by Tracey Ward
As the Risen close in on me, the stark pain of fear coiling in my gut, I inhale slowly. I force myself to stay calm, even as they reach for me. Fingers touch me. Tug at me. The Risen growls excitedly as he leans in toward me with his teeth, his friends not far behind him.
They’re about to have a feast and it’s not even putting up a fight. This is a zombie’s best day.
I raise my knife, planting the butt of the handle against my chest. Two quick breaths full of sour sweetness and I shove it up and under the guy’s chin. The blade flashes with sunlight as it slides home. His opaque eyes jerk back and forth, searching for nothing, and then he falls at my feet. The other two stumble over him, one falling against my chest just as I reach out my hand to catch them. It’s a woman. I grab her breast, and I feel weirdly bad about that, my mind flashing back to another zombie, another girl, and that same sick feeling in my stomach like I violated her as she tried to devour me. This woman now is falling into me face first and I have a split second to slice my blade against her neck. I dig as deep as I can using my strength, her forward momentum, the sharpness of my knife, and the weakness of her crumbling bones. Together, it creates a perfect cut that lops her head clean off. Well, not ‘clean’ exactly. Her black blood oozes relentlessly from her neck, spilling toward my hand. I shove her away quickly to keep myself clear of it.
The last guy I make a move for, my fear riding passenger in my blood and my lungs, pushing me forward. It demands that I finish this as quickly as possible. It insists on safety and reassurances that everything will be okay, but what the fear doesn’t know is that I can never promise that. I probably couldn’t have before the outbreak either, and that’s just life.
This, driving my knife into the eye socket of a zombie opening his mouth to eat me, is life. It’s death and fear and confusion and every little thing in between. Life is subtle and it’s a kick to the face. It’s finding something good and losing it before you can love it. It’s remembering every awful thing and forgetting the color of your mother’s hair.
It’s not fair and it’s not for the faint of heart, and it’s absolutely not something to be missed. Not for anything.
When I get home, I’m cold and tired. I think about going to the Crow’s Nest to sleep. I could keep watch for more Risen and more Colonists, but the thought of the walk and the climb and the frigid winter air makes me feel weak inside. But Ryan will be in our room. He’ll be there with his sad eyes and his silence that keeps the secret I already know, and I’ll feel guilty that I haven’t found her yet. For the tenth time today I debate telling him everything I know, and for the tenth time today I decide against it. I don’t want to give him hope that could easily hurt him. I need more information. I’ll explore the north, look for the third Colony, and see what I can find out. If I can get her free, I’ll do it. If I can’t… well, I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.
“Trent.” Dylan smiles warmly from the other end of the hall. Behind him I can see the lights on in the Green Room where dinner is being served. Laughter wafts toward me on a current of fresh bread and steaming broth, making my mouth water. “Where have you been?”
I pause, choosing my lie from a pre-made catalogue I’ve built in my mind.
I took a walk.
I checked the Crow’s Nest.
I had diarrhea.
I’m about to lay down the last one because it will see the least resistance, when Gussy appears out of nowhere behind me.
“We were checking the traps in the park,” he answers easily. His nose is red from the cold, his right hand holding a bulging backpack. “Full house. Four squirrels, two cats, and a possum.”
Dylan smiles proudly. “That’s quite a haul.”
“We’ll be set for a week.”
“Good news. Great work, boys.”
“Thanks, man.”
Dylan heads into the Green Room, completely satisfied with Gussy’s lie. I’m sure the animal count is true, but obviously the part about me going with him is not, and I frown after Gussy as he saunters toward the store room.
“Why did you do that?” I ask him quietly.
He pauses, his hand wrapped around the doorknob. He looks surprised by my question and he glances over his shoulder to make sure Dylan isn’t listening.
“Because I thought you could use a cover,” he replies, his voice equally hushed.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I know I didn’t have to, dude, but I wanted to.”
