by T. A. Brock
“It’s me. Open up.” She palm slapped the door as if that would mysteriously make it open.
Which it did. A shirtless man in a towel answered the door. Another towel was draped over his head and he rubbed vigorously at his hair. “Back so soon, Raina? I thought you were—”
“We have an emergency, Leiv.”
Russian mobster. Of course. Conner’s stomach dropped.
He turned a blurry gaze to Leather. “Raina, huh? Nice.”
The towel came down from his head and Conner could finally see the guy’s face. Spiky dark hair and goatee. Couple earrings. Could’ve been worse. Conner definitely wasn’t looking at Scarface. In fact, he looked kind of…cool.
“Come in,” he said. “Go ahead and lie down on the bed.”
Conner did what he was told. More because it had been so long since he’d been in a bed that wasn’t a cot. This one looked plush. Plush. What a funny word. He laughed.
“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Leather said.
Leiv went into the bathroom and when he came back out two seconds later, he was wearing a tee shirt and jeans. He carried a duffle bag to the bed and knelt down.
“I’m Leiv. I need to look at your wound. Is that okay?”
He was asking Conner’s permission?
“I’m Conner. But I bet you already know that. And I don’t know if it’s okay.”
Leiv’s mouth turned up. “Would it help to know I’m a paramedic?”
That did sway Conner. If this dude was legit, Conner might not have to go to the ER. “Yeah, okay. Have at it.”
Leather helped him out of his jacket—
“My bag,” he said, alarmed. Everything he owned was in it.
“I have it. Don’t worry.”
He released a breath, at the same time Leiv probed his wound. Wincing slightly, Conner set his jaw against the pain.
“Needs a few stitches. Nothing important was nicked. Looks like you got lucky, man.”
Conner nodded. Lucky. Sure, okay.
“Raina, help me with his shirt.” Carefully, she cut it away so they had a clear area to work with. Conner closed his eyes while they poked and prodded, hoping to hell Leiv had some kind of anesthetic in that bag.
Leiv called her Raina. Conner had never asked for her name. She hadn’t seemed to mind him calling her Leather, so it stuck, but Raina was much prettier.
An agonized grunt left his lips when something cold and wet was applied to his wound. He looked over and noticed Leiv had put on rubber gloves. Good. At least he was clean. Conner didn’t want to catch some stupid disease or anything.
“This next part is going to hurt. I don’t have anything for the pain. I’m sorry, dude.” Leiv stared at him with careful eyes.
Conner made his face brave. “Yeah, okay. Do it.” He hoped to God he wasn’t bawling like a baby in the next five minutes.
Leiv glanced at Leather and she took Conner’s hand, her eyes two pools of emotion. Was she worried about him? She was always so tough and street smart. Seeing her like this, eyes wide, lips pinched…It made her seem almost motherly. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she’d smoothed his hair back or licked her finger to wipe a smudge from his face.
“The first one hurts the worst,” Leiv said. “Take a deep breath.”
Conner did, and then felt the scorching fire prick of the needle through his flesh. He clamped his jaw to hold in a whimper and reminded himself the blade had hurt worse.
Eighteen pricks later, Conner was sweating rivers and his jaw hurt from being locked so tight. He panted as Leiv bandaged his wound, and his eyes began to droop.
The last thing he heard was Leather’s voice. “Sleep, now. And don’t worry. You’re safe with us.”
Conner wanted to laugh. Safety was nothing more than an illusion. But he was too far gone.
Chapter 15
WHEN HE AWOKE, the sun was peeking around the heavy curtain that covered the window. It made weird lines he wasn’t familiar with and he had to think hard to remember where he’d fallen asleep.
He immediately regretted bolting upright, when his side screamed in pain. Looking around, he noticed Leather was asleep in the other bed, and Leiv sat in a chair, reading.
“Oh, hey. You’re awake. Good. We have a lot to talk about.”
Huh. That was news to Conner.
“Are you hungry?”
Conner nodded.
“I’ll call for room service. You like eggs and bacon?”
He nodded once more, and Leiv picked up the phone. Room service. Well, that explained the comfy bed. This was that kind of hotel.
Leather woke when the food came but neither of them ate. Conner scarfed down the food like it was the apocalypse and these were the last eggs in existence. When he finished, Leather set his tray outside the door and came to sit on the bed beside him.
“How are you feeling,” she asked.
Conner smirked. “Like I got in a fight with a knife and a couple needles.”
“Leiv fixed up your eye and the burns on your hands while you were sleeping.”
Conner looked at the guy. “Thank you,” he mumbled. He really was grateful, but he was also wary. What would this cost him?
“No big thing.” Leiv kicked his feet up on the bed and put his hands behind his head. “But let’s talk about your future.”
Leather’s gaze snapped to him. “Not yet, Leiv.”
