Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  Chapter Seventeen

  Eagle

  The first sign something was wrong was the lack of cars on the road. The second was the lack of people altogether. For weeks now there’d been nothing but panic and chaos, people boarding up their homes with their families inside. Some packed up what they could into their cars and headed who the hell only knew where, while others took to the city streets, looting whatever they could.

  Jeffers and I had done what the majority had decided upon. We’d boarded up his home, the larger of the two, securing both our families inside, and then we’d taken to the streets to find food, weapons, whatever we could to keep us alive until the infection, and the anarchy it had brought with it, had blown over.

  Because it would eventually come to an end, right? Things like this—disease, rioting, even wars—they always came to an end. Right?

  Seated behind the steering wheel of his pickup, Jeffers came to a slow-moving crawl at a city street stop sign and glanced over at me. I was already watching him, waiting for him to come to the same realization that I had.

  Something was wrong. It was too quiet, too empty. Our usually busy city streets were now a ghost town when only days ago they’d been chaotic with a madhouse of people. Belongings lay strewn over lawns, sidewalks, even in the middle of the street, and off in the distance, where I knew the local high school to be, a large plume of smoke billowed in the sky.

  “Something’s wrong,” Jeffers said, his usually deep voice now an octave higher than normal, and tight with worry.

  I grunted in response, unable to speak, my stomach nothing more than a pit of nerves. No shit, something was wrong.

  We’d been gone two days longer than we’d meant to be. There’d been nothing left of worth inside the city; the grocery and convenient stores had been picked clean, forcing us into the suburbs and farther to search for whatever we could find. But it had only been a few days. What could have happened in just a couple of days?

  “Shit!” Jeffers cursed loudly, and the truck lurched forward as he pressed down on the gas. Tires squealing, he took a hard left, shifting gears as he turned the vehicle and floored the engine. “They’re fine, right?” he muttered, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed hard with worry.

  When I didn’t answer, he cut his eyes toward me. “They’re fine, right? Adler, tell me they’re fine, man.”

  “They’re fine,” I said as the sinking feeling in my stomach worsened. My hands, already clutching the barrel of a rifle I had laid over my lap, tightened around the weapon. “It’s only been a couple of days. They had enough food and water. What could have happened in a couple of days?”

  Jeffers didn’t answer; his attention was focused on the streetlights looming over us. They were off, dead, just like everything else in the city was and had been for weeks now. Slowing the vehicle, he made a right onto our street, and both of us sat up straighter, craning our necks as he hit the gas and the truck raced down the block, both of us eager to see his home come into view.

  They’re fine, I told myself. They’re fine. They’re fine. They’re fucking fine. Because they had to be fine. If they weren’t fine . . .

  I shut down that line of thought. If they weren’t fine, then I wasn’t fine. Nothing would ever be fine again.

  We both saw it at the same time—an infected crouching in the lawn to our right, a mutilated corpse lying mangled beneath it. It wasn’t the first infected we’d seen, but it was the first one we’d seen inside our city. As we stared openmouthed at the creature, it gave us nothing more than a casual glance as we drove past, more interested in its meal than anything else.

  “It’s Patterson,” I said hoarsely, finally recognizing the infected. The old war vet’s usually white beard and mustache were nearly black with blood and gore, but I would have recognized that camouflage jacket anywhere.

  “No,” Jeffers mumbled, his voice breaking over the word. “No, no, no . . . they weren’t here yet. It wasn’t here. It wasn’t here!”

  Yanking the steering wheel, he drove up onto the lawn only three houses down from his own. The next several seconds went by in a blur of color. The Donovans’ home, my home, Old Mrs. Maisie’s home . . .

  Jeffers’s home.

  He punched the brake pedal with such force the truck lurched forward, sending us both nearly into the dashboard as the vehicle sputtered and stalled to a stop. Without bothering to take the keys from the ignition, Jeffers leaped from the driver’s side and was already halfway to the porch by the time I’d managed to get the passenger side open.

  “Layla,” he shouted, pounding on the front door between the slats of wood we’d nailed over it. “Layla, baby, we’re back!”

