Deadly Hearts: A Post Apocalyptic Romance Novel

by Priscila Santa Rosa

  He frowns. “Your mother?”

  “She’s … she’s infected. It was the only safe way to escape with her.”

  Liam stares at me, wide-eyed. “I was an idiot, wasn’t I? The whole time … Everything we had … it was just so you could get information out of me. Once you got what you wanted—a way to keep her sedated and asleep—you left, not even bothering to say goodbye.”

  I furiously shake my head. “It wasn’t like that.”

  “No? Then why didn’t you tell me about her? It wasn’t like I wouldn’t understand. I was the one who trusted you enough to tell you about my infected patients. We could’ve taken care of her together. I would’ve given the pills to you freely. I would’ve found a way to help you, no matter the cost.”

  I sniff away my tears. “I didn’t want you to pay any cost at all. I wanted to keep you safe. Ezequiel found me. I had to leave. If I had stayed with you, we would’ve ended up dead. And she would’ve too.”

  “If you had told me that, maybe we would have—”

  “What? Fought Ezequiel and his men? I had no fight left in me. I just was so tired, and so afraid. But you never understood that, did you? All you talked about was making things better, helping more. Like it was easy. And maybe it was for you. But I was done. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

  He bites his lip, hard, looking left and right with chest puffed. “You expect me to feel sorry for you? Things are hard for everyone. But we have to try. We need to help each other. Otherwise, what’s the point?”

  “I needed to help my mother first.”

  “By doing that, you condemned everyone else. Your mother isn’t worth all those lives.”

  I recoil as if slapped. “She is to me. My mother is worth every sacrifice, everything that I did. She’s worth it. I saw a chance for us to be free from this damn place, and I took it. I know I shouldn’t have. I know I should’ve been selfless like you, enduring despite everything, but I’m not.” I gesture widely as I speak, voice rising with emotion. “I’m selfish. I’m petty. I do what it takes to survive. I can’t change who am I, but I’m sorry about what happened to the clinic. I really am.”

  He shakes his head, furious. “Don’t waste my time, Bel. I don’t want your guilt. Your guilt doesn’t bring my patients back. It doesn’t change that Melinda is gone or that so many people are dead.”

  I look down, taking a deep breath. “I don’t know how yet, Liam, but I’ll make it all up to you. I’ll—”

  “Don’t. You will only make things worse. Just leave. Go back to where you came from before it’s too late.”

  “Why? What’s going on?”

  He wrinkles his nose, fuming, but after a second, he says, “How do you think I still have antibiotics to give your new boyfriend? Isidor and I are barely surviving on our own. We don’t have the time to go out for supplies or trade anything. We had no choice but to ask Ezequiel for help.”

  I inhale sharply. “And what did he ask of you in return?”

  Liam looks down to the ground, shame marking his face. “His men get preferable treatment. And sometimes… sometimes he’ll determine the fates of patients. Ignoring his orders leads to either beatings or loss of supplies. But don’t worry, Ezequiel just kicks me in the ribs a few hundred times. Breaking them is fine, you see, because I get to keep working anyway.”

  All I want is to step forward and hug him, but I know he’ll only brush me off. Instead, I stare at him, my heart breaking into a thousand pieces. Nothing I could say would fix this.

  “That boy, the one you are looking for, Zeke took him. And I stood there and let him.” He closes his hands into fists, anger in his voice. “I keep telling myself it’s a small sacrifice for the greater good. But it doesn’t work, Bel. I can’t believe that lie anymore. Every day here is exhausting and painful. I can barely breathe without wanting to give up.”

  I place a hand on his shoulder and plead, “Then leave. I can help you escape. I know a way.”

  He shakes his head. “What about the people still trapped in this place? Will you lead them to freedom too, Bel?”

  I bite my lip. The thought had crossed my mind during those six months we spent apart. “If everyone leaves, Ortiz will find out and hunt us. Some might get away, but he’ll capture most before we—”

  “Don’t bother with the justifications. I can’t leave. Just as you’re willing to sacrifice everyone else, I’m willing to stay here for as long as I’m needed. Even if it hurts.”

