Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (19 page)

With
dread and a clenched jaw, I ask, "What is it then, Jake?"

He
looks at me and then drops a massive bomb straight on my heart.

"She
thinks she and
I
are married, Will." A slow cocky grin
transforms his face. "And she has to be free to think that,
without interference."

"
Bullshit
!"
I explode.

I
fumble through my pockets searching for my gun, blinding rage making
me unable to focus on exactly where I put it. Jake grabs my wrist and
I jerk away in anger. I make a fist and am just about to slam it into
his face, when his next words stop me.

"Will,
I think you'd better calm down. you're not going to help her. You
know? Your
wife
? The one you could easily have killed back
there? And still might."

I
loosen my fist and drop my arm to my leg. My whole body is shaking
from rage, fear, frustration, guilt, and so much more I can't even
name.

Why does my
wife like this asshole so much? Am I the only one who can see he's
more than a little messed up in the head? Or do pretty faces and big
muscles cause all women to go blind and stupid in the head?

"I
can call her family. A lot of them have medical backgrounds. They can
help her without all this bullshit," I tell him.

"Look,
you know if you call any of her family members, they will insist on
taking her back to her sister's with all that noise, all the drama,
and the kids. You would only be ensuring her death, or at the very
least, her permanent memory-loss.
Is that what you want, Will?
Being in the military, I had to deal with my men who had bombs
explode too close to them, bullets lodged into their heads that
didn't kill them, but gave them many injuries-including amnesia. I've
had
too
much experience with this and you're just going to
have to trust me if you want your wife back."

"Her
mom and two of her sisters are
nurses
. They would know what to
do and what can cause her more harm," I insist.

"Will,
think about that. This is their daughter and sister. Do you think
they will be able to remain emotionally detached from her? Hell,
Will, you know she's nothing to me. Sure, I like women, and I'd sleep
with her in a heartbeat only because she's a woman. I don't care who
she is. I don't have anything to keep me from making decisions and
giving her the care she needs." Jake grins. "Oh, don't get
pissed, Will. I'm
not
going to sleep with her, I'm just
letting you know that she's nothing special to me. Be grateful
someone cares enough just to want to help but no more."

I
think about what he said for a minute or two.
I don't believe him,
of course. I know he'd sleep with her the first chance he got. But I
don't know shit about amnesia, and I suppose being in war, he
probably did have to deal with injuries like this. So maybe he does
know what he's talking about.

And
I guess I can understand what he's saying about her family. Don't
they say doctors shouldn't give emergency care to family because of
that very reason? So I guess that makes sense. But I'm still not
leaving her alone with him
.
He can kiss my ass if he thinks I
will.

"Alright.
Fine. But wherever she goes, I go, Jake. I'm not letting you talk me
out of that. I won't say anything about your "
marriage
"
to my wife on one condition-you keep your filthy damn hands off her.
Don't even
think
about sleeping with her. I mean that, Jake.
I'll fucking kill you."

The
asshole grins at me and I want to smash that pretty face of his.

"Alright.
I won't touch her in any way except to treat her. Unless she comes to
me wanting her "husband" to hold her. Of course, I can't
very well refuse her without screwing with her head even more, now
can I? Call her mom and tell her we are going to try and find more
ammo. The less she knows the better."

I
really don't feel comfortable keeping things about her own daughter
from her, so this goes against every instinct in me. But if Jake's
right, and he can help Canada, I'll do whatever I have to in order to
save her...except let Jake become her husband in any other way but in
her own confused mind.

I
call Canada's mom and tell her what Jake said to tell her. No one has
any idea what had happened, at least not the amnesia part of it, and
I'm sure no one but maybe the ones in Jake's vehicle saw when Canada
slammed into the windshield. So I'm not surprised when my
mother-in-law asks only about her daughter's foot.

I
reassure her that Canada is ok and that we will take care of her and
she tells us to be safe and then we hang up. I slowly lower the
phone, regretting the deception.

"Alright.
Next exit, take it," Jake says.

"Where
are we going exactly?" I ask him.

"We're
just going to find us an abandoned house somewhere, preferably out of
the way and with low zombie traffic."

Within
a few minutes an exit sign appears and I take it, turning right. We
go through a decent-sized town and Jake tells me to pull up as close
as I can to the front doors of the town's supermarket. I get as close
as I can and the truck causes the sliding doors to open.

"Well,
come on. We're gonna need supplies," Jake says.

"Shouldn't
someone stay with Canada?"

Jake
looks back at her as she sleeps in the back seat. "Naw. She'll
be alright. Let's go and get this done."

With
one last glance at my wife, I slide across the seat and get out. We
pull our guns and go inside the store. Jake and I listen and we hear
some noise toward the back of the store. We each grab a cart and
start at the first aisle, throwing in food and whatever else we find
that we may need.

At
the end of the aisle, Jake peeks his head around the edge and holds
up four fingers. I nod and we move out of the aisle and face the four
undead. We shoot each one and listen again. Hearing nothing, we
continue loading the carts. We are almost to the front of the store
on the last aisle when we hear a female scream. Instantly, I know
it's my wife.

Jake
and I abandon the carts and take off in a full run, leaping over
whatever is in our way. My heart is banging so hard I can barely
breathe. My mind is repeating over and over, "
Please
God,
please God, please God!
"

My
fear intensifies as we near the doors, where I finally see her trying
to keep a huge brute of an undead man away from her with only a
cart-all on one foot. The zombie grabs the cart and flings it away,
leaving nothing between him and my wife. Jake gets to them first and
fires his gun just as it reaches for her. The zombie falls to the
floor with a thud and Canada turns in our direction.

