Four (Their Dead Lives,1) (2 page)

“No, not quite.” Evans spat at the dirt and went on to patrol the ridge.
 

Jeff turned west. If it weren’t for thick clouds, he’d be able to see his hometown, Green Hills. He hoped for the mission to end quickly and for the Vault inhabitants to come out fine.
Time is ticking.
 

He had a reunion to attend.
 

Thinking about his closest friends, he sighed at the distance now between them. He wondered if Kale and Scot still hated each other, if Alec had become the firefighter he always wanted to be, and every time Jeff thought of these three friends, he always wished things had turned out differently, that they’d chosen different paths after high school and were still best friends.
We leave as four.
 

The ground beneath Jeff’s feet rumbled. The steel Vault door broke from the earth, emitting a loud scraping squeal as metal ground against rock.

Evans dropped to a knee and raised his carbine. Jeff left his rifle strapped to his back, reminding himself to fear nothing today.
 

Nothing can scare me like that day eight years ago.
 

Leaning over the ridge, Jeff and Evans watched as Corporal Longsong entered the Vault, followed by five others.
 

“Wished Sampson ordered me to go in,” Evans grunted.
 

“I seriously doubt you’re missing much. These things were designed to withstand just about anything. They have to be fine in there. An easy enough escort mission, right?”
 

“Easy?”

“You said this would be easy.”
 

Evans kept a steady stare behind his carbine. “Now I don’t know.”
 

“Why?”
 

“Not sure. Don’t you sometimes feel fine one minute and in the next, you get some sickening twist in your gut?”
 

“Hm.”
 

“Hm?”
 

Jeff laughed. “You don’t usually say so much at once.”
 

Evans groaned.
 

Jeff was feeling calmer than before and said, “Easy, Evans. This is going to be easy. Want to know why?”

“Why?”
 

“Because—”
 

A Humvee exploded into a fireball across the valley, shooting metal shards out in every direction. The bodies of two VTF members flew across the dirt, burnt to a crisp.

“We were wrong, Jeff!” Evans roared as he slid down the ridge to help the others.
 

Jeff swallowed, whispered those four words he held dear to his heart, and followed. The screams of the interior VTF team rang through his earpiece.
 

“What the hell is that?”
 

“It’s got Ramon!”
 

“There’s too many of them!”
 

“Damn you, Jennings! How’d you know there would be freaking zomb—”
Private Faith’s voice was cut off.
 

Running behind the sprinting Evans, who darted past Lt. Sampson and went straight for the Vault entrance, Jeff slowed down instead, skidding in the dirt by his superior. “Sir?” They stood next to an armored transport.
 

Lt. Sampson removed from his holster a massive, shiny pistol and said, “We’ve been fucking tricked, boys.”
 

A Jeep ignited, exploding skyward. Burning pieces rained down on the waiting VTF. A flaming tire bounced right for Jeff but Sampson shoved him out of the way. Jeff landed heavily on the ground, and a sharp pain stung through his body. He coughed several times, dirt flying off his lips, and then he gathered himself and rolled to his stomach. Time slowed in those seconds as he looked under the armored transport.
No!
 

“Why are they blowing up? What’s happening?” a VTF member yelled; Jeff didn’t recognize the voice.
 

“Abort! Fall back!”
a voice over his earpiece screamed.
 

Jeff ignored their cries. He had to. His eyes locked to C4 attached to the bottom of the transport.
Not
now, not like this.
Scampering across the dirt, Jeff shoved his arm underneath the transport, straining to reach the C4. His fingers brushed the bomb, but he was unable to reach it. His teeth clenched and a guttural moan broke off from his lips. Gunfire blasted over his earpiece. He lunged. His arm stretched. Another explosion sent a vibration through his body, and his hand wrapped around the explosive ticking to destroy him and his team. He retracted from underneath, faster than he ever thought possible.
 

Lt. Sampson saw the bomb in his hands. “Brennan!”
 

Jeff sprinted from the vehicle to the trail they’d arrived on. He saw an opening. A cliff. Sliding through dirt, he cocked his arm. Three quick beeps. The moment became a blur and he lost his footing.

