Alone (4 page)

I head down the beach, enjoying the warm sun on my skin and the cool breeze on my face and the way the sound of the waves lapping against the shore helps to drown everything else out. When I pass the small boardwalk that runs over the dunes to the Regulator’s house, I find myself craning my neck. The house is too far away to get a really good look at it, though. Plus, why do I care? Roman and I barely talked, and from what I could see, he’s pretty into Roz.

Maybe I’m just lonely.

The sun gets lower in the sky as I wander up and down the beach, stopping from time to time to look for shells. There aren’t many, though, and the few I do find are small and broken.

When I reach the wall that signifies the end of the community, I stop. It starts in the middle of what looks like a swamp and stretches about ten feet into the water. It was definitely constructed after the virus. The building materials are crude—although sturdy—and they don’t match the elegance of the rest of the community. Moans float over from the other side, and whenever the wind blows, the scent of rotting flesh is so strong it makes my stomach lurch. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

The presence of the zombies brings me back to reality, making it impossible to ignore their existence any longer, so I decide to head back. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, leaving only a flash of orange and pink. Above me, the sky is dark and getting blacker by the minute.

My father has to be wondering where I am.

I haven’t even reached the Regulator’s house when the flickering flames of a bonfire come into a view. Around it, four teens sit. Laughing and talking. Enjoying life. It’s a strange sight after all this time.

I stop walking and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Socializing has never been my thing, so I’m not sure what to do. It isn’t from the lack of desire, though. More from insecurity. But I’ve been alone for so long… Having friends would be nice.

One of the teens looks up, and a smile breaks out across her face as she waves me over. Before I even have a chance to think about it, my feet are moving toward the fire. The girl stands when I stop, still gnawing on my bottom lip like I’m trying to chew through it. Up close, her smile is friendly.

She’s pretty. Tall and a little overweight, but in all the right places, making her curvy. Her red hair shines in the firelight, and the freckles on her nose dance when she smiles. There’s a kindness in her blue eyes that makes my heart swell at the prospect of having more. It’s been so long since I had anyone to talk to.

“I’m Carmen,” she says. “You must be the new girl from D.C.”

I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “Jules Carmichael.”

Carmen’s smile gets bigger, and she motions toward the campfire. “Come hang out with us.”

The three teens sitting by the fire nod and smile and don’t look the least bit upset to see me standing here, but still my stomach is full of butterflies when I take a seat on the sand.

A girl who can’t be more than sixteen waves from the opposite side of the fire. She’s a bit on the small side, thin in a way that can only look healthy on someone so young. Her hair is white blonde and cut to the chin, making her brown eyes look huge in her round face. She’s cute despite the sprinkling of acne on her cheeks.

“I’m Viki! It’s so nice to have someone new around here,” she says, raising herself up on her knees like she finds it impossible to sit still. “Seeing the same people every day for the past two years has been a total drag.”

The boy sitting next to Viki puts his hand over his heart and twists his face up into a pained expression. “I’m so hurt. Here I thought you were dating me because you really liked me, not just because you were short on options.”

Viki giggles and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss before turning back to me. “This is Clay.”

Clay bows gallantly when Viki releases him. He’s Asian and is probably a couple years older than Viki. He’s short for a guy, probably only an inch taller than me, but cute. In a subtle way.

“I’m Kyle,” the fourth person says, drawing my attention away from Clay and Viki’s flirting.

I almost gasp out loud. Almost. It’s the guy who stopped my father at the gate, and he is hot. Like Hollywood movie star hot. He’s tall and broad, and tanned and toned. His hair is bleached blond from the sun. His square jaw gives him a powerful look, but his blue eyes are just light enough to soften his features. He’s the kind of guy I lusted after—from afar—before the infection. And right now he’s smiling at me.
Really
smiling.

I return his smile, trying to control the fluttering in my heart and the way my skin tingles as his eyes rake over me.

Is he checking me out?
No. That would be impossible. Guys
do not
check me out.