  Silence falls between us. It pains me, but I have nothing to offer him. I can’t bring people back from the dead; I can’t go back in time. And he won’t leave. So what’s left? What can I do to make this pain stop? How can I heal the wound I gave him?

  After a deep breath, Liam says, “I answered your questions. I told you where the boy is. Are we done now? Are you satisfied?”

  I give him a faint nod, not knowing what else I can say. He leaves the small room, slamming the door behind him.

  I stay in the dark for a few minutes, drawing quick breaths as tears sting my eyes. I dry them away angrily with my sleeve.

  Enough. I’m done with tears. All I can do now is focus on Alex and getting us off this island.

  Feeling defeated, I drag myself back to Diego’s room. As I open the door and step in, he greets me with a smile.

  “So, how did it go?”

  I sit on the chair next to his bed and bite my lip. Telling him about Alex would be a mistake. As much as I don’t want to face Ezequiel alone, Diego is still in a bad shape. And once he knows Alex is with the self-appointed king of the island, he’ll be even more impatient to jump into action.

  I almost lost him. I’m not ready to risk him again. I can do this on my own. I know the building Ezequiel uses as a base and how things work inside. I’ll find out where exactly they are keeping Alex and bring him back to his father. It won’t be easy, it won’t be pretty, but I can’t find any other solution.

  Careful not to outright lie to him, I answer his question as vaguely as possible, “Liam … wasn’t very cooperative.”

  “You think he’s hiding something?”

  Guilt settles in my chest, and I clear my throat before answering him. “No. He’s a good person. He’s just … hurt. Since I left, he lost a lot of people.”

  Diego snorts, shaking his head. “Newsflash, gringo, everyone has lost people.”

  “Maybe so, but I’m directly responsible for his loss.”

  “I doubt that.”

  After a sigh, I tell him the whole story, figuring if I’m going to hide the truth about Alex, the least I can do is admit my other wrongdoing.

  Once I’m finished, I look down at my hands. “I feel responsible. If I hadn’t stolen the sedatives, maybe—”

  “He chose to have dangerous infected near his old clinic. He made that decision. That was his mistake.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think it was a mistake at all. He was trying to help them. And it would’ve worked if I hadn’t messed up. And I did the same for my mother.”

  “You put yourself at risk. He put all his patients at risk.”

  Despite Liam’s harsh words, I can’t help but still defend him, and I don’t even know why. “It was a calculated risk that could’ve turned out fine if I hadn’t ruined their plan. The fault is mine.”

  Diego sighs. “Isabel, look at me.”

  I do, a sharp pain piercing my chest.

  “Do you know why I decided to make a deal with you, back at Punta Franca?”

  “Because you had no other option?”

  “No. It’s because I know what it feels like to have no choice but a bad one. I never had much ambition, despite what people say about me. When I first joined El Loro’s gang, I was pretty happy at being the ‘money guy’ and keeping my head down. Then, my mother got sick.”

  Diego pauses, clenching his jaw before continuing. “Her treatments were costly. The hospital bills kept piling up, and she wasn’t getting better. Our cut from the business suddenly beca
me very small. I went to El Loro and asked for money. First time? The boss was happy to oblige, a token for our loyalty. By the third time, his generosity disappeared. Rico didn’t enjoy groveling, so we fought constantly because I kept asking for more. Unlike my brother, I had access to El Loro’s balance sheet. I knew how profitable we were for him.

  “I was warned to stop in the most cartel-way possible—with a beating. As my mother slowly withered away and I nursed broken ribs, I realized being under the foot of more powerful people is not a good survival strategy. So I took over. Rico and I killed El Loro, and the money was ours.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Diego’s face falls. He sucks in his lips. “A coup takes time. She died before El Loro.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  He nods vaguely. “My point is that we’re both ready to do whatever it takes for the right person. So I knew we could work together, that we had the same goals. You took the sedatives for a good cause. I knew that back at the shack, and I know now. You stole from me too, remember? Did I care? No. Because everyone deserves to fight for survival. To fight for their families. And, besides, I’m the last person to judge anyone, considering what I’ve done in my past.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What happens if I had to do something that you didn’t like? Something that harms you? Will you be that magnanimous?”

