Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (41 page)

“Be grateful.”
 

Silence again, until Kale went off, “The zombie apocalypse was a huge deal for my friends and I. We wondered what we’d do, how we’d survive, you know? Weapons, places for shelter, strategies and all that. We’d criticize choices made in movies, shows, or even our own in video games. I always imagined being like a hero or whatever. I always imagined doing more.”
 

Another long breath. “You saved our asses today, kid. You’re on the right track.”
 

“Maybe, but something is still missing.”
 

“We’re alive. That’s all we can ask for.” A moan outside caused Henry to grab his pistol, but he left it holstered. Scraping steps passed the store and he eased his shoulders. “They terrify me. I’d sooner take a bullet before their teeth.”
 

Kale’s stub itched at the word
teeth
. “I was arrested for drunk driving when this all happened. Funny, that’s not heroic at all.”
 

“All great tales start somewhere.”

Kale sniffed. “I’m no great tale, just a stupid kid with big dreams.”
My friends were always right about that.
 

“Maybe dreams are all we have left. I dream for a safe world. My family needs to live in safety.”
 

“Heh, could it be I’m the one to create such a world?”
 

“Perhaps, kiddo.” Henry quietly chuckled. “Or maybe all those comics, flicks, and games have you brainwashed.”

ADDISON
 

Their backs were pressed against the headboard of their bed as smoke drifted around them.
 

Addison puffed twice then passed the joint to Sofia. What he really wanted was nachos, cake, and steak. Or to lie here with her, lovely and high.
An Embracer of Death, Sofia is too beautiful to be one.
Her chocolate-colored nipples were visible through a thin white tank top. She held the joint longer than he had.
Always one-upping me.
 

They’d met at the University of Oregon when she was a history professor before her recruitment by some corporation Addison cared nothing for. She’d been married at the time, and they were close friends. He even enjoyed her husband’s company, though he had to fight his desires for her. The divorce eventually came, as did she, drunkly sliding into his arms. But they were never intimate.

Something beautiful — this could’ve been something beautiful.
 

“I need to rinse off,” she giggled. “I feel great.”
 

He grabbed her hand, and although her flesh was warm, a sudden coldness soaked into his palm. “Why did we wait so long?”
 

She leaned over and kissed his cheek. “We needed an apocalypse, is all.” She rose, bare before his eyes.
 

While she showered, Addison felt too uneasy.
Now that I’ve fucked her, my mind is clear again.
He was a paranoid man, sure, but something was wrong.
 

He scrambled under the bed for the .38. He’d left it in easy reach, in case she showed her true form. Knees on wood, he steadied his aim over the bed, aiming right at the bathroom door. He listened to the shower and wondered,
What if she’s human?

He puffed again, leaving the joint between his lips as he fought his second guesses. Too many what-ifs for him. A part of Addison felt sick for having sex with her before killing her. But she had to go. It was either him or her.
 

While listening to the running water, he organized the evidence. She’d been involved with the Vaults without telling him. She’d waited for him while the world crumbled, when safety was easily available. She’d left him at the helicopter crash site.
She is an Embracer!
But what would an Embracer still need with him? The masquerade to open the Vaults had already happened. His job was done.
What if she loves me?

The shower ended.
Shoot to kill or don’t shoot at all.
 

Maybe let her make the first mistake—

Maybe wait for Brody—
 

Maybe kill all threats—

Maybe.

A knock on the bedroom door. A slip of the finger against the trigger. A gunshot rang out sharply. He fell on his ass and dropped the gun as Nasir rushed inside the room. Addison scrambled to his knees. The bathroom door was open and Sofia grabbed her blood-soaked towel. Her eyes were wide with shock as she looked at Addison. “Addy?” she said before falling.
 

Nasir dropped next to her and applied pressure to her stomach. “Lex!”
 

The hulking porn star hopped over the bed as Addison stared in shock. He snagged the .38 and pinned the professor against cushion.
 

“How is she?” Lexington’s voice boomed the question to Nasir.
 

“Bleeding bad.”
 

“Let me see her,” said Addison, struggling beneath his guard Lex. “What color is her blood?!”
 

“Keep him there,” Nasir ordered.
 

“Why’d you shoot her, man?” Lexington had Addison’s arm wrapped around his back. “Why?”
 

“She’s not her.”
 

“What?”
 

Face smashed against the mattress, Addison wheezed, “The likelihood of you understanding is none.”
 

“Try me.”
 

“Kelsey!” Nasir yelled for her.
 

Addison wished he could see Sofia’s condition but his head was locked.
The blood. I have to see her blood.
 

The young blonde arrived and Nasir had her fetch rope.
Tying me up? Why?
 

Addison soon found himself in the living room, hands bound to the arms of a wooden chair, ankles constricted together, duct tape stuck to his mouth.
It was an accident, an accident!
But deep down the desire to fire the shots had burned.
 

He sat alone with tear-filled eyes.
She has to be one, she has to.
The damn gun had been too heavy for his hands minutes earlier, and the nerves that ran through it had caused the shots to go off.
She can’t die, she can’t.
 

Steps leading to the second floor creaked until Nasir appeared around a corner, passing the front door and entering the living room. “What possessed you to do that?”
 

Addison’s sweat drenched head leaned back and he shut his eyes to the ceiling. More footsteps around him. He mumbled beneath tape until Lexington yanked it off. He shouted in pain, “Argh, you horse’s ass!”
 

Lexington raised a fist but Nasir waved him off. He knelt by the chair, dressed in a blue and red plaid shirt and torn slacks. Sweat covered his tan face as well. “Why did you shoot her?”
 

“Is she-is she dead?”
 

“You answer me.”
 