  Gripping my rifle, I jogged past him, scanning the windows of his home and noting that all the boards were still in place. Everything looked good, just how we’d left it. Secure. Fine. Everything was fine.

  “Everything is fine,” I muttered as I reached the gate. Since it was only waist high, I gripped the flimsy metal and launched myself up over it.

  Nothing seemed out of place. The swing set Jeffers and I had built by hand was still standing, untouched. The kiddie pool that sat opposite it was still half full, toys floating inside, the water clogged with leaves and grass . . . and the shed—

  I stopped, frozen in place. The double doors of the shed were wide open, one door only half hanging on as if someone had pried it off its hinges with a crow bar to bypass the locks.

  I spun around, my breath caught in my throat, my gaze reaching the back door of the house.

  “Layla!” Jeffers bellowed, darting past me. Yanking the ajar screen door wide open, Jeffers disappeared into his home, leaving me standing alone outside, staring in horror at the pile of boards lying on the lawn.

  Someone had broken in, purposefully pried every board off the door and broken inside. Inside where Jeffers’s wife and daughter were. Inside where my wife was. Where my kids were.

  I couldn’t move; I couldn’t do it. Couldn’t bring myself to put one foot in front of the other to see what awaited me inside. Or what wasn’t waiting for me . . .

  Maybe help had come? Maybe the army or the Red Cross, maybe someone had come and gotten them out. Maybe right now they were all safe and sound—

  Jeffers’s scream pierced my thoughts, making my stomach clench painfully.

  “Jeff!” I shouted as I took off at a run toward the screaming.

  • • •

  I opened my eyes to the realization that my ears still rang with the sound of screaming, and my throat was dry and scratchy from my own shouts. My hands tensed, my muscles flexed, and the throat I was holding convulsed within my grip. The warm body beneath mine twitched and my hips surged, grinding my partial erection against the soft, exposed skin of a feminine thigh.

  Still half asleep, I squeezed the throat harder, eliciting a hoarse gasp from its owner that caused me to grow harder and search higher, seeking not just warmth, but the wet warmth only a woman could provide. If only this particular woman would make some fucking noise, and didn’t smell so bad.

  Wait, what the fuck?

  I blinked, once, twice, clearing away the early morning haze of sunlight and dust motes, and found a pair of wide, bulging eyes staring back at me, and a mouth partially open and gasping for air. I blinked again, confused for a moment until I slowly recognized my surroundings. And the nearly naked girl lying beneath me.

  “Fuck!”

  I instantly released Autumn’s throat. Rolling off her, I jumped up, immediately propelling myself off the mattress. Backing quickly away, I watched as she rolled to one side and started to cough, clutching her throat.

  “I’m sorry,” I said, choking over my words. “I’m sorry . . . I didn’t realize . . .”

  Autumn, teary eyed and obviously terrified, attempted to sit up on the bed. Still coughing, she scooted sideways across the mattress, plastering herself against the far wall, looking as if she hoped the damn thing would swallow her whole.

  �
�Y-y-you were . . . shouting,” she said, her voice small and hoarse. “I tried to wake you, but you wouldn’t shut up. The biters were going to hear you, the people were going to hear you, and then y-y-you . . .”

  She glanced down and I followed her gaze to the torn T-shirt hanging off her body, leaving one of her breasts exposed. Emitting a garbled squeak of surprise, she grabbed the ripped edges and tightly pulled them together. Pressing her lips together, her mouth formed a hard, thin line as she turned away from me.

  Feeling sick from both the nightmare and what I’d just almost done, I simply stood there, unsure of what else to say to her, or what the fuck I should do. I wasn’t used to this, having someone here with me, being responsible for someone other than myself. And I didn’t like the feeling, or the guilt that caused my stomach to churn.

  Dragging a shaking hand through my hair, pushing it back and out of my face, I scanned the room, my eyes landing on one of my many stockpiles of weapons. I turned and headed toward them, then pawed through them until I found several hand blades and a small revolver. Then, just for shits and giggles, I picked up a small ax as well. On my way back to Autumn, I kept my steps slow and purposefully light, hopefully not at all threatening. Even so, when I reappeared in front of her, she flinched.

