Dead South Rising: Book 1 (34 page)

Step number one: skip ahead to step number two.

Um, no. This was not a game.

Go back one space. Lose a turn. Screw that. Roll again.

He might be a liar, but he wasn’t a cheater.

Twenty-four days. Not even a full month into the damned apocalypse, and he was already breaking down, falling apart. Worthless.

Be strong, El Jefe, be strong. Like yesterday. There’s still a lot of living left to do.

But was there, really? He certainly wanted to believe so. He’d gone to sleep last night (or early this morning) thinking as much. Bryan represented hope, something to live for. A blessing. The future. Proof that the world could and would get past all of this. For the boy’s sake, it had to.

Randy, well he was—as Gabriel would say—‘good people.’ Or, as Jessica would say, ‘bless his heart.’ A bit quirky, a little off center, but good people nonetheless.
Bless his overweight heart.
With Mitch out of the picture, and Lenny the Lumberjack as a new best friend influence, Randy would be just fine. David could already see the positive difference in the man.
 

And then there was Jessica.

Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. See step number one. Jesus, just tell her and get it over with, already. Done and done, and the guilt is gone.

On to Natalee. He wished desperately for an off-switch to his emotions. They’d serve him better if they simply weren’t there. Or at the very least turned way down. Truth be told, he still loved his wife, but she no longer loved him. She’d told him so herself, over two months ago when she’d left. Left him that shitty note. That it was over.

A goddamned ‘Dear John’ letter. How utterly fucking cliché.

So much for ’til death do us part.

But he deserved some happiness in this surreal afterlife they all found themselves in. Didn’t he? He’d gone above and beyond, past the vow of death doing part, making good on his end of the deal. Doing one better.
 

He could see the nurse’s station ahead, two doors side-by-side, one his and one Jessica’s. Temporarily, anyway. He and Jessica would remain there long enough to regain health and strength, then they’d be off to more permanent quarters. A residential room, most likely an interior one, no windows. Randy and Bryan were already settled in one. The Janitor, Gabriel, had told him everyone lived in windowless rooms, even though there was some doubling up. Safer, since they could lock doors to the outer rooms, in case of a breach, as unlikely as one was. Take no chances. It was a good setup. An enviable setup. One that ill-intentioned outsiders might covet. But that was a conversation for a different day.

David stopped in front of Jessica’s door. He raised a loose fist, ready to rap his knuckles against the opaque glass. His heart slammed a heavy beat that throbbed his neck and choked his ears. Again, he tried to lick his lips with revitalizing wetness, but failed miserably. Maybe he should have stopped for some water first.

Before he even realized he was doing it, he knocked.

Rustling from behind the door. Sounded as though she were hurriedly pulling on clothes. Then a shadow across the glass.

The door swung open.

“David. Hey.”
 

“Hey, Jess.” David said, his voice a measly croak.

Her sideways glance discomfited him, and he averted his eyes. He felt her prying into his thoughts, cracking him open, looking straight into him, thumbing through his file of lies.

That was impossible, of course. She couldn’t read minds, just like the Janitor couldn’t. His secrets and untruths were safely locked away where she couldn’t access them without his okay.

But she was a locksmith of the mind, and her words—and touch—were her tools.

His mouth engaged autopilot. “Can I talk to you?”

She glanced past him and into the hall, eyes darting and hunting for eavesdropping ears, then snatched his good wrist, pulling him into the room.

“Sit,” she said, pointing to her cot and closing the door.

He did as she instructed, the cot creaking beneath his sudden weight.

She stood before him, arms crossed. Then, she began pacing, scratching at the white tape that now covered the IV site. Her jaw was moving, clenching, churning.

“What is it?” David asked, regretting the question as soon as it crossed his lips. His forehead wrinkled with worry. He’d known her to be tough, resilient. Demanding at times, even. But this was out of character even for her.

“When were you going to tell me, David? When?” Her voice shook with a disgusted, trembling anger.

 
He almost blurted,
because I wanted to protect you, save you. And my guilty gut wouldn’t let me—

Silence.

“Well?” she said.

