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

by Rachel Higginson

  “What did you find, Hendrix?” The oldest of the guys- probably mid-twenties- asked from his perch on the back of a plaid couch. His tall body stretched out as he leaned against the back casually. He oozed attractive in that I-can-totally-pull-off-dirty-scruffy-and-rugged-as-if-I-were-doing-a-magazine-cover look. His facial growth was sexy as hell; his shaggy, dirty blonde hair, chopped and straight, fell around his eyebrows and collar. He was stupidly handsome for the end of the world. It wasn’t fair.

  The difference between girls and boys was that boys could go days without a razor and they looked better. I went days without a razor and people started reporting Big Foot sightings. Damn the male race and their immunity to hygienic upkeep.

  “Girls,” Hendrix huffed behind me. “They were shopping.”

  Haley snorted at the insinuation we were just shopping for leisure. “We were stocking up on supplies,” she bit out.

  “Makeup?” Hendrix scoffed pointedly at me.

  “Just a little eyeliner,” I mumbled a bit dejectedly.

  “Yeah?” Hendrix asked dramatically. “Is that eyeliner going to help you stop bleeding?”

  “No, but you could,” I shot back quickly.

  Hendrix opened his mouth to say something, but the other one cut him off with an authoritative, “She’s right. Help her get clean before the Feeders get a scent of her fresh blood.”

  I flaunted a haughty look and waited for Hendrix to lead the way. In the light, I could now take him in. He was as steady here as he was downstairs, cool and completely collected. He was tall, too, at least eight inches taller than me, with a muscular but lean frame. His hair was just as shaggy as the other guys but a deeper blonde color, almost brown, but not quite. His darker half-beard was more trimmed than the first guy’s and hid full lips that if I had to guess, were perpetually pressed into a frown. Hendrix, in the short time I had known him, was clearly never the life of any party. He was like the black hole that sucked all the fun out of the room.

  Not that there was a whole lot of fun happening these days. But proverbially speaking, he was the party pooper.

  He led me over to the kitchen area and directed me to sit on a tall bar stool. I glanced over at Haley who was now sitting awkwardly on one of the cashier counters that blocked the exit. She gave me a small wave and a shrug of her shoulder. So far, no raping and pillaging.

  I turned my attention back to Hendrix when he gripped my hand and started to pull out one of the larger pieces of glass imbedded deep in my palm. I sucked in a sharp breath and blinked away the tears of pain.

  “That’s some defense system you’ve got down there,” I hissed through the throbbing pain. With the biggest piece of glass dislodged from my palm, Hendrix grabbed a bottle of rubbing alcohol and poured it on the gushing wound. I winced at the searing pain and squinched my eyes shut. He started patting it gently with a cloth and I relaxed a little at the applied pressure.

  “Most people that come through that door are invited,” he explained in his no-nonsense, rough way.

  “Are they also being chased by Feeders?” I asked with as much sarcasm as I was capable of under the circumstances.

  “Hold this,” he ignored my question and pressed my fingertips against the soft towel. I opened one eye to watch him pull up another bar stool and sit down. He was close to me, so that our knees were pressed into each other and he could hold my hand against his body. His longish hair fell over his eyes and he shook his head to the side to get the stray pieces out of his field of vision.

  I was slightly mesmerized by his movement until he removed the towel and pulled another shard of glass out of my palm.

  “These are bad,” he commented without any emotion.

  “I know,” I grimaced.

  “Bruce Lee,” he mumbled while pouring more alcohol into the wound.

  “What?”

  “You looked like Bruce Lee with your foot flying through the door,” he explained but there was absolutely no humor in his voice.

  A surprised giggle bubbled up inside me and I couldn’t stop it. “You could have warned me you were going to open the door.”

  “I didn’t know if you were a friend or an enemy.” He lifted his eyes from my wound to meet my stare. He had intensely blue eyes that shimmered they were so serious.

  I cleared my throat, feeling exposed under his weighty gaze. “Fair enough,” I finally squeaked out.

