Mitch Cannon’s head, or what remained of it, protruded from the snow and dirt. Tire tracks surrounded the head, like a vehicle had driven back and forth over it, and it now resembled more of a semi-smashed pumpkin than something that had belonged on a man’s neck. The head wasn’t just there by itself. As she crawled toward it, her heart pounding like mad in her chest, she could see that the rest of the body was buried beneath.
Someone had buried Mitch alive and then run their vehicle over his head.
Johnny B. rushed to her side and grabbed her, pulling her away.
Kennedy sank into his arms and wept.
She cried, not only for the brutal deaths of a family she cared about deeply, but also because their demise held terrifying implications for the well-being of her people on the train.
Houston, Colin, and Jackson caught up to them.
“We have to go!” Colin shouted. The moans and stench of the undead were unbearable.
Houston couldn’t tear his eyes away from what remained of Mitch. His gaze jerked toward the women tied to the trees, their children strewn around their feet, then back to the ruined, exposed head.
His face blanched, and his hand flew to his heart, phantom pain extending outward from it to every organ in his body.
“Cade…” The others looked up at him in surprise. “We have to get back to the train now!”
Without waiting for the others, he turned and sprinted back the way they had come.
Kennedy was right. Zombies hadn’t done this. They couldn’t have. Only the sick, demented mind of a living monster could conceive such wicked, macabre acts. Even though Houston didn’t understand how Cade knew the location of the farm, something deep within his bones told him that the Cannon family had been ravaged by this man. And as impossible as it sounded, there was one thing of which he was certain…
Cade Foster never died the day he escaped from the train.
The massacre on the farm was only a puzzle piece of a much larger sinister plan, one where Houston had left those he loved most unaware and unprotected.
Kennedy sat rigidly in the front seat, her eyes unblinking and fixated on the road. Johnny B. looked at her worriedly from the driver’s seat, noticing that the hands resting on her knees were trembling.
In a rare gesture of affection, he reached over and took one of her hands in his, squeezing it tightly. He knew better than anyone how devastated she was over the Cannon family’s gruesome demise. But he also understood her worry about how they were going to feed the people on the train now that their primary source of food was gone.
“We’ll figure it out,” he quietly promised her.
Houston and Colin were in the back seat, staring out of their respective windows as they sped down the highway back to the train.
Colin tried hard to erase the images of Mitch’s wife and daughters tied naked to the trees in their yard. The thought of someone doing that to Haven made his stomach turn.
He cast a sideways glance at Houston, whose knees bounced up and down anxiously, his hand covering his mouth in concern.
“Hey, Haven’s going to be okay,” Colin assured him. “She’s a fighter. If Cade is behind this, she’ll be sure to give him a run for his money. What happened to Mitch’s family will never happen to Haven. He got her once. He won’t get her again.”
Houston nodded at him, then turned back to the window. He didn’t really care for the Scotsman, but he appreciated the words of encouragement.
His mind was running wild, conjuring up horrifying images of what Cade had done to his family while they were all out getting fuel and supplies. If anything happened to Haven, Brett, or Mark, he would never forgive himself or Kennedy for forcing him on a mission that left his loved ones defenseless.
He sat up ramrod straight when the SUV turned onto a dirt path through familiar woodlands. His teeth were so clenched that his jaw hurt, like someone had gotten in a good punch during a fight.
“We’re going to park up here and approach on foot. If Cade is there, we don’t want him to hear the engines and know we’ve arrived. We don’t know if he has help, and if he does, just how much. We’ll surround the train on both sides and enter from the caboose. Follow my lead,” Kennedy ordered.
As soon as he saw the train, Houston opened the door and ran toward it, not bothering to wait for Johnny B. to fully stop the SUV and completely disregarding Kennedy’s plan of attack. Colin was hot on his heels.
It wasn’t until Houston had bounded up the steps to one of the cars and pounded on the door with all his might, Tucker letting him in, that he finally remembered to breathe.
