,” I consoled him. “But good shot.”

  “I’ve found it’s hard to miss when they’re four inches from your face.”

  I stifled a laugh, but I had to agree. “Still, you didn’t panic.” The giggle I’d been suppressing finally bubbled out and I added. “Much.”

  “Shut it,” he growled, which only made me laugh harder.

  I pulled myself together and focused on the task at hand. “K, ready for this?”

  “Nope,” he replied honestly.

  “One, two-“

  And he was around the corner before I could get to three. I was supposed to go first. We were supposed to be taking turns. But he kept jumping in front of me whenever it was my turn. I supposed he thought he was chivalrous, but the last Feeder had practically licked his face before he got his shot off.

  “King,” I raced around the corner and scolded him on a harsh whisper. “You’re supposed to let me go first.”

  We walked past empty shelves and looted flats of whatever was supposed to be re-stocked in Aisle 8. Our footsteps were silent on the linoleum floor, except where we stepped on something left over from the previous looters. It was almost completely dark in the abandoned Publix where we’d stopped for the night, and we were going aisle to aisle clearing out remaining Feeders before we set up for the night.

  “Pretty sure Hendrix would murder me if I let something happen to you,” he shrugged.

  I growled out a few choice words of my own.

  “Cuss jar,” he sing-songed.

  “Well, what do you think he would do to me if I let something happen to you?” I demanded.

  “Put you over his knee and spank you?” King asked with fake innocence.

  “Oh, my god,” I said at full volume.

  “What?” More pretend innocence.

  “That was so… perverted coming from you,” I pointed out. “I’m just surprised.”

  “Reagan, I’m fifteen. You’re surprised that I said something mildly off-color?”

  Off-color? “Yes, no, wait, on your left!” Suddenly we were both firing after the creature crawling through the darkness. Yeesh, this one didn’t have any legs. I shivered, avoiding any prolonged interaction with it as it bled out on the cold floor.

  “One, two-” I counted again, but he was already around the corner. “Damn it, King!” I hissed as I followed him.

  “Listen, he’s already going to be super pissed that we got split up,” King argued in a fierce whisper. And I could see his point.

  We’d stormed this grocery store like a SWAT team, well, like a hungry, filthy, cranky SWAT team with a meager one-gun a piece and about one hundred bullets among us all. I was following my usual protocol of being Hendrix’s Zombie-cide Brutality Buddy, when we were bombarded by Feeders. We got split up in the mayhem; he ended up on one side of the cash registers and me on the other. There were too many Zombies for him to fight my decision as I ran off after his youngest brother, but I had a feeling we were going to have words later.

  I could hardly wait.

  Oh no, that was wrong. I could wait. I could definitely wait.

  “Well, he should pay more attention,” I sniped. “If he can’t keep tabs on me, then he doesn’t deserve me.” I was mostly just saying that aloud to hear myself talk because I believed none of it. Nor did I think we were into that dangerous place of being actually serious about each other, other than hoping the other one survived the day, and the night and the next day and so forth and so on.

  King snorted. “I’m the wrong person for you to talk to about this. Don’t you have a friend?”

  “Yes, I have a friend,” I confirmed, hiding my smile.

  “And, not that I care about my brother or his wacked-out sex life, but I think it was the multitude of Zombies obstructing his way back to you, not his lack of determination.”

  Oh no.

  “Oh no,” I exhaled an irritated breath. “You’re smart, aren’t you?”

  “I’m not joking, Reagan, I think it was the Zombies that made him run in the other direction.”

  “No, that’s not what I mean. I mean, I know that’s why he went the other way. And I didn’t say smart ass; I mean you’re intellectual, you have a big brain, and all of your gray matter is firing on all four cylinders.”

  “I don’t think that metaphor is right,” he countered.

  “Ok, brainiac,” I rolled my eyes even though he couldn’t see me.

  “I have no idea.” He raised his arms, stiff and straight ahead of him, “I didn’t even finish seventh grade. But probably I’m just average.”

  “What’s with all the big words then?” I dropped my voice back down to a whisper, not so much so that the Zombies wouldn’t hear me, but so I could hear them coming.

  “Just wanted to see if I could still use them,” he shrugged in the dim light. “I figured you could at least understand them.”

  My chest tightened. These kids needed to use their brains for more than just killing and foraging. Was he practicing big words on me? Then he for sure was desperate. Although I doubted any of his brothers wanted to sit around and have deep, philosophical conversations with him just so he wouldn’t forget to make complete sentences or use basic English. I thought about Page and wondered if she could even read.

  Holy hell, I bet she couldn’t! She was only six when the infection ruined everything for everyone. She might have a few words down, but there was no way she could read a book by herself, even an age-appropriate book.

  I wasn’t exactly the brightest crayon available, but Haley was. She could help.

  “Probably you’re going to regret having this conversation with me,” I grinned at King’s back.