“Why?”
“Why?” he laughs. He shakes his head in disbelief. “Man, you really are a trip. Look, the thing is, I see you trying to take care of Ryan. We all do, and we’re glad you’re doing it because he doesn’t talk to us about Kevin. But he talks to you, right?”
“Sometimes.”
“That’s more than us. He needed someone to step up for him when Kev died and you did that. You’ve had his back non-stop ever since, and that couldn’t have been fun.”
“He’s family,” I reason.
“Yeah, and so are you. That’s why I covered for you.” He shrugs, jostling his bag of carcasses. “I don’t care where you were tonight. Wherever it was, you went there alone. You didn’t have to play babysitter to any of us or to Ry and that’s good. You need that.”
“Need what?”
“To do stuff for yourself. You can’t always be about everyone else, T. You’ll go insane.”
I stay in the hallway even after Gussy is gone. I listen to the sound of the guys in the Green Room, picking Ryan’s voice out of the crowd so easily it’s like I was searching for my own, and my first instinct is to go in and see how he’s doing. Will his eyes be worried? Will he have that haunted look to him that he had when Kevin died? The same look he wore the night he cried and told me he wanted to murder Chapman. And the first day he came home from visiting the wall to find the girl hadn’t written back.
I take a step down the hall. Stop. Stand still.
I need to go to the Green Room, but it’s crowded.
I need to talk to Ryan, but I’m tired.
I need to go to the Crow’s Nest, but it’s cold.
I need to do all those things and more.
But what do I want to do?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Vin
“Where are you going?” Caroline asks sleepily.
I look over my shoulder. She’s lying on the bed tangled in the sheets. It’s big, her bed. Queen size at least. A hell of a lot more comfortable than the cots they’ve got the rest of us sleeping on down in the big, open area at the center of the MOHAI. A lot more private, too. Caroline shares the room with another one of the leaders working on an opposite shift. The chick is always awake when Caroline is asleep, giving them the space to themselves whenever they need it. And last night Caroline needed it bad.
I’ve been sleeping with her since the second day. She caught me alone in one of the only functioning bathrooms, washing my face with warm water like the King of England, and it’s been nothing but nonstop hate-sex ever since. I can’t stand her but she doesn’t know that. She thinks I’m into it; that I like it rough because I’m a Hornet. We’re nothing but savages to her. Maybe she’s right, but she’s also crazy, and I’ve made it a personal rule to never stick my dick in crazy. Everything about being here goes hard against my instincts.
“Breakfast,” I answer her curtly. I yank my shirt over my head, tugging it down my torso. “I’m hungry.”
Her fingers interrupt the hem of my shirt. They snake down my back slowly, her nails scratching at my skin. “Me too,” she purrs.
I stand, moving out of range. “Go get some granola.”
“I could. Or you could come back to bed.”
“I could.” I go to the door. “Or I could go get breakfast.”
Caroline sits up, letting the blanket fall off her body. She’s naked underneath. Red welts pepper her skin where I punished her. Bite marks mar the perfect smooth of her shoulder. She smiles ruefully, wearing my aggression with a s
ick sort of pride.
“What can you find out there that’s better than what you have in here?” she asks.
“Bacon.”
Her smile disappears instantly, like a switch being flipped. “Really? Bacon? Or is it that skinny little twat??
“Nope. Bacon.”
“I can get her moved out of here, you know,” she reminds me menacingly. “I can have her sent to another Colony today.”
My spine tightens and I have to force myself to shrug like I’m liquid. Like I don’t care about anything. “Do it. What’s it matter to me?”
“She’s your little pet, right? Your ‘kitten’?”
“She’s a girl.” I yank open the door, smirking at her before I go. “There’s a hundred more here just like her.”
I leave without looking back.
She’ll be angry about that. She doesn’t like not getting the last word, but that’s part of the game. It’s all part of my plan to get the hell out of here, and it comes down to one simple thing – control. She has it, I want it, and I’ve been slowly leaching it from her these last few days.