Before my imagination can go crazy, I force my brain to focus on something else. My eyes move over the others, and I take a couple deep, cleansing breaths. Everyone sitting here looks older than me except Viki. They can’t still be in high school, can they?

“You’re not all still in school, are you?” It would be nice to know someone when I go in tomorrow morning.

“Just me,” Viki says wistfully. “I’m a junior. Or would be if all this hadn’t happened. What about you?”

“Senior.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I should be getting ready for prom and filling out college applications. Trying to figure out what I want my major to be and dreaming about college guys and parties I’m going to attend. None of that will ever happen for me now, though. Or anyone else here, for that matter.

“Well, I finished last year,” Carmen says, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Thank God. I couldn’t stand going there every day. What a waste of time.”

“You still go there,” Clay teases.

Carmen swats at Clay, but he dives out of her reach.

When she turns to me, she shrugs. “I work there.”

I nod before looking expectantly at Clay, waiting for him to tell me what he does. He seems like the kind of kid who would have been voted class clown in high school. The one all the girls loved to joke around with and have as a friend but not date.

“I do stand-up at the bar on weekends,” Clay says, his expression totally serious.

My eyebrows shoot up and my mouth falls open, but he doesn’t blink.

“Clay,” Viki says in the same tone my mom used to have when she’d scold me for playing with my food as a kid.

A smile spreads across Clay’s face, and what can only be described as a giggle breaks out of his mouth. “I almost had you!” he says, shaking his head. “Really though, I work security at the main gate. I saw you come in this morning. I got to chop a walker’s head off.”

I blink, shocked at the casual tone in his voice. No one in D.C. was this laid-back about the existence of zombies. They’re dangerous and something we rarely saw inside the city, but definitely not something to joke about. Hearing Clay talk about killing one feels like listening to him relay a nightmare he had the night before. There’s nothing entertaining about it the way Clay seems to think there is.

No one seems to notice—or share—my shock. It isn’t any easy thing to let go of, though. I’ve spent the last two years hiding inside the walls of D.C., but these guys have practically lived next door to zombies this whole time. I guess they’re just used to it?

My scalp prickles, and I turn to find Kyle watching me.

“What about you, Kyle?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even. His name is like silk on my tongue, and having his eyes on me sends my heart into a flutter.

“Security,” he says simply.

I wait for him to acknowledge that he also saw me at the gate today, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t say anything else. Even though I’m glad he doesn’t brag about chopping a zombie’s head off, I still wish he’d keep talking. Only I don’t know how to get him to do it. I don’t know what to say to guys to keep them interested in me or get them to want to know me more. Even before the virus hit I wouldn’t have known, but nothing in the world really seems worth talking about now. There’s us—the survivors—and the dead—the family members we lost when the virus hit—and the walking dead. That’s it. That’s all we have left.

Footsteps bang against the boardwalk at my back, pulling my gaze from Kyle and distracting me from my depressing thoughts. The sound is too clear and quick to be a zombie, but my heart still stutters. The response is part of me now, like a nervous tic, and something I’ll probably have until the day I die.

When Roz comes charging down the stairs, I attempt to sink into the sand.

Roz stops a few feet away from the fire and lets out a big sigh. “Roman isn’t here?” she asks even though it’s obvious he isn’t.

“Haven’t seen him since this afternoon when he came to sneak Mac out of school,” Carmen replies.

Roz huffs before moving forward, stopping only a foot or so behind me. Keeping me safe from her glares for a few seconds longer. I don’t move, and I say a silent prayer that she’ll go away now that she knows Roman isn’t here.

When I glance toward Kyle, he’s staring at me. Still.

“I bet he went into town again,” Roz says.

Something about her tone is off. She’s annoyed or frustrated, I can’t tell for sure. Whatever it is, I’m
so
thrilled to be sitting here when she’s already in a bad mood. Her glares will probably be extra scorching. Like looking into the sun.