She
starts hopping toward us, terror and tears on her face. My arms ache
to hold her and I rush forward, but when she flings herself into
Jake's arms and seeks comfort from him instead, my heart shatters. I
tear my eyes away and do my best to control the pain, telling myself
over and over that she doesn't know, it's not her fault, and I hate
Jake.

Letting
out a painful breath, I turn and walk away from them. If I have to
watch as he wraps his arms around her, hear him call her the pet
names I have always called her, and see him press his lips to her
face once more, I just might kill him. Unfortunately,I know if I kill
him while Canada still thinks he's her husband-and her memory never
return-I will lose her forever.

Knowing
she's safe now, I take comfort in that, and go back to wheel the
carts to the front. As I approach them, Jake still has his damn hands
all over her and
he's kissing her on her mouth
! Her arms are
wrapped around his neck and I lose it.

I
let go of one cart and with the other, slam it into the back of his
legs. Canada is knocked away from Jake as his body pushes hard
against her before he drops to the floor. She hops backward on one
foot trying to keep her balance. Jake is on the ground and looks back
at me, amusement in his eyes. His face transforms into a warning and
a nod in my wife's direction and I look up at Canada.

The
look on her face is one I never thought I would see coming from her.
Hatred.
She hates me!

In
frustration, I rub my hands hard over my face. Sucking it up, I
apologize to Jake and even walk over and offer my hand to help him
up. He takes it, of course, anything to make me feel like less of a
man and more of an idiot.

"That's
alright, Will. Accidents happen. Everything's ok. So...let's get the
hell out of here." He lifts Canada up in his arms and my gut
twists when she wraps her arm around his neck and shoots me one last
dirty look. I watch helplessly as he walks away, carrying my wife.
Together. More husband and wife than the real husband and wife.

Disgusted
with myself-after all, this whole thing my own fault-I grab both
carts and follow them to the truck. We load everything and then Jake
climbs in the back with Canada, leaving me to get in the front alone.
I swallow my pride, fear, hurt, and misplaced betrayal-and start the
truck.

For
the very first time, I wish that I
had
been killed when they
left me behind.

I
shoot daggers into the back of Will's head, angry at him for what he
did to my husband. That was no accident! I asked Jake what it was all
about but he insisted it really was an accident. Apparently, I was
pretty stupid before the amnesia. But not anymore. I
will
find
out what's really going on.

Jake
pulls me tighter against his side and I let it go...for now. I look
up at Jake and he grins down at me, before leaning in and kissing me
long and deep. Then I snuggle into him and just watch the scenery
outside the window.

After
about an hour, we turn left onto a long drive off the highway. Up
ahead is a big two-story freshly painted light blue farmhouse. The
white wraparound porch is beautiful against the softness of the blue
and I think how wonderful it would be to live in a home like this
with my husband and kids.

But
then my thoughts on that abruptly end when I look at Jake. He doesn't
seem the type to enjoy living in the middle of nowhere in a large
home, with pets running everywhere. No, but Will would.

Where
did that come from?

"Jake,
would you want to live in a place like this?" I ask him, just to
be sure. Is it something from my memories or just intuition?

Jack
laughs, "Hell no! Give me a flat in the city anytime. This would
bore the hell out of me within minutes."

The
thought of living in a small apartment in a big city makes me cringe.

I
give him a tight smile, wondering where we actually lived before, and
if I were at all happy. I turn my head to the front.

"Will,
what about you? Would you live here?" Somehow I already know his
answer.

"I
would, in a heartbeat."

We
pull up in front of the porch steps and Jake warns me not to get out.
I think I've learned that lesson. I catch Will give me an odd, hurt
look when I kiss Jake quickly on the lips before he shuts the door. I
watch as Jake enters the house first. Before following him inside,
Will stops, turns, and looks back at me with a very sad expression on
his face. Then he walks into the house.

There's
something there. Just out of reach, but my head pounds each time I
try to push further, until I finally have to give up.

Eventually,
they both come back outside and Jake helps me out of the truck. I
stand on one foot and do my best to stretch. Jake asks me if I'm
ready to go in and I ask him if I could sit on the porch for a little
while.

He
grins at me and says, "Why not?"

He
lifts me in his arms and as we turn, I catch Will looking at us,
again. The pain on his face breaks my heart, but I haven't a clue
why. Jake sets me down gently in a rocking chair and I adjust the
pillow on my foot to make it more comfortable. Then I sit back and
watch the guys unload the truck.

They
don't speak to each other unless they have to and the underlying
hatred is very noticeable.
Were they friends at one time? Hell,
are they related? Who
is
Will, exactly?
My mind is rolling
with questions I very much want answers to. So I ask.

"Are
you two friends?" They stop what they are doing and snap their
heads to look at each other. Jake laughs and Will starts cussing.

"Hell
no!" Will tells me emphatically. They go back to unloading.

I
wait a minute and then call out my next question.

"Honey,
how do we know him then?" I ask.

"We―
"

"
We
found him after all this started. He needed help and we helped him."
I hear Jake, but my eyes are locked on Will's own, which are staring
right back at me. I didn't miss that he attempted to answer me first.
Just what in the hell is going on?

I
truly hate feeling stupid, or being laughed at-which I feel as if
that's pretty much what they're doing, since they know things I
don't. Surely I'm making a fool of myself, but they damn sure aren't
helping me out any.