I hurry down the stairs from the top floor where the leaders’ rooms are. They’re old offices that have been converted to bedrooms and God knows what else, but that’s what I’m trying to find out. That’s why I’m nailing Caroline because eventually she’ll let something slip. Something valuable. As I pass the locked door marked ‘PRIVATE’, I run my fingers across it’s cold, black surface. That’s my end game right there. Caroline won’t tell me exactly what’s inside, not yet, but from what I’ve heard from other people, it’s probably the communications room. If that’s true, there’s a radio in there. Probably keys to the boat kept locked up tight in a shed by the dock.
That right there is my main focus for an escape. The gates will be almost impossible to get through with the double doors and guards every thirty feet, but the water is wide open. There’s a fence to get through but it’s behind the building. Fewer guards. Fewer eyes. Fewer ears to hear a man scream as his keys are stripped from him. It’d be risky, though. I could easily get caught and if I get caught trying to escape once, they won’t let it happen twice. That’s why I’m looking for a smoother option, and for that, I’ll need help. I need friends on the inside.
Friends like Sandra.
“Morning, Vin,” she says, smiling happily.
I pause in the hall leading to the cafeteria. I push my hands patiently into my pockets as I wait for her. “Mornin’.”
“How do you always get up so early? You’re never in the dorms when I wake up.”
“Habit. I wake up with the sun in the wild.”
Her smile widens when I talk about the wild. She likes it. They all do. It’s exotic and exciting for them. “What kind of breakfast do you eat out there?”
“Dry stuff mostly. Bland as balls pancakes with a little honey if we’re lucky.”
“But no butter.”
“No.” I grin, falling in step next to her. “No butter.”
“This Colony is not without its charms.”
Her words are admiring but her tone is sarcastic.
I smile over it the way she smiled over the wild. “Yeah, it’s got its moments, I guess.”
“What do you miss the most about the outside?”
“The people,” I answer immediately. “There were a lot of people counting on me. I worry about how they’re doing with me gone.”
“The girls?” she asks tentatively.
Everyone knows what I do for the Hive. None of them like it, but the way Nats and I described it won them over a little. I’m a protector, not a pimp. It’s a good job. It’s a noble job.
It’s pure lies.
The only part of the lie that rings true is that I love them. And they love me.
I hang my head, nodding slowly. “Yeah. The wild can be dangerous for women.”
“I assumed it’s dangerous for everyone.”
“It’s worse for women.”
She goes quiet, nodding in understanding of things she hopes to never understand. Not completely. But she’s met Joss. She knows I’m not lying.
Kitten is taking her time adjusting to the Colony. She still doesn’t like crowds. She cowers when people try to touch her. She won’t talk to anyone but Nats and me, something that’s not exactly helping us get out of here. She’s focused on her own stuff, not what Nats and I are trying to accomplish by making friends with these people, and it’s really starting to piss me off. I thought she’d be a bigger help. I thought I could count on her to hate this place as much as I do, and she does, but she’s not wired to be a team player. On the outside, I’d love that about her, but in here it’s screwing up my plans and that’s gonna have to change.
“Sandra!”
We both turn at the same time to find a woman jogging toward us. She’s tall, nearly as tall as I am, with short brown hair and a serious mouth. The kind that looks like it forgot how to smile, if it ever knew how in the first place.
“Hey, Laura,” Sandra answers. “What’s up?”
“Did you count the soaps at the end of your shift yesterday?”
“Yeah, of course. I logged it like always.”
“When I got to work last night, the numbers were off.”
“Really? That doesn’t make any sense.”
“It does if someone stole some.”
“Why would anyone steal soap?” I ask.
She looks at me for the first time. The sight makes her frown. “People steal all the time.”
“But why soap?”
“Why fingernail clippers? They must have their reasons.”