  “Here.” One by one I tossed each weapon on the mattress. “I have nightmares.” My tone was matter of fact, entirely different from what I was feeling. “I don’t sleep much and when I do, I get . . . Fuck, I just don’t sleep much. If you hear me shouting, just stay away from me, and if I ever do anything like I just did, you use one of those on me, okay?”

  Autumn dragged her gaze away from her lap to glance at the pile of steel I’d just presented her with, and then toward me. Her big gray eyes searched my face for several tense seconds before she eventually nodded sharply. “Okay,” she said.

  More than uncomfortable, I scanned the room again, wondering what, if anything, I should do next. I’d apologized, provided her with a hearty supply of weaponry, and given her permission to gut me if I ever touched her again. So, we were good now, right?

  Probably not, but whatever. I needed to get the fuck out of this concrete coffin and get some fresh air fast. It had been a long damn time since I’d dreamed of that day, even longer since I’d allowed myself to even think of it, and the emotional consequences of both were damn near suffocating.

  Once in the outer room, I grabbed the clothing I’d stripped myself of the night before, dressed hastily and started for the door, not bothering to look back in the bedroom.

  When I yanked the door open, I stepped outside and came face-to-face with Jeffers. I covered my shock quickly with disinterest and kicked the door shut behind me.

  “I figured you’d be up,” he said, pulling a heavily chewed toothpick from between his lips and tossing it away. Narrowing his eyes, he scrutinized my face.

  I shrugged, then turned and began reattaching the locks. “You need something?”

  One by one I fastened each lock on the door, clicking them into place. They were all secured when I turned around to face Jeffers again, who still had yet to answer me.

  He shoved his hands into his pants pockets and let out a long sigh, but didn’t answer.

  “Liv?” I asked. Folding my arms over my chest, I leaned back against the door and turned my face toward the sun. It was going to be hot as hell today, the early morning air already sticky and warm.

  “I was going to come last night,” Jeffers finally said, his deep voice full of resignation. “But I needed to think.”

  “Jesus Christ, Jeff.” I growled, slamming my head against the metal door before pushing away and pinning him with a hard glare. “Just say whatever the fuck you came here to say. Don’t pussyfoot around with me like you do with her. Just man the fuck up and say it.”

  Jeffers’s all-too-familiar blue eyes flashed with anger. “We’ve got rules, Adler. You can’t be breaking them whenever the fuck you feel like it. That girl you have in there, she killed someone and injured someone else. You’ve got to hand her over.”

  I snorted. “Or what? What’s going to happen when I don’t? You going to turn this place against me? A place we found together? A place we built together?”

  “We?” Jeffers roared, his fist slamming into the door directly beside my head. “When was the last time you did anything for someone other than yourself? When was the last time you gave a shit about anything?”

  I opened my mouth, ready to throw his own words back at him, to tell him exactly how I felt about his holier-than-thou speech when it wasn’t him doing jack shit around here, but Liv. He was the motherfucking puppet, and that little psycho was pulling all the damn strings, but I never got the chance.

  Jeffers’s fist shot out again, aiming for my midsection, but this time I was ready for him. As big as he was, as strong as he was, he hadn’t been in a fight in years. Grabbing hold of his fist, I used his own force to shove him backward, and he stumbled several feet before tripping. And then I was on him, sending my own fist into his face as I shoved him down and onto his back.

  Standing over him, I glared down at him. “You choose now to come to me!” I shouted. “Now? Over this? You haven’t said more than two fucking words to me in years, and because I broke a couple of useless rules that I helped create, now you want to talk? Fucking now?”

  Turning his head to one side, Jeffers spit out a wad of blood-tinged saliva before raising his arm and offering me his hand. “Should’ve never taught you how to punch,” he muttered. “Scrawny little shit, always getting your ass kicked. Never thought someday you’d be besting me in a fight.”

  Nostrils flaring, my jaw locked, I shook my head angrily before clasping my hand with his and yanking him upright. “I’m not handing her over,” I told him.

