Beneath Blood and Bone

by Madeline Sheehan

  Autumn appeared in the doorway dressed in one of my T-shirts, so large on her it hung to her knees. Much like a child, she tiptoed across the room and stopped when she reached the bed.

  “Bad dreams again?”

  I didn’t want to answer her, in fact, I wanted to tell her to mind her own business and take her ass out of my damn room. But I had just shot at her. Guess I could add that to the growing list of things I’d done to her when I was the one supposed to be protecting her. And shit, she’d already been through enough with Liv earlier.

  “Yeah,” I muttered, tossing the gun aside. Scrubbing a hand over my eyes, I blinked up at the ceiling. I could still see her face, not the beautiful face of the girl I’d fallen in love with, but the face of the monster she’d become. It was the last image I had of my wife, and one I’d tried so fucking desperately to forget.

  That’s the thing about trying to forget, the voice said, its usual mocking tone replaced with an uncharacteristic softness. It’s basically the same as remembering.

  “Yeah? Then I’ve been remembering every damn day, every hour, every godforsaken minute since.”

  “What?”

  I turned my head to find Autumn peering down at me, her forehead wrinkled in confusion. “Nothing,” I muttered. “What do you want?”

  “Nothing,” she said carefully. “You were shouting. It woke me.” She stopped talking and folded her arms across her chest. Looking uncomfortable, she shifted restlessly from foot to foot. “Do you hear them too?”

  Narrowing my eyes, I stared up at her. “Hear what?”

  She swallowed hard and bit down on her bottom lip, saying nothing as she continued to shift from foot to foot.

  “Spit it out,” I growled.

  “The voices,” she whispered, her eyes going wide. As if her own revelation shocked her.

  The vulture I’d eaten earlier congealed in my stomach. How could she know?

  “Sometimes it’s my dad,” she said, frantically twisting her fingers in the hem of her shirt. “Mostly it’s my dad, but sometimes they’re just voices, so many of them. I don’t know what they’re saying, they just sort of . . . buzz. And you get so angry sometimes, for no reason. I just thought—”

  “Stop thinking,” I said. “Thinking will get you nowhere good in a place like this. You don’t think, you just do. You survive.”

  “I know how to survive!” she snapped at me, her eyes sparking to life.

  I pushed myself to a sitting position, barked out a dry laugh, and shook my head. “No, you fucking don’t. Out there in the wild you did, but in here you don’t know shit. You’re like a newborn baby who can’t go two fucking seconds without getting yourself into trouble. You don’t know how to act; you can’t even walk by yourself. You don’t know how to do a goddamn thing! You’re—”

  “Who’s Jenny?”

  My eyes flared wide while my entire body tensed to the point of pain. No. No, no, no. She didn’t get to say her name. Not when I could just barely say it myself.

  “What the fuck did you just say?” I demanded.

  Autumn took a small step backward, and the spark in her eyes dimmed. “You said her name while you were sleeping,” she mumbled. “You said—”

  Temporary insanity swept over me. I had it often—a blackout, a lapse in rational thought, a moment of pure, unfiltered rage coursing through my body, using my skin as its puppet. I couldn’t control it; had never figured out how to. Had never before wanted to.

  “Eagle,” Autumn rasped. “E, s-s-stop . . .”

  I blinked. Autumn was lifted off her feet, her body pinned against the wall next to the door frame. I had her by both arms, my hands gripping her forearms with knuckle-aching strength. I released her instantly and spun away as she thudded to the floor. Dropping my head into my hands, I gripped handfuls of my hair and yanked hard.

  “Get out!” I bellowed. “Get the fuck out of here!”

  Several tiny gasps followed by the slapping of bare feet signaled her departure. Clenching my teeth, I stormed across the room and ripped back the blanket covering the window.

  One step forward, three steps back, the voice sang.

  Placing my hands on two of the bars, I squeezed the steel in my grip, squeezed until my knuckles turned an unhealthy shade of white and I could feel the pain radiating up both my arms.