“Who’s stealing fingernail clippers?”
Laura cocks her head impatiently. “It was just an example.”
“I’m still curious.”
“And I’m tired so, you know… stop.”
I laugh, settling back on my heels. “Stop what?”
“Trying to be cute. It’s not cute. It’s time consuming and annoying.”
“That’s not what most women say. Most women think I’m charming.”
“Hurray for them,” she cheers sarcastically.
I laugh again, and I think it makes her mad but I also think she kind of likes it. And that definitely makes her mad.
“Anyway,” she continues with Sandra, “I counted twice this morning and came up with the same number, so if you could count again when you get down there, we’ll see if it’s still the same. If it’s not, someone is sneaking in between shifts and lifting stuff.”
“Guard the toothpaste,” I warn.
They ignore me.
“Will do,” Sandra agrees dutifully. “I’ll check in with you tomorrow morning?”
“Good. Thanks. Good night.”
“Good night, Laura.”
“Sweet dreams,” I offer her with a smile.
She shakes her head as she leaves.
“She hates me,” I tell Sandra proudly.
“She sure wants to.”
“You don’t think she actually does?”
“I think it could go either way. Maybe try not to be annoying.”
“But what if I want her to hate me?”
“Then be yourself.”
I nearly double over with laughter. I’m surprised by the low blow but kinda relieved by it too. The people here have a weird sort of respect for me as a member of the Hive. Nats says it’s because to them, I’m the embodiment of the wild. I’ve become a celebrity, getting stopped in the halls and swarmed at meals. They have questions. They want to touch the tiger. Most people act insanely nice and it’s incredible how you can miss being treated like an asshole now and then. It feels more real than anything else.
Sandra and me get our breakfast – nuts, canned peaches, and a small slice of ham piled neatly on a pristine white plate – and take a seat in the back of the caf with Eric and Tim. We’re greeted by just about everyone we pass on the way there. It’s all smiles and ‘good morning, Vin’, like every one of them is my oldest
and closest friend because that’s the con I’m running here. Once I found out there wasn’t a single Hive member in this joint and the only other gang members were weak, traitorous douchebags from the Elevens and the Westies, I gave up searching for more allies from the outside and started looking in. I thought it would be a lot of trouble to get civilians to warm up to me, but after I flashed a few smiles and told some juicy yet carefully edited stories from the wild, they cozied right up. People tell me all the time that I’m not what they thought I’d be. They’re surprised that I’m nice, that I’m funny, but that’s MOHAI Vin. No one but Nats and Breanne really know Hive Vin, and Nats is being a team player and keeping her mouth shut.
I don’t know what Breanne is doing. She hasn’t spoken to us since the third day we were here. Caroline and her crew have absorbed her. She’s a full-blown Colonist now, and I wouldn’t trust her with my left sock let alone my plans for escape.
“Vin,” Tim greets me tiredly. Black circles hang like the night sky under his eyes.
I nod to him. “‘Sup. You look like hell.”
He grins weakly. “I didn’t sleep very well. I tossed and turned all night stressing about the kale.”
“Yeah, me too.”
Eric laughs. “You couldn’t pick kale out of a lineup.”
“It’s the radish looking thing, right?”
“Nope. Looks like lettuce.”
“Tastes like a butthole.” I snap my fingers in recognition. “That’s the one. I know what you mean.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not that good either.”
“It keeps us alive,” Tim counters dutifully, his Colony training rising to the surface.
“So would seaweed, but I’m not eating it.”
“There’s actually a lot of nutrients in seaweed.”
“Jesus, man, have you eaten seaweed?”
He grins. “A few times. My wife was on this health kick for a while. She kept talking about cholesterol and how I was going to die if I didn’t start eating better.”
“Nothing like the Apoc Diet to get a guy healthy and strong,” I mutter, shoveling a slice of peach into my mouth. It’s sweet and tender. Perfect.
