by T. A. Brock
He needed these things gone. If she couldn’t use them anymore, he never wanted to see or smell them again.
Quickly, he slid the broken bottles into the trashcan and mopped up the liquid with a towel. Then he ran downstairs and threw it in the Dumpster outside. There. The danger—to her body, and his mind—was gone.
He stood there, his breath coming in heaves. But he wasn’t finished. The entire house needed to be purged.
Leiv went back inside and straight to the kitchen where he threw open every cabinet door. With single-minded focus, he pulled out every item of food, stacking cans and boxes on the counter. The town Food Bank would appreciate the donation.
He tackled the refrigerator next. Anything that wasn’t eggs or meat went straight into a box. If he couldn’t give it away, he’d have to toss it.
Room by room he went, ferreting out any substance that wasn’t zombie friendly. He found liquid makeup in the downstairs bathroom, along with another bottle of lotion and some mouthwash. He left the shampoo and conditioner. As long as she used them while showering, where the water would dilute the soap, they were safe.
He stopped at the door of one of the bedrooms. It was the one adjacent to his and Raina’s. Out of the three bedrooms in the house, he’d spent most of the past couple weeks in this one. Painting, moving furniture, cleaning everything to a sparkling shine.
Inching close, he rested his fist on the cool wood of the door and breathed deep. Cloying varnish. Tart cleaning products. If he could smell memories, they would be more pleasant. Sweet laughter. Brisk conversation. Warm declarations. And everything tinged in cinnamon.
He couldn’t stand to enter it again.
Turning his head, he spied the tall bookshelf at the end of the hallway. It was no big thing for him to maneuver it in front of the bedroom door. It stuck out away from the wall a little because of the door handle, but he would fix that later. Anyone who wasn’t familiar with the layout of the house would never know the shelf was covering a room.
Most importantly, Raina wouldn’t know. No one would step foot in this bedroom again.
Finally all that was left to do was clean up the mess in the master bedroom. He made sure every sliver of glass was swept up. He gathered the dirty sheets and towels and brought them downstairs to be washed. Then he began filling water pitchers for when Raina awoke.
His stare was so intent on the water flowing out of the kitchen faucet that he was completely taken by surprise when a tortured scream ripped through the house. Raina.
Flickers of light. Pictures and then black, people and then black. Whatever this was, it was annoying.
Raina reached for anything solid and managed to hold an image of Grams for a few seconds, but then it was gone. More scenes flashed beneath her eyelids. She recognized some, but not others. Colors, faces, and then black. Movement, people, and then black. Memories, memories, and then black.
Why was she dreaming like this? She couldn’t remember falling asleep but this was definitely not reality.
Grasping at the images again, she captured one of Leiv. It wasn’t a corporeal thing that she could hold in her hand, but her mind had a white-knuckle grip on it. By some miracle, it didn’t flicker away like all the others. It stayed.
It stayed…
“You stayed,” she mumbled, sleep still coating her throat.
“Of course.” His voice was quiet but he didn’t appear to have been asleep.
Iraina sat up, thankful she hadn’t accidentally drooled on the poor guy’s shoulder. The sun shone through the enormous waiting room windows, brighter than a thousand fires. But it didn’t make the hospital feel any more alive.
She yawned and rubbed her eyes to wake them up. “The doctor?”
“He came a few minutes ago.”
She frowned. “Why didn’t you wake me?”
“He had strict instructions from your grandmother not to wake you if you’d fallen asleep.”
“What? That’s absurd.” Only Grams would do something so…so…
Leiv shrugged.
“You should have woken me.”
He grinned and it was so small, she almost missed it. “You were sleeping so soundly.”
Iraina frowned harder. She was sleeping soundly. Usually, she woke at the flap of a fly’s wings. Being that she was in an uncomfortable plastic chair, sitting upright—she eyed Leiv’s shoulder—well, mostly upright, and worried sick about Grams, it should’ve been the worst sleep of her life.
“But I can see her now, right?”