“Where is she?” he gasped.
“Nice to see you, too,” Tucker welcomed with a grin, patting him on the shoulder.
“Please,” Houston begged. “Where’s Haven?”
Tucker looked back inside the car. “Just saw her headed to her cabin in her pajamas.”
Houston nearly collapsed in relief, but Colin grabbed him under his arm and held him up.
“She’s okay,” Houston managed.
Perplexed, Tucker shrugged. “I mean, she looked like she was doing good. Those bruises are healing nicely. Vetta did a right smart job patchin’ her up.”
Houston clapped him on the back and thanked him, then rushed past the old man until he got to their cabin, throwing open the door.
Haven was crouched in front of something, but she quickly rose to her feet, startled.
When she saw him, she smiled broadly and stepped back.
“Merry Christmas, Houston.”
Right behind her was a little tree decorated with small ornaments, colorful strips of cloth, and balls rolled from aluminum foil, surrounded by parcels wrapped in newspaper.
It was the sweetest, most perfect thing he’d seen in a long time.
“Haven, how did you…” he began.
“Haven!” Colin called out behind Houston. He skidded into the room almost knocking Houston over.
“Merry Christmas to you, too.” She walked up to them and looped an arm through each of theirs.
Colin leaned away, curiously inspecting her. “You’re… different.” He beamed at her, nodding approvingly. “I like it.”
Haven twisted her wet hair and blushed. “I’ve had some time to think things over.” When she looked back at them, her eyes were moist. “Let’s just say it’ll be a fresh start from here on out,” she said. “You all deserve the best.”
Houston took both of her hands in his. “I thought I’d lost you. We ran into some trouble at Mitch’s farm. I was sure it was Cade, that while we were out getting supplies, he was back at the train. I was so worried.”
She clasped his hands reassuringly. “Cade is gone. And even if he wasn’t, he isn’t going to rob us of anything. Not him, not the zombies, no one. I don’t want to take another day for granted.”
“There she is,” Colin said with a big grin.
“Has Mark seen any of this?” Houston gestured to the tree.
Haven shook her head. “I arranged for him and Brett to not be around tonight.”
“How did you do that?”
She smiled smugly. “So… I may have implied that you and I needed some alone time. Brett is having a late night with his friends, and he’ll be sleeping over in your and Jeremy’s cabin, Colin. And Mark has his own little set of friends, so they’re having a ‘sleepover’ of sorts, too.” She had to admit she was pretty impressed with her grand plan. Everything was falling into place perfectly. “When he comes in tomorrow morning, I want Mark to have an actual Christmas morning. And Brett used to always be the first one up every Christmas, so I think he’ll turn into a little kid.”
Houston pulled her to him and kissed her. “This is great. They’re gonna be stoked.”
Colin cleared his throat, feeling out of place. “I’m going to get some sleep. This last run took it out of me.”
Haven moved away from Houston. “Join us tomorrow morning, please? I couldn’t get something for everyone on the tra
in, but I didn’t forget the most important people.”
The Scotsman took a deep breath, a flash of pain crossing his features for the briefest of seconds. Finally, he acquiesced. “Just let me know what time to be here.”
She chuckled. “Well, Mark is always up at the crack of dawn to remind us about breakfast, so I’m pretty sure the same thing will happen tomorrow.”
He gave her a thumbs-up. “Count me in.”
After Colin left, Houston wrapped his arms around her. “You are a crazy, crazy woman.” He buried his face in her hair. “You left the train, didn’t you?” She nodded shyly. “I should be mad at you, but I just… I love you, Haven.”
Pressing her lips together to hide her smile, she shrugged nonchalantly. “It was a very uneventful trip.”
He helped her wrap the last of the packages and fill some clean socks with the candy she’d found in the trailer. They couldn’t resist opening a couple of Reese’s peanut butter cups and enjoying them together. When they were done, they leaned back against the bunks, Haven curling up against him. Houston wove his fingers through hers.
