Odium II: The Dead Saga

by Claire C. Riley

  “What?” I shake my head trying not to grin. “You weren’t sure, what?” I furrow my brow in mock confusion.

  “You know?”

  “No. What?” I tease, trying to contain my grin.

  “I wasn’t sure if you . . .” He takes a deep breath. “Jesus, what is it with you? You always make me nervous,” he says in a fluster.

  I crack up laughing. “What? No other woman ever made you nervous, Mikey? Or you’ve just never met a strong woman before?”

  He looks at me in all seriousness. “No, not like this. Not like you.” He drags a hand down his face. “I sound like a fucking idiot. Damn you, woman.” He laughs, but I can still hear the nerves in his laughter. “Do you want to share a unit with me? Like a couples’ unit? ”

  “Like our first house?”

  He looks horrified and then relaxes. “Well, yeah, I guess that’s what it is.” He shrugs, trying to appear casual.

  I reach over on tiptoes and give him a quick kiss on the lips. “I would love to share a house with you,” I laugh. “But don’t ask me to marry you—I mean, I hardly know you!” I laugh again as he flushes bright red.

  He smiles, all trace of nervousness vanishing. “Good. I mean, that’s what I thought you’d say. Why wouldn’t you want to?” He smirks, his demeanor all arrogant masculinity once again.

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

  *

  Our small house is just that: small. It has a brown front door with a boarded up window in it, brown brickwork, and a tiled roof. Inside there’s a small kitchen with wood paneled cabinets and a small steel sink, a living room, bathroom, and a small double bedroom. The paintwork is dated and the furniture is old, but I love it.

  “Homey,” I state, keeping my poker face.

  Mikey laughs and drops my bag on the floor by the bed.

  I turn in a circle as I look around me. “I’m serious. You’ve really made this place your own.” I grip the bottom of the dowdy-looking curtains.

  Mikey sits on the edge of the bed, a smirk playing on his mouth. “You can see that, huh?”

  “Oh yeah, totally.”

  He reaches out to me, his hands gripping the backs of my thighs, and pulls me closer to him. He looks up to me through dark lashes, and my heart skips a beat when he runs his tongue across his bottom lip as his eyes search my face for something.

  Woot, there it is. Now it’s my turn to smirk. I raise an eyebrow at him.

  “I think this place could use a feminine touch,” he says, slowly lying back and pulling me with him.

  I look around mockingly. “Feminine touch? I don’t see any feminine females around here.” I place my hands on his chest and push up so we’re not so up close and personal, though I can see that’s his plan.

  “You’re all the feminine I need, baby.” I start to eye roll at him, but he reaches up, placing his hand on the back of my head, and pulls my mouth to his. “Shut up now, Nina.” I feel him grin as he kisses me, and I let him get away with having a smart mouth, for now at least.

  I kiss him back fervently, gasping as he pulls at my clothes, sliding both himself and me out of our jackets and T-shirts. He runs cool fingers over my lean stomach, small white scars puckering the flesh. He frowns and trails his hands up to my breasts where he lowers the straps on my bra and leans in to kiss at my neck.

  My head lolls to the side and I moan at the feel of his hot mouth on my cool skin. Memories surface of the last time we were together; the fear and death that came afterwards was life-changing, yet this is so much different. My heart races as I struggle to push the memories away, memories of death and violence, of greedy fingers and whips. I swallow, my breath catching in my throat.

  “We don’t have to do this if you’re not ready. I can wait,” he says.

  I open my eyes and look at him. In his face is so much desire, but behind that is pain—pain in what he had to do, pain in what he had to witness.

  “I want to.” I shiver. The heat suddenly leaves me and cold drenches my soul.

  Mikey lifts me and slides the covers from underneath us. He lays me back down and lowers the covers on top of us. “Let me make it right.” His eyes wash over my face, his fingers stroking the long scar from my mouth to my cheek. “Let me give you a good memory and take away the bad.”

  I stare at him, rapt for his words.

