Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (21 page)

All
the commotion Jake is making sends Will running. He slams the door
open and it crashes into the wall. He looks from Jake's naked body to
my own semi-naked body, wrapped in only a sheet. I watch as hurt,
pain, fear, and anger wash over his face in waves.

"You
swore
to me you wouldn't touch her. I'm going to kill you, you
son-of-a-bitch!" he shouts at Jake.

My
own fear-filled eyes gush with tears as I look at him.

"Will,
I'm sorry. I didn't know," I say softly, scared and ashamed.

With
a half growl-half roar, Will charges for Jake, accidentally bumping
me as he goes past. I hop around trying to regain my balance, but end
up on my ass anyway. I struggle to get back up, but with only one
foot, and thoroughly tangled up in the sheet-it's almost freakin'
impossible!

I
can hear grunts and the dull thuds of punches being connected, and I
just know Jake is going to hurt Will-
seriously
hurt him. The
table lamp on the other side crashes to the floor, the window busts
out, and the other side of the bed is slammed to the floor, its frame
no match against two very pissed-off grown men.

I
crawl to the dresser by the door and use it to help myself up. I look
over just as Jake's naked body is thrown across the bed, Will's fist
still extended, blood dripping from his knuckles.

Jake
doesn't move. Apparently,
Jake
is no match for my very
pissed-off husband. This isn't the first time Will has bested Jake.
Such a difference in body-types but I guess what they say is
true-
"the bigger they are, the harder the fall."

I
jerk my eyes from Jake to Will. Will is panting hard and the rage
inside him is still very,
very
high. I glance back at Jake and
Will lets out a snarl. I jump and watch as Will flings the blanket on
Jake, covering his nakedness, as if that's what I was looking at. To
be perfectly honest, I wasn't even interested in
that
! I just
can't believe Will knocked his ass out...
again
!

"Will,"
I softly call and hold my hand out to him.

His
head raises and his eyes flash to me. He moves around the bed, his
body trembling with anger. He starts to move past my outstretched
hand and I lower my arm, sick with fear.

He
hates me!
I just lost my husband.

I
drop my head and sob.

Suddenly,
his arms surround me and he pulls me to him tight. With a loud sob of
relief, I wrap my arms around him, repeating "I'm so sorry"
over and over. He shushes me and runs one hand up and down my back,
the other firmly on my hip.

"I'm
the one who's sorry. God, Canada! I could have killed you!" His
eyes show how deeply tortured he is.

"Will,
no more. It's ok. I'm ok, and honestly, I understand. I'm sorry, too.
For everything, but especially for the way I've acted around Jake.
Please forgive me?"

"Of
course, I do. But please-
for the love of God!-
please stop. I
can't handle much more," he pleads with me.

"I'll
stop. It won't be too hard for me now, after what he's done," I
tell him.

He
kisses me gently, but deeply-and to my surprise-lifts me in his arms,
carrying me easily to the living room. Sitting on the sofa, he
settles me on his lap, buries his hand in my hair and pulls me toward
him. His lips crush against mine and the intense, overwhelming
feeling of love for him makes me weak, stealing my breath away. I
pull back, gasping for air.

I
stare into Will's eyes, looking for any hint of hatred toward me.

"Will―"

"Canada,
just tell me one thing, did you and Jake have sex?"

"No.
Very close, though, Will. But no. I remembered everything before it
got that far," I tell him.

"What
happened? How did you remember?" he asks me.

"Yeah,
Canada. How
did
you remember?"

Our
heads whip toward the bedroom door where Jake is leaning against the
door frame. He has his pants on, but no shirt. He's holding the
hideous green nightgown, swiping at the blood pouring from his nose
and dabbing at the cuts on his face.

Will's
body jerks as he sucks in a breath, his anger still very much at a
high level. His body tightens again, and he begins to lift me off his
lap. I throw my arms around him, begging him to stop. He gives me a
hard, cold look of betrayal. I insist I just want the fighting to
stop, even though I fully agree Jake deserves the ass-beating.

"But
it's done. No more!" I cry out to both of them.

Will
glares at Jake for a few more moments and then gives in to my pleas
to stop. I wrap my arms around Will's neck and tell him "thank
you" and "I love him." He scoots us against the
backrest of the sofa and then looks at me, repeating his question of
how I remembered.

"Well,
a few times I felt like I knew you more than Jake. Seeing you in pain
made me hurt for you, but I didn't know why. Then when we were in the
bedroom―" Will's body tightens up again and I stop
abruptly.

He
closes his eyes and breathes in and out a few times, then tells me to
go on. I hesitate, but he lightly squeezes my waist and nods, so I
continue.

"When
we were―we heard you snore and something bothered me about it.
I didn't know what...I couldn't come up with any reason. Then when
I―then I saw Jake's chest and something was missing. A tattoo
of a lion." I unbutton Will's shirt and pull the left side of
the material away. There, right where it should be, was the inked
lion.

"When
I saw that missing, it's like pieces of a puzzle kept clicking into
place. Pieces that were hidden. Lost. And everything came back. I
remembered the man's chest that lion belonged on. I remembered you
only snore if you're really exhausted or sick. I remembered
you
are my husband and how very much I love you.
Why
, Will? Why
did you let me believe I was married to Jake?"

Will
gives a "Screw you" look to Jake, and with disgust, tells
me exactly what Jake had told him. I look at Jake and then at Will.

"Will!
Why would you believe a damn word Jake says?
Ever?
"

"Hell,
I don't know! All I could think about was you,
losing
you.
That's
all
I cared about. I just wanted to believe Jake wasn't
that evil, wouldn't do something like this when your life was on the
line. Plus, he took advantage of my guilt."