“You never cease to surprise me. I should have known. You are, after all, the girlfriend who wanted to become an FBI agent.”
“Still do. Maybe when all of this is over…”
“So,” he started, “where’s this optimism coming from?”
“It’s just something I wanted to do. Try to make our lives a little brighter.” Embarrassed to sound so corny, she let her hair fell into her face. “You guys are my family.”
Houston rested his chin on the top of her head. “You know, it’s funny with Mark. I kind of see him as our kid.”
“I know. Me, too. I feel responsible for him. And I want to keep him safe.”
“Brett’s really good with him, like a big brother.”
Haven wriggled her toes under his legs for warmth. “Yeah, Mark adores him. And Faith would’ve liked not being the baby in the family anymore.” She tried hard to stop the tears from welling up in her eyes.
He hugged her a little closer. “She would have been an awesome big sister.”
They sat on the floor a while longer before Houston stretched and helped her to her feet.
“Let’s get some sleep.” Checking his watch, he sighed. “I have no idea if it’s even December twenty-fifth.” He turned to her and held her face in his hands, kissing her gently. “But in any event… Merry Christmas, Haven.”
Brett woke up to someone fervently tugging on his arm.
“Brett!” Mark shouted. “Wake up!”
Brett groggily pulled the pillow over his eyes. “What?”
Mark was undeterred. “Wake up!”
Brett jumped and grabbed his gun. “Zombies?” he asked, startled.
Mark pulled Brett to his feet. “You won’t believe this. I went over to our cabin to check on Haven, and… and…” He touched his fingers to his head in disbelief. “Santa came.”
Brett’s face fell. He did not want to break the news to Mark that Santa wasn’t real, and that any chance of them having a Christmas in this crazy world was out of the question.
“Hey, Mark. I think we should have a talk…” Brett started.
“We can do that later. Come on!” the boy insisted, yanking on Brett’s hand.
Colin grumbled in the bunk across from him, while Jeremy slept soundly, unaffected by the ruckus they were making.
“I don’t think this is a good idea.” He dug his heels into the ground hesitantly.
Mark looked up at him with pleading eyes. “Please come with me? I know Santa came, I’m sure of it! He didn’t forget about us. The zombies couldn’t get him because he has his sleigh! Please?”
Brett didn’t know how he was going to tell Mark the cold, hard truth. The kid wouldn’t take it well; it would crush him. But before he could grab Mark and close the door, the boy had made it out of the cabin and was running down the hallway.
He expected to hear disappointment. Instead, he heard Mark’s joyous yelp of excitement followed by what sounded like an elephant stampede coming back in his direction. Puzzled, he ran after him.
“He came! He came!” Mark cried.
Brett paused at the entrance of their cabin and gasped.
There was a little Christmas tree on the floor of their room. And even better, there were presents next to the tree. He looked around incredulously, then took a tentative step inside.
Haven and Houston stood there with smiles that spanned ear to ear. She walked up to Brett and gave him a big hug.
“Merry Christmas, brother.”
“Haven,” he blurted out, his mouth agape. “How did you do this?”
She turned and looked over her shoulder, putting a finger to her lips. “Sshhh,” she whispered. “Santa was here.”
Mark was already on the floor tearing apart his gifts. He elatedly held up the comic books Haven had gotten for him. “Captain America! I love him!” He sifted through the thick stack of books. “And Batman! This is awesome!”
Brett sat down beside him and almost as eagerly started parsing through them. “These are vintage, man.”
“I think Santa left something in there for you, too, kiddo,” Haven called to him.
He looked flabbergasted and pointed to himself questioningly.
“Yeah, you, Curly Sue. Look under the tree.”
Crouching down to peek at the gifts, Brett pulled out a misshapen bag. He showed it to her. “This one?”
“Hey, I never said I was good at wrapping.”
Shaking his head in disbelief, he ripped off the paper. “No way. Haven…”
He turned the Star Wars action figures over in his hands.
