Alone (13 page)

Chapter Fifteen

Town

I’m genuinely curious to check out the abandoned house Roman leads me toward. I’m not sure why he wants to go in there, but it’s intriguing. Visiting a place that only a few years ago probably housed a happy family. A family that died along with the majority of the world when the virus hit.

I study it as we cross the yard. It needs some work, but it’s in pretty good shape considering the neglect of the past two years. There are a couple broken windows, and some of the shutters have fallen off and blown who knows where. The porch is sagging just a little, and the house itself is in desperate need of a paint job, but otherwise it doesn’t look dangerous or unstable.

Roman stops outside the house long enough for me to get a good look at the place while he finishes his cigarette. I smile when his eyes meet mine, and the smirk he gives me makes my insides flutter. I really don’t love the smoking, but I’ve decided to take him the way he is. Damaged, hurt, vulnerable, and tough. Because that’s Roman. If smoking is part of the package, I’m okay with it.

He drops the cigarette on the ground and snubs it out before taking my hand. “Come on.” Then he leads me inside.

The house is empty. I mean
empty
. No furniture or lamps, no curtains. Not even a picture on the wall. Roman takes me through the kitchen, where most of the cabinets are wide open and just as bare as the walls. The place has been stripped clean.

“Where did everything go?” I ask, looking around.

“Scavengers. Didn’t the empty houses and apartments get looted in D.C.?”

“A little in the beginning,” I say, shaking my head. “Mostly for food and weapons. Once the government pulled itself together, they put a stop to all that. Empty houses inside the walls were locked up until they were assigned to new occupants.”

Roman leans back against one of the empty cabinets. “Well, it’s not like that in the unsanctioned areas. Places like this were cleaned out pretty fast. There are still some homes or neighborhoods with goods to scavenge, but they’re farther away from the settlements. That’s where I find my stuff. It’s usually an overnight trip.”

My eyes get so wide it feels like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. “You stay out overnight? What does your father say?”

“Rick doesn’t give a shit whether or not I’m home as long as I don’t bring trouble back into town.”

Of course. I knew that.

I glance around the kitchen. “What do they do with it all?”

“Trade it. Take it to the unsanctioned towns and exchange it for food or other goods they may need.”

“But everything’s gone,” I say, pointing to the walls as if Roman hasn’t noticed how bare they are. “Pictures?”

He flips his head to the side when his hair falls over his forehead and then gives me a half-smile that almost stops my heart. How can such a little gesture affect me so much?

“You’d be surprised at the stuff people can use these days. The wood frames get used for firewood, and there are people in town who recycle the glass. We have to reuse everything.” He pushes himself away from the cabinets and turns toward the back of the house. “Probably won’t be long before they start ripping the house apart to use for wood. Everything in this area that is easily transported is pretty much gone by this point.”

I hurry after him.

It makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it until now. Plus, I’m not used to needing anything. In D.C., everything was handed to me. What would it be like to live out there? To not have the government provide for me? A part of me is terrified by the prospect, but another part feels lightheaded by the idea.

Roman stops in what I’m assuming used to be a pantry and leans down so he can, for some strange reason, pry up one of the floorboards.

“There’s a crawlspace down here,” he says. “I found it by accident about a year ago. It’s the perfect place for me to stash my stuff.”

He pulls boards away, and a hole appears in the floor. It’s around two feet by two feet, but deep. How deep, I’m not sure. It’s too dark to tell.

Roman reaches in and pulls out a flashlight. When he flips it on, he points it to the hole, illuminating the dark space and allowing me to get a better look. It’s filled almost to the brim with boxes and plastic bins. So much stuff.

What in the world does Roman plan to do with all this?

“Why do you have this stuff stashed here?” I ask, looking up at him in amazement.

Roman sits back, and uncertainty clouds his vision. “I told you I’ve been collecting stuff to trade. So I can leave.”

Time freezes.

That’s right. I’d forgotten.

“Where will you go?” The words are so quiet that they’re almost a whisper.

He shakes his head and pats the floor next to him. I sit at his side, my eyes moving from him to the supplies he’s gathered. It’s a lot. Meaning he probably doesn’t have much time left.

“Away. I don’t have any interest in living near Rick, and life in an unsanctioned area sounds good.” He pauses before taking my hand in his, moving his thumb over mine in little circles while his eyes hold my gaze.

“Why an unsanctioned town?” It doesn’t make sense to me. There are other government-sanctioned settlements he could go to. Not a lot, but enough. If he moved to one of them, he’d still be away from Rick, but he’d also be safe.

Roman’s eyes narrow on my face. “Do you trust them?”

“The government?” I ask even though I know that’s what he’s talking about.

Roman nods.

“I—” I press my lips together so I can figure out what to say. “I’m not sure.”

“I know that the rationing system is necessary, but there’s something about how things are being run that rubs me the wrong way. Judicial officers and Regulators. It may seem like a simple change, but it bugs me, the way they’ve altered the titles of every person in charge. They’ve wiped our old system clean, and I can’t help wondering exactly who is in charge.”

“It’s temporary,” I say. “They’re going to establish a democracy, it’s just going to take time. I saw the headline on the
National Newspaper
this morning. They say the election is going to be next year.”