  “I’m always magnanimous.” He winks at me.

  “I’m serious, Diego.”

  “If you do something like that, I’ll know it’s for the right reasons. I trust you.”

  I feel like a lump is stuck in my throat again. For all his gentleness, his support, Liam never understood me, not like Diego does.

  While Liam was the only bright thing in my life the entire time I was a prisoner of this island, he looked at me like I was perfect. A heroine. I never believed him.

  The problem with being near someone so effortlessly good is that it made my struggle even harder. You can’t become a better person by simply being near one. It doesn’t work like that, although back then, I wished it did.

  The truth is everything came so easy for Liam. Being good and selfless is in his nature. All the privileges he had since he was born—nice suburban family, good education, safe streets, a proper government that mostly worked—were a chasm between us. While I fought for the little I had, he couldn’t imagine giving up his morals to survive.

  But Diego … Diego is just like me. He knows being good is a struggle, a battle you fight every day in Guavina. A battle you sometimes lose and one he wants to fight side by side with me.

  “Also, unlike that gringo, I can take care of myself. I could find a way to save that dingy clinic. No doubt.” Diego smiles playfully. “Which is why you love me.”

  Despite everything, I allow myself to return his smile. “Arrogant as always, Vargas.”

  “I’m not hearing a denial …” Diego raises an eyebrow. “Is that a confession?”

  My heart skips a beat, and I take a deep breath. “Does it have to be? It’s just that … I don’t know how I feel yet.”

  In the seconds that it takes Diego to answer, I stare at my hands, wishing it were easier for me to just say the words, but something always stops me. I can’t help but fear trusting too much, too soon, and getting hurt in the end. Allowing myself to be vulnerable, genuinely vulnerable, seems more dangerous than risking my life.

  “It’s okay. I know that for some the word doesn’t come easily. I was just teasing.”

  I search his face and voice for a hint of disappointment, but there’s none. Despite his reputation and his brother’s insinuations, Diego has been nothing but straightforward about us, so I have to believe he’s not offended.

  “Once we get back home, I’ll have all the time in the world to win you for good.” He pulls me in close, the tips of our noses touching lightly. “Come here.”

  Diego’s kiss melts away all the anxiety and guilt inside my heart. For as long as our mouths linger together, I feel content.

  I trace his jaw with the tip of my fingers, happy to have the chance to touch him again. Sensing my eagerness, he deepens the kiss. If only he weren’t hurt …

  Conscious of his health, I break us apart. No kiss can last forever, and it’s time I face the world outside.

  I move away from him, remembering Alex’s situation and the choice I made. Without realizing, Diego gave me the last push I needed to leave him behind. Knowing that he trusts me, that he’ll understand why I’m doing this, will help me focus on the dangers ahead.

  Unaware of my decision, he talks about finding another source of information the next day, believing it won’t be too hard to find a kid in this chaos; I listen, nod, but say very little until he falls asleep.

  Still nervous, I stay with him for as long as I can, but every minute I linger, it’s a chance that he’ll wake up and somehow convince me I can’t go alone.

  Mustering up enough courage, I stand and pick Diego’s backpack up from the floor. Anything inside, I’ll trade for information. The gun will be especially useful. If things go bad, I can always use it to threaten people for the same result.

  The gun feels heavy and clumsy in my hands. I’m used to keeping my hands free and ready for a fight, so the additional weight is already a source of worry. I count how much ammo there’s left too. Enough for a firefight, but a quick one.

  Before I leave our tiny room, I place my free hand on Diego’s forehead, letting it linger until I’m sure he’s not feverish. As I sigh, my fingers travel gently to his cheek. Finally, I lower my head and kiss him softly so not to wake him, a hollow sensation pressing in my chest as I touch his lips. This better not be the last time we see each other. It would be too unfair.