“Throw it!” a voice had called seconds earlier.
 

Jeff’s body went numb. His feet launched off the ground. Spinning, burning, screaming, he flew through the air. Fire ate his skin. The ground and sky dwindled as one, becoming a mixture of brown and blue, twisting its way to the infinite black. Visions of his best friends—Alec, Kale, Scot—flashed in his mind, and although his world would go dark, he said those words that always gave him light.
 

We leave as four.

two days earlier

SCOT

He had dreamed of their lunch. On a pier. Together.
 

Kelsey—her emerald eyes freed him as an ocean breeze sent calming salt-laden air to his nostrils. His teeth sank in a tuna melt. Strong flavors of fish and red onions blasted across his mouth, and she laughed at him when his lunch dropped from his lips. He didn’t use a napkin. She called him a Neanderthal. Kelsey. Her sweet smile. Her hypnotizing laugh. Kelsey. But he had lost her. A wave took her away in his dream. He pushed her away in real life. Angela became his new main squeeze. But he always thought of her: Kelsey, Kelsey, Kelsey.
 

And maybe that was why he missed her so.

And maybe that was why he’d slipped into Angela’s roommate.
 

“Harder.” The roommate’s whisper tickled his ear as his head pressed against her face.
First Angela’s neighbor. Now her roommate. Don’t blame your cursed unmentionable. This is your own doing.
Wet sounds of thrusting, smacking and laughing filled the room. The girl’s moans rose into an inevitable scream. A finger to her full lips quieted her. How Scot loved full lips. Angela didn’t have them, but her roommate did. And so he thrust into her without remorse.
 

Do it like the asshole you are, Scotty.
With his free hand, he brought a whiskey bottle to his mouth. Liquor swirled inside glass and for some odd reason, it gave him the urge to bend the roommate over and have his way with her. However, she made the next move, reaching through his wavy strawberry-blond hair.
 

“You can relax, you know. She’s not home,” the roommate cooed, her nails scratching his back.
 

Clearly. If she were here, I’d be in her.
 

Scot gave his classic cocky smirk. “If you say relax, I relax.”
 

The roommate glanced at the bottle he was drinking from. “Do you
really
need that right now?” She let out a slight moan.
 

A pleasured moan or an annoyed moan?
Either one works, I suppose.
 

“As much as I need you right now.”
 

The roommate tried to shove Scot off, but the attempt had zero conviction. “What does that mean?”
 

“Means I need both?” Scot shrugged.
 

She bit her lip as a strand of blonde hair fell over her forehead. How he loved blondes.
 

He fought the distraction. “Why do you care anyway? You know what this isn’t. I’m with Angie.”
 

“Of course I know that. She’s my roommate,
ass
. So why screw around with me?”
 

“I guess, well, I guess it felt right?” He drank.
 

The roommate chuckled her disbelief. “You’re such a little prick, Scot.”
 

Obviously.
The empty bottle dropped from his hand and with the loss of his liquor, he finally turned his full attention to the girl. He gave one more thrust before she stopped him, snapping, “What the hell are you doing?”
 

“Oh. Did you want me to stop?”
 

“Yeah, you’re dirt. Get off me.”
 

He immediately hopped off the small bed. “Angie will be back soon, probably.”
 

“Yeah, you don’t want to be caught in bed with her fat roommate.”

Scot laughed his reply, “Not fat.”
 

The roommate sat straight, folding her arms to cover her exquisite breasts. How he loved exquisite breasts. “That’s probably the whiskey talking.”
 

“Why have sex with me if I’m such a douche-hole?” He pulled his jeans, stumbling to the door.

“The mimosas,” she quickly retorted. “And I’m miserable.”
 

He stared at the empty bottle of whiskey. “So am I.”
 

“You know what they say about misery, right?”
 

“It loves to fuck.”
 

The roommate grabbed at her hair in frustration. “Ugh, your confidence is attractive. Most girls dig that.”
 