  He worked in silence for a while, pulling pieces out carefully and cleaning the cuts properly. When he was finished with my right hand, he bandaged it expertly and moved on to my left.

  “This is quite the set up you have here,” I commented while keeping my eyes on Haley who looked bored, still positioned on the counter. The rest of Hendrix’s band of merry men stood conferring with each other in a far corner.

  “Yep,” was all he said in reply.

  “Have you been here since the beginning?” I pressed. I didn’t know what these guys were going to do with us, but right now they held all the cards. We were pathetically at their mercy. I wanted as much information as I could get, even if it couldn’t help me. I had to believe Haley and I were competent enough to get out of this mess should they mean us harm.

  “Nope,” Hendrix offered helpfully.

  “So how long then? You have a serious utopia up here; I’m surprised there aren’t more of you.” I chewed my bottom lip thoughtfully as I glanced at their dried food supply to my left and the soft, comfortable beds that were curtained off into bedrooms. They also seemed to have plenty of clean water and medical supplies.

  “We don’t trust outsiders,” he growled out.

  “Oh, like me?” I rolled my eyes. “That works out great since I don’t trust you either.”

  “You shouldn’t,” he promised quietly.

  “Wow, you sure know how to make a girl feel welcome.”

  “It doesn’t matter; you’ll be gone in a few hours anyway.” He kept his eyes firmly on my hand while he expertly cleaned my wounds.

  I gulped and whispered so Haley couldn’t hear, “Like you’re going to kill us?”

  “What?” His eyes snapped up to mine and he actually looked offended that I would think that about him. “We’re not going to kill you. We’re going to send you on your way. We don’t want you here. I already told you, we don’t trust outsiders.”

  Not that I was expecting some kind of white knight declaration or anything, but even false hope would have felt great at this point. “But I’m a woman,” I pointed out obviously.

  “Yep,” he reverted to his one word answers.

  “Aren’t you going to rape me?” I demanded a little put out that the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

  “What? Do you want me to rape you?” He asked sounding more appalled than before. Good for him; this was a single guy at the end of the world with standards. I almost laughed out loud. That concept was about as fantastical as the young virgin.

  Yet, I was here, so….

  “Obviously not, it’s just….” I trailed off, feeling like a total douche for assuming he was as bad as everyone else out there. I cleared my throat, “So how did you guys meet?”

  “Online dating,” he mumbled dryly.

  “Oh, like before? That makes sense then. It’s actually kind of sweet you still have each other through all this craziness.” It was like an ah-ha moment. They were gay.

  “I was kidding,” his eyes snapped up to mine again and flashed with annoyance.

  “I’m not judging you,” I quickly said. “I think it’s great. Seriously!”

  “We’re not gay,” he growled. “We’re brothers.”

  I snorted a laugh and dissolved into laughter. “Don’t ever try to be a comedian.” I shook my head at him, watching as his irritation grew deeper. “In fact, maybe don’t ever attempt a joke again.”

  He scowled at me for a few more seconds and finished the dressing on my left hand. Once that was done he motioned for the sleeves of my shirt.

  “I’m wearing a tank t
op underneath; I can just take this off,” I gestured uselessly with my bandaged hands to my long-sleeve tee. “Uh, do you have a knife? You could just cut it off.”

  “You trust a stranger with a knife?” he asked like I was the most naïve person on earth.

  “You’ve had plenty of opportunity to do what you want to me. I trust a stranger that knows how to take care of open wounds,” I said seriously. And that was true. He was surly, cranky and had zero sense of humor, but he wasn’t trying to hurt me. He was trying to help. And those kinds of people didn’t really exist anymore.

  He pulled out a butterfly knife from his back pocket and went to work cutting my t-shirt off without damaging the tank top underneath. With quick, confident moves, my filthy, bloody shirt was discarded with the rest of the bloody towels and I was left in my black cami; my neon-green demi-cup bra poked out from underneath- in the last big town we were in, Haley and I raided a Victoria’s Secret.

