His cowardice.
“I don’t know if I can, Freya,” he whispered, the memories breaking free of their shackles, deep in the darkest part of his soul where they lay caged. “If I take her home, she’ll know I’m not the man she thinks I am.” He looked at her through reddened eyes, the tears burning like liquid fire. “The person Erin sees, the way she talks to me, the way she’s always there no matter what, the way she looks at me, like a daughter looks at a loving father… but if she knows the truth?” Nate shook his head. “I don’t think I could bear to lose that, Freya. The Nate that she sees?” He drew in a shaking breath. “I like that version of myself. He has purpose, doesn’t desert those who need him, because she won’t let that Nate get away with it. But if she knows the truth? If that look turns away from me?” He felt breathless, despair threatening to crush the last of the air from his lungs. “Freya, that might break me.”
This place, this dream garden of his old home from a happier time, had cracked his armour. The peace of Maggie’s lovingly tended garden had seeped into all the flaws of his emotional walls constructed over the years, and Freya’s serene compassion was driving deeper into those cracks. Nate Carter was not a man given to open displays of emotion, but here in this dream garden, he was defenceless.
They sat quietly for a moment as Nate gathered himself, sucking in great breaths, his throat tight and painful as an emptiness expanded in his chest. That swelling void was a vacuum of fear and despair, but it was soothed by Freya’s tenderness.
“The truth always finds a way, Nate,” she murmured, her voice like a whispering breeze into the silence. “Secrets can be poison, even if only to yourself, and this wound you carry is toxic. You can shut out the truth like you can the sun, but it will never really go away. It will still be there when you venture outside.”
“She’ll hate me, Freya.” Misery hung from every word. “How can she not?”
“Take that which is your greatest weakness and let it become your greatest strength. She will find out eventually, and then she will wonder why you didn’t think she was worthy of this truth, given the significance of it.”
Freya lowered her head and placed the tips of two soft fingers beneath his chin, tilting his head up and forcing him to meet her dark eyes.
“She has you on a pedestal Nate, and the fall from there would be much harder than choosing to step down from it. Tell her your story, make yourself vulnerable, let her see how human you are, and let her judge the truth for herself.”
“But…”
“Nate,” she interrupted, shaking her head once with firm resolve. “You’re afraid she will despise you, but surely you know her well enough that hate is not her way. She loves you, Nate. “
Freya held to his hand as he gathered himself, knowing she was right. For all she had been through in her childhood, Erin was still the most inherently good person he had ever known. A lot of that credit went to Dean and Maria, of that he was certain. They had shown a troubled kid love and respect, and in the light of their faith, she had bloomed.
But it did not make the choice any easier.
“Okay,” he said finally, nodding more to reassure himself than Freya.
She smiled, leaned over, and planted a gentle kiss upon his cheek.
“So, it’s all true then?” he asked. “God? The Devil? This is judgment?”
“It’s not so simple as the Christian belief, Nate. I prefer to think of it as light and dark.”
“How much do you know?”
Freya smiled. “It’s more about how much I can tell you, Nate.”
He snorted, wiping away the drying tears. “Right. Okay, well I just have one question then. The dead changed for a short time after your death, and became entirely focused on Erin, before reverting back to their usual emptiness. Why?”
Freya took a deep breath, her head tilted as though listening to something in the distance.
“The dead are crude tools, Nate, and the force behind them isn’t pulling the strings all the time. That which I call “the Dark” thought that Erin killing me would break her, and it would have, had her faith in you not been so strong. She knew, as much as it pained you, that you would take that burden from her. She wasn’t ready, yet in that moment of weakness, proved her strength. Erin’s strength comes from putting her faith in others, not just herself, and she has more faith in you than any other living soul. We think the Dark got angry for a time at its failure. For that little while, we think it tried to frighten her into hiding behind her safe walls, making her fear she would endanger her friends if she went out to face them.”
“She struggled with that.”
Freya nodded. “But then the Dark made the worst mistake it could make. It trapped you, made you bait, trying to break her, or make her do something reckless and get herself killed. If she hid away, and you died because she did nothing, the guilt would destroy her.”
Nate laughed then, wiping away the final tear from his cheek. His mood lightened.
“But Old Scratch wasn’t counting on her flipping the finger, huh?”
Freya laughed and shook her head. “No. She faced every fear she had, because the one thing she feared more than anything, Nate, was letting you down. The Dark has a little more to learn about humanity, I think. All it knows are our sins, our cruelties, our hatreds, and all the dark places of our collective soul.” She grinned, her face radiating unfettered joy. “I don’t think it understands the power that love can give us mere mortals, and it certainly underestimated Erin’s threshold. She has enough love for all of us.”
“So, it just gave up?”
“Erin is special, but she’s not the only one bearing the torch out in the night. I’m sure the Dark will try something else, only this time it will likely use a scalpel rather than a hammer.”
Nate nodded. “The Children of the Resurrection.”
“There are many pieces, Nate, and the board is bigger than we know. These battles rage across the globe, and we are just one small skirmish in a war for our survival, but it doesn’t make it of lesser value.” She stood up and walked barefoot on the lawn, leaning to pluck a white gardenia from one of the blooms and breathing in its scent. “I’ve always loved gardenias,” she said, floating back towards him on light feet. She offered the white flower to him, which he accepted in both hands. “It’s time for you to wake up now, Nate.”
“We miss you,” he said.
“I know, and I miss you both too, and that little rascal, Particles. I’ll see you again, I’m sure. Now, wake up Nate.”