  “I want you to forget…” His words trail off. I know what he’s trying to say, though. He doesn’t need to say it. “I don’t want you to think of them again, not like that. I want you to think of me now. Okay?”

  I shake my head in amazement, finding it utterly bizarre and yet perfect that he should know exactly how I’m feeling. I frown, a deep furrow between my eyebrows, and he reaches up and strokes the frown, kissing my forehead until I stop.

  “Let me try, at least,” he pleads.

  I nod, feeling ridiculously nervous, as if I’m doing this for the first time. I’d make a joke out of that thought, but the only thing I can focus on right now is him kissing my breast and taking my nipple into his deliciously warm mouth, and his hand shuffling my pants down.

  I swallow again, trying not to choke on the golf ball in my throat as I let my hands go to his back, feeling the raised scars dancing across the surface of his flesh. With each scar I touch, I lose myself more, yet find myself in a new way. We’re both broken and damaged, but we’ve found something in each other that makes the nightmares go away, at least for a little while.

  I feel hungry for him, for his body and his touch, and I grip him, trailing nails down his back to add to his patterns of crisscross already there. I moan loudly as his fingers find my warmth, my head falling sideways on the pillow as I beg myself to relax and not panic—to enjoy this, enjoy him, loving my body and making it mine again.

  I stare up into his face, his hooded eyes looking into mine as his tongue flicks across his lower lip. I tilt my mouth up to his and let his tongue invade me. Tasting his desire, his heat, as our mouths work together like a well rehearsed orchestra and his hands and fingers make my body supple under him. I moan against his mouth as his hand is swapped for something more and I gasp, breathing through it and relishing in the pleasure as he presses into me, finally feeling no fear or pain, finally letting go and letting myself belong to him.

  Because I don’t need to fear anymore. This is Mikey.

  *

  I wake to kisses pattering across my shoulder, and I grin before my eyes even open.

  “Go away, I’m sleeping,” I murmur, burying myself beneath the covers.

  “I’m on duty. I have to leave in twenty.” He lands more soft kisses on me and I giggle. Jesus fuck, when did I become a giggler?

  I open my eyes. “Duty?”

  He nods, his hand moving across my stomach and over my hips.

  “What kind of duty?” I ask, slapping his hand away.

  He shrugs. “You know, guard duty. We all have to do it at some point.”

  That makes sense; I guess I hadn’t really thought about it before. “So there’s always someone on guard?”

  He nods. “Yeah, two actually.” He leans over to kiss my mouth, and I briefly kiss him back before I dive out of bed, leaving Mikey pouting.

  “You didn’t really show me everywhere before. If you’re going off on guard duty, I need to know what I’m going to do. I can’t just sit here like the good little wife and do nothing.” I pull my clothes on, struggling with my top until Mikey comes and helps.

  “I would never expect you to be a good little wife, Nina. You’re far too naughty for that.” He wiggles his eyebrows at me.

  “Urghhh, did you just wiggle your eyebrows at me suggestively?” I scowl.

  “Yeah, sorry,” he laughs.

  I hold up a hand. “I’m serious, you ever do that again and I’ll kick your ass. That was,” I swallow down pretend bile, “disgusting.” I shake my head at him and walk out of the room, eager to inspect our new home, and I guess new community too.

  I l
ook out the downstairs window, seeing the snow falling again, and huff. I never did like winter; making snowmen and having snowballs fights did nothing for me. Give me glaring sunshine and a light breeze any day.

  “I’ll take you over to the consignment shop first, get you loaded up with some clothes, coats, and shit. You know,” Mikey shrugs, “I’m sure they’ll have some girly crap there too.” He smiles like he’s hit the nail on the head.

  “Girly crap?” I repeat, slipping into the jacket he hands me.

  “Yeah.”

  I shake my head at him. “Do you know anything about women? Anything at all?”

  He goes to answer but I cut him off by walking out the front door, checking the number posted on it as I go. He locks the door on his way out, and jogs to catch up to me, handing me a key.

  “Sorry.” He scratches at his chin, his five o’clock shadow, now more like a ten o’clock one.