“I … I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Jess.” It was a juvenile play, but he decided to throw out the ‘dumb’ card, pretend he had no clue what she was rambling on about.

She huffed, slapping her thigh, eyes rolling to the ceiling. Then, she centered her gaze straight on him, a laser sight. Pointing, she said, “Your leg.”

“My leg?”

“Yes. That you got bit trying to save those good-for-nothing creeps at Mitch’s place.”

David shook his head with a quick snap. “My leg? That’s what you’re worried about?”

Another huff. “David. This is serious. It’s one thing putting your life on the line for family, friends—that sweet young boy, Bryan. But to endanger yourself for those, those”—she clenched her teeth—“stupid, misogynistic sons of bitches—” Frustrated, she raked her fingers through her hair, then crossed her arms again. “Ugh, I can’t even think straight.”

“Jess, I was only doing what I felt was right.”

“The right thing to do was to leave them there for shuffler bait.”

David was taken aback by her spirited distaste for Sammy and Gills. He wasn’t sure what all had happened while he was out killing Old Man Bartlett, saving Bryan, and chasing ghosts through the forest. Randy had filled him in for the most part, but there was something deeper here.

“I’m … sorry?” David said, relieved it wasn’t something else she was disgusted about. Mitch’s death, for instance.

Stealing a deep breath, she sat next to him on the cot, then put her hand on his back. Rubbing, she said, “I’m just upset. I don’t mean to take it out on you. It’s just, if something would’ve happened … and you didn’t come back … you’re all the family I’ve got.”

“Yeah,” he whispered.

She managed a weak smile, the corners of her mouth tilting ever-so-slightly toward the tiles above. “You’re the big brother I never had, David. I
trust
you.”

Trust you.

“You and Randy,” she continued, “are everything to me. If anything happened to either of you. I just …”

He eased his arm around her, pulled her in, brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. Kissed her forehead. “And you’re everything to
us.
”

Her smile widened, and she looked him in the eyes. “Can I see it?” Jessica said, straightening.

“The bite?”

She looked at him with that same big smile and nodded.

That was his cousin. Always had to see things for herself.

“You just want to check out my ass.”

Jessica slapped his arm. “You have no ass.”

“True,” he said, pressing to his feet, grunting. He was still stiff.

He pulled the zipper, freeing the jumpsuit, then shrugged out of it. It pooled around his ankles. Next, he fumbled with his belt buckle, his injured wrist a bit uncooperative. He let his pants drop, belt clinking the floor.

Still sitting on the cot, she leaned back. “Jesus, David. Looks like a mini bear-trap snapped shut on your hammy.”

“Doctor Gonzalez said it didn’t break skin.” The cot creaked. He felt her breath against his leg. Then her fingers, thumbs.

“Ow,” he said. “Easy, there”

“Sorry. Yeah … she’s right. No broken skin. Just really bruised.”

“You done back there?”

“Yeah. You can pull ‘em up.”

“A little help.”

“Sure.”

Jessica leaned over and yanked his pants up his legs until he could reach the waistband, then David finished the job. The morning’s previous mission postponed, he stepped out of the jumpsuit. Jessica scooped the tangle of fabric and duct tape from the floor, folding it and stowing it for a later time.

From a counter across the small room, she lifted his gun belt, El Jefe strapped securely in its holster. “Here you go.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking it and wrapping his waist.

“El Jefe, huh?”

David shrugged. “Been called worse.”

Jessica said, “Randy’s always looked up to you, even though he hung with Mitch mostly.”

David didn’t say anything as he finished buckling the belt.

“Do you think he’ll find us?”

David stopped, scrambling for a poker face. “Who?”

“Mitch. Do you think he’ll find us here?”

He sighed deeply.

“He was bad for me,” she said. “Bad for us. The group. I already feel better without him around.”

David nodded without eye contact.

Jessica said, “Randy said they got away. Sammy and Guillermo. I’m sure Mitch turned them loose.”

David simply nodded again, his lips tightening over his teeth.

“Maybe they’ll decide we’re not worth it. Leave us alone. Go find themselves a weed farm, get high the rest of their days.”

“Maybe.”