  I watched Hendrix’s eyes flare to life at the sight of so much of my exposed skin. A heat burned in my belly that I did my best to ignore. This was like that game, if we were the last two people on Earth…. Uh, the answer for Hendrix would have been a hell yes, before. But things were not that simple and I really liked to believe there was more to me than a desire to get laid, like surviving a world full of Zombies, for one.

  I kept my elbows tucked against my sides, even though I wasn’t exactly trying to attract his attention. I still didn’t want to detract his attention with my less than smoothly shaven armpits. At least I could confirm that he was officially not gay.

  Hendrix dipped a clean towel into some cold water and started washing away the dried blood on my forearms. I shivered at the contact when the wet towel hit my skin and he paused to look up at me and ask silent permission. I nodded carefully. I wasn’t used to this kind of attention from a boy, not even Quarterback-Chris had been this… gentle. I wasn’t sure what to do with his attention, other than ignore it, since we would be parting ways in just a few hours.

  He seemed to hesitate before nodding down at my jeans. “Uh, maybe we should cut those off too?”

  “Yeah, that’s fine,” I agreed. “They were going in the trash anyway.”

  “Do you have other clothes?” He asked hesitantly.

  “Sure thing. From our shopping spree,” I smiled at him innocently.

  He ignored me. Again. “Alright, I’m going to cut around your thigh, and then I’ll deal with your knees. Do they feel as bad as your palms?”

  “No, actually. I think my jeans protected them to some extent.”

  Hendrix played with the knife in his hand for a minute before setting it down and slipping his fingers into the already ripped hole in my thigh. They were distressed jeans to begin with, but the recent wear and tear had turned simply frayed places into monster-sized holes. He wedged his fingers between my jeans and my thigh and I worked really hard at keeping my breathing even.

  There was the fact that a strange guy had his hands all over my upper thigh, but mostly, I didn’t want him to rip away the jeans too quickly and cause my knees any unnecessary pain. I should have known better with him though, he was obviously not the kind of person that did anything irrationally or recklessly.

  Carefully he tugged apart the material until it started ripping up towards my crotch. He coughed suddenly, a little surprised at the direction of the rip, before pulling his hands free and going for the knife again. Now that the rip was bigger, there was enough slack on the material so the knife could slash away without fear of my femoral artery being punctured. He repeated the process with my left leg until I was left with an unflattering pair of daisy dukes.

  Oh, god. The hair.

  I blushed the deepest red at the sight of my unshaven legs. How humiliating!

  Hendrix lifted my leg and stretched it out atop his thighs. The unshaven disaster was even worse at this angle. I winced and dropped my head into my hands.

  Guessing at what my mortification was about, Hendrix offered in an unconvincing voice, “It’s not that bad.”

  “It’s really bad,” I whined, peeking out from behind my fingers.

  A small smile tilted his lips while his eyes stayed intent on the few shards of glass that had embedded in my knees.

  “It could be worse,” he shrugged. “It could be a mustache.”

  “Was that a joke?” I asked, a little surprised by his cavalier attitude.

  He shrugged again. “So what?”

  I giggled helplessly. “So, it was almost funny.”

  His head shot up and I was treated with another scowl. I winked at him and relaxed back into a playful smile. He stared after me for a moment, clearly not knowing what to do with me. Soon enough he turned his attention back to my knees and started working out the shrapnel and cleaning each cut carefully. When he was finished, and had spent time washing my calves since I clearly couldn’t with my useless and bandaged hands, he wrapped gauze all the way around both of my knees so the bandage wouldn’t slip off the still clotting cuts.

  I slid my final leg off his as soon as the last bandage had been tied. He was up and out of his seat before my foot even landed back on the ground and across the room before I could get out of my chair. Geez, he was a weird one.

  I hobbled, a little self-consciously, over to Haley and crawled up on the counter with her. My jeans had been cut short enough that I was worried about my ass hanging out of them while I stood. Sitting was a much safer option until I could change into the jeans Haley had grabbed earlier. I looked helplessly down at my hair-covered legs and winced all over again.