  He let out a huff of impatience and fired his gun- one shot, two… three… dead. His fourth kill of the night and I hadn’t had a clean kill yet. Brat.

  “Probably.”

  Something grabbed one of my backpack straps, and I spun around screaming and waving my gun around wildly.

  “Don’t shoot!” Miller shouted while covering his head with his hands.

  I screamed again, but this time it was a rush of relief and a whoosh of exhaled adrenaline. “Holy shit, Miller!”

  “Cuss jar,” King nudged me in the shoulder, but it was with his gun, meaning he had been about to shoot, too.

  I ignored him, “You cannot, under any circumstances, just sneak up on somebody!” I scolded him, but my argument was lost somewhere in my breathlessness and the hand clutching my heart.

  “You’re so jumpy,” Miller pointed out.

  “And you’re not jumpy enough,” I ground out.

  Tyler sauntered up behind Miller, looking entirely too-casual, as well. They were both like this, neither of them all that frightened of the Zombies lurking around every single, f-ing corner. They were des
ensitized because they’d never lived on the streets, never had to spend the night looking over their shoulder or been forced to kill over and over to stay alive. They had enjoyed completely cush lives until four days ago.

  Even their fear of Zombies was mild. The Feeders they were used to were locked up in steel cages, weak with hunger and teetering on the brink of death. I’d like to think the last few days had opened their eyes to the reality of this world, but they seemed slow to get motivated.

  I couldn’t tell yet if it was denial or stupidity.

  I was inclined to believe it was stupidity, but that had more to do with a certain girl around my age that was very difficult to get along with, and I was in no way talking about Haley.

  “What’s the matter?” Tyler asked in that bored tone she was famous for.

  “Your brother just almost lost his head,” I ground out.

  “You wouldn’t have shot me, right, Reagan?” Miller asked with that adorable, thick southern accent he had. His bruises were healing, but his face was still a bizarre mixture of purple and yellow. He was clearly a bit traumatized from his time with his family, and we were working to normalize life for him, as easy as that was when we were constantly moving around and shooting at things most of the day.

  I gave King a desperate look, and he stifled a laugh. “Dude, she kills everything. I’d watch out.”

  “How… barbaric,” Tyler drawled.

  She was next. At that moment, I decided she was next. I was going to kill her next.

  “Reagan,” from behind me. He was angry. And shouting. And… Hendrix.

  So obviously, the store was officially cleared.

  I spun around, already bristling at the lecture to come. So I decided to strike first, “If you want me to stay next to you Hendrix, then you shouldn’t just walk away from me. You shouldn’t just abandon me and make me come find you later. Maybe you should stay next to me!”

  “Oh, boy,” King groaned.

  “This again?” Tyler asked incredulously and sashayed off, ready to eviscerate someone else with her biting southern charm.

  “I looked for popcorn,” Miller announced to King. “But I couldn’t find any.”

  “That’s too bad,” King muttered. “Maybe we should go looking again.” Ge led the boy away from what was sure to be an epic fight.

  Hendrix was standing in front of me by now, towering over me. His body was coiled firmly with tension, each muscle in his lean arms bulging and rippling as he struggled to control his temper. His long neck corded tightly as he worked to swallow, and those bright blue eyes pinned me in place even while I couldn’t make out their exact color in the poor lighting from the dirty windows at the front of the store.

  “I didn’t leave you,” he growled. “I did what was necessary for the group as a whole.”

  “I understand that.” I gave him the best of my sarcastic benevolence even while I tucked my gun away and folded my arms across my chest so he could feel the full force of my attitude. “My point is that maybe you shouldn’t get so angry with me, when clearly you are the one that left me! I did my part-“

  “Don’t start with me,” he cut me off. “You have one mission in this life and it’s to stay next to me! You can’t just suddenly go rogue and go off with another guy! I’m the one that’s supposed to protect you!”

  Okay, so it didn’t take a genius to figure out that we were arguing about something completely different than what was on the surface. We had a few unresolved issues, to put it lightly. But even though I knew we both had deeper disputes than this grocery store, it didn’t seem like either of us was capable of getting over them. We’d been bickering almost constantly since we got out of that stupid town.

  And it all started because he asked me why I’d gone off with Kane!

  Like I had some kind of choice about it!

  “Is that what I did?” I asked dryly. “I went off with another guy, who also happens to be your fifteen-year-old brother! I was protecting King!”

  He took a step toward me. Suddenly his entire aura changed. Gone was the angry, irrational Hendrix and in his place was a smoldering, protective, magnetic man that was absorbing me into his gravitational pull before I had a chance to think about it. I shivered at the change in the atmosphere around us as fury turned to sparking electricity. My breaths were heavy and uneven, my hands slightly trembling. Our bodies were just breaths apart as his chest brushed against mine with every inhale of his lungs.

  His hand reached up and brushed down my cheek to hold my jaw gently in his calloused hand. “But who’s going to protect you?” His voice was achingly tender; my stomach immediately flip-flopped and erupted with tingling heat.

