Apocalypse Cowboy: Futuristic Romance with Zombies (11 page)

To Hannah, that implied that living in a community drew peril. Add to that, starting over in a new house that wasn’t her own and having to leave most of her things behind—because getting a moving truck from there to here just wasn’t feasible—and she wasn’t interested.

But did Brody feel the same way?

That night, as he made love to her on the pillowy bed, the mattress fluffy with stuffed feathers, he said not a word to her about her decision. Instead, he buried himself between her thighs, his tongue dancing with hers eagerly.

And Hannah lost herself to the pleasure.

“So what time are we leaving?”

Her question took him by surprise. He knew she was worried about Fred, but he’d thought they’d stay at least one more day to make sure Beth was settled, and he kind of wanted to check things out some more. Surely even she could see how much better off they would be moving here.

“You don’t want to stay a while longer and make sure Beth’s going to be all right?”

“Beth’s a grown girl, something I need to accept. Besides, it looks like she and Mike have hit it off, and he seems like a decent sort. He’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“What about you? Don’t you want to maybe explore this place a bit more? Really get a feel for what they have to offer?”

“I’ve seen enough.”

Her tone said what she didn’t.
And she’s not interested.

So bloody stubborn.

Biting his tongue, Brody determined to work on her once they got back. He figured with the help of Fred, whom he knew would side with him, they’d get Hannah to accept that moving to this community was the best choice for all of them. But he knew better than to push.

No need to get the claws out until he had backup.

He prepped the bike for their return trip while Hannah and Beth exchanged tearful goodbyes.

Joel pulled Brody aside. “Watch yourself, son. Some of the boys who came back from the scouting trips say they’ve seen signs there’s a gang of thugs out there murdering survivors. It’s awful how some folk turn to violence and preying on others when we should all be working together to rebuild.”

“Any idea how many?”

“No, but I thought I should warn you. Watch your back. Last thing you need is them following and ambushing you along the way. I’d hate for you or Hannah to get hurt. This new world needs more decent folk like yourselves.”

Brody looked at Hannah, and his gut clenched.
If anything were to happen to her…

“Thanks for the warning. I’ll be careful. If I can convince her, we’ll be back soon. I like what you guys have got going here.”

The goodbyes over with, Brody straddled his steel horse and inwardly smiled when Hannah perched herself behind and wrapped her arms around him. The feeling would never get old.

The trip home went quickly. They spotted a few zombies on the way back, which Brody insisted on taking care of. It disturbed him the way they were herding toward the survivors. Best to pick them off now while they were still in the single digits.

They drove until twilight set. Seeing a roadside motel, Brody stopped for the night.

As soon as Hannah hopped off, she turned quickly to the side and threw up.

“Jesus, kitten, are you okay?” he asked.

“Must have been something I ate,” she mumbled.

They didn’t make love that night but lay spooned together.

The next day she still appeared queasy, but they made it all the way home without her getting ill.

As soon as the engine quieted, Fred came wheeling out of the house, his face sober. “Beth, is she…”

“She’s fine,” said Hannah, rushing over to hug her uncle. “She just decided to stay behind at the Amish settlement.”

“You found people then?” said Fred, his face cracking a smile. “That’s amazing news. So when’s the big move?”

“What do you mean?” asked Hannah, her face creased in confusion.

Brody almost felt sorry for his kitten. It seemed she was the only one who didn’t yet realize moving was for the best. Even better, despite not having all the details, he could see Fred would be on his side in this argument.

“We can’t stay here by ourselves forever, Hannah girl.”

“Why not?” Her chin jutted stubbornly.

“Because they’re equipped to survive,” said Brody, jumping to Fred’s rescue.

“We’ve been doing just fine until now. I don’t see why we suddenly have to up and leave.”

“You heard what they said about the zombies starting to cluster and go after survivors. We’d be safer in a larger group.”

“Or make ourselves more of a target for them,” Hannah countered.

Fred shook his head. “More stubborn than an ass.”

“It’s not stubborn to want to stay in my home. I love this place. It’s where I grew up. And it’s perfectly equipped and supplied. Why would I leave this to start over?”

“Well, I, for one, wouldn’t mind being around people again. I love you, Hannah girl, but a man gets lonely.”