  If I’m lucky, Ezequiel will not even know I was here at all. I doubt his hate for me has diminished these past months, so any meeting will end up with one of us dead. Most likely me.

  Before the outbreak, Ezequiel ruled the biggest prison of Guavina from the inside. It was there the outbreak of the disease started, so he and the other prisoners were the first ones to be moved by the Army to Bonita. But that meant little to Ezequiel. His throne room merely changed from a cell to a rundown apartment. He’s one of those monsters who thrive in hellholes, feeding off the misery and pain of others.

  I first met the man on my second day on the island. Ezequiel took notice of me when one of his goons tried to steal a bottle of water I found while looting dead bodies. Of course, the thief wasn’t just interested in stealing. He threatened to do worse if I didn’t cooperate—although it quickly became apparent that cooperation wouldn’t protect me.

  I broke his hand and robbed him of a shiv he made out of a piece of glass and duct tape. So he ran to his boss, demanding compensation.

  Instead of giving the man the revenge he wanted, Ezequiel offered me a job and protection. His crew was well known and disliked by everyone, but I was no one, only a sweet-looking girl with a pretty smile. People trusted me to be inoffensive, at least until I kicked their teeth in and robbed them.

  But once Zeke’s power was established and uncontested, my job became servitude, and the protection turned into suffocation. Stealing from others wasn’t enough anymore.

  His last order was for me to kill a man for looking at him the wrong way. When I let the guy leave instead, Zeke had me beaten. It was that night Liam found me unconscious after I managed to free myself and run. The memory of the torture is still as vivid as ever. His laugh as a man kicked me repeatedly in the stomach haunts my nightmares. I turn cold when I remember his hands holding my chin as he cut my lip with the tip of a knife.

  Shivers run down my back. To get out of Bonita alive, Ezequiel can’t know I’m back. If I fall into his hands again, he will kill me.

  On my way out of the small apartment, I spot Liam kneeling next to a patient resting on a dirty mattress. I take a step toward him but change my mind. Asking him to look out for Diego would be too much. Even saying goodbye would probably be seen as a
nuisance.

  I leave the wailing of the sick and the moldy hallways behind, finding the outside air of Bonita to be surprisingly fresh and salty. Having the sun hit my cheeks after long hours straining under candlelight brings a small smile to my lips.

  That relief doesn’t last long. Three infected men drag their feet near the entrance. Before they notice me, I slip into the building next to the clinic and hide in its dark hallways. Here, there’s nothing but barricaded doors with large red “X”s painted on them to warn of the dangers inside. Countless sick people succumbed to the disease while locked in these tiny apartments. They have stayed locked for a year now. But some doors are open, leading to abandoned and looted rooms.

  Since Bonita is so small, the National Mining Company built its housing complex close together so the gap between buildings is usually easy to cross. Using this to my advantage, I rush to the first apartment with a window and jump to the adjacent room.

  For two blocks, I’m able to completely avoid the streets, but soon, I’m forced to risk myself again. Ezequiel picked the farthest building as his base precisely to avoid anyone sneaking inside by the windows.

  His apartment building is protected by barricades made of junk—broken chairs, pieces of wood and cardboard boxes, burnt tires, sofas, and anything else his crew found in the abandoned homes inside the housing facilities. As I approach the barricade, I pass by the corpses of infected who wandered too close.

  Some bodies are fresh, pools of blood around them. Others are old, their clothes now rags destroyed by the weather, leaving their bones exposed. What’s left of their rotten meat is covered by flies and ants. Tears sting my eyes at the pungent smell.

  I cover my nose with the back of my hand and stop at the gate—I call it a gate, but it’s more a barrier made of two old steel plates stuck together by chains. I pound my fist against it until someone shows up.

  A guy opens a small space and sticks his gun out, half of his body still out of view.

  “What you want?”

  “I want to trade.”