“Yeah. Room 314. I’ll show you, if you’d like.”
Iraina nodded.
She followed Leiv through the swinging double doors and down a long hall to an elevator. While they waited for the doors to open, she stole glances in his direction. He was very tall. But so was she for a woman. His dark hair was long on the top, and styled like Elvis’s.
The bell dinged, opening to an empty elevator. She stepped inside, Leiv right behind her. He punched the button for the third floor, the doors closed, and they started ascending.
The ride was silent. He wasn’t much of a talker, Iraina noticed. Their small walk earlier had proved it. Getting polite information out of him was more like pulling teeth and a far cry from anything polite. She knew she’d made him uncomfortable when she asked about his family, but what else was she supposed to say to him? Maybe nothing. Like now.
He was kind though. That much was obvious. The way he’d taken care of Grams, how he’d stayed to make sure she was all right. Even now, he went out of his way.
It put a smile on Iraina’s lips.
Leiv turned to look at her, his eyebrows shooting upward. “What is it?”
“Nothing. Just…thank you. For your kindness. I appreciate it.”
His cheeks darkened in what must’ve been a blush. “It’s no big thing.”
The elevator opened to the third floor and suddenly, all Iraina could think of was getting to Grams. She followed the signs directing her toward rooms 305 through 315, staying ahead of Leiv the entire way.
When she reached 314, she stopped in the doorway, swallowing hard at the lump in her throat. Grams rested peacefully in her bed, but the ominous beeping machines and the enormous cast around her torso and leg was enough to make Iraina’s breath come in desperate gasps.
“It’s going to be all right.” Leiv’s encouraging words in her ear pushed her through the door. That, and his solid presence behind her. Like he would have her back no matter what. It was a fantastic feeling, but she wasn’t sure if she could trust it. The only person who had been there for her through thick and thin was now lying in a hospital bed.
Iraina went to Grams, careful not to disturb her. Whether it was the harsh fluorescent lighting or just the idea of Grams being helpless, for once, she actually looked her age. A thin tube ran from behind each ear and rested under her nose to give her extra oxygen. An IV had been inserted into the back of her hand. It was mostly purple and Iraina could tell the tape holding the IV in place was irritating the skin. Once again, there was nowhere Iraina could touch her without worrying if it would do more harm.
“Give me your hand, child.” Grams’ eyelids were drowsy slits.
“Grams,” Iraina whispered—through tears, she realized.
“Hand.”
Iraina obeyed, carefully sliding her fingers into her Grams’ wrinkled palm.
Grams’ eyes widened a little. “Did that ridiculous doctor wake you? You look like you’ve been asleep.”
“No. He didn’t.” Iraina wanted to laugh and yell at the same time. “But he should have. And that ‘ridiculous doctor’ fixed you up, so maybe he isn’t so ridiculous after all.”
“Hmph. We’ll see.” Good to know a few breaks hadn’t zapped her orneriness.
Relief, like a soft blanket, settled in the room. Grams was alright. For now, at least. Iraina knew she didn’t have many more years with Grams but thinking it, admitting it even to herself, wasn’t something she was ready for.
Grams’ eyes looked past Iraina’s shoulder. “You’re still here? What on earth for?”
“Huh?” Was she hallucinating?
“Yes, ma’am.” Oh. Leiv. How could she have forgotten he was there? “I…”
“He helped me, Grams. With the nurses, and showed me to your room.”
“Did you now?” The corner of Grams’ mouth slid upward. “You must be exhausted.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Leiv shrug. “It’s no big thing. I’m used to late nights.”
Grams glanced at the window where the sun peeked through the blinds. “How about mornings? You used to mornings?”
Iraina looked at Leiv. His mouth was crooked in a slight grin. She wondered if he ever fully smiled. Or was it always the halfway-almost kind?
“I try to avoid them,” he said, “at all cost.”
Grams managed to tsk at him. “Morning is the best time of the day, son. When everything’s bright and new and just beginning. Like the opening page of a new book. Go on, open those blinds and see for yourself.”