  “It’s like you got laid and turned into a hormonal teenager,” I snap. “Girly shit.”

  He pulls a hat out of his pocket and pulls it down over my head. “Sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve done this.” He smiles, and I’ll be damned if all isn’t forgiven.

  “So what’s the consignment shop?” I ask, moving on from his relationship fails.

  “That’s where you trade shit for shit.” He rolls his eyes. “Sorry, where you trade something for something else. Since currency is basically worthless these days, people trade items or skills or whatever.”

  “Oh, okay,” I say without much conviction. I don’t have anything to trade, and I’m not quite up to working yet, either.

  We walk the rest of the way in silence, the snow falling all around us. Occasionally we see someone run from one building to another, but it’s beginning to get dark now so I can’t make out who they are. I worry for a second about deaders, but then remember that Mikey said there was always someone on duty and the place is secure all the way around. I can’t help but wonder, though, how secure everything is.

  People become lax and lazy when they think everything is safe; look at every situation I’ve been in since I left the walled city. No good can come from laziness. For now, at least, I’ll have to let my trust be in Mikey. I couldn’t fight even if I wanted to. To be fair, he’s earned my trust. But these other people? I’m not completely sure. I certainly don’t want to be putting my life in their hands just yet.

  Chapter 25

  We make it into the consignment shop just as my fingers are starting to go numb. It’s still early, though it’s already getting dark. We both stamp our feet as we enter the little shop to get rid of excess snow.

  I look around me in surprise. I don’t know what I expected—a bustling supermarket-style store? A thrift shop full of racks of clothing and bric-a-brac? Perhaps, but though the shop is large, virtually every shelf is empty. I look at Mikey with a raised eyebrow, but he barely acknowledges it.

  A small woman with coppery red hair is talking to a slim blonde. They’re laughing about something—something X-rated, by the dirty laugh the blonde has. They stop when we come in, and the blonde waves bye to the redhead.

  She passes us, giving Mikey a once over.

  “Yes?” I snap.

  She smirks and keeps on going, not in the least bit intimidated by me.

  “That’s Melanie—you don’t want to mess with her.” Mikey chuckles. “She’s got an attitude worse than yours.”

  “Sounds like we could be related,” I huff.

  The woman from behind the counter comes over to us; her smile is wide and her eyes are friendly, and I automatically warm to her.

  “Hey, Susan.” Mikey wraps her in a big bear hug and she laughs and hugs him back. “This is Nina.” He gestures to me. “She needs some stuff—anything, really. We kinda lost everything.” He shrugs.

  Susan smiles again and holds out a hand for me to take. I do, too—no idea why, but she has that motherly quality about her that says I’ll look after you, but with an equal edge of don’t fuck with me.

  “We got a couple of things in today—nothing big, though. There wasn’t much on the scavenge, since they had to come back early.” She leads me over to the front of the shop, where a till once sat. It’s been moved now, however, and along the top are neatly folded piles of clothes and various baskets, each with an array of different things like creams, brushes, and makeup.

  “They came back early?” Mikey asks.

  “Have a look through, my love, see if there’s anything you like.” She turns to Mikey. “Yes, there was an accident. No one got hurt, but they ran into trouble on the road. Some assholes spoiling for a fight.” She tuts and gives me a smile like I’m some blonde bimbo that doesn’t know what’s going on.

  “What kind of assholes?” I bite out.

  I feel Mikey’s hand on my shoulder, and with that small gesture I realize he hasn’t told them that trouble is chasing us down.

  Susan flips her red hair off her thin shoulders. “Oh, you know the type—opportunists looking for a fight.” She purses her lips. “There’s always someone wanting to destroy the peace, isn’t there?” Her eyes are downcast, her fingers probing some of the items in the baskets without thought.

  “Mikey.” I look at him and he nods. I don’t even need to say anything else; he gets it. He knows what’s running through my mind, what’s worrying me.

  “What is it, my loves?”

