Thicker than Blood (50 page)

But most of all I missed her presence. Just
knowing she was there, sleeping beside me, walking next to me; no
matter what, she’d always been there.

And now she was gone.

I’d thought about ending it, just letting go.
It would be easy to put a bullet in my head, quick and painless. I
could be with her again, with Thomas too. With everyone I’d lost.
And a couple of times, during a few very dark nights filled with
long bouts of crying and feeling more alone than I ever had before,
I almost did just that.

It was the guilt that stopped me each and
every time. The many lives that had been lost just so we could
reach a safe place like this one. Thomas and Shawn, Alex and Jami,
and Evelyn. They had all died trying to survive, trying to ensure
we would all survive. How selfish would I have to be to take my own
life when they’d given theirs for me to be here, in this very
place?

This was all we’d ever wanted. Somewhere
untouched, somewhere safe and quiet. Somewhere we could live out
our lives in peace. I couldn’t waste it, couldn’t let it all be for
nothing, so I focused instead on the fact that we had all actually
made it. Because through me, they had all survived, even if it was
only their memory.

So I kept going, kept surviving, and soon the
days began to blur together, each one the same as the last.
Peaceful and quiet, with the exception of the occasional infected
that I always quickly disposed of.

I developed a routine, one I stuck to and
could count on. After my walk through town each morning, I’d make
myself breakfast, and after breakfast I would read a book from the
large collection I’d been slowly amassing. Lunch, I usually spent
outside, my legs hanging over the edge of the steep ravine, humming
to myself, and every evening, just as the sun was setting, I had my
dinner with Evelyn.

With the aid of an actual shovel, I’d buried
her close to the bed and breakfast, wrapped in the same comforter
she’d died in, near a small grove of trees where the grass and
wildflowers grew thick and tall. Her grave sat directly beneath one
very large tree, its heavy branches comfortably shading the area,
and its thick trunk perfect for leaning against.

“I need to learn how to hunt,” I said,
wrinkling my nose at the newly opened can of creamed corn. “I swear
this stuff has gone bad.”

Many times I’d planned on setting up a target
practice area, but I was loath to waste my bullets, and even more
afraid that the gunshots would alert either any nearby infected or
living that happened to be passing by. So I stayed quiet.

Scooping the first spoonful into my mouth, I
swallowed it quickly, hurrying to lift my bottle of water to wash
down the foul taste.

“God, I miss you, Eve,” I said as I set down
the can of food and placed my hand upon the small rock. “Everything
seems so meaningless without you here.”

And it did. All of it, even eating seemed
pointless without someone to share the food with. With each passing
day I was growing number, but at the same time I was feeling more
and more empty. The idea of living became infinitely harder than
that of not.

“I just wish—”

An unfamiliar sound silenced me—the crunch of
a footfall, the sound of a rock skittering across pavement—and I
reached for the gun at my hip. Standing, I ran quickly behind the
tree, waiting for what I was sure was an infected to reveal itself.
If it was only one or two, I wasn’t worried; I could take them out
without breaking a sweat. But any more than that…

I’d been purposely starting the Jeep once a
day for this very reason, keeping it loaded with supplies, just in
case I needed to get out in a hurry. Patting my weapons belt, I
breathed a sigh of relief when I found the key hanging beside my
knife holster, home to a heavy-duty serrated blade.

“Hello?” a deep voice called out. “Anybody
here?”

Surprise welled in my gut, freezing me in
place. It wasn’t an infected, but a living, breathing person. How
many were there? Where they from Purgatory? Had they found me?

As my panic grew, more and more questions
arising with each desperate breath I took, the voice called out
again.

“I’m not going to hurt you, miss. I’m alone,
just passing through, looking for food.”

He knew I was here and had seen me, he’d made
that clear, so hiding would be futile.

“I’m setting down my gun,” he called out. “I
promise I’m not going to hurt you. You don’t need to be afraid of
me.”

Peeking out from behind the tree trunk, my
gun hand steady and sure, I could make out the blurry sight of a
man standing some ways down the road. True to his word, he bent
down, allowed his rifle to fall lightly to the ground, before
standing tall and raising his hands in the air.

