Mail Horror Bride (One Nation Under Zombies Book 1) (13 page)

“You didn’t know her.”

“Once you know one of them, you know all of them, and I know enough of them to know this is true.”

Hal shook his head and checked the rearview mirror. Angela appeared to still be asleep. “Angela lost her baby sister. You say anything about her family to her and you’re on your own.”

Maura looked at him, eyes burning with outrage before cooling off into an empty stare. “She’ll learn on her own in time, if she survives. Nobody can hide from this truth for long.”

“You said your fiancé got bit by one. I understand being angry over that loss. Revenge is a normal human reaction to that kind of situation, but we have willpower inside us to keep us from turning into monsters ourselves because of the harm inflicted on us by the evil in others.”

“Don’t try to analyze me. I don’t need therapy. I’m not speaking out of revenge or prejudice. I’m simply stating the facts, which may not be politically correct but I don’t think political correctness matters anymore.”

“With all due respect, I don’t think the woman who bit your fiancé was evil, not until her own country made her that way, and in order to do that they had to kill her so she could rise again as a weapon. No person in their right mind would purposely sign on for that.”

“Karma gets us all, Mr. Brown. Those women conned American men into believing they were perfect wives, better than American women. Those men dishonored their own country’s women and shipped in brides. Karma gave them what they deserved.”

“You really think that?” This time Hal couldn’t keep his voice neutral. “That little girl back there had to listen as her father pulled a trigger to take his own life before he had the chance to turn into a monster and attack her. She had to sit in her room with her baby sister, watch that baby girl die then stand up in her crib, completely transformed into a snarling, hungry zombie. I had to shoot that baby in the head and blow its tiny brains out across the pink butterfly wallpaper in their bedroom. Was that our karma? The whole country is under attack because some men chose to marry non-American women? Really?”

Maura shrugged and tightened her grip around the pack she held to her chest like a teddy bear as she sighed and continued looking out the passenger window. “Karma’s a bitch. She feels mercy for no one. She’s probably Russian.”

Janjai sucked in a breath as Hank placed the heavy pack on her back, where it rested right over her scabbed over wounds.  The T-shirt she’d had on that day was a waste, but she had found another to wear, once the bleeding had stopped. Fortunately, there had been a first aid kit in the room, although the alcohol and ointment had burned almost as badly as the lashes.

He picked up the other pack and walked over to the door.

“Stay. Behind. Me.” He said each word slowly, pointing to the space behind him. “You understand?”

Janjai nodded, afraid of what they would find but more afraid of angering Hank.

He slid the key into the lock and turned it, slowly opening the door. Janjai held her breath. They’d been in the room so long she’d lost count of days, but she knew those things had gotten in the house.

Hank pushed the door open and stepped out, rifle in his hands.

She followed behind, allowing her eyes to dart all over the dark basement, in search of any signs the room had been invaded.

Hank quickly moved over to the safe in the corner and entered in the code on the keypad. The heavy metal door opened, revealing a handgun and several boxes of ammo. He dumped the ammo in his backpack except for what he used to load the handgun. He handed the gun to Janjai, but then snatched it back. “I don’t think I can trust you with this.”

He put the gun in his pack and headed for the stairs, glaring back at Janjai until she stood behind him.

They slowly climbed the stairs. With every creak of the boards, Janjai’s heart seized a little bit more. She feared going into full cardiac arrest before they reached the top. And what would they find at the top? Would all those infected people be standing outside the door, waiting for them? Would their deaths be quick and painless, or would they feel it as Otis had? Would Otis be one of their tormentors?

Hank slowly worked the multiple locks on the basement door, careful to make as little noise as possible. After unlocking the final one, he pressed his ear to the door and listened. Janjai assumed he listened for zombies, but how he could hear them over the pounding of her own heart, she had no clue.

He twisted the doorknob and Janjai had to cover her mouth to keep from screaming as fear welled inside her.

Nothing stood in the doorway as the door opened so they stepped through to find the kitchen had been destroyed. The windows had all been shattered and the faucet broken off, presumably under the weight of the zombies who had crawled through the window over the sink to gain entrance before they’d managed to finally smash the back door in. Cabinet doors hung from their hinges, some scattered on the floor among broken dishes.

Janjai, still barefoot after her attempt to flee that night, had to step carefully around the shards of glass and ceramics now littering the floor.

Hank peeked into the living room and quickly pulled his head back out. Janjai became completely still as he raised a finger to his thin lips and gestured for silence. She held her breath as he tiptoed over to the knocked over wooden knife block and grabbed one of the knives that had fallen from it.

Without another word, just a look that demanded she not make a move, he quietly crept into the living room and she heard a series of grunts and pounding noises. Then he whispered her name.

She eased into the living room and bit her fist to kill the scream before it could escape. Two filthy infected people were lying on the floor, a man and a woman. They were missing most of their skin and their clothes had been coated in blood. Blood now dripped down their faces like a shroud, the result of Hank’s work with the knife.

A moan came from behind her and Janjai turned to see three infected coming down the stairs toward her.

“Jan, Move!”

She followed her husband’s command and scrambled to get behind him, squealing in disgust as her bare foot slipped in a puddle of congealed blood.

Not daring to risk using the knife on these zombies, who unlike the other two he’d just killed, were aware of their presence, Hank aimed his gun and shot them all in the head, sending them tumbling down the stairs.

They stood still, waiting to see if the noise drew more.

Something slammed against the front door, startling both of them. They turned toward the front door and saw the knob jiggling as more loud thumps crashed against it.