“Confidence?” Scot struggled to clothe himself, fumbling his collared shirt. “What about being nice? Girls don’t like nice guys anymore?” He hiccupped.
 

The roommate leaned forward. “Not when they’re fooling around with their roommate’s boyfriend. See, nice guys are good for dating. They’re good for relationships. Guys like you, well, you would be a shitty boyfriend. I mean,
you
are
a shitty boyfriend
. Angela will realize this one day.”
 

Psychology major?
“Yeah, sure, thanks. But uh, so you’re not telling her, right?”
 

Still covering herself with her hands, the roommate rolled her eyes. “Please. Angela is so clueless, not to mention absolutely crazy. She will never find out. Not from me, at least.”
 

Scot stopped in the doorway. “Some roommate she has.”
 

“Some boyfriend she has.”

After Scot shut the door, he paused only momentarily in the living room before leaving the apartment. He was well aware he’d done a terrible thing, but he felt nothing. His girlfriend Angela — the one he’d just cheated on with her roommate — didn’t even cross his mind. His thoughts always returned to Kelsey.
KELSEY.
How he loved Kelsey. They’d started dating freshman year of high school and lasted many years after, and when a crowded world had become scared, sinking to hell, Kelsey gave him a lone spark of hope and—

Scot groaned to himself.
Get over it.
But too often, he thought about his past, and his mind traveled back there.
 

Since leaving Kelsey two years ago, he’d been seeking escape in his self-described sex-capade, sleeping with copious amounts of girls and indulging in gallons of booze. Why had he stuck around with Angela for three months? Something about her reminded him of Kelsey, he supposed, although they looked nothing alike. Of course, the same connection with Kelsey didn’t exist. Not even close.
You’ll never get those feelings again, so keep drinking, keep screwing, because that’s all you have now.
 

Feelings,
he laughed at the word. Was it that day in high school that deprived him of love? Or was Kelsey the one who held it? He loved all sorts of other things, sure, but the greatest feeling of all — his love for Kelsey — made them meaningless in comparison.
Will you man-up and leave already?
And although telling someone to man-up was sexist, he did leave Angela’s apartment. But his thoughts kept attacking him.
 

Shut up, mind!
He tried to never feel sorry for himself. Emo kids continuously wallowing in self-pity annoyed him. However, the more girls he slept with, and the more booze he downed, the more he felt human.
Irish human.
Scot smiled at this last thought.
 

Outside, stairs leading to a parking lot flew under his feet. He nearly trampled over himself when he ran into her. Angela.
Girlfriend
. He jerked back and grabbed a rail, clearing his throat. “Oh, Angie. Hey.”
 

Angela’s almost non-existent lips pursed skeptically to the side. “What are you doing here?”
 

No hesitation in his response. “I came to surprise you.”

She clutched at his hand. “Awww, what were you going to surprise me with?”
 

Fucking your roommate
. He leaned against a wall with one arm and gave her that dirty smirk. “I’m going to my hometown to meet some old friends and thought you should tag along.”
 

Angela jumped at Scot like an excited child. “Come upstairs!” She tugged at his now hesitant body, but he followed with little resistance, staring at Angela’s thick-shaped frame. Not overweight, just meaty in all the right places for his tastes.
 

They entered her apartment and the roommate, draped in a black silk robe, greeted them immediately. “Hey, it’s the lovely couple.”
 

Angela let an embarrassed smile form as she pulled Scot to her room, her bed. He avoided any eye contact with the roommate.
Not that it matters.
 

In the end, does any of this really matter?
 

Sitting at her bedside, the slender Scot blankly stared at Angela’s moving mouth. Instead of listening to her, he thought about his childhood friends with whom he’d reunite with for the first time in nearly five years. Scot wondered if they were living in a bottomless pit like him. Alec had Nicole, Jeff had the Navy, and Kale, well, Kale probably still lived in his dream world. Scot had booze and girls—things most people never complained about having in abundance. Yet, he still desired to fill an empty void in himself.
Way to be a stereotype.
He again thought losing Kelsey had caused it all. Or maybe it began on that dreadful day at high school eight years ago. Or maybe he was just being pathetic.