Slowly, holding my gun out in front of me, my
other hand wrapped around the hilt of my blade, I came out from
behind the tree and made my way toward the road. Scanning the
surrounding areas, I searched for any other signs of life and found
nothing.

Coming to a stop at the edge of the grass,
leaving a good ten feet or so between us, I assessed him
cautiously. He was filthy, covered in dirt and grime, as if he
hadn’t seen a bath or clean clothes in weeks, maybe months. His
long brown hair, graying around his temples, was pulled back,
becoming dreadlocked, as was his long beard. A large hiker’s
backpack was seated high on his back, the straps covering his
shoulders worn and thin, and a variety of weapons affixed to the
pack dangled behind him.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he repeated, his
shadowed eyes meeting mine.

I didn’t trust him, not for one second. I
would never be so stupid to just blindly trust anyone ever again,
but there was something about him, something familiar that niggled
at my memories. The long ratty brown hair, the scruffy beard, the
way his shoulders sagged sadly. Though he was thinner now, not as
bulky as I remembered him, and his facial features were somewhat
gaunt, darkened, and drawn.

And that was when it hit me, who he was.

“You,” I whispered, letting my hand holding
the gun fall to my side. I said nothing else, unsure of what to
say. How did you a greet a man you hardly knew, a man whose first
and only meeting with you had resulted in the death of his
daughter?

Cocking his head to one side, he dropped one
arm but raised the other to shield the dwindling sun from his eyes.
Squinting, he scanned me from head to toe, his eyes widening with
surprise when he once again reached my face.

“You,” was all he said.

For a moment we just stood there, a mere ten
feet from each other, simply staring, until the prolonged silence
began to feel somewhat awkward. Clearing my throat, I shifted on my
feet and gestured toward my makeshift picnic.

“Hungry?” I asked tentatively. “I have food
and water and…” I ran my gaze down his tattered and dirty clothing
a second time. “And clean clothes.”

His gaze swept the area behind me. “Is it
just you?” he asked. “What happened to…” He paused, his eyes again
finding mine. A moment passed and his expression shifted, suddenly
filled with understanding and compassion.

I shook my head, momentarily averting my
eyes. “It’s just me now,” I said quietly.

Reaching up, he placed his hand on the back
of his neck and sighed heavily, his eyes taking on a faraway look.
“Lonely life, isn’t it? Lonely fucking life.” Refocusing on me, he
said, “You sure you don’t mind company? I’ll understand if you
don’t. Can never be too careful these days. Only need myself some
food and a good night’s sleep, and I can be on my way.”

Fumbling for the right words, struggling to
corral my thoughts, I shook my head again. “No,” I said hurriedly.
“No, it’s okay, you can stay as long as you need to. I have a can
of creamed corn on hand if you want it.”

“Creamed corn?” He wrinkled his nose and gave
me a small smile. “Guess beggars can’t be choosers, huh?”

I smiled back. “I’m a horrible shot, so
hunting has been out of the question.”

His eyes widened slightly, and again he did a
visual sweep of the area. “Game good around here?”

Nodding in answer, I let out a soft snort.
“Not that it matters when you can’t shoot it.”

Still smiling, he lifted his shoulder and
shrugged. “I could teach you. Aiming isn’t hard. It’s all about
your breathing.” Suddenly, he held out his hand. “So we got a deal,
then? You give me place to stay, and I’ll make you the next best
gunslinger in the West?”

I didn’t know him from a hole in the wall,
didn’t even know his name, but something innate told me that maybe
I could trust him. Perhaps it was the same inkling that told him he
could trust us when we came across his cabin in the woods on that
awful day.

Stepping forward, I held out my hand. “Deal,”
I said.

His filthy hand grasped mine, his fingers
clasping firmly but gently, and gave me a quick and hearty
shake.

“Name’s Joshua,” he said. “And it’s damn good
to see a friendly face.”

“Leisel,” I replied, smiling again. “My name
is Leisel.”

Evelyn

“Grab me some coffee, babe?” Shawn tore his eyes
away from Thomas and their heated discussion over the latest upset
regarding their favorite sports team, and quirked a brow at me.