  Rubbing his jaw, Jeffers eyed me, shrewdly assessing me. I stared back at him, my muscles bunched, ready to knock him down again if I had to.

  “Why?” he finally asked. “I let the shit with the redhead from the wild go. I knew why you went after her, knew what you—”

  “Shut up,” I growled as I took a step toward him, bringing us nose to nose.

  “Why?” He glared at me. “Just because you can’t say her name doesn’t mean I can’t! I want to remember her; I want to remember all of them! It’s your own damn fault you can’t live with what you fucking did!”

  Rage, guilt, and pain washed over me in one fell swoop. Hot and angry, the emotions burned up my veins, turning my blood to nothing more than ash as they raced their way to my heart. Razor-tipped claws speared the muscle, sending white-hot pain shooting through every one of my limbs.

  “Walk away,” I gritted out. “Walk away before I hurt you.”

  But the man didn’t listen; he never had and he never would. Instead, he closed the remaining inches between us and slapped a hand on either one of my cheeks, taking hold of my face. It was a move I knew well, something my uncle had done to me as a child when he knew I wouldn’t listen otherwise, when he needed me to hear what he had to say.

  It had been a long time since I’d really looked at Jeffers. He was only ten years older than me, but to look at him under direct sunlight, I would have guessed him having a good twenty years on me. More gray had taken over his thick black hair, and new lines had appeared beside his eyes.

  “Say her name,” he demanded, his voice thick with emotion. “Say her fucking name, Adler.”

  “Fuck you,” I spat through clenched teeth, my jaw aching from the exertion. “Fuck you, you goddamn hypocrite.”

  “Say it,” he repeated, shaking his head. “Say her name and I’ll let you keep the girl, all charges dropped, no questions asked.”

  It was a no-brainer. I could say her name and be done with this shit, not have to worry about having to go toe to toe with anyone, especially not Jeffers. And I wouldn’t have to worry about whether I’d make good on my promise to Autumn, even if that promise was one I still didn’t understand why I’d made in the first place.


  It was just a name. Just a goddamn, stupid, motherfucking name. I could say it. I could say her name.

  Then say it, the voice sang, mocking me. Say her name.

  But it was a name I still couldn’t bring myself to say. Not even in my nightmares.

  “She’ll need to abide by our rules,” Jeffers continued. “Pull her own weight like everyone else. But I’ll make sure—”

  “Take her,” I shot back, my insides trembling. “Fucking take her.”

  Jeffers’s eyes widened with surprise, then just as quickly narrowed into slits. His hands fell away from my face and he took a step backward. “You’re not the man I thought you were,” he said. “You’re not the man she thought you were.”

  Still shaking with rage, I snorted angrily. “Neither are you.”

  Folding his arms across his chest, he jerked his chin toward my door. “Open it.”

  I didn’t move; I couldn’t. If I moved, I would kill him. And Jeffers . . . he was still the closest thing I had left to family.

  Again he shook his head, a pained expression on his face. “One whistle,” he said in a low voice, “and I’ll have half the guards here. I’ll have you restrained, and then I’ll have them tear the damn door off, if that’s what it takes. Is this really how you want this to play out?”

  Was it? I still didn’t have a goddamn clue why I was helping Autumn, why what happened to her even mattered to me. I didn’t know her, she wasn’t my responsibility, and I shouldn’t care. I shouldn’t give a single fuck about—

  But I did. I cared. I didn’t have a fucking clue why I cared, I only knew that I did, that the guilt that had been slowly weighing me down for years, the same guilt that had reached bone-crushing intensity, had lifted somewhat with Autumn’s presence.

  Clenching my hands into fists, I took a step forward and Jeffers tensed, readying himself, his eyes scanning me up and down as he watched and waited for what I would do next.

  Slowly, I unclenched my fists and reached for his face. He allowed me to place one hand on each of his cheeks and bring him forward. Man to man. Brother to brother. The big brother of the little red-haired girl next door that I’d loved for as long as I could remember. My wife. The mother of my children.