  “Get out of my head.” I dropped my forehead against the bars. “Get the fuck out of my head.”

  You’re the one keeping me here, it answered. You’re the one who won’t let me go.

  Locking my jaw, I bounced my forehead off the steel. “Get out of my head.”

  Adler . . .

  “Get out of my head!” I yelled, and this time I slammed my forehead against the bars.

  The voice only laughed.

  “Get the fuck out of my head!” I bellowed.

  Rearing back, I brought my head crashing into the bars. There was a moment of pure pain, gripping and all consuming as it rattled through my skull. Then my body fell away from me like sand slipping through my fingers, and there was nothing.

  • • •

  The next thing I knew I was blinking back the sunlight, wincing as I brought my hand up to my aching forehead to find a soft bandage there. Realizing I was in bed, I rolled to one side, meaning to roll right off the mattress, but instead came face-to-face with Autumn.

  Sound asleep, she was curled up in a fetal position beside me, one hand tucked under her cheek and the other between her leg.

  I relaxed into the mattress and for a long time just watched her sleep. She didn’t twitch or jerk restlessly. She didn’t call out to the dead in her dreams. She just lay there, snoring lightly, sleeping peacefully.

  Despite the pain I was in, an odd sense of comfort snaked its way through me. It reminded me . . . Jesus fucking Christ, it reminded me of the way I felt when I watched my children sleep. It wasn’t exactly the same, and yet the same sense of protectiveness was there.

  Reaching out, I let my fingers hover just above her cheek, wanting to touch her and yet, not wanting to touch her. Wanting to feel the softness there, wanting to touch something pure, something innocent, just one more time. And yet, not wanting to.

  Eventually my hand began to tremble, and I pulled away.

  “She was my wife,” I said with a sigh, and Autumn didn’t so much as stir. Taking a breath, my eyes on the ceiling, I repeated, “Jenny . . . she was my wife.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Autumn

  “You paying attention?”

  I glanced at Adam. He’d been showing me how to change the oil in a vehicle, walking me through it step by step with the sort of forgiving patience I hadn’t expected from him, or anyone here. But Adam, I was coming to learn, was different from the others in Purgatory. He was softer, not as tense or angry. His smiles weren’t forced or fake, and his kindness seemed oddly genuine.

  Nodding, I tried to smile. Adam grinned at me in response, a cocky sideways smile that made me frown and turn back to the engine we were standing beside.

  “So each truck is a little different, mama. They all have their own ways about them, their own rules. Much like the curves on a woman, they’re all unique.”

  He paused and I could feel him staring at me, waiting for me to acknowledge him, and when I didn’t, he cleared his throat. “You get it?” he asked, and again I simply nodded.

  I didn’t get it, and I didn’t care to get it. I had no interest in doing anything in the garage, but it was where Eagle was, and never again did I want to be where he wasn’t.

  Because, sweet thing, this is exactly what’s going to happen to you.

  For several days Liv’s sugar-coated venom had played on a never-ending loop in my thoughts, leaving me unable to focus on much of anything but her. When was she going to strike? Because there was no doubt in my mind that she would and when she did, would Eagle be able to save me?

  Would he even care?

  “Hey, uh, you alive in there?” A pair of grease-
stained fingers appeared in my line of sight, and snapped together. “Earth to little mama?”

  Forcing myself free from my dark thoughts, I faced him and attempted to return the small smile he was giving me.

  Raising his brow, Adam shook his head and turned his attention back to the engine. Making a low humming noise in the back of his throat, he absentmindedly scratched at his bare chest, overtop the scars covering his body. His hands often found their way to his chest and stomach, and would scratch, scratch, scratch at the bumpy, raised skin there, as if the scars irritated him somehow. But he never wore a shirt; he never hid them away. Instead, he wore those scars with a hard-edged pride.

  With Adam’s attentions momentarily off me, I glanced over my shoulder and looked across the garage, seeking Eagle. He was where he usually was, seated at Tony’s desk, while Tony was perched atop it. They were discussing something, although about what I couldn’t make out. I stared for several heartbeats, hoping Eagle would look up and catch my eye, but he never did.

