A World Alone (Dead World Series Book 1) (3 page)

CHAPTER
FIVE

Logan

The bitch is still screaming.

I squirm uncomfortably, my knees throbbing from the hard linoleum floors as
I sit back on my heels. The thin wire coiled around my wrists, binding them
together, slices into my skin with every small movement. I can feel the blood
wetting my palms and trickling down my fingers.

She screams again. An ugly noise. One that forces me to wince every time. It
won't be long before every infected in town is swarming us. No doubt by then
I'll be left behind as bait. If I wasn't so pissed off I might actually be willing
to admit that their con is a pretty smart one.

The one time I decide to ignore the voice in my head and try to help, this
happens.

I would slap myself if my hands weren't restrained.

The woman watching me is thin and fragile. She paces the floor in front of
me, a feeble knife in one hand and the keys to my jeep in the other. She's not
even watching me. Her attention is focused solely on her boyfriend standing
outside, waiting to catch any more poor suckers looking to help. She throws her
head back and wails again.

I grit my teeth.

"Can you please shut your goddamn mouth?" I ask.

She finishes her wail before looking down at me and taking a step closer.
Transferring my car keys to her other hand, she raises it in the air, ready to
slap me.

"Grace you can quit yellin' now, we got another one!" her
boyfriend calls from outside.

Hand falling to her side, she gives me a dirty smile before turning to the
door of the gas station and walking out to evaluate their new prize. I would
have preferred it if she hit me.

This is my chance.

They haven’t bound my legs and I can run out the back door while they're all
out front. But that would mean losing my car and everything in it. Before I
have time to contemplate further, the door of the service station clicks open.

A girl, no older than nineteen is pushed forward into the store. She
stumbles and falls to the ground while the boyfriend rummages through her
belongings, the girlfriend clinging to his back, desperate like a child trying
to catch a glimpse of their Christmas presents.

"Well, did we get anything good hon’?" she asks, standing on her
toes to peer over his shoulder.

"Bottle of water, a pot and some matches, nothin’ good," the
boyfriend grumbles back, turning to her and pulling her into an embrace.
"You did a good job screamin' sweetheart. It's not our fault these
assholes didn't have anythin' good on em'."

I can't stand to watch anymore. My eyes roll before landing on a pair of
emeralds, staring up at me from the floor. Their glow catches me off guard and
fills me with a sense of familiarity. All I want is to look away, but I can't.

Until she blinks.

I snap away from her gaze and turn my attention to my left shoulder instead,
trying to ignore the cooing babbles of my captors.

"
Psst
, hey," she whispers at an octave lower than silence.
I look back at her, only to be painfully held by the green light of her eyes.
Her thick eyebrows pull together as she watches me grimace. I drop my eyes and
focus my stare on her small nose instead, painted with dirt and grime.

"We can take them," she breathes.

I pause for a second, deliberating the imposition of her statement.
"What?"

"They think I'm weak, we can take them by surprise," she explains,
nodding her head towards the couple kissing at the front of the store.
"I'll take the big guy, you handle the bitch,” she pauses, looking back to
make sure I understand.

"Got it?" she asks.

I huff out a breath of amusement. "I like your spirit kid but my hands
are tied, so are yours, how are we supposed to do that?"

"I don't know," she shrugs, "use your head." She doesn't
waste a minute. As the couple separates she jumps up from the floor and runs
towards them. Without hesitation she pulls her head back and slams it into the
nose of the boyfriend, snapping it out of place. The impact makes a smack loud
enough to imitate the sound of a gunshot.

He goes reeling with a shout, dropping the gun in surprise; the gun they
took from me. The girlfriend sees the pistol clatter to the floor and dives
like a fox to pick it up. I stand up and move towards her, sticking my leg
in-between hers I use my other to sweep her down, knocking us both off our
feet. Her chin strikes the floor first, a bubble of blood bursting from her
lips as her teeth
clack
together.

I untangle my legs from hers and stand up as quickly as possible, my side
throbbing from the collision with the floor. The girlfriend is sobbing, blood oozing
from her mouth, but still crawls towards the gun. I swing my boot and kick her
in the face, trying to ignore the crunch of teeth and squelch of liquid. She
stops moving.

I look over to the girl. She's standing over the body of the boyfriend,
watching me, her green eyes innocently analyzing. I look away.