“I know you probably had those exact ones at some point, but I thought they’d bring back good memories.”
“It’s perfect!” he exclaimed and showed them to Mark. “These are amazing. Where did you find them?”
“You must mean Santa,” she corrected him coyly.
“Props, sis. You officially rock.” He gave her a hearty bear hug.
Mark looked up from his comics and studied him. “You kind of look like a young Han Solo. If he was skinnier and had curly hair.”
Brett pushed him good-naturedly. “Thanks, I think.”
Houston grabbed her hand and squeezed it. “You did great, sweetheart. This is the best thing to happen to us in a long time.”
“Oh, there’s also something under there for you. Santa didn’t forget.” She flitted her eyes up at him impishly.
“For real? Well, since you seem to be so close to him, you’ll have to tell the big guy thanks from me.” He selected a package with his name on it and shook it.
“Three guesses,” she said to him in mock seriousness.
“Hmmmm… a sweater?”
Haven rolled her eyes. “Come on, I wouldn’t do that to you.”
He shook it again. “A football?”
“We already have one here. One more guess.” She held up her index finger.
“An all-inclusive cruise package for two with Royal Caribbean.”
“It’s a little cold for that, and they wouldn’t give me a deal.”
He peeled away the wrapping paper, and then stopped.
“Haven, where did you get this?”
“If I tell you, do you promise not to get mad?”
He ran his hands over a framed photo. It was a picture of himself, Haven, and his parents. They had been on a week-long vacation in Maine one summer after undergrad and were all wearing ridiculous lobster bibs.
Running his fingers over the glass, he finally looked up at her. “Where?” was all he managed to say, his voice raw with emotion.
“Well…” She stared at her feet embarrassingly. “I’ve had a few old pictures for a while, since we were back at the farm.”
He looked at her quizzically, not understanding.
She bit her bottom lip. “That night I snuck out and went to my grandma’s. You’re a deep sleeper.”
Houston trie
d not to appear mad. “How did you end up getting there? I never asked you.”
“I took Sprinkles,” she replied, as if it was the most natural answer in the world.
He scrunched his eyes in confusion. “What?”
“The horse,” she expounded.
“The horse? Why did you take the horse when we had the Jeep?”
“I didn’t want to take it in case you guys needed it. It was stupid what I did. But I had to go back. I was trying to find Faith. And I was starting to forget what Grandma looked like. I really wanted a reminder of her, anything. As weird as it sounds, just sitting there, smelling her old cardigan...” She nodded to the frame in his hands. “I found a bunch of old pictures of us when I was going through boxes of photos I’d collected over the years. Your parents were in that one.” Haven rested her hand on his arm. “I hope we find them someday. But until then, this should help you remember what they looked like.”
He quickly wiped his eyes. “Thank you so much, Haven. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Haven gave him a tender peck on the cheek. Someone knocked at the door, and she jumped up to answer it.
“Merry Christmas,” she said, greeting Colin with a big smile, her eyes twinkling when she saw him.
Colin swallowed hard. He would have given anything to kiss her in that moment. If they were alone, it would have felt like the right thing to do. “Merry Christmas, friend,” he told her instead, and he shook his head and grinned at her.
Haven dashed back to the tree and grabbed the last package beside it. “This is for you. Don’t judge me.”
He tore off the newspaper and laughed. “Scotch.”
She pointed at the label. “Glenfiddich,” she said proudly, but she mispronounced it Glen-fid-itch.
Colin couldn’t help but smile. “Glen-fid-ick. You don’t pronounce it how it’s spelled.”
She crossed her arms. “Okay, okay, wise guy. I don’t know anything about alcohol. I just figured it sounded Scottish, and you might like it.”
He hugged her. “It’s grand, Haven,” he complimented her as he held the bottle up to the light. “Where did you get this?”
“Oh, you know. Just here and there,” she answered flippantly.
The Good, The Dead & The Lawless (Book 2): The Hell That Follows Page 26