  He’d been distant with me for the past few days, more so than usual for him. Usually he showed me some sort of emotion, even if it was only anger and annoyance. But lately it was as if he’d shut down entirely. He was a blank slate, wiped clean of anything resembling a human being. I sensed that maybe something was happening inside him, something big, a slow boil that, like a volcanic eruption, would soon simmer over and explode.

  “I’ve never had a woman so disinterested in me.” Adam chuckled. “I guess E’s keeping you satisfied.”

  My cheeks flaming, I shot Adam a frown. It didn’t matter that I was actually branded to Eagle, that it was all a lie in order to keep me safe. I still didn’t like the way the people here spoke so openly, as if everyone’s business was also their business. Nothing felt private; everything was always exposed and even worse, put on display to be picked apart. Maybe I’d been alone too long and was out of touch with humanity. Even so, I didn’t remember humanity being this . . . this . . . ugly.

  But then again, that was before the world had ended, and all the good people had died.

  “Hey, mama, I didn’t mean anything.” Adam reached out and touched my shoulder. “I’m just playin’, is all. No harm meant, right?”

  I was wearing a tank top today, a baggy, threadbare scrap of dark blue cotton with the faded words New York Giants written across the chest. As Adam’s rough and calloused fingertips grated against my bare skin, my breath hitched. Shivering, I pulled away from him. Even though I was becoming more and more used to being around people, I still wasn’t ready to be touched. At least, not by anyone but Eagle.

  “How ’bout a peace offering?” Adam said. “You thirsty?”

  I was always thirsty and always hungry, because, as usual, Eagle didn’t seem to eat as normal people did. It was almost as if eating was an afterthought of his, and never in the forefront of his mind.

  “Yes,” I said, feeling parched.

  Grinning, Adam jerked his chin toward the back of the garage and gestured for me to follow him. I did, although purposely stayed several long strides behind him. We passed Eagle, his large shoulders still hunched, his head still bowed close to Tony’s.

  But as I walked by, Eagle’s eyes flicked up and followed my steps the entire length of the garage, past the vehicles waiting to be fixed and the others waiting to be broken down for scrap metal and parts. Something was always happening here; no matter what time of the day Eagle and I arrived or left, there was always something being built or being scrapped. A part of me liked that the garage didn’t sleep, that it never rested or lowered its guard.

  In the far back by the wash station, Adam grabbed the large plastic pitcher always filled with clean water. Only today it had what looked like green leaves floating inside.

  “Girl knows just how I like it,” he said as he poured a glass, a slow smile curving his generous lips. “Gonna have to thank her properly later.”

  I could only assume he was referring to the young woman who’d stopped by earlier to try to tidy up the constant mess inside the garage. She hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Tony, but had gone out of her way to hover near Adam and me, her eyes always on him.

  Pouring another glass, Adam handed it to me and I took a tentative sip. Flavor, minty fresh and sweet, exploded over my tongue, deliciously cooling on my throat as I swallowed.

  “Next best thing to ice,” Adam said, grinning.

  Forgetting myself, I smiled around the glass, and a little of the cool water dripped down my chin and onto my shirt, cooling my overheated skin. As if on cue, a heavy breeze blew through the garage, dragging the loose-fitted tarpaulin door high up into the air as it swept over us all. The tools and chains hanging from the walls rattled, clanging together as the cool wind circled the space.

  The sound of metal scraping against concrete was reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard, and worse, reminded me of the biter that had been leashed. And of Liv.

  Suddenly not so thirsty anymore, I set my cup down on the table. Adam didn’t seem to notice my unease; instead he stood against the back wall, his smile lazy and his eyes half closed, simply enjoying the fresh air. As he drank greedily, water spilled from the corners of his mouth and dribbled into his chin, giving him a sort of wet-dog appearance that caused me to momentarily forget my fears.

  Finally, the chains stopped clanging and the familiar quiet fell upon us once more, relaxing me further. Until Adam swallowed noisily—like comically loudly—and I snorted in response.

