Alone (22 page)

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Alone

My body trembles and my teeth chatter no matter what I do. I’m so cold that it hurts. I shift, and the icy water sloshes out of the tub, slapping against the bathroom floor. Probably making a puddle. Not that I care. I squeeze my eyes shut and work to block out the pain and the shivering, hoping to absorb the silence and soothe the ache in my body. My leg throbs, and the icy water only makes it worse. Around me, the room is silent except for the rhythmic dripping that comes from the sink.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Thanks to the cold water I’m lying in, my heart rate has slowed until it beats in perfect synchronization with the sound, filling my ears. It’s so cathartic that I’m almost able to block out the pain and memories assaulting my senses. Almost.

But too much has happened, and no matter how hard I try, it’s impossible for me block it out forever. Eventually, the memories take over and everything comes crashing back. My life before all this. Before Mom died, before I met Roman. Before I fell in love.

Roman.

Despair shoots through me, squeezing my insides. My lungs tighten until it’s difficult to breathe. It’s even more intense than the pain pulsating through my leg. The tears I’d managed to stave off earlier fall from my eyes, burning hot trails across my cold skin. They aren’t for me. I can handle the thought of everything ending. But I can’t handle thinking about what Roman is going through. How he’ll blame himself. How much he will hurt when I’m finally gone.

I gasp, filling my lungs with air in hopes of relieving the pain. When it doesn’t work, I try to curl into myself, but there’s no escaping the cold prison I find myself in. The icy water hurts, and every shiver that shakes my body intensifies the pain, but it’s working. I can tell because the fuzziness in my brain hasn’t gotten worse. Not that that’s a good thing.

Roman’s voice echoes through my head, and even though I know he isn’t here, my eyes fly open. Nothing, though. I’m alone. Even more so than I was before we came to Coastal Manor.

Angry voices penetrate the door. Roman. His father. Other voices too quiet to make out. I strain my ears, trying to pick up a word or two. But it’s useless.

There is one voice I don’t hear, though. One voice that should be here but isn’t. My father. He was here when they filled the bathtub with water and ice. So stoic and quiet. He barely even looked at me. As usual.

Will he be sorry? Will he be angry? Will he want to see me?
The questions come too fast.

Do I want to see him?

The doorknob jiggles, and my entire body tenses as I wait for it to open. My stomach churns, and I’m suddenly afraid that I’m going to be sick. Then the door swings open, and a burst of light breaks through the darkness. I lift a trembling arm, hoping to shield my eyes from the sudden assault. A light flips on and blinds me even more. The door shuts. Footsteps. Hands on my head. So gentle.

“Jules.”

Roman
. My lips tremble too much to allow the words to come out.

I lower my arm and squint up into his face. He’s broken. Every muscle in his body is slack like all the strength has been sucked from him. Where are the strong shoulders I admired just a short time ago? The ones capable of carrying the weight of the world on them…

I rest my hand on his cheek, marveling at how blue my skin looks next to his. He leans into it, closing his eyes. His cheek is warm and wet with tears. Roman. Is. Crying.

“Shhh,” I whisper. “It will be okay.” I’m lying. It will never be okay.

He opens his eyes, and under my hand, his jaw tightens. Just like that, his entire body straightens as if all his muscles have snapped to attention in one quick movement.

“I’m going to town.”

My calf throbs at his words.

“Are you sure they have it?” It’s barely a whisper—as small as the hope inside me.

He runs his hand through his too-long hair. “If they don’t, I’ll go to Atlanta.”

My heart aches even more than it already did. It’s too far. Too dangerous. He won’t make it. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

Roman glances toward my leg. It’s underwater though, covered in goose bumps like the rest of my body. Which is fine with me. I don’t want to look at it. Don’t want to see the two perfectly shaped half-moons on my leg. Red. Angry. Already swollen with infection. How can something so small be the end of me?

“I won’t let you die. Not if I can do something to stop it.” Roman’s words are fierce. Determined. Angry. He’s so angry.