“Fine, then leave,” she said, sulking like a child, her lower lip jutting in a pout. “Go and live with Beth and all those strangers. I don’t need you. And I don’t need them. I’ll be just fine here. Alone.”

Brody reached out to her. “Hannah, don’t be like that.”

But Hannah didn’t want to listen. She fled to the house she refused against all reason to abandon.

“That foolish girl. Stubbornly clinging to the past instead of looking to the future.”

“She’s afraid.”

“We’re all afraid. But, at one point, she’s got to realize that the past isn’t going to come back. That a house and pictures isn’t the same as real live connections with other people.”

“I know. And I think a part of her knows, but she’s so afraid of change.” Brody sighed. “I’m afraid it’ll take more than one day to convince her.”

“Well, I don’t need any more convincing. I meant what I said. I want to go. I love my niece, but I, for one, need the company of other folk. Will you take me, Brody?”

Looking at the old man, Brody knew he couldn’t say no. Problem was, in order to take Fred, he’d have to leave Hannah behind for a few days. Not exactly an ideal scenario.

As if reading his mind, Fred said, “This might be best for her, too. Maybe if she’s by herself for a few days, she’ll come to her senses. Realize just how lonely it is out here.”

“Yeah, but what if something happens?”

“I hate to say it ’cause I love her, but short of a calamity, that girl ain’t gonna budge.”

Fred said aloud what Brody feared to think.
What’s it going to take to get her to move on?

He thought he found the answer the next day. Boy was he wrong.

Good morning, sunshine.

What wasn’t so good was the intense nausea. Hannah lurched out of the bed she shared with Brody and barely made it to the bathroom before she heaved into the white porcelain toilet. When the convulsions stopped, she sank to the floor with her head resting on the seat and closed her eyes.

Oh damn.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out this wasn’t a simple stomach flu. The period that was late and
new nauseous state boldly declared,
I’m pregnant.

Which terrified the hell out of her.

This was a world without doctors or hospitals. No ultrasounds or pee cup tests to check on the health of her and the baby. Nine months of getting bigger, clumsier, and she didn’t even dare think of the birth.

What will I do?
Actually what would they do? Despite her being the one to carry the baby, as the father, Brody would have an opinion. And she knew what he would say.

He’d immediately want to pack her up and move them to the settlement where there was both a doctor—fresh out of med school—and a midwife, not to mention medical supplies.

He’ll get what he wanted all along. Me out of here. Away from my home.

The worst part? Hannah knew she should go, but as the nausea eased and she opened her eyes, she couldn’t help but tear up. Surrounding her was the peeling wallpaper with its patterned roses. A pattern she’d picked out with her mother and helped her hang. Over the toilet hung the landscape she’d painted in the tenth grade, which her mom declared the perfect thing to cover the red splat on the wall from the time Hannah tried to dye her hair.

How can I leave the only home I’ve ever known? Not to mention all my memories of Mom and Dad.
Leaving this place meant leaving them behind. In silence, Hannah sobbed, hot tears rolling down her cheeks as her mind and emotions spun.
I wish you were here, Mom. I’m so scared and confused.

But her mother was gone, and only the echo of her presence remained.

A shadow fell over her, and before she could say a word, strong arms wrapped around her and carried her back to bed. Brody snuggled Hannah under the sheets. He spooned her and stroked her hair back from her forehead.

“When were you going to tell me you were pregnant?”

At his words, she stiffened.
How did he figure it out so quickly?

She edged. “I might not be. It could just be a tummy virus.”

Wrong answer. Brody rolled away from her and leapt from the bed. He paced the room, his body taut with anger. “Dammit, Hannah. Don’t screw with me. I know you’re pregnant. I’m not bloody stupid.”

“I’m sorry. I just realized it myself, and I’m still trying to come to grips with it.”

“What’s there to come to grips with? You’re pregnant. You know what this means, don’t you?”

“It changes nothing,” she said mulishly.

“Changes nothing?” He stopped pacing and shot her an incredulous look. “Are you out of your fucking mind? This changes everything. Kitten, you’re pregnant. You can’t stay here and expect to birth a baby with just me to help you.”

“I don’t see why not. Women used to do it all the time.” She knew she was being totally irrational the moment the words left her mouth. It didn’t stop them.