  Adam’s brows shot up. “Oh, so little mama can laugh after all.”

  “Thank you for the water,” I said, suddenly remembering my manners. It was the little things I had to constantly remind myself of, how to act around others, how to react, how to be normal again. Manners, my father had always said, were important, and to never forget them. I’d forgotten them for a long time, but then again, there’d been no one around to remind me.

  “No problem.” Adam grinned. “I’ll have Theresa bring more tomorrow just for you, okay?”

  At a loss for words, I nodded. Even though thoughts were constantly running through my head, I hadn’t yet been able to translate the majority of them into actual speech. And as far as making small talk went, I was terrible at it.

  “You don’t talk much.” Adam cocked his head to one side, observing while rubbing a long scar that ran across his neck, a faint silvery line of what was probably a knife wound.

  When he realized what I was staring at, he said, “Sometimes it’s like I can still feel it.” Sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, he made his chin twitch. “Like I’m being sliced to shit all over again.” He held my gaze while he spoke, his easygoing smile still in place as if we weren’t discussing him being slashed with a blade.

  His smile finally fell, and he looked away. “I’ve never told anybody that.”

  I frowned at the loss of his smile. It was the first time I had seen Adam without it, and it felt strange. Worse, behind the frown I could see his pain lying just beneath the surface, exposed and raw. What had happened to him? Had it happened before the biters came or after? And more importantly, had it happened here in Purgatory?

  Because, sweet thing, this is exactly what’s going to happen to you.

  I swallowed hard. No one was safe here; not me, not anyone. Kill or be killed, just like the world beyond their gates. Only in here it was worse—in here they were trapped.

  “Hey?” A hand came down gently on my shoulder, and I blinked up at Adam, my eyes blurry with tears. “You okay?”

  I shook my head, unable to speak, unable to voice how not okay I really was, how not okay he was, or any of us. How very not okay this place was.

  “What the fuck is going on?”

  I jumped at the sound of Eagle’s voice, and Adam snatched his hand away from my shoulder. Eagle’s shadow fell over us as his dark glare pinged between Adam and me. I shivered from the loss of sunlight, from the way I couldn’t seem to catch my breath, and from the look on Eagle’s face.


  “Nothing, boss,” Adam said, smiling again. “Just getting some water.”

  Eagle stared at him a moment longer, his lips pulling back in a snarl before he turned to me. “Did he touch you?”

  “No, man, hell no!” Beside me, Adam straightened, squaring his shoulders. “That’s your woman. I get it.”

  Eagle refused to acknowledge him; his eyes were only for me. “Did he touch you?” he repeated, slowly punctuating every word with deadly intent.

  I opened my mouth to tell him no, but just as I meant to, my threatening tears spilled over and down my cheeks. It was too much—Adam and Eagle, Liv, and everyone else. There were too many names, too many voices, too many ugly sounds. It was just too much, and instead of speaking, I could only cry.

  “You’re dead.” Eagle’s voice was a mere growl, and my gaze snapped to his. Only he was no longer looking at me, but at Adam, whose hands were up in the air as he slowly backed away.

  “No, E. Come on, you know I wouldn’t.”

  Eagle stepped forward, his hands curled into heavy fists, twitching with aggression. I realized what was going to happen too late, and just as I screamed, “No! He didn’t touch me!” Eagle’s fist slammed into Adam’s face. There was a sickening crunch and I squeezed my eyes closed, my stomach roiling.

  It was too much. Too much. Too much . . .

  A hand grabbed hold of my bicep and I recognized the feel of Eagle’s grip, the texture of his skin, and his always higher-than-normal body temperature. Keeping my gaze shuttered, I allowed him to drag me through the garage, only opening my eyes once I could feel the warmth of the sun overhead.

  “Adam!” I shrieked. “He didn’t touch—”

  “He’s fine,” Eagle interrupted, still furious. “He’s fucking fine. A bump on the head won’t kill him; he’s had worse. And you’re done working here. I’m not bringing you back.”