  I pressed my lips together in an effort to find some sanity. My mind was spinning after the panic and terror from fighting Zombies, to the blinding anger and now to something different…. something entirely…. more.

  “Reagan,” he sighed, his voice like rough gravel. Goose bumps pebbled my forearms, and my stomach took another dip. He had me on pins and needles with his consuming energy and orbit of intensity. He was telling me something, not just with his words but his entire being, and every part of my body and soul was in tune with what he was about to say. “I’m-”

  “What are you two doing?” Nelson asked impatiently from behind Hendrix.

  Hendrix’s hand clenched on my jaw, and his mood swung again from whatever it was just a second ago to raw irritation. I was a little nervous for Nelson.

  And depressed that we got interrupted again.

  I had lost count of how many times he seemed on the verge of confessing something important to me, and someone would walk in the room, or wake up, or sit down between us.

  Zombies were ruining my life!

  “I used my last bullet on my final kill,” Hendrix whispered to me on a growl. His forehead dropped to mine, and his hands moved to clutch my shoulders. We were closer than we were before, but the intimacy of the moment was gone. And while I enjoyed being held like this, Nelson wasn’t finished.

  “You can have mine,” I whispered back.

  “We’re making our way to the deli. There’s a freezer back there that we are clearing out,” Nelson was firm and impatient. And while I understood the need to stay together and get somewhere safe, I resented it.

  But then maybe Nelson did too. Ever since he and Haley had decided to make it official, he had been particularly irritable.

  Of course, they’d gotten the same amount of alone time as Hendrix and me, which was none. Not that Hendrix and I were a couple. So I could understand some of his building frustration.

  “We’ll be right there,” Hendrix announced, but it sounded very close to a warning.

  “Nope,” Nelson replied firmly. “Not a chance. If I can’t have three goddamned minutes alone with Haley, my girlfriend; no way in hell do you get a special time out with your girlfriend.”

  I laughed. He was right.

  Hendrix let out a tired sigh but straightened, ready to comply. Apparently he saw Nelson’s logic too. He leaned into me though and surprised me with a lingering kiss to my forehead. It was soft and sweet, and I melted a little bit. How could I not?

  Taking my hand, he led the way after Nelson. There was even less light near the deli, and the smell was foul.

  When people went about looting what was left of food and clothes, they often overlooked things that would go bad, like lunch meat and deli salads. Obviously this store had been abandoned in the middle of some business hours. In the time since that no doubt dreadful day, the dry food and paper products had been taken, or most of them anyway. And the fresh food- produce, frozen items, refrigerated items and anything and everything deli related were all left behind.

  That made this place smell ripe. Initially, we were hit with the sickly sweet smell of rotten fruit and vegetables and eggs and dairy products in the refrigerated section. There was also a healthy mixture of animal feces and something terrifying coming from one of the bathrooms.

  Most o
f us were otherwise engaged with shooting and killing to pay much attention. But now back in the deli with different salads still laid out in display cases and dripping, disgusting hunks of lunch meat only partially eaten away by mice, maggots or worse, I felt the familiar gag reflex that seemed to haunt my every waking moment during this Apocalypse.

  I followed Hendrix around the employee entrance and side-stepped piles of trash. The trash was either from the previous looters or cardboard boxes that had been dragged into place by some animal, most-likely rats.

  Oh, no. This place was prime territory for rats.

  Cue the ominous music and montage of Reagan’s worst fears.

  We had a long night ahead of us.

  “You made it,” Vaughan greeted us with a smile.

  “Did you doubt?” I asked with fake offense.

  “A little,” he laughed.

  “I am a Zombie-killing machine, Vaughan Parker.” I scowled at him.

  He chuckled again, “Oh, no. I knew you’d be fine against the Zombies. I just wasn’t so sure you’d survive Hendrix after you abandoned him.”

  My eyes narrowed on Vaughan for skillfully rekindling Hendrix’s anger flame.

  He turned to look at me over his shoulder and with raised eyebrows exclaimed, “See!”

  “Stupid boys,” I grumbled and yanked my hand from Hendrix’s.

  Changing the subject, Vaughan thrust something into each of our hands. “Zombies are bad… But this, uh, this might be worse.”

  Oh no.

  I looked down to see a spray bottle of Lysol Disinfectant in my hands. Okay, so sometimes they were clever boys. Of course, this wouldn’t have been top on any looter’s list of necessities. But it would make tonight bearable and sanitizingly safe.

  “At least tell me the door was sealed and shut this entire time,” I pleaded.

  “Sure, I’ll tell you,” Vaughan grinned again. “But it won’t be the truth.” He turned to the side and gestured toward the walk in freezer. “And no using bullets on the beasties! We can’t waste the ammo!”

  I quit. I quit right now. I am officially done with the Zombie Apocalypse. Nothing could make me go in there. Not one single thing.