Sitting down next to the body of the girlfriend I work to find the small
knife in her hand. Prying it from her grasp, I manage to position the blade at
an angle that lets me cut the wire from my wrists. Once it’s cut away, I stand
up and look down at the dark and bloody lines that are etched into my skin;
they burn ferociously as I rub at them.

"Care to give me a hand?" the girl asks, her eyes settling on me
with no indication of leaving. Leaning down I snatch my car keys and the gun up
from the ground before I move towards the girl and cut the wire from her
wrists. "Thanks," she mumbles, as she picks her bag up from the floor
and begins stuffing all her belongings back inside.

"My name's Stella," she says, swinging the bag onto her back.

"I didn't ask." I turn to leave. I need to get away from her eyes.

"Fair enough, what's yours?" she asks, rubbing her forehead and
wincing at the pressure.

I stop at the door, my hand resting on its handle, a heavy sigh leaving my
lips.

"Look kid, thanks for the help and all, but I'm gonna take off now, and
I suggest you do the same." I don't dare to look at her as I open the door
and step outside, walking towards my jeep. I need to get away from her.

"Well hey, wait a second!" she calls, hitching her bag over her shoulder
and running out after me. "Maybe we could team up? I mean we make a pretty
good team, right? And you did save me earlier when you ran down that
infected."

I grit my teeth, still refusing to look at her. "Get out of here
kid."

"But we could—"

"I said get out of here!" I shout, finally turning to look at her.
Those green eyes catch me, surprised and hurt they pull me in and break me
down. They ignite the emptiness inside me and imitate everything that I've
lost. I can't bring myself to look at her any longer.

So I turn away and get into my car. Starting the ignition, I waste no time
in pulling out of the gas station. As I drive down the road I glance at her in
the rear-view mirror, staring after me, but I keep driving. Because I can't
bring myself to do anything else.

Only when I see a bar on the side of the road do I stop. Parking the car I
get out and head straight inside, not even bothering to check if the area is
safe or not. I don't care right now; I don't care about anything. I grab the
first thing on the shelf that my hand reaches. Sparing the label a glance, I
pull up a stool and take a swig, grimacing at the burning taste.

The liquid ignites like fire in my parched throat. I ignore the pain as I
take another gulp, just like I try to ignore all the other pain. But I can't
ignore it, any of it. Every time I shut my eyes I see the green of hers looking
back and I'm reminded of the last time I saw them. When I thought things were
as bad as they could get and every night I found myself in a bar much like this
one.

I hadn't seen her in an eternity and I decided one night after drowning my
sorrows that I wanted to visit her. It was a cold night but even still I had
the common sense not to drive. So I stumbled down the streets, warmed by the
alcohol until my old home came into view. I don't remember knocking on the
door, but it must have been late because I remember the sour expression on my ex-wife's
face before she even realized it was me.

"Jesus Christ, Logan, you reek of booze!" Jessica hissed as she
stood in the doorway, her arm outstretched from one side to the other, barring
my entrance.

"Jessica just let me in," I slurred, swaying gently from one side
to another. Her thin lips pulled into a frown deeper than the pool in the
backyard I had never finished digging up.

"I don't think that's a good idea, Logan. I don't want our daughter
seeing you like this," she scowled, her eyes hard yet somber as they
traveled my ragged appearance from head-to-toe. "For God's sake think
about what this will do to her! She's been through enough!" she cried. A
moment of silence passed between us.

"Please don't hurt her like this, Logan,"

"I would never hurt her!" I raised my voice, stepping forward I
reached out and placed a hand against the frame of the door for support.

"Not intentionally," her frown morphed into one that was sadder
than it was angry. "But the first thing you did when you found out was go
straight to the bar," she paused, "and she's going to think that
that's her fault."

I shook my head, not allowing myself to listen.

"I think it would be best if you didn't see her for a while."

"What?" I hissed, refusing to believe what she had said. She
stared at me solemnly, her eyes hard as they lost all trace of melancholy.
"No!"

"No!" I shouted again, "Jessica you can't do that, she's my
daughter!" I slammed the palm of my hand down against the frame of the
door, stepping back as she flinched away.

"I think it's time you left n—"

"Daddy?" The small voice silenced the battlefield and ended the
chaos. She appeared by her mother's side for only a moment, before she moved
past her and ran towards me.

