by Tera Shanley
“I don’t think I regret it,” he murmured, cocking his head as he studied her. “She’s a Dead. Right?”
“Exactly!” Marie grabbed her shirt and pulled her upward, eliciting a loud ripping sound from the fabric in her clenched fist.
Kaegan just watched with an unfathomable expression in his soft, gray eyes. Unable to bear the embarrassment, she cast her eyes down and to the left. Anywhere but at him.
“Come on,” he said quietly. Brush rustled as he led Stabby-Mcstabby-Hands off the trail and through the woods.
She clenched and unclenched her hands and took a long, shaking breath. All she wanted to do, the only thing in the world that felt right in that moment, was pinning Marie to the nearest tree and scaring the piss out of her.
But—she closed her eyes—though this place didn’t need a half-Dead inhabitant, Dead Run River was vital to her.
Someone had talked to him. Why else would he look at her like that? Kaegan had been kind enough to stitch her up just days before, and now, he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. She threw a longing glance at his back as he disappeared through the trees. It would’ve been nice to pretend for a little while longer that she could make another friend.
Dusting off the knees of her jeans, she strode deliberately down the trail. Maybe it was better someone enlightened him about the dangers of being a Dead sympathizer. Sympathizers were cannon fodder for the Deads. A vision of Kaegan, eyes open and vacant, bent across a marsh soaked in his own blood flashed across her mind, and she shook her head to rid herself of such black thoughts.
He was better off this way.
She stepped right on the squeaky step of the medical building’s front porch out of spite and pulled the door. Dr. Mackey looked up from his desk where he sat pouring over a notepad and removed his glasses.
“How is the stomach?”
“Are you asking because you care or for medical observation?” She felt especially volatile after the past five minutes.
Dr. Mackey cocked his head and gave her a withering look that was answer enough. “I care that you live, but I wasn’t ever worried about an injury like that to you. Hop up on the exam table and let me see it.”
Lifting her shirt, she waited while he poked it with the tip of his glasses. “Good,” was all he said before he scribbled across his notepad. “And what did you eat this morning?”
She slid Marie an emotionless smile as she said, “Raw bunny.”
The woman’s face went positively green, and Soren allowed herself a wider grin.
A frown lowered Dr. Mackey’s bushy gray brows. “Where did you get a rabbit, Soren? I thought Mel told you to stay in the colony gates from now on.”
Soren shrugged, not about to out Seamus or the game meat black market behind Ricky’s. “A zombie’s gotta eat.”
A hideous noise came from Marie, and she left and slammed the door so hard, it rocked the cabin. Soren sighed. She’d bet her best knife Mel would feel the need to have a private discussion with her before the day was done.
“You shouldn’t bait her,” Dr. Mackey murmured.
She reached up to remove the itchy muzzle but Doc shook his head. “Until the unvaccinated civilian is gone, you’re to keep the muzzle on twenty-four hours a day.”
“You can’t be serious. What about when I sleep?”
“Even when you sleep. There is fear of you sleepwalking.”
“But I’ve never sleepwalked in my life. Why would I start now?”
“Because we are trying to add cooked food to your diet. Changes like that can upset your body and cause changes like sleepwalking.”
“Wait, you’re in on it? You know it makes me sick, Doc! My entire digestive system shuts down. It’s like trying to feed a T. rex a Caesar salad. You of all people should understand how I work.”
“It’s just an experiment.” He held his hands up like he was compromising, but he wasn’t. No one compromised with her on anything.
“The muzzle is rubbing me raw.”
“Soren, you knew the gig coming here. The rules weren’t ever going to get easier the longer you stayed here, child. You are still just as dangerous as the day you walked in here.”
Lowering her voice, she said, “I don’t feel more dangerous.”
“Which convinces me further that you are. You obviously don’t see what the rest of the colony sees. Your refusal to mind the rules set in place to keep them safe scares people.”
