Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2) (3 page)

“Alright, who’s got the can opener?” After getting comfortable on the cold, hard ground, I realized for the hundredth time that eating from cans was a pain in the ass.

Mia whizzed it at my head. “Yo, Boss! Head’s up!”

The fun and games went on for several minutes, me pretending to lose an eye in a horrible can opener accident, and Mia voicing disbelief at her incredibly bad aim. Finally Zack lost his patience and began lecturing me again on the advantages of having “friends.”

“Listen, sweetie, I’m going to stop you right there. I have every intention of meeting people and looking for survivors,
after
we finish what we set out to do. If that’s not good enough, then it’s your problem. Deal with it.”

Everyone was still watching and trying to be coy about it. With this bunch, the only one who succeeded was Gus, and that was only because he had his face shoved into a pile of dog food.

Zack took a deep breath and stared at me a moment before finally sighing and turning his attention to his own meal. That seemed to signal the others to eat and keep their mouths shut because no one made so much as a peep for the remainder of lunch.

* * *

“
Peter!” Jake shouted.

He was leaning against the stairway banister listening to the commotion coming from above. He had known as soon as they came through the front door that this had been a mistake. There was blood all over the kitchen floor and a long smear spreading down the hallway to the stairs. Pete had bolted through the house, not paying any attention to his surroundings or showing even an ounce of caution. Jake followed to back the guy up, quickening his pace when he heard the moaning start upstairs.

“
Goddamnit.” Jake began taking the steps, two at a time.

Pete fell backwards out of what Jake assumed to be one of the bedrooms and slipped on entrails, throwing him to one side and onto his face. The moans grew louder inside the bedroom and Pete was scrambling to get up, to get away from whatever was coming. His hands and feet kept sliding on what turned out to be his wife’s guts on the hardwood floor. Just as Jake was about to advance and help the damned idiot who had gotten him into this mess, he heard another sound from below: a fellow zombie answering his sister’s call.

Jake whirled at the top of the stairs to see two deadheads waiting at the bottom, hands outstretched and jaws snapping. He turned back to yell at Pete, ask him if there was another way out of the house, but it was too late. The missus was already having a word with him. Jake holstered his pistol and ran down the stairs, no longer thinking by this time, simply reacting. He grabbed the railing halfway down and hurled himself over it. Jake hit the floor harder than he expected, the force of the impact driving him into the wall.

For a moment he thought he was unconscious, sure he had been knocked out, because the next thing he knew one of the deadheads had their hands around his leg and was tearing at his pants. He kicked at it with his free leg as hard as he could, then realized with horror that it was also pinned down, not by the hands of the other zombie, but by its teeth. He screamed as he watched the two rip his pant legs open and begin gnawing on his flesh. He tried to get away, clawing at the bare floor with his fingernails, thrashing with his legs. It was no use. Deadhead number one had already squirmed its way along his body and had started gutting him, tugging and jerking on his small intestines until they were free of his abdomen.

Jake woke with a violent start, bolting upright and thrusting his hands out in front of him. The fire crackled beside him and the night was quiet except for his harsh breathing.

Was I screaming?

He ran his hands over his face, then down each arm, across his chest and abdomen, then along his legs. Yep, everything was where it should be. Jake looked around the campsite, wondering if anyone had witnessed his little fit of terror. Everyone was still asleep. Well, everyone but Kasey, who was on watch duty. He stared hard into the darkness surrounding the camp, but couldn’t see her. He knew she was there. Jake hoped that since he couldn’t see her, then she couldn’t see him.

He lay back against the ground, snuggled down into his sleeping bag, and thought about what had really happened at Pete’s. Of course he hadn’t been attacked by zombies. That was only the subconscious fears he carried every day rising to the surface. However they
had
found Pete’s undead wife. She’d gone after her husband, Jake had run from the house, abandoning the first in a long line of people. Pete, Tommy, Ben…oh Ben. Jake silently scolded himself for not seeing the signs of Kyra’s twisted and hateful plans. No, that wasn’t right either. He saw them, but hadn’t listened to his gut. Had simply ignored it. Now Ben was dead because of it.

On their final trip into Matias before setting out on this little adventure, Jake had personally gone back to the three houses Kyra had supposedly searched the night they’d looked for antibiotics. All winter the one thought that wouldn’t leave his mind was the way Kyra had been acting once the search was over and they’d all met up at the store. She’d been acting suspicious. Ben hadn’t noticed. Jake had. At the time he assumed it was nothing more than Kyra attempting to cover up her joy over not finding the medicine. He figured she’d be happy to see Mia die, seeing as how the woman was Kasey’s best friend, and Kasey herself had knocked Kyra on her ass and made a fool out of her in front of everyone. The more he thought about it during their stay at Crousley’s, the more he wondered if there was much more to it than that.

He’d torn those three houses apart looking for anything that would tell him what Kyra had been up to. Zack and Mia had joined him that day, and they were busy loading Crousley’s Explorer and his own Jeep with whatever supplies they could find from the neighboring houses. He’d been about to give up when he reached the third house, finally surrendering to the possibility that he may have been overreacting or simply paranoid. He ended up standing in the kitchen of that last house for a long time, watching through the window as his friends carried canned goods from the house across the street to the Jeep.

“Hell with this, I’m bein’ crazy.”

He remembered walking to the bathroom to take a piss and splash water on his face. As he relieved himself, he cast his eyes casually around the room, no longer looking for something he’d finally decided wasn’t there. That’s when he saw it. His eyes had caught a glimpse of something orange in the trash can beside the toilet. He frowned and furrowed his eyebrows, tilting his head this way and that trying to figure out what he was seeing. There was a handful of crumpled toilet paper on top of whatever it was. He hurried and zipped his jeans, never taking his eyes off the thing in the trash can, then bent over and moved the wad of toilet paper aside.