“And the infant mortality rate used to be stupidly high. Are you telling me you’d intentionally kill our child because you’re too stubborn to leave this goddamn house?”

“Of course not. But I don’t see why everyone is so bloody anxious to get me to move.” Hannah resorted to anger, in spite of knowing he was right and she was wrong. Maybe it was the hormones or the fact that she felt cornered, but she lashed out. “If you don’t like it, just leave then. It’s what you do best, isn’t it? I knew you could never stay. First sign that things might be better elsewhere and off you go again. Well, goodbye. I don’t need you. I don’t need anybody.”

His lips tightened. “This is what’s going to happen. I’m taking your uncle to the Amish settlement and dropping him off with your sister,” he said, his voice low and controlled in contrast to his blazing eyes. “When I get back, you and I are going to have a long talk. I meant what I said. I won’t leave you. But dammit, I am going to prove to you that staying here is foolhardy. If I have to carry you kicking and screaming to safety, I will. I won’t put you or the baby in jeopardy.”

And with those parting words, he left. In a snit, and nauseous again, Hannah refused to go downstairs and see her uncle or Brody off. Miserable, she was not in the mood to listen to either of them.

Stupid men, think they know everything. I don’t need them. I’ll do just fine on my own.

While she believed Brody meant what he said—that he’d return—a tiny part of her didn’t expect him to return. Why would he when she kept making things so difficult? The angry words they’d exchanged had been ugly.
Why would he want me?
Even as she thought that, she fervently hoped he’d come back.
Please let him choose me this time.

Because one thing she couldn’t deny was she loved him. She didn’t want to live alone. She wanted Brody by her side.

One lonely day stretched into two. The pump on the well broke, and she was reduced to hoisting buckets up by herself, a chore that made her back ache. A lonely zombie trampled through her vegetable garden before she shot him. But the mess ruined the entire crop she’d counted on.

She burned her dinner and ate alone with only a dim candle for light and companionship. She ruefully thought of the Amish village where she’d played cards and conversed with others.
I don’t believe it, but I actually miss it. It was fun.

Most of all she missed Brody at night.

Needing distraction, she flipped through the photo albums of younger, happier days.

There I am in the kitchen with Mom making jam.
Her face sticky, her grin cheeky. In another, she rode her bike while her dad jogged behind. Here she was, swinging in wild circles with Beth, their faces uplifted to the sun, their laughter evident.

As she browsed the memories, she had a sudden revelation. A light bulb moment if you will.

Oh my god, it’s not this house that made me happy. It was my family and friends.
Stunned, Hannah put the photo album down and walked through the house she’d called home for over twenty years. For the first time, she wasn’t comforted by its solid presence. Yes, she missed the love and laughter that used to echo within its walls, but love and laughter came from people. Not an object.

By staying, she wouldn’t get that happiness back. Her family was gone for good. Mom and Dad wouldn’t return from the grave. As for Beth and her uncle, they’d come to the realization sooner than Hannah. They were unafraid to start a new life, a better life, and if she wanted the joy that came from being with them, then Hannah needed to join them.

Along with all those revelations came the most important one.
I need to trust in Brody.
He would give her all the love she needed if she’d only let him.

Once she came to these realizations Hannah found herself impatient for Brody’s return. And he would come back. She could almost slap herself for her foolish anxiety. Brody wouldn’t abandon her.
I’m his family, me and the baby. And he loves me. No matter how dumb I can be sometimes.

On the third day of Brody’s absence, Hannah was packing some special photos of her family when she heard a noise downstairs. Creeping down, shotgun in one hand—because since the garden incident she didn’t go anywhere without it— she listened for the sound to repeat itself.

Scratch. It came from the kitchen. Edging quietly along the wall, she peeked around the archway leading into the room and gasped as she saw the zombie at the back door. A woman, her hair hanging in clumps, her face riddled with lumps and open sores. Hannah pulled back, her heart racing.

Did it know she was in the house? Even worse, could it come in?

The scratching continued, but the door remained shut. But unlocked.

Hannah knew she couldn’t leave it out there. Nor did she dare go in the kitchen to confront it. Instead, she eased out the front door and circled around, shotgun aimed in front of her. As soon as she came around the corner of the house, she saw the zombie.