  I mean, it was the end of the world, and personal hygiene had a checklist of priorities. In reality, clean-shaven legs were low on the list, especially since I’d had to discard my last razor two weeks ago. It had broken in half in my backpack, and the rusty blade was too dangerous to use. I’d been on the lookout for a new one, or even a sharp pocket knife- at this point I would have taken dull scissors- but so far hadn’t found one.

  Besides, up until this exact moment I had been working the unshaven legs- totally owning the look- hoping if we were ever kidnapped the au natural style would work in my favor as a deterrent.

  I still felt like that, so I was a little confused by my self-consciousness right now just because Hendrix didn’t initially come off like a creeper. He still had four brothers that could easily not be as chivalrous. So why wasn’t I flashing around my prickly pear legs? And waving my arms in the air so everyone got a nice long look at my Eastern Europe styled pits? Good question.

  “Have you been able to hear anything?” I asked Haley in a low voice.

  She looked over at me and did a double take when she took in the sight of my shorty shorts. “Nice legs, Mama,” she snorted at me. I loved her sense of humor, even when it was at my expense. I easily would have died of depression if it hadn’t been for her refusing to let me mope around aimlessly. Haley found laughter in every situation. She was one of those people that would forever be refreshing to be around. Back when we went to high school, she was easily the most popular girl in our class, only everyone loved her. Especially me. We had been besties since grade school and it was by sheer goodwill of the Universe that we still had each other after everything that had happened.

  “Shut it.” I stuck my tongue out at her and waved my ridiculously bandaged hands. I couldn’t even wiggle my fingers, but I knew the care was necessary.

  “Yeesh, it’s industrial strength,” she murmured while taking one of my palms into her hands. “But at least it looks like he knew what he was doing. He didn’t happen to have Neosporin, did he?”

  I nodded with excited eyes. “And rubbing alcohol.”

  “Who are these guys?” Haley mumbled, lifting her eyes to the pow-wow happening in the corner.

  “I don’t know, but apparently they don’t even want to rape us,” I whispered, not bothering to hide my shock.

  “What? Are they gay?” she gasped.

  “I asked. Turns out no. Appare
ntly they’re brothers.”

  “Huh.”

  “I know.”

  We watched them for a few more minutes while they seemed to argue among themselves. They kept their voices to a whisper, but their hands flew around animatedly. Hendrix seemed to have the most opinions and it seemed like he was most often arguing with the guy who had ordered him around before. Two of the guys with them were clearly younger, their facial hair more splotchy and their muscle definition not quite up to par with their brothers. They also didn’t have a whole lot to say, another indication they were low on the totem pole.

  The final brother was just as tall and muscly as Hendrix, but it was hard to determine his age or how he fit into the chain of command. It seemed like he talked often enough to get his opinion across, but every once in a while he would lay a calming hand on Hendrix’s shoulder as if warning him to settle down. He followed the same dress code as all the others, only his hair was a light brown and his beard an even darker shade. Eventually he was the one to turn his attention back to us with his kind, apologetic eyes offering a certain soft-spoken hope.

  The other brothers followed his gaze and Hendrix let out an exasperated sigh. They made their way over, Hendrix trailing them all, and faced us. They were intimidating, that was for damn sure- even the younger ones in the back. They all stood with their legs apart, their arms crossed. Haley reached out and grabbed my bandaged hand, clasping it tightly in hers but careful not to disturb my wounds. We were ready for their judgment.

  “When’s the last time you’ve had a good night’s sleep?” The leader asked in a not unpleasant tone.

  I bit my lip and glanced at Haley who looked as confused as I felt. Finally, I turned back to the brigade of boys and answered, “Define good night.”

  “When was the last time you slept the entire night through?” he clarified.

  His question met silence. Neither Haley nor I could remember the last time we slept all the way through the night, and it probably hadn’t been since we were both back home living with our parents.