“You know Roman,” Kyle says lightly.

He’s still watching me, and the stupid butterflies in my stomach get more and more violent as the seconds tick by. Between Roz’s presence and Kyle’s gaze, I can’t help it when nausea turns my stomach inside out.

Roz finally plops down on the sand next to Carmen.

That’s when she notices me.

Her eyes narrow for a second before rolling so far back in her head that only the whites are visible. She even goes so far as to flip her nonexistent hair over her shoulder.

Carmen waves toward me. “This is—”

“I know who she is,” Roz says, cutting the other girl off. “Had the pleasure this afternoon.”

Carmen’s eyebrows shoot up, the other three squirm a little in the sand. I’m in the middle of desperately searching for something to say when the sound of my name breaks through the silence.

My father is calling for me.

Normally, I’d be annoyed, but at that moment I’m so grateful for his pretend parenting that I hop up without so much as an eye roll and wave to everyone sitting around the fire. “Nice to meet you all, I’m sure I’ll see you around!”

I run off down the beach toward my father’s voice without looking at anyone—even though a big part of me really wants to know if Kyle is still staring.

Chapter Four

Conflict

I raided the abandoned house where I store the stuff I’ve scavenged before Mac and I headed into town. Luckily, I was able to replenish my cigarette supply, as well as get two gallons of gas—which I left in the woods for safekeeping. Carrying it back sucked, but it’s my only option for fuel since Rick refuses to give me any of the gas he gets with our credits. He has more than enough for himself—with a couple extra gallons stored in the garage just in case we don’t get our monthly shipment from Atlanta—but he keeps a close eye on the stuff. The one time I’d risked taking a little, he found out. That was not a pleasant night.

Not that any time spent with Rick is all that pleasant.

The sky above us is coal black by the time Mac and I make it back to his house. It won’t be long before I’ll have to go home. Which is something I try to avoid. Sure, I can crash on the floor in Mac’s room if I really want to—I’ve done it before—but I can’t eat here. His mom doesn’t get enough credits to feed me too. I skipped lunch today, so of course my stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself. Unless I want to starve, going home to face Rick is my only option. Which sucks.

Mac hops off when I pull to a stop, and I throw him a wicked smile as I raise my voice to be heard over my bike, “Hope your mom doesn’t kill you.”

Why he had the sudden need to feel like a man I’m not sure, but it kept us out longer than usual. Luckily, we didn’t see a single zombie on our way home. That’s how it’s been lately, though. It isn’t like the first year when we’d run into hordes of the dead. They’re more sporadic. Less predictable.

Mac shrugs but tugs on his sleeve like he’s trying to cover up the tattoo he just got. It doesn’t work. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Remind your mom that.” I chuckle and roll my eyes.

Mac puffs out his chest and shoots me a comical grin. “I’m the man of the house. A little tattoo shouldn’t matter.”

“Right,” I snort. “I guess now I’ll be forced to go to school tomorrow, just to make sure you’re still alive.”

“I can handle my mom,” Mac calls over his shoulder as he heads to his front door.

I’m still chuckling to myself when I take off toward my own house. Sure he can.

The closer I get, the tighter my jaw becomes, and by the time I turn into the driveway, my teeth feel like they’re going to be ground to stubs. The house comes into view, and every muscle in my body goes rigid. There are lights on downstairs. Great.

By the time I park next to the garage—Rick doesn’t allow me to park inside—I’m so tense I find it difficult to stand. I take deep breaths as I cover my bike with a tarp, securing it with bungee cords to keep it safe from the salty air.             

I pull out a cigarette and light up, then take a long pull. I need to be relaxed when I go in or Rick and I will get into it again for sure. I pissed him off earlier, and how much I’m going to have to pay is going to depend on how long he’s been home and how much he’s had to drink. Hopefully, he had a late night at the office, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to escape his wrath completely. The best thing I can do is try and keep my mouth shut so he doesn’t give it to me worse than he already plans to.