“Upstairs,” Hank ordered and they stepped over the dead bodies blocking their path to reach the stairs.

Janjai feared a dead, mottled hand would reach up and snake around her leg but they made it over the bodies and up the stairs without incident. Hank shoved her into the bedroom and on the bed as he opened the closet to retrieve her shoes and a pair of jeans for her. Then he grabbed a change of clothes for himself.

“I have everything else we need in these packs,” he said as he stripped out of his bloodied pajamas to change into traveling clothes. He kept rambling about how much gas they had and how far it would get them, not expecting Janjai to understand so she didn’t acknowledge his words.

Janjai dressed quickly as well, donning a pair of socks before pulling on the hiking boots he’d chosen for her. She’d just finished dressing when the front door crashed in.

She yelped, slapping a hand over her mouth before the sound could grow loud enough to draw attention.

Hank quickly closed and locked the bedroom door, then checked the bullets in his gun, adding a few to replace what he’d used downstairs.

Tears streamed down Janjai’s face as she heard footsteps on the stairs.

Hank wasted no time pulling on his backpack and sliding hers back onto her shoulders. She didn’t even wince under the pain of its weight, fear blocking it out as the footsteps stomped closer to the bedroom.

“This way.”

He walked over to the window and raised it as the doorknob started jiggling.

Janjai watched as he lowered the rope ladder installed there in case of fire. It didn’t look safe and she swallowed hard past the knot in her throat, considering it.

“Come on!” Hank snapped at her as the infected started banging on the door, threatening to break it down as they had the other. He climbed over the windowsill first, showing her how it was done. “Come on, now!”

Their growling, moaning noises growing louder behind it, Janjai took a deep breath and went to the window. Her legs shook as she climbed over the windowsill and her hands sweat as he gripped the edges of the flimsy looking rope ladder.

“Atta girl,” Hank coaxed her. “Come on, girl.”

He started climbing down, his movements shaking the ladder and Janjai nearly peed. The thought of pissing all over Hank’s head as he climbed down below her amused and terrified her at the same time, but not as much as the cracking sound she heard coming from the room as the door started to give.

The thought of one of those things reaching her while she was clinging to the ladder, totally defenseless, scared her into moving. She held her breath and lowered herself down the ladder as quickly as she could without looking down. She nearly wept as she reached the ground, her knees wobbling so badly, they barely supported her weight, but she somehow managed to stay upright as Hank grabbed her arm and propelled her toward the truck.

They’d just managed to climb inside the cab and close their doors when the bodies started to fall out of the window they’d just escaped from. The last one raised itself off the ground and moved toward them as Hank started the truck.

The zombie walked toward them, dragging its broken foot behind it as Hank cussed at the truck. “Start you sonofabitch, start!”

Janjai whimpered as the zombie drew closer, its snarling mouth full of teeth she could already feel biting through her flesh.

The engine sputtered to life and the truck lurched forward, leaving a very angry zombie behind, and a house full of memories Janjai hoped she’d live long enough to erase from her mind. 

“What’s the Z one called again?”

“Zyprexa,” Raven answered as she and Damian searched the pharmacy shelves. “You find it?”

“No, but I found a ton of birth control pills.”

“Really?” Raven walked over to the shelf Damian was looking through and grabbed the packages. “Awesome.”

“Girl, what you think you need thirty packs of birth control pills for?” He smiled. “Planning on entertaining the troops when we get to that military camp?”

“Hardy har,” she replied as she dumped the packages into her backpack. “These are for me and Jeremy.”

“That child’s too young for birth control!” Damian’s voice elevated. “I know the easy ones get started early but damn.”

Raven laughed. “No, you dingbat. If you take all the active pills and skip the placebos you can keep yourself from coming on your period. Life’s hard enough during the zombie apocalypse without having to be on the rag too.”

“Oh gross. Why’d you think you had to share that with me?”

“You asked.”

“I made comments. I didn’t ask any question that led to that kind of answer.”

“Seriously? You’re a grown man. Quit acting like this normal part of life is gross.”

“I’m a grown man that dates other grown men because you women are nasty creatures, no offense.”

Raven laughed. “Fine, just keep looking for Cruz’s pills so we can get out of here. It’s too quiet. I don’t trust it.”

“I know what you mean.”

They continued searching the pharmacy shelves, reading the labels on everything.

“Do you know what he takes them for?” Raven asked as she rooted through various bottles and boxes.

“You know he’s not exactly the sharing type,” Damian answered from two rows behind her. “All I know is his temper is out of control.”

Raven nodded her head in agreement even though Damian couldn’t see it from where he stood. They’d left Cruz and Jeremy to watch the Escalade as they searched the pharmacy and now she wondered if that had been smart. Cruz had been out of his pills only a few days and he was nastier than ever.

“Dammit!”

“What?” Raven crossed over to where Damian stood.

He held up a box that said ZYPREXA and shook it. “Empty.”

“Seriously?”

Damian nodded. “At least we found some migraine pills for his headaches.”

“You’re positive that’s what those are for?”

“Honey, I worked in Hollywood with drama queens long enough to know the name of every type of migraine pill under the sun, and every diet pill and every pill for bloating, anxiety, wake ya up pills, and knock ya out pills.” He sighed as he slung his backpack over his shoulder. “Those migraine pills we found will knock out his withdrawal headaches for sure and as an added bonus for us, they’ll put him to sleep.”

“There’s a plus. Let’s hurry back and give him one.”

Damian chuckled as they walked toward the front of the pharmacy. “Look!”