I grab his chin with my icy fingers and turn his face toward mine. “Don’t leave me. I want you here with me until it’s over.” I try to hold back the sobs, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough. “I d-don’t want t-to die a-alone.” Can he even understand the words?

Roman pulls his face out of my hand and leans forward, pressing his hot lips against my head. I want him to hold me, but I’m covered in ice and soaking wet, so instead I rest my face in the crook of his neck. His skin is like fire against mine.

“I can’t give up.” His words are muffled, but the desperation in his voice is as loud as an explosion. “No one has ever loved me like this. How can I live without you?”

His words reach inside me and squeeze my heart, and for a brief moment, I can’t breathe or talk or even cry. All I can do is focus on the pain inside me and pray that my heart doesn’t explode. That it doesn’t rip out of my chest the way it feels like it’s going to. How can I deny him this? How can I let him give up? I won’t. If the situation were reversed, I would rather die than give up on him.

I suck in a deep breath and pull back, lifting my gaze to his one last time. His brown eyes are pools of sadness. So deep and desolate that I’m afraid I might drown in them.

“Promise me,” I croak. “Promise that you’ll make it back to say goodbye.”

“I’ll be back before you turn. I. Will. Save. You.”

I don’t believe him, but I nod anyway.

Then he’s out the door. No kiss goodbye. Just a little squeeze of my hand and a promise that he’ll make it back in time.

And then I am alone. Left with nothing but memories. Memories and pain.

The throbbing in my leg worsens. I imagine the virus moving through me. Going from the bite and up my leg, traveling in my blood until it reaches my heart. Gathering there and building with a force so charged with electricity that when it finally pumps out, it moves like lightening to the tips of my fingers.

And then it will go up. Higher and higher. Invading everything. Taking over who I am and replacing it with a monster.

Will I still be here?

Will I be trapped?

Should I end it now?

Will Roman make it?

Too many questions…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Desperate

My whole body shakes, and deep inside my chest, my heart aches. There’s a crack in it. A fissure that grows with each passing second and throbs with the pain of the split. Pulsating, threatening to explode at any moment and destroy me.

There isn’t much time.

I have to get the vaccine.

I have to save Jules.

Jules’s father is still standing in the foyer when I step out. His shoulders are slumped and he’s completely motionless as he stares at the floor, almost like he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to do next. He looks the way I feel: lost.

He lifts his head when I approach, and the expression in his eyes is like a spear in my heart. There is no accusation, only pain. I didn’t think I could feel worse than I already did.

I want him to hit me. To scream at me or call me names and blame me for murdering his daughter. Any of it would make sense. I am responsible. If I’d just left her alone, she would be okay. If I had acknowledged to myself that she is too good for me, that I don’t deserve her love, she wouldn’t be dying. But I am selfish and greedy and human, and I wanted her all for myself, so I took her. I claimed her as mine even though I had no right to.

He doesn’t attack me or yell at me, though. He just melts. Collapses against the wall with his hand to his chest like he might be having a heart attack. I step forward with my hand out, but when his eyes meet mine, I stop. He isn’t having a heart attack. He’s just trying to hold his damaged heart together. Same as me.

“I’m going for the vaccine.” I don’t sound like me. I sound like someone smaller, younger. Someone less in control. Where did I go?

He nods, but his eyes don’t focus on me and I’m not sure if he really understands.

“I’ll go to Atlanta if I have to.”

“But you know where to get it here?” There’s hope in his voice. It’s tiny and shaky, but it’s there.

“Maybe.”

He pulls himself up—it seems to take a lot of effort—and grabs my shirt in his hands. He shakes me slightly, but he isn’t trying to hurt me. “This is my fault. I pushed her away. All these years, all she wanted was for me to be there and I couldn’t do it.” His eyes grow moist, and I have to blink away the tears in my own eyes. “Promise me you’ll save her.”

“I’ll do it or die trying.”

He lets go of my shirt and takes a step back. “I always thought I had more time.”

When he doesn’t move, I walk around him. I can’t stand here and watch him fall apart. There isn’t time.

Plus, the longer I stand here, the more likely I am to do the same thing.

“Stop right there!” Rick calls before I’ve made it all the way to the door. The bastard.