The monster whirled as if sensing her and uttered an awful moan. Hannah took aim and fired.

The body dropped, but the moaning continued. Around the back edge of the house, two more lurched into view.

Hannah chambered the next round. Click, click. Aim. Shoot.

Another one down, and one left to go. But that was it for ammo. She’d not thought to bring more.

She pivoted on her heel and bolted back toward the safety of the house. She probably could have outrun them, too, if she’d not tripped. She hit the ground with her left knee and lost her grip on the gun as she landed. Not that the empty weapon would do her any good. She scrambled to move and had gotten halfway to her feet when she felt the fingers clawing at her hair.

Yank.

The fistful it grabbed brought tears to her eyes. She ignored the pain and turned in its grip, lashing out with a fist and hitting pulpy flesh. If she wasn’t so scared for her life, she might have gagged. However, an instinct for survival didn’t allow room for squeamishness. Again she punched, but the zombie seemed impervious to her blows, and it raked her with its jagged nails as it tried to draw her close for a bite.

Hannah screamed, fear and frustration giving her excellent pitch. But no one heard her.

There was no one here to save her. No one here to come to her aid.

In her stubbornness to not leave, she’d caused her own death.

I can’t die. Not now. Not when I finally have a chance for a future.

Since hand-to-hand combat wasn’t getting her anywhere, Hannah devised a new strategy. She let her whole body go limp. It hurt, especially as the hand gripping her hair proved relentless. More than a few strands tore free as she sagged in the zombie’s grip, but it didn’t have the strength to hold her upright. It let go, and she immediately grabbed for her gun, by the barrel and in a rapid motion, stood again and swung.

Thunk
.

The monster staggered. She swung again and knocked it down.

She couldn’t have said how many more times she hit it, but she did know by the time she came to her senses, she was panting and crying. As for the zombie? It wouldn’t rise again.

Exhausted, and shaken, she dragged herself and the shotgun into the house. She splashed herself clean with the bucket of water she’d hauled.

Such a close call and yet another reason to leave.

She’d no sooner finished patting her skin dry than she heard the sound of bikes.

Brody’s back, and I’ll bet Beth’s come with him to help convince me.
Little did they know she was ready.

A smile stretching her lips, she went out to the front porch, eager to greet them. Shading her eyes, she peered into the distance and counted three bikes approaching. And judging by the high handlebars and flags fluttering from their tails, none of them was Brody’s.

Strangers. Shit.
Cursing herself for being stupid, Hannah ducked into the house and slammed the door shut, engaging the lock. Grabbing the shotgun, she reloaded it with fresh shells as she ran into the kitchen and thumbed the lock there too. Thank goodness Brody had repaired the door after she’d blasted it in welcome what seemed like a lifetime ago.

House secured, she sat huddled out of sight, shotgun in her lap as she prayed the strangers on the bike hadn’t seen her.

With sweaty hands, she checked and rechecked the shotgun chambers. She waited. The rumble of the approaching motorcycles grew louder and louder then faded as they drove on past the house.

Biggest sigh of relief ever. Her shoulders sagged as the possible danger passed her by. Just in case, though, she remained inside for the next few hours, worried they might come back.

Around dinnertime, she finally unlocked the kitchen door to make a run to the well. Good thing she’d decided to move to the settlement. This no running water problem was getting annoying real fast.

She didn’t dare grab two buckets, not with her scare this afternoon with the zombies and the bikers. She kept her revolver tightly gripped in one hand and a bucket in the other. Senses on high alert, her head constantly swiveled so she could scan the yard and the varied nooks and crannies that now had her wondering if they hid a threat.

Heart racing, and sweating more than she should, she got back to the house and locked the door behind her again. She didn’t dare turn on a light, a precaution in case the strangers came back and spotted it. It wasn’t dark out yet though, so she had no problem seeing as she chopped some veggies for her supper—a salad garnished with an oil and vinegar dressing, which even she couldn’t screw up.

Humming softly to herself, she paused at a sound from the living room.
What the heck was that?

Clutching the knife, she quietly inched out into the hallway. The noise didn’t repeat itself. Had she imagined it? Was she jumping at shadows?

Chiding herself for being afraid of her own house, she strode into the living room and then stopped dead in shock as a scruffy man peeked at her over the edge of the photo album he was flipping through.