Easier said than done, though. I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut.

I’m still not ready when the cigarette is gone, but the growling in my stomach tells me I can’t wait any longer. Rick is in the kitchen, and the second I step through the door, his eyes meet mine. I swear his frosty gaze almost freezes me.

Everyone in our little town
loves
Rick. He’s the Regulator who saved us all. Led the way when things first got crazy. Organized this, helped clear it out, got us in touch with Atlanta and D.C. He’s like a celebrity around here.

That Rick has never set foot in our house.

“You didn’t go to school,” he says, making me flinch. Just hearing his voice hurts me, like my body can remember all the pain his fists have inflicted on it.

I keep my head down as I walk to the pantry.

Just keep your mouth shut, Roman. Anything you say is going to make it worse. You know that
.

Sometimes not responding works, sometimes it doesn’t.

It’s too soon to tell how it’s going to go tonight, though.

“You going to answer me?” His voice is hard and his words slightly slurred. Shit.

My back turns to stone, but I don’t turn to face him. “Was there a question?” The words sneak out against my better judgment. Typical. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a masochist and I just don’t know it. “Sounds to me like you were just stating the obvious.”

“Don’t push me, Roman.”

Don’t push him? Is he joking right now?

I know he’s not, but I almost laugh anyway. Over the years, I’ve tried a dozen different ways of reacting to Rick when he’s in a mood, and all of them seemed to push him. There’s nothing I can do that won’t push Rick, which is probably why most of the time I end up being a smart-ass.

I grab one of the prepackaged meals off the shelf. They’re Rick’s ration of choice even though he could get fresh food. He claims he wants to save it for the families with little kids, which just makes him more of a hero around here, but I’m pretty sure he only gets this shit to piss me off.

I’m fuming when I turn to face my father. “What are you going to do,
Rick
?”

I flash him a smile that probably tells him I’m begging to be hit, and Rick’s jaw twitches, letting me know it’s coming. I don’t even have time to brace myself before his right hook hits me in the stomach, sending all the air whooshing out of me. I literally fold in half, the meal falling from my hand as my whole body doubles over. When I hit the floor, the package I just dropped nearly pokes me in the eye.

Rick kicks me in the ribs while I’m still gasping for breath, which I should have expected but for some reason catches me totally off-guard. I wrap my arms around my body and heave, trying to get air or trying to force the pain out of me, I’m not sure which. Rick grunts, and I close my eyes, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen while I wait for him to leave or kick me again.

He walks away.

I lay on the floor, counting as the pain inside me slowly begins to fade. It doesn’t take as long as it should, but not because I’m used to it. It’s that masochistic thing inside me. It has to be. If I weren’t someone who craved pain, I’d learn to keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I wouldn’t pick fights with Rick, or anyone else for that matter.

When the pain has finally faded and numbness has spread through me, I manage to drag my sorry ass up off the floor. My packaged meal ends up in my hands, somehow, but at first I’m not sure I still have an appetite. I take a couple cleansing breaths as I stumble out the back door, and my stomach lets out a growl, proving me wrong.

The light from the bonfire is visible the second I set foot on the beach, but I need a couple minutes to get my shit together before I head over. I pull out a cigarette, ignoring how shaky my hands are when I light it. The nicotine that fills my lungs is better than an old friend.

Things with Rick were never good, but the power that came with the apocalypse has made it worse. I think about fighting back from time to time, I’m almost bigger than him now, but something always stops me. Which is stupid. I could take him and I know it.

Just more proof that I’m masochistic.

By the time my cigarette is nothing but a nub, I’ve pushed Rick to the back of my mind. His bullying doesn’t stick with me the way it used to. It used to keep me up at night, give me nightmares. Make me afraid of my own shadow. Now, I can let it roll off my shoulders like a drop of water.