Leiv eyed her. “I think he’s ready.”
“We talked about this.” Her voice held a warning but Leiv ignored it.
“He’s not safe out there. Besides, you can’t baby him forever. Let him choose.”
Leather looked horrified. It worried Conner to see her like that. This wasn’t the Leather he knew. “Hey,” he said. “What is it?”
She stared at him, and it was unnerving. Like she was measuring him up. “Remember when I said we could change your life?”
Conner nodded.
“You can get off the streets, never be hungry again. Never wonder where your next bed will be. Never want for anything. You can start over new. Have a life you deserve. Would you want that?” Her voice was convincing. As if she was trying to sell him a vacuum cleaner.
He shook his head. “Sounds great, but nothing like that comes without a price.”
“Indeed,” Leiv said. “There is a price. But I’m betting a kid like you would be willing to pay it.”
Kid. How old was this guy? He couldn’t be much older than Conner’s seventeen.
“We have a home,” Leather rushed out. “Outside Vancouver. It’s huge. You’d have your own room, clothes, a TV. You’d love it.”
Conner frowned. “Wait, what is this? You want to adopt me?”
Leather glanced at Leiv. “Yeah. Sort of. I guess you could say that.”
Conner’s gaze drifted between the two of them. “Are you two…together? Are you married?”
Leather turned beet red, and Leiv seemed to wince. “Ah, no. Not exactly. Look, we want you in our family. It’s lonely, just the two of us. In return, you can have a better life. You can do, be, whatever you wish.”
Conner swallowed. The idea of having a family almost brought tears to his eyes. Two years he’d been on his own, but before that, he still hadn’t had a family. Not really.
But it couldn’t be so easy. What did they want from him? “Let me get this straight. You want me to be part of your family and in return, you pay my way. I’m not seeing where the sacrifice is here. And I don’t believe for one second that there isn’t one.”
Leiv pressed his lips together, nodding. Then he reached over to the dresser and picked up a sheathed dagger. Conner stiffened. There was a certain irony to the idea that the guy who’d just patched up your knife wound might then dagger you.
“It’s hard to explain. It will be easier to show you. Raina, get the water, please.”
Conner struggled to stand, the sight of the dagger making his mouth dry with fear. He wasn’t letting Leiv cut him.
But Leiv had
other things in mind, and before Conner could scream, he’d sliced his wrist to the bone.
Conner’s jaw hit the floor when the blood that spurted from the wound dropped in sick brown spots all over the bed.
Red. It should be red.
He gaped at Leiv, who showed no signs of alarm, and Leather, who strangely, held an ice bucket. “What…what are you?”
Leiv raised a pierced eyebrow, and gave a sideways grin. “The politically correct word is risers. But you might think of us as zombies.”
Hours later, Conner blinked profusely, thinking that the ice bucket full of water and the brown stains on the sheets would just vanish in a cloud of psychotic delusionary smoke. But, no. No. They remained.
The two non-humans in the room had done a lot of talking and he’d done a lot of listening.
He glanced from Leather to Leiv and back to Leather again. She was chewing at her lip, clearly nervous.
Zombies. But not like any movie he’d ever seen. They wanted to make him one, so he could have a better life.
“What do you eat?” Why that was the first question he asked, he had no clue.
“Hamburger, steak, chicken. As long as it’s raw.”
“No people then.”
She frowned. “Of course not. We are different, not evil. I value human life. That’s why if you say no, I’ll walk away.”
The idea sort of devastated him. He’d become attached to her. This past week, hardly seeing her, he felt like he was drifting. He didn’t want her walking away. And what they suggested…it really wasn’t all that bad. It was kind of…sort of like…
Conner shook his head. No, Batman wasn’t a zombie, but he was special. And also, not real.
This, though? This thing Leather and Leiv showed him…unless he was tripping, it was real. And he could be like them. They said he’d even forget all the junk that happened with his parents. He’d forget the crappy little place he’d grown up in, with all its vicious fighting and yelling and poison-filled syringes.
All he had to do was say yes.
If he did this, he’d be putting all his trust into the two individuals before him…and they weren’t even human. Could he do that? Could he let go and fall into the sweet abyss they described?
Hard, cold street life on the one hand, cushy family on the other. It was hardly even a choice.
Conner nodded slowly, his eyes growing wide as he realized what he was about to do.
Then he whispered a word that would end his life.
“Yes.”
Anchorage, Alaska…
Machines beeped and blipped in a melody that would soon sing him into death, but Doc Price didn’t worry about that. He wanted to see Sam one last time, to be reminded that his life’s work would carry on to the next generations.
His body had withered and wrinkled. His lungs were failing. His liver and kidneys as well. And he was good with it all. His body had performed as any human’s should. Slowly dying while it was living. The perfect way.