“What are you talking about? I wear a damned muzzle. I eat without the comfort of other people. I keep my distance from everyone and live by myself. What rules am I breaking? If anything, you and Mel sequestering me makes everyone fear me more.”
“No, Soren.” He snatched a hand held mirror from his desk and shoved it in her face. “That scares them.”
Cold colored eyes, pale skin, a muzzle made of leather and metal, feral hair. She looked away from the glass. “Can you take my sample so I can go? Please.” Tears burned the back of her eyes, but she’d be hanged before she’d shed a single one in front of someone who didn’t deserve them.
Without a word, Dr. Mackey pulled a scalpel from a jar and deftly cut a chunk of flesh from her stomach.
“I’ll do it myself.” She snatched the gauze out of his hands and left the building. The chart sat unchecked by the front door. For the first time in months, she didn’t obsess over checking whether they’d magically found the cure overnight. They hadn’t. Maybe they never would.
Seamus ran out of the building after her, his tennis shoes stabbing clumsily at the earth as he ran to catch up. “He shouldn’t have taken his frustration out on you.” He pulled her elbow, and she slowed. “Doc’s just pissed they are at a standstill with the cure. He’s sick. Hey,” he said gently, turning her. “He’s sick. He told us yesterday. His only goal since the outbreak was to cure it, and it looks like he’ll die before he gets to do it.”
“We’re all dying, Seamus. Nothing is promised us in this life but death. The only thing in our control is our character while we pick our way through the muck.”
She was sorry to hear Doc was sick. It made her limbs heavy with sadness, but it didn’t excuse unkind behavior. She should be in there. Turning, she frowned at the cabin. The Dead vaccine had been created there. It’d been added onto through the years, and giant labs could be found through a back hallway, but the main building had remained the same. It had been the place she’d worked and studied for two years. It had been the place she’d dreamed of working for much longer. What would happen to her place at Dead Run River if Dr. Mackey wasn’t there anymore?
“Let’s cut work and get something to eat. I skipped breakfast.”
Yeah, well she could guess why. He’d brought her the gift of a raw bunny at the expense of his appetite. Seamus was a rock star in the friendship department. She usually steered wide and clear of the mess hall, but she owed him.
Throwing an arm around his shoulders, she squeezed his neck and rested her head on his shoulder. “Let’s get you fed.”
Despite his unfortunate taste in friends, according to the colony, Seamus seemed to be well liked. He had an easy personality and was friendly to everyone. He was so laid back he was nearly comatose and had an easy wit that seemed to make people want to talk to him.
She had none of his talents for socialization. Shyness crept through her, spreading through her arms, hands, and fingers until her throat closed over the polite hellos she wished she could give anyone who didn’t shoot poisoned darts with their glares. Kindly, he led them to the back door of the mess hall near the Dumpsters. With a genteel bow, he opened the door and waited for her to pass.
“Why, thank you, my liege,” she slurred through the muzzle.
“The pleasure is all mine, milady.”
Soren snorted. She’d never be anyone’s lady.
The cook’s name was Brennan, but everyone called him Chef. And if anyone deserved that distinguished title, it was him. He could create food out of meager rations with very littl
e complaint on taste from the colonists. Sometimes his dishes even looked appetizing enough for her to wish she ate normal human chow.
“You!” Chef said with a crooked pointer jabbed in her direction. “I have something for you.” He pulled a raw steak from a refrigerator unit and set it on the stainless steel counter. “Hurry up and eat this before Marie stinks up my kitchen trying to cook the thing.”
She pursed her lips and shot Seamus a baleful glance. “Sorry, partner.”
A wicked smile took his face. “A zombie’s gotta eat, right?” he said, using her earlier words.
Huffing a surprised laugh, she snatched the steak and waited for Seamus to grab a late breakfast from the serving line. Pickings were slim, as he’d missed the rush. Still, the biscuits were perfectly browned, and he managed to secure himself some scrambled eggs to go with them. Gesturing for him to eat first, she slid onto the bench seat across from him and plucked at a string that edged the frayed napkin he’d grabbed. Seamus had picked a spot in the corner, and there weren’t many people left. Just guards newly off duty and people with a day off work.