I turn to face my father, clenching my fists tightly so I don’t hit him. The last thing I need right now is to get my ass thrown back in jail. “What?”

“You leave and that’s it.” His eyes flash like he knows he’s giving me an impossible scenario and enjoys doing it. “I won’t let you back in.”

My jaw tightens, and I step forward, putting less than an inch between us. “I won’t let her die. Not when there’s a vaccine.”

“You won’t make it, and I’m not risking the town for your little girlfriend,” he spits at me.

My eyes go to Jules’s father. He’s leaning against the wall again, and he looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“You’re a prick,” I fire back.

I have to leave. I can’t let him draw me into another one of our arguments.

“I mean it, Roman.”

I turn away without saying anything. My insides are boiling, shaking, trying to break free. If I stand here even a second longer, I am going to beat the shit out of him. For the past, for the present, for Jules. For myself.

But there’s no time for all of that.

So I run. I run out the front door and across the lawn, back to my bike, lying on its side in the middle of the front yard. I’m running so fast that I almost don’t notice Mac standing there next to his own bike.

I’m out of breath when I stop, and all I can do is raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m going with you,” he says. “To help.”

I shake my head and walk past him. “Can’t let you. It’s too dangerous.”

“Roman, I’m going.”

His voice is so serious that I have to turn to face him. I half expect someone else to be standing there. I’ve never heard Mac sound like this. He’s always joking around. The look of determination on Mac’s face tells me that his mind is already made up. Damn. I hate the idea of him risking his life like this.

“You sure?”

He climbs on his bike. “Where to?”

“Hopefully, we’ll just have to go into town. You know who took that shipment.”

He swears under his breath. We both know who’s been hijacking our supply trucks. It’s just a damn shame it had to happen now.

“You think he’ll give it to us?”

I try to ignore the tension building inside me as I climb on my bike. “He better.”

I keep what I’m thinking to myself: if he doesn’t give it to us, I’ll kill him. Not sure if Mac can handle that little piece of truth right now.

We take off, me in front and Mac at my back, and by the time the gate comes into view, Clay is already working to get it open. I barely have to slow, and once it’s open I accelerate, flying past Clay and the other guards so fast they’re nothing but a blur. Mac pulls up beside me once we’re on the open road, and side by side we head toward the house Jules and I slept in last night. The place where my nightmare started.

Mac stays outside with the bike while I run inside. It takes everything in me not to look at the zombie that ripped into Jules, but I can’t stop my stomach from turning in on itself from the stench of death that now fills the place. I should drag the bastard outside, but I don’t have the time.

I rip the floorboards up so fast that one splinters in half, but I just toss it aside. The hole is dark, but I don’t need the light to find what I’m looking for. I move two boxes so I can get to the one underneath, and when I have it, I rip the lid off. The guns are heavy in my hands when I load them. Knives are good for taking out zombies—they’re quick and quiet, and they don’t attract other zombies or run out of ammo—but guns are better for dealing with humans.

Outside, I practically have to shove the gun in Mac’s hand.

“What the hell, man?” He looks up at me with eyes that have grown twice their size.

I look away. “I’m going to do what it takes.”

Mac nods twice but then shakes his head. I’m not sure if that’s disagreement or disbelief, but I don’t wait around to discuss it. I shove my gun in my waistband before pulling my shirt over it. Then I’m back on my bike and heading down the road, only looking back once to make sure Mac is behind me.

When the gate comes into view, I slow to a stop. Mac comes up beside me, and as jumpy as he is, I start to worry that they aren’t going to let us inside. I hold my breath, but it only takes a second for the guards to call down to the men on the ground. When the gates swing open, all they do is wave us inside. Thankfully, we’re regular visitors or they would have frisked us.

Mac and I fly through, driving faster than we should as we head down the main street. People wave, but for once I don’t return the gesture. My body is so tense that my hands feel like they are welded to the handlebars.

We pull to a stop in front of Hank’s and climb off our bikes. There’s a slight bulge at Mac’s waist from the gun, and at my waist my own gun is hot and heavy against my skin. Hank and I go way back, and the idea of doing this makes my stomach uneasy, but not as much as the knowledge that without the vaccine, Jules will soon be a flesh-eating monster.