Sam was the reminder that some bodies didn’t function the same. Over the years, the two of them had done much to change that. A cure was well on its way.
Price blinked and when he opened his eyes, he saw Sam’s face.
“They say today is probably my last,” he told him.
Sam nodded, seeming sad. “I’ll miss you, father.”
Price’s wrinkled mouth smiled. He’d always liked Sam calling him father even if they both knew it wasn’t accurate.
“Tell me the numbers.” Hearing the signs of their progress was a great way to go.
“Thirteen confirmed in Europe. Seven, in Asia. Two in Mexico—not sure how that happened. Nine in Canada, and twenty-one in the United States.”
Price smiled brighter. The numbers were good. Very good. “How many altogether?”
Sam beamed. “Fifty-one. Fifty-one carriers confirmed as of today.”
So many. There was no better news to hear on his deathbed. As he drew what he suspected was his last breath, he wondered where Siam was. Would she be proud of what they’d accomplished? Would she be angry? He’d never have the answer. And he was okay with that. He was okay.
“An infected human dies immediately, true, but what they don’t tell you is how long they stay dead. Perhaps that’s because there’s no real way to answer that. Ask a zombie whether or not they’re dead, they’ll tell you without hesitation, yes. Ask a human whether or not a zombie is alive. They’ll tell you, with the teensiest amount of hesitation and a question mark at the end, yes?” Leiv passed another glass of water to Raina as he spoke. Conner had transitioned easily, though he was foggy-eyed right now. More water—and sleep—would cure that.
Raina helped him drink while Leiv continued. “That’s why it’s better the humans don’t know about us. Easier. We get what we want that way: anonymity. To them we are simply more of what they are: human. Nothing creepy, nothing scary. Nothing toxic.”
They’d decided a name change would help him adjust. A new name for a new life, just in case there were any unpleasant memories leftover. From now on, they’d call him Grayson.
“Living in secret isn’t as hard as you think, I promise. No castle on a hill to hole up in or anything like that. We live among them. The best hiding place is in plain sight. There is only one thing you must remember. The water. Always remember what I told you about the water.”
Watching Raina care for their tribe’s new addition made Leiv’s heart ache. She would have made a fantastic mother. Even now it was hard to believe he could feel so conflicted, be equally regretful and not. But when she’d returned, he’d vowed not to live in the regret, to spend the rest of his life making things work for his tribe. He wouldn’t let her—or Grayson—down.
“Let’s see…I think I covered everything. Any questions?”
Grayson shook his head, looking disoriented. That would fade with time. As would his skar.
“No? Good.”
He patted his new brother on the back.
“Welcome to our tribe.”
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank all the amazing people who made this story possible. To my critique partner and friend, Summer Wier. Your encouragement and constructive criticism makes my writing shine. You’re a diamond polisher along with all your other titles, I swear. From the bottom of my heart, thank you.
To my Omnizombie sister, Tera Shanley. I’d be a much boring-er person without our late night chats.
I’m glad I found a fellow night owl to share virtual ’ritas with.
To my editor, Sean Riley, for scoping out fine details and inconsistencies with laser-like precision, a million thank-yous. You are a book surgeon, I’m fairly certain. Or a magician, maybe. I haven’t figured it out yet. To Traci Olsen, publicist extraordinaire. Thank you for your guidance, and for working so hard to make sure my book has game.
To the entire wonderful crew at Omnific Publishing. You are all rock stars. Elizabeth Harper, Lisa O’Hara, Colleen Keough-Wagner, Tracey Miller, Kimberly Blythe, Coreen Montagna, and Micha Stone. Thank you for working so quickly to bring Brutal to the readers. You are an amazing team to work with.
To my friends in the book community: bloggers, tweeps, REUTies, writers, publishers, agents, librarians, and anyone with love of reading. You are the breath in my lungs. The oxygen in my bloodstream. And even though that sounds gross, just think about how important you are. I couldn’t do this without you.
To my family. You are patient and giving and supportive when others are not. I could never thank you enough. I’m especially grateful for those chocolate covered gummy bears you supplied me with when I was on deadline. You have my heart.
To my Fatal fans…aw, now. You are the heart and soul of this series. Without you none of these stories would matter. The fact that you love them, love these characters, and want more, more, more, is what drives me. Thank you, each and every one. We are a small army now, but we are fierce. Prepare yourselves, because I have a feeling new recruits will be coming
our way soon!
About the Author
T.A. Brock lives in Oklahoma, where zombies do not thrive. When not immersed in the world of fantasy writing, she enjoys spending time with her big girl, baby boy, and hubs. Some of her favorite things are coffee (specifically with cream, sugar, and chocolate), music (especially something with a good beat), books (especially paranormal), and tennis. She despises raw meat and therefore is exceedingly glad she’s human.
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