The next several moments were painful and slow, every second disguised as an hour.
To tell or not to tell.
After a pause, “I’m going out today. Wrap up some loose ends.”

“Loose ends?”

Shit. Said too much.
“Yeah. Got a couple of things at the house I wanted to pick up—”

“You’re not going back to the trailer, are you? Mitch and Sammy—”

David waved her off, “No, no, no. Not Mitch’s place. My place in Jayville.”

Jessica’s face brightened. “Well I’ll go with you. I need to get out. Fresh air would do me good.”

He shook his head, “No, it’s too soon. You still need to recover.”

“I’ll be fine out—”

“
No
,” David said forcefully. His impinging voice snapped off the intruding walls like the crack of a whip.

Jessica blinked big, surprised blinks. “Um, okay.” Hurt seeped into her glassy eyes.

David exhaled a long breath. “I’m sorry, Jess.” He moved toward her, and she backed up until her butt hit the counter. She crossed her arms tightly across her chest.

“No, it’s okay. Go.” She was obviously hurt and semi-pissed for being barked at.

“No, really. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. It’s just …I’ve got some things … important things … I want—need—to wrap up. Alone.”

“It’s okay, I said.” She was no longer looking him in the eye, her hand a stop sign.

“Maybe tomorrow, huh? The Janitor mentioned something about a supply run, and you’re welcome to come.” He raised his arms slightly at his sides, beckoning a reconciliatory hug.

Jessica nodded tight, quick nods, then ran the pads of her fingers across her cheek, heading an errant tear off at the pass.

He gave up on the hug. She needed time. Time to reset. As tough as Jessica was on the outside, she was just as sensitive and soft on the inside. A living, breathing Tootsie Roll Pop. His wife, Natalee, had a very similar disposition and makeup. Maybe that’s why he got along so well with Jessica.

“Okay, then,” he said. “Tomorrow, it’s a date. Okay?”

Another quick nod. Another swipe at her cheek. Lips tight, frowning.

Damnit. Fucking coward. Should have told her.

He’d blown his chance. Now was not the time to tell her about Mitch. If she was this delicate over something so small, how would she react to such an intense, emotional revelation?

He easily talked himself out of telling her. No brainer, there. She wasn’t ready, couldn’t handle it.
 

Hell, I’m the one who can’t handle it.

Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day. She needed more rest. Besides, delivering such heartbreaking news at this juncture would be just plain cruel. He’d wait.

* * *

Confession time with Jessica did not go at all as David had planned. Not that he had really planned anything. But that brick of guilt resting on his conscience was still there, pressing, grating. He was going to
have
to tell her everything, eventually. Pangs of guilt pinged around inside him like a tilting pinball machine.

She was in a fragile state. Best not to upset her any more than necessary.

David continued lying to himself. Of course, he knew better. He knew that she was upset because he’d snapped at her. Because he’d been an asshole. A jerk.

Just like Mitch.

His boots echoed in the main hall as he retreated toward the back dock, trying to push Jessica further from his mind with every step he took. He was looking for a reason to get angry, to get pissed off.

Deal with it later.

He had other pressing matters to contend with. Thoughts of Natalee slowly pushed out thoughts of Jessica and confessions. Today, he decided, would be Natalee’s day.

Today, on day twenty-four, he would sever ties with his past so he could focus on his future. Clear-headed, unclouded. He would go home one last time. Say goodbye. Free her soul. And his conscience.

I’ve been a very selfish bastard.

David didn’t think anyone would blame him, if his actions were to ever come to light. He’d acted as any rational husband would have acted at the time, given the circumstances. It was really early and no one knew how things were going to turn out for sure. Natalee was just sick was all, he’d told himself over and over, until he believed the lie. He’d held onto to hope, and hope hadn’t delivered. Had become slippery. If he couldn’t grab it, he’d become it. He would
be
hope.

He patted the folded up note that rode in his chest pocket. His unintended excursion into the pond had all but ruined it. But he didn’t need the blurry blue ink to know what it read. The letters, the words, every curving line of cursive was etched into his memory. Her last words to him. Unspoken. But he put her voice to those words. Could hear her tongue cradling those syllables in her soft southern accent.