I dropped to my knees and circled her into my arms as she ran into them.
Burying my face in her bronze curls I ignored the treacherous tears as they
fell.

"I don't want you to go, Daddy," she mumbled into my shoulder,
burrowing her small face into the crook of my neck. The muscles of my throat
tightened as they strained to remain quiet, despite the sob building in my
chest.

I pulled her away, aware of Jessica's glare, and knew that I had no choice
but to let her go.

"I love you, princess."

Her tender emerald eyes shone like glass as they brimmed with tears. She
turned away before they had a chance to fall, and disappeared inside.

My head is resting against the wet wood of the bar now. I must have spilled
one of my drinks. But I don't care. It makes me feel like I'm in the water, my
body riding in unity with the waves. My eyes are closed as I let the gentle
tide of intoxication sweep me away into oblivion.
Her
eyes have even
gone away, blurred by the alcohol and unable to torment me any longer. Everything
feels so perfect and warm.

Until something pulls on my arm and I remember where I am, and my head lifts
to find the brilliant emeralds staring back.

"We have to go, now."

CHAPTER
SIX

Stella

He left me. . .

Just like that.

And I was being so damn nice too.

I mean, I practically saved his life back there! The least he could have done
in return was give me a lift.

But I watch the back of his yellow jeep drive off down the road and turn left
at the end of the street, and it becomes apparently obvious that he isn't going
to change his mind and come back for me. Which sucks.

And I had a good feeling about him too.

Maybe he wasn't a hero like I thought he was. Or maybe he was smarter than I
gave him credit for. Smart enough not to let strangers into his car anyway.

My shoulders sag as I stare down the road. I could follow him. If I started
running now I might even be able to see which direction he's heading. He has to
stop eventually, and if I catch up to him I might be able to pick the keys off
him.

A car would get me a long way. A very long way. It would cut days off my
travel time, probably even a week.

Should I follow him?

I’m contemplating the answer out in the open when a noise in the night
breaks my attention, and the sound of scraping footsteps soon follows it.

"Oh shit," I mutter, the words quiet as my hands ball into tight
fists. I turn around, my eyes narrowing into slits as I squint into the
darkness. A jumbled mass of slow movement squirms in the absence of light.
Instinctively I take a small step back, my throat swelling and catching my
breath mid-gasp.

A horde.

Their many bodies shuffle and sway together, slowly creeping up the road as
one. I take another step back, my eyes tracing over their outlines, counting
their individual figures. Moonlight rains down on them as they step out from
the cover of the trees and continue to stumble up the road. The silvery light
ignites their tangled bodies, throwing out vivid shadows that skulk and slither
in every direction.

Another tremulous step as more and more bodies appear in the light, all
shuffling towards the gas station.

Towards me.

Majority of their illuminated bodies appear broken and decayed, protruding
bones glinting like dirty pearls. But a few of their bodies are fresh and
unscathed.

I take a few more steps back, my eyes focused on the constantly growing
group of infected. I want to stay until no more of them appear. I want to know
that there aren't any more. But they just keep coming. It's mesmerizing in a
terrifying way, watching body after body step out from the darkness. My
shoulders tense as my chest begins to rise and fall more rapidly.

One more step back, my heel catches a piece of loose gravel and forces it to
scrape against the road. A noise that catches the attention of the closest
infected. What once was a man looks up, its bloody grey eyes gleaming
dangerously in the night as it stops walking to stare at me.

It screams, and as if it is the conductor, the rest of the orchestra soon join,
and the entire horde is singing into the void of night. 

I turn and run, my bag bouncing precariously on my back. The screams grow in
volume as they belt out their song, a requiem of rapid footsteps following.

My feet slap hard against the ground with every step as I sprint down the
street, turning left where the yellow jeep drove off. I throw a quick look in
their direction, only to receive another pump of adrenalin. Majority of the
infected are shambling slowly, but the newer ones are running, sprinting
towards me.

My lungs burn with every shallow breath I take, my legs already aching for a
rest. I'm not even half-way down the street before I'm drenched with sweat. I
throw another look over my shoulder, a glance that lasts no longer than a
second but is more than enough time for me to see them, a few hundred feet
away, just rounding the corner now.