Roman lifts his eyebrows. “They said the same thing last year.”

He’s right.

“The people who were left in D.C. rallied together,” I say, remembering those early months after the dead came back. “But it wasn’t until they got in touch with Atlanta that a new governing system was set up. No one really high up was left to tell people what to do, and I think everyone was still in shock. When Atlanta handed them a solution, they just grabbed it.”

“That’s why I want to go to an unsanctioned town,” Roman says, his finger still making circles on my hand. “I don’t trust the people in charge, and living off the grid isn’t as scary as you think it is. These people are organized and the town is safe. They have to work hard, but isn’t that better than being told what to do for the rest of our lives?”

I hate the thought of him going away, but he has a point. My dad worked high up, so I know for a fact that not everything reported in the
National Newspaper
is accurate. I’ve been telling myself that they’re just trying to keep people from worrying, but I can’t help wondering if there’s more to it.

Plus, secretly, I’d always wanted to run away from D.C. From my father.

“When are you going?” My voice shakes, but it isn’t from fear. I’m suddenly…excited. Almost hopeful.

Roman flicks his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from me to the crawl space. “Soon. I’d be able to leave now if I didn’t get Mac this going-away present. I’ll have to do another big raid if I want enough goods to trade for supplies.”

I look down at our entwined fingers, loving the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Will you go with me?”

The words send a thrill shooting through me, and for a second I can’t breathe. Is he serious? We just met, and it seems like such a big step. When I look up, his brown eyes meet mine. There’s hope in his expression. He’s serious. He wants me with him. My mouth goes dry like it’s full of cotton, and my heart pounds.

“I don’t know,” I mumble, looking away. Trying to hide the fear surging through me.

Roman tilts my face up so I’m looking him in the eye. “Think about it.”

My head nods on its own.

Roman releases my chin, and his hand slips from mine. He turns back to the hole. “I’m going to have to give up something big if I want to get Mac a bike.”

A smile creeps across my face. Roman is so adorable sometimes.

“You’re going to get Mac a motorcycle for his birthday?”

He pulls a shoebox out of the hole, and when he turns to face me, he’s smiling. “Damn, it was going to be a surprise.”

“What could you possibly have that someone would be willing to trade a motorcycle for?”

He taps the shoebox and grins like he’s holding a treasure chest. It’s one of those big boxes that a pair of work boots would have come in, and when he takes the lid off, I almost gasp. It’s filled with batteries. All different sizes, and all still in their original packaging. Batteries are nearly impossible to come by these days.

“Where did you get these?”

Roman puts the lid back on and hands me the box before turning to recover the hole. The box is heavy, the weight intensified by its precious contents. These are worth more than any treasure chest.

“Been collecting them,” he says, getting to his feet before holding his hand out so he can help me up. Once I’m on my feet, Roman takes the box from me. “There’s a guy in town who has a couple old bikes. They’re not really in demand these days. For some strange reason, people prefer to be in enclosed spaces when traveling.” He winks.

“I wonder why,” I say, laughing.

Roman shrugs and heads out of the house, my hand in his as he pulls me with him. It makes me feel safe and secure.

“Something about zombies,” he says.

I’m still grinning when we step outside. The wooden porch sags beneath my feet, feeling a little less than sturdy, but that isn’t what makes my heart almost stop. My smile melts away and my feet stop moving, and within seconds I’m shaking like a leaf.

There are three zombies in the yard. Three of them. I haven’t come this close to one since the first few months of the outbreak, and now there are three.

Roman steps in front of me and shoves the shoebox into my hands as pulls he his knife out, all in one fluid movement. “It’s okay.”

It doesn’t feel okay. It feels the complete opposite of okay.

Roman steps off the porch, and one of the zombies spots him right away. The thing groans and moves toward him, chomping his mouth. Gray skin stretches across his face, and the deep gashes that cut across the decaying flesh ooze with black goo. Thankfully, the other two creatures are facing the other way and haven’t caught wind of us yet.

Roman doesn’t seem afraid in the slightest as he walks toward the dead man. His knife is held firmly in his hand, but he’s steady. Sure of himself as he walks in a big arc around the zombie. He was right. They are slow. But it’s still terrifying, and I’m still shaking, gripping the box of batteries so hard the cardboard bows under the pressure. Just as Roman reaches the back of the first zombie, the other two notice him and head his way. My heart jumps to my throat and I reach out like I’m trying to stop them, but no sound comes out when I move my lips.

I try again, and this time his name comes out like a strangled cry. “Roman!”

He smiles like all of this is nothing, then drives his knife into the back of the first zombie’s skull. The thing drops to the ground, and Roman spins to face the others. He charges the second one, a sad-looking woman whose nightgown is stained and tattered, her gray skin barely clinging to her bones. Roman dodges her arms and loops around her back, then jabs his knife into her skull just like he did with the first one.

Two down, but my heart is still pounding wildly.

The third one is so tall that Roman’s head only goes up to the zombie’s shoulders. Next to him, Roman looks like a child. Even worse than his size is the fact that he seems to be faster than the other two. Less decomposed, even, like he’s just recently died.