“Who needs coffee when we’ve got lemonade?” I
said as I slipped out of the partially open screen door and onto
the porch. Leisel and Thomas’s six-month-old black Labrador
retriever ran circles around me, nearly tripping me as I attempted
tottering over the uneven ground in my three-inch heels.

Wearing my favorite summer dress, long and
silky, the shade of the golden sun, my strawberry-blonde curls
piled high on top of my head, I was carrying a tray loaded with
glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. Setting it down on the table, I
pursed my lips together in a sly grin and winked at my husband.

“I spiked it,” I said, shrugging my shoulders
matter-of-factly.

“Of course you did,” Thomas said, laughing as
he reached for a glass. “You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t.”

“Thanks, gorgeous,” Shawn said, pulling me
onto his lap.

Winding my arms around his neck, purposefully
letting my hands slip up into his messy brown hair, together we
shared a long kiss. I could never get enough of him, and it was the
same for him, our passion for each other only increasing with every
passing day. Shawn’s breath washed over my face as we pulled out of
the kiss and I stared into his eyes, smiling softly as I wiped a
smudge of my bright red lipstick from his mouth.

“Why do I always get hit when I do that?” I
heard Thomas say aloud.

Grinning, I glanced away from my husband,
looking across the table at Thomas, who was smiling widely,
showcasing the pair of dimples that Leisel adored. His light blue
eyes glinting with humor, his ruddy hair glinting golden in the
sun, he glanced at the empty seat beside him. “She never lets me
kiss her in public.”

“But does she let you kiss her when you’re
alone?” Shawn asked. “Because that’s all that matters.”

Thomas’s grin grew even wider, and a tad bit
devilish.

“Well, I guess that answers that,” I said,
smirking. “Speaking of which…where is Lei? It’s not like her to be
late.”

Thomas shrugged. “She had a few things to do,
she can’t make it.”

Thinking of the chocolate cake I’d made
especially for her, I frowned.

“Don’t worry, babe,” Shawn said, running his
hand up my back. “You’ll see her again, and then you can ply her
with as much of your awful cake as you like.”

“Hey!” I shouted, my tone tinged with
laughter. “It isn’t that bad!”

“It is,” Thomas said, nodding gravely. “It
really, really is.”

Pressing my lips together, trying to stifle
my laughter, I shook my head at them both. “You’re awful, you know
that?” Feigning anger, I folded my arms across my chest and glanced
up at the sky.

“Hey,” I said, squinting. “Is that an
eagle?”

“Looks like it,” Shawn said. “Weird, huh?
When have we ever seen an eagle around here?”

“Beautiful birds,” Thomas murmured, shielding
his eyes to watch as it soared through the sky above us.

Snuggling closer to my husband, I couldn’t
help but wish Leisel were here. She loved little things such as
this. She always loved the little things.

“Ooh!” I said, jumping upright. “Give me your
cell phone, Tom! We should take a picture for her, so we can show
her when she gets here!”

Thomas slid his phone across the table and I
quickly lifted it, swiping hurriedly to the camera app, then
snapped several pictures before the eagle had flown out of
sight.

“Yeah, so, before my beautiful wife
interrupted us,” Shawn said, his attention back on Thomas. “What I
was saying was that it isn’t the fault of the owner, it’s the fault
of the goddamn recruiters! If they’d paid more attention…”

Sighing noisily, I tuned out and untangled
myself from Shawn. Standing up, I headed for the house. Once
inside, I closed the screen door behind me and glanced around my
kitchen, at the chocolate cake sitting beside an opened bottle of
vodka, at the sink piled high with dishes from dinner, and at the
refrigerator, covered with colorful photographs of friends and
family, taken throughout the years, and paused on my favorite
one.

It was of Leisel and me, her in a plain white
T-shirt and coral cropped pants, me in a black camisole and
matching skirt, our arms looped together as we mugged for the
camera with wide smiles on our faces.

“I’m covering this cake,” I told the
photograph sternly. “And I’m saving it for you. You’re going to eat
every last bite of it when you get here.”

Turning, I headed toward the sink, flipped on
the radio, and got to work on the pile of dishes, while humming
along with the melody of “The Ballad of Lucy Jordan.”