I
look at Jake, who's sitting on a recliner; leaning forward, head
down, and still trying to control the bleeding.

"Jake,
you are one sick prick! How
dare
you? How
could
you?
What the hell is your problem? You make me sick as hell! I don't
trust you now and I don't even like you, anymore. Just stay the hell
away from me!"

He
gives me a hurt look but this time, it doesn't work. It just makes me
angrier, but apparently, I have
much
more anger for Jake about
to be released.

Will
clears his throat and says, "Well, since we are getting things
out in the open, let's talk about what happened when we got to her
grandmother's. Jake."

I
turn my head back to Jake just as his head jerks up to meet Will's
eyes.

"Ok.
What about it, Will?" Jake asks, sounding confused.

"Well,
when I was trapped in the kitchen, I seem to recall someone look down
the hall into the kitchen, and then walk away. Wouldn't know anything
about that now would ya, Jake?"

More
rage than I can handle burns inside me and only one thought replays
itself in my mind, "I'm going to kill you!"

I
fling myself out of Will's arms and grab the gun lying on the coffee
table in front of us. I sit up, the gun pointing straight at Jake's
head.

Jake's
eyes widen and his face pales. He flings his arms up and begs me not
to shoot him.

"Canada,
please! I
didn't
see Will in the kitchen.
I
swear
!
I only saw the zombies. I wouldn't have let Will die like that.
Honest!
Put the gun down, Canada. I don't know what's wrong
with me. Maybe I inherited something evil from my dad, I don't know!"

My
hands are shaking. No, not from fear. Anger. Deadly anger.

Will
tells me to put the gun down. Jake begs me to put it down. Will tells
me again to put it down. I glance quickly back at Will.

"Why
in the hell would
you
want me to put it down? You should be
happy to have him dead," I tell him.

"I
would
be happy to have him dead, but not by your hand. I don't
want you to have to live with this, Canada. You can't―" he
stops abruptly.

I
look back at him again and his eyes are focused on the bedroom we all
just left.

"Will?
What's―" I stop and look at the bedroom too. Jake jumps up
from the chair and looks back at the same place we are. I grab the
other gun off the coffee table and hand one to Will. He heard first
what Jake and I didn't.
Probably because I was too intent on
killing and Jake was too intent on living.

Will
stands, and Jake goes over to a small table against the same wall
where I crashed into the hutch earlier, and picks up his gun. They
both slowly make their way to the bedroom door and stand on each
side. Peeking around the door frame, Jake enters a few steps, grabs
the door handle, and tries to quietly shut it.

Unfortunately,
that's the same damn door that squeaked earlier.

The
outside of the house turns into groaning, moaning, banging madness!
The undead are doing everything they can to get in. Windows all
around the house are smashing, their glass showering the floor like
pieces of ice.

Jake
yells from across the room, "Will, we have to get upstairs. The
back door has no porch. it's got a wheelchair ramp."
Oh,
shit!

Will
nods and Jake comes straight at me on a full-out run and bends just
before he gets to me. He scoops me up and I fall over his shoulder,
butt in the air and my face eye-level with his own butt. I start to
protest but when I hear the back door crash open and the moan,
groans, and grunts get louder, I start hitting Jake on the ass with
my fists, screaming "
Go! Go! Go!
"

Jake
runs toward the stairs, and then up them as fast as he can with my
weight slowing him down. I put my hands on each of side his hips and
push up so I can search for Will. He's right behind us.

And
then suddenly,
he's
not
!

"Jake!
Oh my God! Jake! Will fell. Help him!" Jake stops and turns
enough to see Will lying at the bottom of the stairs. Just when I
think he's going to leave him, he drops me on the top step and runs
down.

Jake's
only halfway down when the zombies appear in the living room. Will is
only about ten or fifteen feet from the one in the lead, and he's not
moving. He's just lying there, helpless. Jake's not going to make it!
I pull myself up using the banister, and aim my gun. I can't really
shoot. I could hit Will...or Jake.
Funny how that didn't bother me
a few minutes ago.

The
first zombie reaches Will and just before he puts his nasty teeth on
my husband, Jake fires into its head. Jake's still running down the
stairs, but now he's firing, too. A huge ball of fear is stuck in my
throat. I don't see how Will can possibly make it out of this!

A
group of six zombies come for Will at the same time and Jake only
gets one of them down. But now Jake is at the bottom with Will and is
trying to get Will to wake up, nudging him with his foot, screaming
at him-but Will still doesn't move.

As
the zombies move closer, Jake lifts his gun...and the most horrifying
sound echoes up the stairs.
Click
-
click
. Jake's gun is
empty!

Jake
throws the gun at the nearest zombie, then grabs the back of Will's
shirt with two hands, pulling him up the stairs as fast as he can.
They make it up about six stairs, Will's feet still in the danger
zone, when Jake trips and falls. He falls
on
the step, not
down them, but it's enough of a delay to allow one of the undead to
grab hold of Will's foot.

I
scream at Jake and he looks back. He grabs Will under both arms and
tugs as hard as he can. Will's foot is pulled out of the zombie's
hands, which leave gashes that match the ones on my throat. I don't
breathe even once until he's up on the top landing, several feet from
the stairs, and in my arms.

"Thank
you, Jake, thank you," I sob, holding my husband tightly to me.
Jake nods to me then sits on the top step with his back to us,
breathing hard, his attention on the large-and getting larger-crowd
at the bottom.

The
noise is almost deafening. These zombies can make even the toughest
person tremble with fear. I check Will for injuries from the fall and
find a nice-sized goose egg forming on his head above his right ear.