Grams, trying to convert a night owl. All these years and she hadn’t managed to convert Iraina.
Leiv gave a nod and walked over to the window. He fidgeted with the blind cord until the room was bathed in lines of brilliant yellow light. Iraina felt like hissing at them, mostly because her swollen eyes were begging for sleep.
Leiv glanced back at Grams. “Ah, Ms. Lukin, you have a magnificent view of the cinderblock building next door.” His playful tone brought a tired chuckle from Grams. It was such a wonderful sound, Iraina’s eyes pricked with new tears.
“Look hard, dear boy, the morning makes everything new. Even those ugly cinderblocks.”
Leiv went back to staring out the window.
“Grams, how are you feeling? Can I get you anything?”
“No, dear. I’m fine. They’ll bring me some horrible cafeteria food soon. But you should go home, get some sleep.”
Iraina shook her head. She wasn’t leaving Grams here by herself.
“Please, I need to rest and so do you. Go on home. You can come back later. Maybe they’ll even let me go home tonight.”
“Grams—”
“Levi, would you be so kind to do an old woman one more favor?”
“Leiv, Grams. His name is Leiv.”
Grams cut a sharp look in Iraina’s direction. “That’s what I said.”
Iraina rolled her eyes.
Leiv had returned to Grams’ bedside, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “Of course. What is it?”
Grams’ shaking hand reached for his, where it rested on the bedrail. She picked it up, turning it in hers, examining it. “No ring. But then, I should hope not since you spent your night helping my vnuchka.” The intense way she stared into his eyes made Iraina feel like an intruder. “Do you have anyone?”
Iraina’s jaw dropped at Grams’ bold question.
Leiv looked uncomfortable but he didn’t try to pull away. He gazed at their clasped hands, swallowed hard. “No.” He cleared his throat. “No one, ma’am.”
No amount of clearing his throat was going to remove the ache of loneliness in his voice. But it was more than just that. There was a hint of shame. She’d noticed it earlier when they’d gone walking. Unless her tired mind was playing tricks on her, Leiv felt ashamed that he had no one in his life. She often felt sad about having no one except Grams, but she’d never felt ashamed.
Grams was quiet for so long, the air in the room felt like it buzzed with a swarm of bees. Prickly and uncomfortable. Iraina grappled for something to say to break the tension, but before she could think of something, Grams spoke up.
“My babushka told me a story when I was a girl, about the Unheld Heart. Have you heard it?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Long ago all hearts needed interaction, love, to survive. If they weren’t held, they would suffer the worst fate a heart can suffer. They would break. One day, a strong little heart found himself lost. He was buried deep under a pile of misfortune. Being a brand new heart, he’d never been held before, but he was hopeful that there was someone who would come along and find him, and hold him. And then he would thrive. So the heart waited to be found. He waited so long, he shouldn’t have lasted. Something kept him going. Little did he know, it was his own love, or rather his ability to love that sustained him. When the waiting had been too long, when no one found him, when he lost hope that he’d ever be held, the little heart began to crack. Just before the crack threatened to break him clean in half, the unheld heart realized his mistake. But it was too late. He was broken.”
Leiv’s brows drew together.
“Do you know what his mistake was?”
Leiv shook his head.
“He shouldn’t have waited for someone to find him when he was fully capable of finding his own way out of the misfortune. The loneliest hearts often make the biggest mistakes. But I believe they also have more capacity for love. Be very, very careful Levi. Find your morning.”
Leiv’s gaze stayed steady on hers as he gave an almost imperceptible nod.
“Now, if you don’t mind, could you see my girl home?”
His gaze flicked to Iraina and she realized her jaw was hanging. She picked it up and tried to brush off Grams’ request.
“I can see myself home, Grams. Leiv has done plenty and I’m sure he’s tired and ready to—”
“I don’t mind at all,” he cut in.
“No, really. It’s fine. I’ll catch the bus.” Everything felt so…awkward. Her emotions were raw and Grams was clearly not thinking straight, talking to a near stranger the way she was. And Leiv, there was no need to ask more from him. Especially when Iraina was fully capable of getting from the hospital to home—and didn’t want to leave anyway.