He wanted to say something more, but his eyes snapped open in the dimly lit room to find Alicia standing above him with a steaming cup. His sudden alertness startled her, caught halfway in the act of nudging him awake.
The farmhouse was starting to lighten with the dawning sun, and Nate opened the sleeping bag. Swinging his legs out, he pulled on his boots and left them unlaced before accepting the hot beverage with a word of thanks.
Was it just a dream? It had felt so… real.
“Where did that come from?” asked Alicia.
“Huh?” He followed the direction of her finger to a white flower that rested by the pillow.
A gardenia.
Nate picked it up in shaking fingers, staring at it in wonder.
“Nate? Sir? You okay?” Alicia’s concerned questioning brought him to his senses.
“Hmm? Aye, sorry. Still a bit foggy from the sleep. Weird dreams,” he added absently.
“So, what’s the plan for today then? Same again?”
Nate sipped at the black coffee, rolling the gardenia’s stem between finger and thumb.
“No,” he said finally. “No, Alicia. Today… well…”
He stared at the white flower in his hand and sighed.
“It looks like I’m going home.”
About the Author
Carl Meadows had his first novel published at the age of 30. Seriously, just one copy. It was a 30th birthday present from a friend and sits in a gif
t box on his shelf. It was a valiant attempt but needed some serious work, as apparently it contained a social worker with kung fu. For the record, that was not his intention.
Seeing his name on the cover, however, reminded him of what he wanted to do since the age of seven. Working hard at the craft and a million written words later, and with a commendation in the 2019 Manchester Fiction Prize to fire a serious enthusiasm, he got down to business and wrote five novels in two years to tighten his prose. A lover of sci-fi, fantasy, and horror, he likes it when the good guys win through their struggles, and has a day job using his abnormal memory and hyper-organisation as a supply chain guru to make sure lasers get all the bits they need in time for assembly. Pew pew.
Carl is a father of three and lives in the northern English county of Cheshire. Sarcasm is his native language.
His first published novel, 'No More Heroes,' is the opening volume of 'Lockey vs the Apocalypse,' expanding on the world of Chris Philbrook's highly acclaimed and bestselling zombie apocalypse series, 'Adrian's Undead Diary,' with a strong zombie slaying female lead that is one part horror, one part action, one part moving, and many parts laugh out loud.
Follow Carl on Facebook here: https://www.facebook.com/carlmeadowsauthor
Follow Carl on Instagram here: https://www.instagram.com/carlmeadowsauthor/
About Chris Philbrook
Chris Philbrook is the Amazon and Audible best-selling author of the Adrian’s Undead Diary series, The Reemergence series, COLONY LOST, and the fantasy world of Elmoryn. Chris has several years of experience working in game development and editing as well as writing fiction for several major game design companies.
Chris has authored ten novels in the horror/post-apocalyptic series Adrian’s Undead Diary, plus five urban fantasy novels in The Reemergence series and three dark fantasy novels in The Kinless Trilogy. His first science fiction novel; COLONY LOST has received stellar reviews. He writes young adult sci-fi under the pen name W.J. Orion.
Chris calls the wonderful state of New Hampshire his home. He is an avid reader, writer, role player, miniatures game player, video game player, husband, and father to two little girls.
Contact:[email protected]
Web:www.thechrisphilbrook.com
Facebook:facebook.com/PhilbrookAuthor
Twitter:@PhilbrookAuthor
Instagram:@PhilbrookAuthor
Also by Carl Meadows
LOCKEY VS THE APOCALYPSE:
No More Heroes
We Will Rise
The Devil’s Due
Dedication
On 24th October 2009, our family was forever changed when my nephew, Billy, was tragically born sleeping. My little sister also suffered life-threatening complications. Had it not been for the gut instinct of one amazing medical professional on that day, I would have lost my younger sister as well as my nephew.
There is often a fierce taboo associated with talking about the subject of miscarriage, stillbirth, and the loss of a child, usually because it makes others uncomfortable hearing about it. It’s important that stigma is banished. Why can we talk about the loss of grandparents, parents, and siblings, but not that most painful loss of all?
My sister and brother-in-law have repeatedly – and courageously – shared their incredibly painful story, in the hope they could help just one person who may suffer the worst experience any parent could ever imagine, and to break the taboo around the heartrending loss of a child.
There is light at the end of this tunnel, as they have since brought three beautiful girls into this word that have brought the sunshine back to their lives after the darkness of Billy’s heartbreaking loss.
‘We Will Rise’ is dedicated to one of the strongest families I know. For my sister, Rachel, my brother-in-law, Nick, and my three amazing nieces; Florence, Elsie, and Norah.
Above all, this book is dedicated to the memory of my nephew, Billy.
Gone, but never forgotten.
Billy George Saunders
Born Sleeping 24th October 2009
“In our arms for a moment,
In our hearts for a lifetime.”
Lockey Vs. the Apocalypse: We Will Rise
Copyright © 2021 Carl Meadows
Edited by Chris Philbrook
The Adrian’s Undead Diary universe was created by Chris Philbrook.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without prior written permission of the author. Your support of author’s rights is appreciated.
Published in the United States of America
First Publishing Date 2021
All characters in this compilation are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Cover and interior design by Alan MacRaffen
Can’t Wait for More?
Look for Chris Philbrook’s FREE short fiction eBook, At Least He’s Not on Fire.
Find it on Amazon, Goodreads, or Smashwords today!
Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00JSGEKIK
Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/21948978-at-least-he-s-not-on-fire
Smashwords: https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/430970
Lockey vs. the Apocalypse | Book 2 | We Will Rise [Adrian's Undead Diary Novel] Page 27
