Love and Decay (7 page)

“Lies,” the man spit. “I’ve never seen that
and I’ve been with him for years.”

Miller’s emotions got the better of him and
he slid his knee to the back of the man’s spine and applied
pressure. “Not long enough.”

The man cried out in pain. “How would you
even know that? Did you defect? He’d have hunted you down if you
did. You don’t know Matthias. I don’t believe you.”

A slow smile spread across Miller’s face.
“You’re right. I did defect. And Matthias did hunt me down.”

“You’d be dead,” the spy insisted. “We’d have
killed you.”

“It’s not like y’all didn’t try.” Miller
rarely slipped into the thick southern accent he’d had when we were
kids. He had worked hard to even out his tone, sound more like my
brothers and Reagan and Haley, who were from the Midwest. But every
once in a while, he slipped. His words dragged long and liltingly;
his tone turned more to a drawl and he slipped in a “y’all” before
he could catch himself.

“Nobody survives Matthias.” The spy pushed
up, trying to struggle against Miller. “Nobody.”

“Not even the people he’s supposed to be
protecting,” Miller finished. “Like you for instance. It’s a shame
that despite your delusional loyalty, that you’ll be the one to die
tonight. When I get to go on living. Even though I couldn’t be
further from loyal. Even though he’s tried to kill me more times
than I can count. Even though he would like nothing more than to
slit my throat and watch me bleed out. But you’ll be the one to die
instead. For his name’s sake. Makes you wonder if you put your
faith in the right guy.”

That was apparently the last straw for this
man’s integrity. With a shouting growl he pushed up, knocking
Miller off balance. If Miller had been more focused and less smug
about his Matthias tirade, he wouldn’t have had trouble keeping the
spy pinned. But the captive used every ounce of strength he had,
exaggerated with adrenaline and dedication to Matthias Allen.

The man had lost his weapons somewhere in the
earlier struggle, but that didn’t stop him from launching himself
at Miller. At that moment my heart stopped. Everything stopped. I
didn’t breathe. Or think. Or move. I just waited for something
terrible to happen.

The two men clashed together in a brutal war
of punches and kicks. They wrestled around on the ground together,
each trying to wrap his hands around the other’s throat. Miller had
weapons but it was like he preferred his fists.

The spy beat him over and over. My lungs
ached as I tried to remember how to breathe, watching him accept
the blows, watching him take a beating.

“Miller!” I finally cried out, hoping to
shake some sense into him.

At the sound of my voice, something came over
him. He jerked to life, remembering that he wanted to win… that he
wanted to survive. I watched his face change, the light spark to
life again in his eyes.

I could call Miller an enigma. I could
complain about not understanding him or not knowing what he was
thinking. But at this moment, watching him get beaten, I realized
that there was a part of him that thought he deserved this. He was
punishing himself for unknown crimes.

As quickly as he’d been overtaken, he
switched roles and began a ruthless assault that I could barely
watch. His fists were unrelenting hammers, his body a steel weapon
of destruction.

His victim didn’t stand a chance.

I thought it would be over as quickly as it
began. Finally, Miller would subdue the spy and we’d go back to
Diego’s headquarters. As nervous as I’d been earlier tonight, I
just wanted this night to end. I just wanted Miller somewhere safe
where he didn’t blame himself for everything wrong with his father.
I just wanted Miller away from the coming conflict for one more
night… I just wanted to give him one more night of rest before we
threw ourselves back into the Colony’s sickness… But Miller beat
the man until he lay unmoving at his feet.

Miller’s hits lost some of their strength as
he tired out and I knew that had at least been therapeutic, if not
healing.

The spy lay limply on the ground. His face
had been bruised and bloodied. He was covered with dirt from their
struggle. Miller loomed over him, blood running from his nose and
lip. His shirt was torn on the shoulder and he was equally
dirt-covered and dusty.

Tears pricked my eyes at this image of him…
at the picture of what he felt he deserved. Even if his
self-inflicted punishment had only lasted a short time.