Every muscle in my body strains as I force myself to keep going. And then I
realize, this could be it. This could be how I die. I didn't think this in the
gas station because I knew those two hillbillies were nothing to worry about.
But I've never faced a horde before, and I've only ever outrun four fresh
infected at one time, not twenty. And I got lucky that time.

Luck seems to have abandoned me tonight.

Every house and store I pass have closed doors. It's too much of a risk to
try and open one, if it's locked I might not have time to try and break it
open.

Fatigue begins to settle on me, embracing the muscles in my legs and slowing
them down. I push them harder, willing them not to give up, not yet. I don't
worry about making noise anymore. Screw staying silent. If anymore infected
join them now it will make no difference. I grunt and cry as I run, looking up
and down the street for anything that could work to my advantage.

And that's when I see it. A bright yellow dot, just like the sun, sitting
outside of a building a few hundred meters away.

I huff out a sound that might have been a laugh as I push myself harder.
Gritting my teeth, I sprint the distance remaining and slam myself against the
side of the jeep, parked outside of a bar. Why would he need to go into a bar?
The thought leaves me at the scream of an infected. Clutching at the handle of
the car door, I get a grip and tug harshly, frowning as it remains shut.

The goddamn asshole locked it.

I step back from the jeep, my hands trembling at my sides as I look down the
road at the infected still running towards me. I turn towards the bar and run
inside, slamming the door shut behind me. My head snaps around the dark
interior as my wide eyes search. They settle on a figure hunched over the
counter, gently swaying on a stool, broken bottles littering the ground around
him. Their shards blinking like crystals in the moonlight.

"You have got to be kidding me," I huff as I run towards him,
crunching on shards of glass as I reach the wooden bar. I grab onto his arm and
shake him hard. His head lifts up, the stench of alcohol filtering his breath.

"We have to go, now," I command, trying to pull him off the stool
while keeping him upright.

His eyes lock with mine, hazy in reflection as he reaches a hand out to
caress my cheek.

"Princess?" he mutters, his eyes brimming with the crystal shine
of tears. I lift his heavy arm up and loop it over my shoulders, seriously
deliberating whether I should just take the keys from him and leave.

"Whatever floats your boat, buddy," I strain as he stumbles and
pushes majority of his weight onto me. He begins mumbling strings of words that
are so knotted together they don't make sense. Looking around the small bar,
shadows begin to throw themselves against the colored windows as the infected
draw near. Their wails audible even from inside.

It's too late to run.

I look around again, for any place to hide. Under a table? In the bathroom?
My gaze settles on the bar in front of us. Wasting no more time I carry the
both of us around the counter, dropping us on the floor as the door of the bar is
thrown open. My nails dig into the carpet of a small mat I have landed on as the
sounds of several infected fill the bar. Beads of sweat drip from my nose as my
trembling hands lift the carpet and slide it to the side. A small handle,
embedded into the wood glints up at me as a crash sounds nearby.

Pushing myself up I dig my fingers into the latch and wrench it open. It
creaks loudly, a noise that silences all others in the bar. I freeze, staring
down into the dark cellar. An infected screams, the sound of footsteps running
towards us accompanying it. I lift the hatch open higher and shove the drunk
down into the darkness before I dive in myself. The body of an infected crashes
over the bar just as I slam the small door shut behind me.

I pause in the darkness, listening to the clash and screams of the infected
just above. Dust falls through the creaking floorboards as their feet
frantically stomp the area, their blood lust unsatiated.

With shaking legs, I struggle to find the small steps in the dark. But I
manage, and I submerge myself into the unknown abyss.

"You look like her," he groans somewhere in the cellar, a soft
noise, lilted with sorrow. "What she would have looked like."

I step down onto solid ground and find him sitting against a wall, not far
from the stairs.

"I . . . I didn't save her," he mumbles. Even in the dark I can
see the tears staining his cheeks as he buries his head in his hands.

"You need to be quiet," I tell him, glancing up as several bottles
smash overhead.

"I didn't save her," he repeats, "I didn't save her. . .'"

"Seriously, shut up," I whisper as a growl resounds directly above
us. The noise filters off into a long held croak, and I can imagine the
infected pressing its face against the floorboards. I hold my breath, listening
as the sound dies away and footsteps wander off to another place in the bar.

"I let her die."