“I’ll be damned…” He stood there for a long time staring at the prescription bottle before finally picking it up.

Cipro. Damn her. She found medicine, and she hid it. She’s the reason we had to go to Gibson. She’s the reason Ben was killed.

Jake shook himself from his reminiscing, rubbed his face again, then lay there staring at the stars, forcing his mind to go totally blank. He’d been doing that a lot lately. It was the only way he could get these poisonous thoughts out of his head. At least temporarily. He just hoped no one else had noticed the change in him yet. Most of the time he was obsessed with killing Kyra. The rest of the time he was obsessed with Ben’s death. He kept this all to himself, certain that if he told anyone about these things, they’d lose trust in him. Maybe even make him leave the group. He doubted that though, since his grandma was one of them. In the end, he couldn’t take the chance. He would just bide his time, hope they found the cons and Kyra, then pray Kasey and the others wouldn’t try to stop him from doing what he had to do.

* * *

I waited until Jake settled back down and drifted off to sleep before moving to another location. The rock I’d been sitting on was making my ass numb, and the thick brush just below me was severely hindering my ability to keep a vigilant watch. I moved halfway around the camp to a more level spot with a more wide-open view of the hillside below us. It was damn cold, and my skin was chilled even through the many layers I was wearing. Cross-legged on the cold ground, my rifle resting next to me, my gloved hands shoved into the pockets of my Carhartt coat, I glanced around the wooded area.

It was quiet, except for normal nighttime noises. The air smelled crisp and clean, another good sign we were alone. The sky was clear and full of stars, the half-moon shining brightly. If it’d been just a little bit warmer, it would’ve been the perfect night for camping. Satisfied that all was as it should be, I began thinking about Jake. Actually, I wasn’t so much thinking as I was worrying. Sure I’d noticed a change in him. We had all changed, in one way or another. Others more obviously than some. Ben’s death still weighed heavily on him, this I knew, because I felt the same way.

“Hey,” Zack whispered.

I jumped and twisted so quickly that something pulled in my lower back. I winced, pulled my hand from my pocket and rubbed it a bit, then growled in his direction. He gave me a shy smile and sat down, slipped his hand underneath my coat, and took over rubbing the sore and strained muscle. I sighed and shoved my hand back in my pocket.

“It’s my turn for watch, babe.”

I grunted an acknowledgement and stared ahead, watching a raccoon hobble in its awkward gait across the path halfway down the hill. Zack leaned closer and rested his chin on my shoulder. His hair tickled my cheek, his breath warmed my neck.

“Still upset with me?”

“No, I was never upset with you.” I pressed my temple to his forehead. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I’m sorry for that.” I closed my eyes and enjoyed just being alone with him, for however long it would last. He wrapped his other arm around the front of my waist and pulled me closer, then kissed my cheek.

“I’m not sure I accept your apology.” His hand slid further inside my coat and up my back. I leaned away just enough to look at him.

“Right.”

He pulled me close again, both arms wrapped around me now, only one was inside my coat. I laughed and tried shoving his arms away.

“You’re letting in a cold draft.” Each inch I scooted away, he moved two inches closer. “You know, this is always the part where the bloodthirsty psychopath jumps out of the trees and hacks the two lovebirds to pieces.”

His nose and lips brushed against my ear, his slow and measured sighs making me shiver, even though his strong and warm body did indeed make up for the cold air seeping inside my clothes, thanks to his wandering hands.

“Well then, let’s give him a show.”

March 20
^th
: Twenty Miles East of the Ohio River

The first signs of spring were finally popping up all around us. I tried not to get my hopes up; March always has a few surprises up its sleeves. Instead, I took it in stride. At least now we could travel comfortably minus two layers of clothing. The trees were budding, new grass shoots pushed through the newly thawed ground, and the Easter Lilies were coming up. Well, that’s what we called them anyway. Regardless of their true name, they were always the first flower of the year to bloom.

Only one thing pissed me off about the change in weather: We were losing the trail. Correction, we were
beginning
to lose the trail. There was still enough to keep us going in the right direction, but only just enough. Once the spring rains started, we’d be playing a whole new ballgame.

“Hey baby, how’s it goin’?” Mia asked, riding up beside me.

Her silly face broke my stoic mask into a faint smile. We were running dangerously low on supplies, and the continuous warm weather had thawed many more swarms of deadheads. Add to that our slowly dwindling convict trail and the potential psychotic break I feared from Jake, and it was safe to say I wasn’t in the best of spirits these days.

“I don’t know, Mia. We need supplies, so a raiding trip is priority one now. And look at this shit.”

I swept my arm wide, gesturing at the muddy ground ahead of us. We were traveling through the woods between two towns, the trail nearly destroyed in this area. I was working on the assumption that the convicts had taken this shortcut between the two populaces. We’d know for sure when we cleared the woods and hit pavement again. If the next town was in the same shape as some of the others we had seen along the trail, then we’d know we were on the right track.

Mia was quiet a long moment before commenting on my grumbling. “Well, we’ll have to leave the trail to get supplies. Those cons haven’t been leaving much behind in the towns they’ve passed through.”

I agreed but didn’t offer any suggestions. I was feeling cranky and simply didn’t want to waste any more breath talking. I could hear the others behind us chatting back and forth. Gus was scouting ahead of me, always sniffing around for something to eat. It was mid-afternoon and overcast, the gray and dreary sky only adding to my brooding mood. I was even starting to question my decision to save Kyra and Shannon. With everything we’d seen since leaving home weighing on my mind, I wondered if going after the cons was even worth it. That’s when Mia once again proved how impeccable her timing was and spoke up as we rounded the last point before leaving the woods.