I wanted to wrap my arms around his neck and
hold him against me until he felt everything I felt for him… until
he stopped hating himself. Until he knew that he was worthy and
good and something so beautiful it brought actual tears to my
eyes.

The spy’s hand moved in the dirt searching
for something. The subtle movement pulled my attention and through
blurry vision, I realized he’d found one of the discarded blades
from earlier.

“Miller!” This time when I shouted it wasn’t
a desperate plea or terrified appeal. It was a command and a
warning and a threat.

Miller looked over just as the man grabbed
hold of the blade and lifted his hand in the air. Instantly, Miller
reached into a holster at his side where he’d slid his blade
earlier. He pulled it free, faster and stronger than the spy could
move, and plunged it into the victim’s gut. With a sickening slice
of flesh, Miller twisted the knife and split the guy open.

I choked on surprise and relief. Miller stood
up and stumbled back while the guy writhed in agony on the
ground.

It was done.

The spy was dealt with.

Diego’s Feeder crisis had been taken care
of.

And Miller’s soul was safe for at least one
more night.

He looked over at me, his face open and raw
with emotions I couldn’t name. I reached out to him, ready to run
to him, but before I could take a step he shuttered his expression
and hardened his emotions once again.

Whatever he had been thinking and feeling was
banished to the prison inside him, locked up for eternity. I would
never know what he was thinking. He might never be that open with
me again.

“Is that the spy?” Diego’s voice pulled us
back to the world where other people existed. “Oh,” Diego
continued. “You killed him.”

“He’s not dead yet,” Miller rasped.

Diego walked over and toed the lifeless man
with the tip of his boot. “Good,” he sighed. “The Dead prefer their
meals alive.” He called out in Spanish to his men and they rushed
over to scoop up the dying man and take him to the cage.

Miller and I watched in macabre fascination
as the imprisoned Zombies went wild with anticipation for their
meal. They pounded rotting fists on the bars and howled at the sky.
I could hear their slavering from here and it turned my
stomach.

But the threat was contained for now. Our
first run in with the Colony had gone well, considering. We’d come
out the winners. And the Colony had paid the price for challenging
us.

A seedling of hope took root inside my chest.
Maybe this would be how every interaction with the Colony went.
Maybe it would always be this easy… relatively this easy.

Or maybe this was wishful thinking and this
was only a small preview into the nightmare ahead of us.

“Let’s go,” Diego called to us. “I’m
tired.”

Me too.

Miller didn’t say anything to me. He
collected whatever weapons were on the ground and indicated with a
tilt of his head that we should follow Diego.

I had a million things I wanted to say to
him, but I closed my mouth. This wasn’t the time. This wasn’t the
place.

And for some reason a spiral of
disappointment spun through me. I wanted to do more than leave
silently. I wanted to say more than nothing.

I turned and started after Diego, resigning
myself to this aching feeling of regret. But then Miller stepped up
next to me and slid his hand into mine.

That was all I needed. His hand was dirty,
bloody and bruised. But the small contact between us was enough to
keep the tears at bay and promise more hope.

He was still an enigma. He was still a
complete mystery.

But he was my enigma.

My mystery.

He was my Miller.

Chapter Four

After an awkward truck ride back to Diego’s
estate, Miller and I separated to clean up and change into the only
clean sets of clothes we had left. The backpack I took from
Colombia was packed with only the most essential supplies. Two
changes of clothes, socks, underwear, soap and tools for my weapons
and needles and thread for my clothes. We’d packed as much food as
we could, but on this side of the trip, the food was mostly gone.
And I’d brought a couple of my favorite books, the letters Luke had
written to me and a hairbrush.

This was the sum total of my possessions. I
remembered living like this when I was a child, but since we’d
arrived in Bogotá, I hadn’t had to face the meagerness of this
world in a long time.

My family was waiting for us when we arrived.
They weren’t happy with our irrational decision to join Diego
without telling them, but we were filthy enough for them to let it
drop for now.

Reagan and Haley showed me where I could
bathe and change in private. Someone had brought water into a
small, sparse room and filled an elegant bathtub that had been
transferred from a different room in the house. The tub sat in the
middle of the room with useless plumbing still attached to it.