I toss my cigarette down and kick some sand over it before heading toward the fire, my almost forgotten meal tucked under my arm. My ribs ache and the tenderness in my stomach becomes more and more evident with each step I take, but it’s mild compared to other times. I have enough experience to know it will be little more than a memory by morning. With all the pain I’ve been through in my life, I’ve learned what will and won’t leave a scar behind.

“Roman!” Clay calls when I’m still a good ten feet away, flapping his arms like he’s afraid I might not notice them.

I wave him off as I scan the group. Maybe Jules wandered over… No such luck. Just the usual bunch—including Roz. Our eyes meet and I nod, but she doesn’t smile. She’s still pissed. Awesome. Exactly how I wanted to spend my night.

“What’s everyone up to?” Nursing my sore ribs but trying not to be obvious about it, I throw myself on the sand next to Roz. It’s better to pretend I don’t notice her mood and hope she gets over whatever crazy thoughts are going through her head.

“You just missed the new chick,” Clay says.

He’s a loudmouth who can never keep his trap shut, but he’s funny, so I put up with it. Getting him and Mac together—and a little drunk—is always a good way to kill some time.

“Oh Roman already met her. Didn’t you, Roman?” Roz glares at me over her glasses.

Real subtle.

I pretend not to notice her tone as I rip into my dinner, shrugging indifferently. My ribs ache from the movement, but it’s small and easy to ignore. I’ve been through worse.

“Hot, right?” Kyle says just as I take a bite of processed beef stew.

A chunk of meat slides down my throat only half chewed, and I start hacking. My eyes water, and I pat my chest, making my already-painful ribs throb, coughing like I’m on the verge of choking.

It’s partly an act, because Roz’s eyes are glued to me. But I’m also a little bit shocked by the fact that Kyle is actually addressing me.

We all went to the same school before the virus, but of course none of us were really friends. Kyle was quarterback of the football team and all the girls wanted him. He was a dick, of course. He’s loosened up a little since then—zombies eating your family will do that to a person—but for some reason he still doesn’t like
me
. I’m not sure what his problem is, but I also don’t care.

“Umm…” I let out a cough to buy myself some time.

How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? To be honest, Jules
is
hot. Roz’s eyes get more and more narrowed as the seconds tick by. She was pissed before, and I sure as hell don’t want to give her yet another reason to throw a tantrum. Damn Kyle.

“She was alright, I guess.” Even in my own ears it sounds like a lie.

Roz gets up in a huff and stomps off down the beach.

I look down at my uneaten dinner and then back over at Roz. I’m starving, but if I don’t go after her it’s over for sure. Shit.

“Hang on to that for me, will ya?” I toss my food to Clay as I climb to my feet.

I glare at Kyle before taking off after Roz. He’s smiling. He did that on purpose. Asshole.

“Roz! Wait up, dammit!” She doesn’t slow down, and I have to run to catch up. I grab her arm and spin her around.

She’s crying. Double shit.

“I saw the way you were looking at her.”

I clench my jaw as I jerk my head to the side to get the hair out of my eyes. Not that it helps. The wind blows it right back into my face.

Things have changed between Roz and me, and it doesn’t give me a warm fuzzy feeling. If she starts depending on me she’s going to end up getting hurt, because I don’t have a damn thing to give her or anyone else. Rick has made sure of that.

Still, Roz is a nice distraction…

I turn my face toward the dark sky and let out a deep breath, focusing on the stars when I say, “I don’t know what you think happened today, Roz, but nothing did.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I’m forced to pull my eyes away from the darkness hanging over us so I can look her in the eye. Her arms are crossed and her gaze hasn’t softened—she’s still pouting.

I suck in a deep breath while I consider my options. There are two: walk away or kiss her. Both sound good. Roz has gotten more and more clingy and it’s starting to get under my skin, but she’s also a nice distraction from how shitty my life is.

Thinking about not having anyone to sneak away with at night when Rick is pissing me off seals the deal. Plus, Roz isn’t nearly as annoying when we’re making out.

“You’re the one I want,” I say, grabbing her hips and pulling her against me.