She relaxed when a table full of men around her age seemed not to notice her presence. Self-consciously, she ducked her head and unclipped her muzzle. She was allowed to take it off to eat, but sometimes people still grumbled about the little bend in the rules.
“Do I have something on my face?” Seamus asked. Eggs hung halfway out of his mouth, and he lifted his eyebrows in innocent question.
“You’re such a child,” she said, stifling a giggle as she wiped his mouth with the napkin.
“And you’re a mother hen,” he accused.
Cocking her head, she waited for the punchline. She’d never been called that before. “What do you mean?”
Seamus gulped the bite and took a long draw of water. “When we were young, Adrianna tried to keep us out of trouble, you remember? But as you got older, it was you who took on that role. Remember the time we found that wasp nest right inside the gates back home? You were so worried about Ade and me disturbing it.”
A mixture of nostalgia and sadness filled her at his mention of Adrianna. She missed her more than she’d ever admit out loud. To do so would be admitting her greatest weakness. Dead though she may be, she’d die ten times over for Seamus and Adrianna. A couple of humans held her heart.
“Well someone had to watch out for you.” She dropped her gaze to the plate of steak beside her and movement drew her attention. Across the cafeteria, Kaegan stared openly at her. His friend sat across the table with his back to her, deep in conversation from the looks of it, but Kaegan’s attention was on her. A tingling sensation zinged down her spine.
He’d shaved. Bearded he’d been glorious, masculine, as tall as a mountain with shoulders as wide as a river. Now his jaw was smooth, eliciting a longing to touch it with the tip of her finger. His cheekbones were sharp, and his gray eyes slanted slightly like a predator. He wasn’t classically handsome like his friend. His hair brushed his jaw, and he leaned forward on his elbows. Dark, animated eyebrows sat low, like he was thinking painful thoughts.
“Hello,” Andrew Dennison said from right beside her. He waved his hand in her face and she flinched away from his nearness.
“What do you want?” she asked suspiciously.
“I asked you if we could sit here. Three times.”
She looked to Seamus for help, but he looked as stunned as she felt. “Why would you want to sit with me?”
With a sigh, he looked downright contrite as he hung his head lower to hers. “I wanted to apologize for how I talked to you the other day. I thought maybe we could start over.” Three of his friends nodded behind him like they agreed with his mission.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
“So you forgive me then?” He slipped into the seat on her other side and offered a charming smile that probably got him invited to a lot of naked parties. Twitching his head, his wavy hair left his face for just a moment before it fell back into place.
She tried to keep the skepticism from her voice. “Why would you need forgiveness from me? You never cared about it before.”
She shot Seamus a glance, but he was just staring at Andrew with a look that said he was as leery as her.
Andrew’s dark eyes lifted above her shoulder for a beat and a villainous smile crooked his lips. “You’re right, Z. I wouldn’t ever ask the forgiveness of a baby killer.”
Soren started at the sound of laughter behind her, then turned. The steak she’d been about to eat sat swaddled in a cloth napkin and looked like a tiny, bloody baby. A hiss came from her throat as she shot upward so fast, the bench seat crashed behind her. Scrambling backward, she almost tripped over the upended furniture. The vision they’d created with her food made her ill.
A gargantuan hand landed on Andrew’s shoulder as he wheezed with laughter, and as he turned, his head rocked back with the force of Kaegan’s fist. The crack of a nose breaking was a very distinctive sound. Satisfying also when it echoed through Andrew.
Her back pressed against the wall, all she could do was absorb the black fury that dwelled in Kaegan’s grim expression.
Seamus grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit to escape the scuffle as two of Andrew’s cronies flung themselves at Kaegan. His friend was already pummeling the third, but his face said he’d rather do anything than get involved.
Huh. At least the prick was loyal.