“You ready for this?” I ask Mac as I glance around, checking to make sure the coast is clear. It’s early still, so the streets are fairly empty. Good.

Mac nods so hard his hair falls over his eyes. “Yup.”

I shove the door open with so much force that it slams against a display case. A man who’s in the middle of a trade jumps back, his eyes so big they seem to take up half his face. He looks at us, then back at Hank, and the next time he turns to face us he’s on the run. Whatever he had to trade is pressed to his chest as he hurries past Mac and me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hank growls.

I shove the door shut and pull out my gun in one quick move, pointing it right at Hank’s hairy face. Conversation isn’t something we have time for.

Hank’s face turns bright red, and behind me, Mac swears. I’m pretty sure he pulls his own gun out, though, because Hank’s eyes dart past me and darken.

“You gonna pull a gun on me in my own damn place?”

“We need to talk, and I need you to understand how serious I am up front.” My voice comes out harder than I expect it to, and I almost flinch. It sounds too much like Rick.

I’ve always been good at causing trouble, but I’ve never hurt another living person. Never thought I could. Not after Rick. But now, standing in front off Hank, the certainty that I will pull this trigger if I have to hangs over me.

“Coulda just told me you needed help.” Hank crosses his massive arms over his chest, and his tattoos flex along with his muscles. Not even a millimeter of skin is visible.

“I had a hunch that you wouldn’t have admitted to hijacking the supply truck unless you were threatened.” Hank’s back stiffens, and his right eyebrow shoots up. That got his attention.

“You and daddy make up?” He grins, showing every one of his yellow teeth. They probably weren’t in good shape before the zombies, but two years of living off the grid has almost finished them off.

“Screw you,” I spit. “That’s not what this is about. I need the vaccine. Now.”

Hank uncrosses his arms, and his eyes go over me before moving to Mac. “You don’t look like you been bit.”

“It’s Jules.” I can barely get the words out, and my voice shakes for the first time since I stepped in here. My hand doesn’t, though.

“Shit,” Hank mutters. “Sorry, bro, but there ain’t nothin’ I can do. We traded that shit out soon as we got it.”

I don’t believe him. “You had to have kept some for the people in town.”

“Nope. Guys who go on the runs each took one, the rest we got rid of. That shit’s too valuable to hoard, and a one-way ticket to D.C. if we get caught with it.”

Behind me, Mac swears, and I lower my gun.

Hank’s telling the truth. I suspected as much before we came, but I had to try.

Mac lowers his gun and comes up to stand next to me, shooting Hank a nervous look. “This okay?”

The burly man eyes me with what looks like amusement in his eyes, and I half expect him to pat me on the back and tell me how proud he is of me.

“Hank’s not going to hold a grudge,” I say.

“I am gonna ask you to get the hell out though,” Hank says, pointing to the door. “The two of you are bad for business. Especially with them guns.”

I tuck my weapon in the waistband of my pants and pull my shirt over it. “See you around, Hank.”

Mac follows me outside while Hank throws a barrage of colorful words at our backs. We stop in the street, and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I’m about thirty seconds from ripping my hair out.

Hold it together, man. Just hold it together.
I’m not sure if I can.

“What now?” Mac asks.

I shove my hand through my hair and look around. The sun is still low, so we have most of the day ahead of us. We’re almost three hundred miles from Atlanta, but even in the daylight, getting there is going to be difficult. Most of the road signs have been damaged or removed over the last two years, and it isn’t like I can just run into a gas station and buy an atlas.

What I wouldn’t do for a working GPS right now.

“We need to get back by tomorrow evening to give her the best chance,” Mac says quietly.

It feels like my heart actually stops beating. “I know.”

“What do you want to do, man?”

I stare at my feet. “I have to go to Atlanta.”

“Shit. Roman... Man, you know I’ll do it if you want, but you’ve got to know how insane that sounds. It’s not like it was before. Six hundred miles in one day? Might as well be six thousand.”