I dipped my fingers in the clear water,
hating that I was about to muddy it with blood and grime. I looked
up at Haley and Reagan, surprised that the water was warm.

“They heated it over a fire before they
brought it in. We didn’t know when you’d be back, so it was warmer
at first,” Haley explained.

I shrugged. “This is fine. It’s been so long
since we’ve had warm water.”

Reagan smiled softly. “Isn’t it crazy to
think we used to have it all the time? We just turned the right
knob and the water came out as hot as possible.”

I did remember. Sometimes the world before
Zombies appeared in clips and glimpses. But memories of my parents
were vivid. I remember my mom filling up the bathtub and testing
the water to make sure it wasn’t too hot. I remember her leaning
over me to wash my hair. I could picture her laughing gently while
I played with bubbles and Barbies.

I shook my head and toed off my boots. “We’ll
get back there,” I told her. “We’ll fix the Zombie problem and get
rid of Matthias and we will have hot water again.”

“Is that your end goal?” Haley laughed. “Hot
water?”

I met her smiling gaze. “One of them,” I
declared. “Among other things.”

Reagan leaned back against the door and
crossed her arms. “Then you’re going to have to stop running off,”
she said. “Your brothers are going to go out of their minds if you
keep darting into danger whenever you can find it. What you did
tonight, Page… You can’t just jump in a truck and ride off to
battle. At the very least you have to tell somebody! You have to
make it possible for us to let you ride off to battle.”

“So you can let me?” Familiar frustration
seared through me. “That’s not fair-”

Reagan cut me off before I could make my
argument. “It’s not supposed to be fair! Nothing about this world
we live in is fair. You, of all people, should know that.”

I bit back sarcastic retorts and struggled
for reason. “I, of all people, do know that, Reagan. But not for
the reasons you’re thinking of. Tonight was mild compared to the
rest of my life. We fought some Feeders and took care of one spy.
We were well supported by Diego’s men and the Feeders are as tame
and docile as they can be. Earlier today, my family surrounded me
and I was nearly dragged off by cannibals and cooked over an open
flame. By comparison, tonight was a breeze.”

Reagan shook her head, tossing her dark hair
around her shoulders. She’d washed it tonight, so it was fuller
than usual, softer looking. “That’s not the point! You have to be
honest with us, Page. If we’re going to let you fight the Colony,
then we have to know what’s going on. You can’t just run off and do
whatever you want. You have to trust your family to have your best
interest in mind. You have to trust us to want what’s best for
you.”

“Like you trust me?” I sputtered while I
peeled off filthy socks. Dirt and small rocks skittered across the
red tile. “In Mexico City, King wandered off through a far more
dangerous city than the Territories,
while we were already at
war
, and went to battle with the Rat King! By himself! Nobody
said anything to him. Nobody cornered him in the bathroom and
lectured him on why he has to ask permission before he runs off to
wage war! You’re treating me like I’m still a child, when I am not
one. You have to trust me to know my limits, to know how to handle
myself. You have to trust that I know myself better than you do.
Otherwise my mission has failed before it ever began. I can’t fight
you guys and Matthias. I can’t constantly ask you for permission
while the Colony threatens to invade Mexico on a daily basis.”

“Don’t bring King into this!” Reagan threw
her hands up. “He has nothing to do with this!”

“She’s right, Reagan.” Haley studied me, but
her words rang true throughout the room. “We do give King and
Harrison, even Miller preferential treatment. But Page deserves our
trust too. Especially since we’re this close to the Colony and
she’s going to do what she wants no matter what.”

“Thank you,” I whispered to Haley.

Reagan glared at her, so Haley went on.
“She’s a big girl now. We did a good job with her. But there’s
nothing more to do. She’s not our little girl anymore. We need to
let her go.”

Reagan growled. “I don’t want to.”

I smiled and soon it turned into a laugh.
“You don’t have to let me go because I’m not going anywhere. But I
do have this mission. I have to take care of Matthias. I love you
and I’ll always stay with you guys, but you have to let me do
this.”