A cool breeze brushed her face as she hit sunlight, and Seamus looked around like he was searching for a hole for them to dive into.
“My place,” she breathed, shock warring with her ability to think straight. Kaegan had jumped in to defend her. If she hadn’t witnessed it herself, she would’ve never thought a man besides Seamus was capable of it. “Why did he do that?”
He kept a pace that rivaled flight but answered her through panting breath. “Because he’s a megadick.”
“No, not Andrew. Kaegan.”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he seemed to throw every ounce of energy into fleeing.
His panic was understandable. There was a strict no fighting rule in Dead Run River. Peace if you could, and if you had to duke it out with someone, you did it outside the gates. There were too many kids around to witness violence, and Mel seemed determined to make her colony the most civilized. But she hadn’t started the fight.
“You won’t get in trouble,” she promised.
Seamus slowed as they approached her treehouse. “Damn it, Soren, I’m not worried about me. You’ll get thrown out of here if anyone catches wind of it.”
“Why me? I didn’t do anything.”
Seamus cursed softly and rested his hands on his hips, then stared out over the woods. “There’s been talk that you’ve overstayed your welcome. People are looking for excuses to cut you out. You were hissing like a Dead in there. And I know you don’t mean to, I know! But you can guess how Andrew will spin it.”
Her chest heaved as the weight of the situation fell over her. She hadn’t realized it was so bad. Where would she go if she was tossed out? How would she survive with no kinsmen, no friends? No one like Seamus to have her back? “I’ll talk to Mel before she hears whatever tale they come up with,” she said.
“No, you won’t. I will. You arguing your innocence will only make it worse. Mel will listen to me better than you. Stay here.” He reached his hands out in a placating gesture like she was some startled horse, and he spun and jogged off for the main path up the mountain.
There, alone in the quiet of the woods, it became very clear she had no control over her fate.
Chapter Five
AT A RUSTLE IN THE WOODS BELOW, Soren peeked over the edge of her house and waited. Seamus had come back quicker than she’d expected.
Except it wasn’t him at all, but Kaegan walking the trail to her tree. And if ever she’d seen a man at war with himself, surely this one was. Every few yards he stopped and turned like he’d go back the other way. She leaned her chin
against the raw wood and nibbled on the corner of her lip behind the muzzle. Time and time again he turned, only to come back toward her. When finally he approached her tree, he just stood beneath it for a long time, looking back in the direction he’d come from.
“I know you’re up there.” His voice was deep and gravelly. Blood ran down the side of his face, his hair wet with it. His lips were set in a heavy line, but his obvious internal battle only made him more alluring. No one would ever accuse him of being a soft looking man.
“What do you want?”
“I’m coming up.” And he did. Scaled her ladder like he’d done it a hundred times and scrutinized her home down to the very nails that held the boards.
She tried to imagine it through his eyes. Splintered boards bashed by the weather, a ratty mattress in the corner with the single quilt. The row of blades, big and small, that knocked gently against the wall in the breeze. A wooden chair shadowed the corner, the seat littered with dead leaves from the branches above.
“Where do you sleep when it rains?”
The bold way in which he spoke to her, almost angrily, made her search for an escape.
“Where?” he demanded.
“I don’t sleep much.”
Surprised gray eyes shot to her and then away. “I brought you this.” He handed her the steak she’d left behind in her haste, wrapped tightly into the knotted napkin.
Her hand shook as she reached for it, and hesitating, he searched the tiny space and settled slowly into the chair. The leaves crunched under him.
“I’ll wait,” he said.
“You—you want me to eat this? Now?”
A curt nod. “It’s what you eat, right? Raw meat?”
Heat fanned her cheeks, and she dropped her gaze. “Yes.”
“Then eat it, and when you’re finished, I’ll say what I’ve come here to say.”
Sitting with her back to the unnerving man and her feet dangling off the ledge of her home, she ate slowly. Finished, she wiped her mouth with a napkin and then her hands.