Another minute passes and I allow myself a breath of relief, only to now
notice how stuffy the air in the cellar is. It's warm and reeking with his
alcohol riddled breath. My nose wrinkles at the smell. It reminds me of my
father and the nights I spent taking care of him after my mother left. In the
darkness of the cellar, with nothing but that smell, it’s just like I’m back
there, taking care of him.

"Dad?" I whispered, stopping just outside his door. I listened to
the soft breathing emanating from the dark. "Daddy?" I muttered
again, reaching out and feeling the wall for the light switch.

I found the small button and flicked it on. Artificial light splayed itself
across the room, exposing the ugly mess of my father spread out on his desk. I
pushed the door open a little more and took a step inside. My nose crinkled as
the smell of vomit fused with alcohol impacted my senses.

A snore ripped through the silence of his study, causing me to jump at the
sound. I huffed a sigh as his arm moved, nearly knocking over the drink clasped
in his hand. Walking over to his desk, the stink only growing stronger, I plucked
the bottle from him and stared down at his sleeping figure.

A sound at the door caught my attention and I looked up to find my brother
watching me, a bag slung over his shoulder.

"Nathan?"

He shook his head and turned away.

"Nathan?" I called again. His heavy footsteps faltered on the
stairs, but he didn't stop. I dropped the bottle on the ground, not caring as its
liquid sloshed out and stained the carpets.

I took off at a run, skipping down the stairs two steps at a time. My lungs
blazed in my chest as I struggled to take in air, my heart beating furiously in
fear of what I thought was happening.

"Nathan!" I shouted this time, my voice quivering as I reached the
front door. I wrenched it open and stumbled outside in time to find him opening
the door of his car.

He paused, but didn't look at me. A stretch of silence separated us, broken
only by my panting as I stood on the porch. His hand firmly gripped the hood of
his car as he waited, his knuckles turning white from the exertion. 

"Please don't do this," I breathed.

He shook his head, the white of his teeth showing as he bit his bottom lip.
"I'm not just gonna wait around for him to die, Stella."

My stomach seemed to clench as the familiar prick of tears stung my eyes.
"Don't leave," I mumbled, "please don't leave."

His eyes softened and his shoulders began to sag. "Stella, if you're as
smart as I know you are, you'll do the same."

"No," I spat, as if the word would change anything. As if it would
stop him from leaving. He shook his head again, his eyes turning back to the
soil at his feet.

"Jesus, Sis, at least don't let him stop you from living your
life," he said, looking back up at me, "go to that party you were
invited to and forget about taking care of him for one night."

"No." Tears fell as I clenched my fists at my sides, refusing to
believe what was happening. He breathed out a sigh, shaking his head one last
time.

"I'm sorry, Stella," he whispered, just loud enough for me to hear
before the wind whisked his voice away.

"No!" I cried as he got into his car and shut his door,
"please!"

More tears fell as he reversed out of our driveway and drove off down the
road. I stood rigid, watching his tail lights slowly dim in the night, until
they disappeared entirely.

I sat out on the porch for an hour after he had gone, breathing in the crisp
night air, calming myself down. I didn't blame him for having the courage that
I didn't. I didn't blame him at all. He was right, I should have run away.
There was no point in me staying.

I wonder where Nathan is now, and if things might have turned out
differently if he stayed. Maybe I wouldn't be stuck in a cellar with some
drunk.

He groans again in the dark, "I didn't save her."

I exhale a breath and look down at his crumpled outline on the floor, his
shoulders shaking with silent sobs. My brow furrows a little as I watch him, and
I find my scowl softening. I was planning to hit him over the head for all the
trouble he's caused me. But I can’t see that happening now that I realize how
broken he is. How defeated. Kneeling down, I reach a hand out and place it on
his shaking shoulder.  

"Who are you talking about?" I ask lightly, moving my hand in
small, soothing circles. He lifts his head from his hands, looking at me from
the corner of his eye.

"My daughter," he whispers before burying his face again and
hiding his tears. "I let her die," he mutters, his voice muffled
behind his hands.

A sigh escapes me as I let my hand fall from his shoulder.

"Hey," I say softly, moving a little closer to him, "listen
to me."

He lifts his head up slowly, the smell of alcohol still strong on his warm
breath.

"You can't save everyone."