  We both look at Susan, and guilt pours from me. Mikey gives my shoulder a little squeeze again. I don’t know if he’s trying to get me to shut up or trying to comfort me—either way, I’m stumped by what to say. On the one hand, I want to warn everyone here of the trouble we might have brought to their door; but on the other, we won’t survive if they ask us to leave. It’s winter and we have nowhere to go. That and we’re in the middle of nowhere, meaning we’d be completely fucked.

  “Nothing,” I say, biting down on my lip. “It’s always worrisome when you hear of trouble.” I shrug.

  I don’t think she’s entirely convinced, but she drops the subject either way.

  “Well, no one was hurt—well, no one in our team—but they decided to call it a day anyway. The roads are getting worse out there and I think it just about wore them out getting as far as they did. So anyway, we got a few things, but nothing fancy.”

  “How do I pay for this?” I ask, checking through the clothes. I unfold a baggy gray sweatshirt. It reminds me of something my father used to wear, and I decide I want it.

  “We trade,” she says with a smile, her eyes flitting from me to Mikey. “We all take turns in the shop, and whoever is here when a shipment comes in gets the goods. If you want anything, you have to trade either something you have or something that you can do for me.” She smiles widely again. Her brown eyes have a little sparkle to them that I haven’t seen in a long while. “It’s like recycling.”

  “So, if I want this,” I hold up my sweatshirt and then grab a toothbrush and some socks, “and these. What do you want?” I look at Mikey, who’s smiling too. Jesus, I feel like I’m in the Twilight Zone or some shit. “Stop smiling you two, you’re weirding me out.” I scowl.

  “Mikey already covered whatever you needed.” Susan pats his hand. “He’s a good man, this one. You keep hold of him. Good ones are hard to come by these days.”

  I choke on a laugh. “No seriously, I want to buy my own crap.”

  “It’s already done,” Mikey states nonchalantly.

  “I don’t need you looking after me, Mikey,” I snap.

  “Whatever, Nina, it’s done. So get what you need.”

  I glare at him but he doesn’t budge, his jaw working slightly as we have a stare-off in the middle of the shop. I’d be embarrassed if I wasn’t so pissed off with him.

  I turn to Susan when I realize that he isn’t going to buckle. “What did he trade?”

  She looks from me to Mikey nervously. “I don’t want to get in the middle of anything.”

  “Just pick your crap and let’s go—I’m
on duty tonight.”

  I ignore him. “Susan, what did he trade you?”

  “A week’s worth of reading,” she says rather coyly.

  “Pardon me?” I look between them both.

  “I like to be read to. My daughter used to do it for me before…well, before everything. It was my favorite thing to be curled up in front of a roaring fireplace, her soft voice reading to me,” she says wistfully.

  “Oh.” I look at Mikey, who shrugs. “Well, I can read to you, I guess. I mean, I like to read. It’s been a while since I sat down to read anything, though. Like years.” I force out a laugh.

  Susan reaches under the counter and pulls out a tattered-looking book. My eyes nearly bug out of my head when I see what it is.

  “Are you serious?” I ask in horror. I don’t even want to touch the damn cover, never mind read it.

  “Oh yes, my love.” She nods and smiles that pretty, wide smile of hers again. “I love reading zombie horror books. It’s not quite the same as living it, so it’s nice to be able to close the book when I’ve had enough of it. Not like this world, where it’s day in, day out.”

  I give the scruffy book a cold, hard look, the torn up zombie on the cover snarling up at me almost mockingly. “Fine, when do we start?” I ask with a grimace.

  *

  The inside of Susan’s house is cluttered with two other people’s belongings. Her home is a little larger than ours, with three bedrooms instead of the two in ours. I realize how lucky Mikey and I are to have a place to ourselves and wonder for how long it’ll be like that.

  “Have a seat, my love, I’ll fetch us a drink and get everything set up.” She wanders off to the kitchen and I sit down on the crowded sofa.

  I fidget, unable to get comfy, and stand back up, moving the cushion I had been sitting on and subsequently finding a high-heeled shoe underneath.

  “What the fuck?” I mutter to myself, and put it on the floor as I sit back down.