“It’s on my way,” he said. “You’ll get home faster if I drop you.”
Grams’ eyes were staying closed a little longer after each blink. She needed to rest. She’d rest better if she knew Iraina was home safe.
“All right then, yes. Thank you, Leiv.”
He gave a nod.
Iraina bent to kiss Grams’ cheek. “Love you, babushka.”
Grams’ didn’t open her eyes as she mumbled, “You are mourning.”
Iraina froze. “What? Of course not. Grams, there’s nothing to mourn yet.” But her only response was a soft snore.
Leiv’s voice was gentle and reverent. “I think she meant…morning.” He gestured toward the window. “You are morning.”
Chapter 4
Deep in the Alaskan Wilderness...
SIAM WAS A RISER, but you could hardly call her that anymore. Not when it’d been over five thousand years since she’d risen from the dead to become one of them. A zombie. She thought she’d have a lifetime—a single lifetime—to come to terms with what she was. Which, to be honest, wasn’t truly bad. The only thing bad about being a zombie was the implications of being undead. If you could get past that little detail—and at the time, she could—you had it made.
As it turned out, Siam had many lifetimes. A thousand, all rolled into one gigantic, single existence.
At first, it was fun. Living potentially forever and never aging? Shhhyeah. Who wouldn’t sign up for that? It was as if she’d found the Fountain of Youth without ever actually having to search for the damn thing. Or drinking from it. Or whatever else you’re supposed to do with it.
Around the thousandth year, life started getting boring. She’d traveled the world (minus the deserts), lost count of how many languages she’d learned to speak, and watched every last friend and enemy die. Some Twice. All except Hannah.
So, she’d started getting creative, playing with her appearance. She could be anybody. Her style was whatever would make you blink twice, blush, or cringe. Today, she wished for once that she’d chosen something more practical to wear than spiky stiletto boots. She was an Oracle for dead’s sake. She should have foreseen this. But that wasn’t exactly how things worked.
&
nbsp; Siam ran through the dense forest as fast as she could with the load she carried on her back. She had to get far away before they noticed she was gone with the evidence of Leiv’s transgression. She still couldn’t believe Hannah hadn’t disposed of it herself. No, instead she’d brought the sheet-wrapped bundle right to their haven. True, Hannah liked to flirt with danger but this? This was too much.
As she made her way up the frozen mountain, the ice encased tree limbs that blocked her path were the biggest nuisance. Or, the most intriguing challenge, if you chose to look at it that way. And she did. She hacked at them with the axe she’d found at the base of the hill. Shards of ice sprayed in every direction, but the limbs gave way. The ice, well, it was actually quite perfect. It kept her slowly hydrated. That and the snow she swallowed from time to time.
Siam peered through the blinding white, and was able to see her destination at the top of the peak. Well, not so much see it as feel it. And not so much it as him.
“Not much farther,” she muttered, readjusting her pack.
She trudged upward, every step landing her ankle deep in the snow until she stood outside a tiny hut. It was built into the side of the mountain, sheltered by jagged rock. The logs that made up the walls were vertical and random in size and pine needle branches had been piled on the roof. If you weren’t looking for it, you could almost pass it off as a copse of trees. Except for the cloud of smoke puffing from the top. She’d have to talk to him about that.
“Price,” she called.
One, two, three, four…
Five seconds passed before he emerged, carrying a shotgun. He aimed it directly at her face. “I told you to never come back here.”
Looking him over from head to foot, her heart suffered yet another crack because of this man. His hair had grown long, dancing with the tops of his plaid covered shoulders. He had a full beard now, which she both loved and hated. It made him look tougher, more barbaric. But it also covered up his best features, his lips.
She swallowed her feelings and met his blistering eyes. His barely contained rage set her hands to shaking, and she had to stuff them in the pockets of her ridiculous out-of-place raven feathered jacket.