“Her blood, what color is it?”
 

“ANSWER ME.”
 

Addison’s ears vibrated. “Do you,” he sighed, “do you have any idea what caused this to happen?”
 

Nasir stood straight, crossed his arms. “Do you?”
 

“Yes, well, sort of.”
 

“So tell us.” Lexington stepped closer.

“I.” His chin touched his chest. “I’m not even sure where to begin...” He very well did, but what if they were Embracers? What if they all were?
 

Nasir’s voice calmed. “Try.”

Addison shut his eyes, ready for whatever would happen next. “No.”
 

“Very well.” Duct tape smothered his lips and the room went dark as he was covered by silk. A pillowcase, he assumed.
 

“Let’s take care of her; forget him for now.”
 

Footsteps and they were gone.
 

Addison wiggled in the chair, a futile attempt to break free. A few more days and Brody would arrive.
They will want answers sooner.
His only choices were to find a way free, or spill it all. He couldn’t trust anyone but himself, or so he wanted to believe.
How can I trust myself when I’m losing my mind?
Perhaps they’d be better off with his knowledge. Perhaps his purpose had ended the day he opened the Vaults.
 

More wiggling.
 

He’d never told Brody the whole story about why he decided to open his creations, about who came to him. His very existence had been threatened, and being a weak man, he’d caved in.
 

More wiggling.
 

He’d drunk his fair share of gin that night, running through the alleys, making his way home. A man always followed him, cloaked in darkness. For almost three months, Addison had been tailed by this man.
Don’t open the Vaults,
he had to keep telling himself. But the darkness lingered around every corner, suffocating him, consuming him.
 

More wiggling.

The endless notes, calls, emails, had all said the same thing: OPEN THEM. SAVE THEM. The world had seemed to forget about their fellow humans, trapped beneath the earth...but Addison was constantly reminded, every second, every day.
 

More wiggling.
 

I wasn’t a hero building those Vaults. I thought opening them would change that.
And so he’d done what he thought best, or perhaps what his weak mind desired.
 

The sole question he had left, the sole unknown fact eating at his mind: how were the Vault inhabitants changed into flesh-eating animals?
 

An answer worth living for.
 

He ceased wiggling as footsteps returned. When the pillowcase flopped off, both Nasir and Lexington stood over him.
 

Addison mumbled beneath the tape before the rip. “Garrhhh,” he said, dropping his head. He breathed his way to their eyes. “Is she dead?”
 

“No.” Nasir grabbed Addison’s arms. “She will live.”
 

Relief or fear, one of those feelings filled him. “So you’re a medical expert also?”

“My skills are not your concern. She is fine. We move on to you.”

“What about me?”
 

Lexington poked Addison’s head. “We need everything
in there
.”

“Before I answer you, and I will answer you,” he said, looking at them both, “tell me why you must know.”
 

Lexington snorted. “More of a want-to know basis than a must-know.”
 

“Neither.” Nasir stood straight. “We deserve some truth, the last thing worth surviving for.”

Right.
“I don’t suppose you’ll untie me first?”
 

“No,” came the quick reply.
 

“Well, I see no point in lying to a bounty hunter and a porn star. You both seem harmless.” By their faces, he figured they were surprised by such easy cooperation. “So, I’ll begin by saying that—”
 

The front door blew open. Nasir ducked and spun. Leaves flew inside off the porch. The old man raised his rifle, slamming against the living room door, aiming at the entrance. It seemed few things would spark such fear in Nasir, but looking at his eyes, whatever was at the door had done just that.
 

“What is it?” asked Lexington.
 

“How?” Nasir lowered his rifle, dumbfounded. “Are you...”
 

His pale body stepped inside, revealing itself to the shocked inhabitants of the living room.
 

Nasir gripped the rifle tight. “Not another move.”
 

Addison had seen the stiff carcass buried.
He’d seen it buried
, and now it stood before them all.
 

Brody, Brody, my God, you were . . .
 

Beyond clumps of mud sticking to his face, Scot’s blue eyes glossed bright. “When you guys are done staring, I need a whiskey.”

SCOT
 

He pressed his hands on a leather couch in the living room of the cabin. Mud stuck underneath his fingernails.
My sorrowful excuse for a life ended. Something wants me back.

Clawing his way from the grave had been no easy task. When his arms broke the surface, when his eyes saw the world once again, he thought he had turned. But with each step taken closer to the cabin, passing CJ’s baseball cap over the teen’s grave, passing the empty whiskey bottle over his own, he felt more alive. He even laughed at himself that the bottle was his tribute.
Well deserved, I suppose.
 

While he was on the couch, Nasir handed him a water bottle. His lips were so chapped, his mouth so dry, touching the plastic hurt, even after rising from the dead. He looked like a zombie, certainly, and thanked Nasir for not putting another bullet in him.
 

“I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around this.” Lexington paced back and forth, hulking arms crossed.
 

“Well, at least you weren’t shot in the head.” Scot drank again. He preferred whiskey over water, but the others never granted his request. Maybe it was for the best. He’d been resurrected, and with it, a fresh start. A bullet to the brain
had
to equal change. “Kelsey, is she—?”

“She’s okay, upstairs, tending to Sofia.”
 

“What’s a Sofia?”
 

“She’s one of them,” growled a man he did not recognize. They called him Addison.
 

Nasir waved him off. “How are you here? I watched you die.”
 

“I-I...” his voice trailed, searching for a starting point. “I’m not dead, or undead, or... I’m something else.”
 

“That is clear.”
 

Addison wiggled in the chair next to the couch. “You have to kill her upstairs. You have to do it right now.”
 

“What is this guy going on about?” Scot drank from the water bottle, keeping his eyes on Addison.