Love Starts With Z (8 page)

Palpating the arm to make sure the bone was in the socket once again, he asked, “So you feel some of it then? You winced.”

“It’s a dull ache, not pain.” She seemed to withdraw from him and then twitched her head to the side like she was embarrassed. “When I was little, I broke my arm. It was the first time I felt the ache, but I didn’t know what it meant. It was winter, and I’d fallen off this playground set my parents and their friends had put together for us. No one was around, and I didn’t want to bother anyone. And besides, I had a sweater on and didn’t take a good look at the injury. So for two days, the dull throbbing was constant and finally my mom asked why I was favoring my arm.” She held out her forearm and a long jagged scar showed silver against her milky skin. “The bone was sticking through, and it was the first time we realized my lack of nerve reaction was another symptom of whatever I am.”

Sitting on a fallen trunk, he picked a blade of grass and tore it into strips. “Whatever you are? Aren’t you a Dead and a human?”

“It’s not that simple. My mom didn’t boink a Dead. My parents are both human, but my mother has first generation immunity. I’m second generation, but she carried the virus after being bitten. It’s in her blood, and when I was in her stomach, something happened to me. The virus warred with my genetic immunity, and I was born—” she flexed her injured hand and lifted her shoulders to her ears “—like this.”

So she wasn’t a Dead? Or she was but not genetically? Or maybe she was only a carrier and that’s what caused her to look different? His head swam, and he opened his mouth to ask more.

“Let’s go,” Colten bit out as he tossed Kaegan’s backpack onto the ground beside him.

Soren stared blankly at the unfinished grave, and he took the shovel from her good hand. “Let me. It’ll go faster.”

Despite Colten’s grumbling, he didn’t seem to mind burying the bodies anymore. The practice was executed for practical purposes around colonies to stop the spread of the disease. And sure, Soren was obviously doing it for sentimental reasons, but looking at her, it was easy to understand why she felt a connection with the Deads. It was wrong, but still understandable.

“We need to go west,” she said as he pulled his backpack over his shoulders.

“No,” Colten drawled. “We need to go south. To the coast.”

“We won’t make it there with what we have. We need supplies, better weapons, food. Possibly even a few more members for our team who we can trust.”

“Where do you suggest we go to find all of this?” Kaegan asked.

“The Denver Colony.”

“Wait, wait, wait.” Colten’s face morphed into a disbelieving smile. “Sean Daniel’s colony?”

“The one and only.” She turned and set out at a fast clip.

Colten’s mouth hung open, and Kaegan smirked as he followed Soren.

“Wait, so we’re just—we’re just going to go visit Sean Daniels? Just roll up and be like, hey, let’s do brunch?”

“He’s a fan,” Kaegan explained when Soren turned around with a suspicious frown.

“No, no, Kaegan, don’t make it weird,” Colten muttered. God, his friend was blushing like an idiot. There was a hundred percent chance he was going to freak out if he ever got to meet his idol.

“I’m not making it weird. You are.” Turning to Soren, he grinned. “We used to play like we were leaders of the greatest colony in America when we were growing up, and Colten always played Sean Daniels.”

A tinkling giggle trilled from behind the muzzle, and Kaegan got an uncanny urge to rip the thing off so he could see the smile behind it.

“And who did you play?”

“Myself, naturally.”

“Oh, so you had big plans to run a colony someday?”

“You laugh, but that’s what I wanted to do when I grew up.”

“And instead you became a gym rat.”

He huffed a surprised laugh. Never in his life had he been to a gym. “If you’re talking about my size, it comes from my occupation.”

“Which is a Paul Bunyan impersonator?” she asked over her shoulder.

The stretch of the smile over his face felt good. “A fence builder. A welder. Hauling metal is strenuous work.”

“And Colten was a toothpick whittler. Or a cook? Chicken chaser?”

“I just got dissed by a Dead,” Colten muttered from behind. “And for the record, I was a welder too. I just didn’t, you know, haul the materials as much as Hulk Smash over here.”

“Is there a big demand for your work?”

“Yeah, surprisingly. Most gates and fences are made of metal these days. In fact, Dead Run River was the first one I’ve seen with wood in a few years. We’ve spent the last six years traveling from colony to colony. The new ones always need a lot of labor to build.”

“Isn’t it dangerous to build the colonies?” Soren asked. “I mean, Deads are probably attracted to the commotion, right?”

“That’s where it comes in handy to be able to fight,” he said grimly.

“How much farther?” Colten asked.

Soren squinted at the rising sun. “About a day and a half walk from here.”

“In the wrong direction,” he muttered.

“It’s the right direction if it ensures we get to the coast safely,” Soren sang.

Her blond hair, braided and feathered like some fierce warrior, lifted in the breeze, and the leather leggings she wore hugged her curves. Bladed weapons clanked against her back with every step, and from time to time, she’d look to the side and gift him with a perfect muzzled profile.

A day and a half walking behind Soren?

That, he could do.

“W
HAT
?” S
OREN
A
SKED
S
USPICIOUSLY
. Kaegan had shot her so many furtive glances over the past few hours, she was becoming breathless under the scrutiny.

“Nothing.”

Colten trailed them, basically stomping through the woods in a fair rendition of an adult tantrum.

Gray flashed again as he snuck another look.

“Just ask,” she bit out impatiently.

“Why do you wear the muzzle still? We aren’t in Dead Run River anymore.” He looked around. “No one is making you wear it.”

Clamping her mouth closed, she regretted telling him to ask questions. Yeah, she wasn’t in Dead Run River, so she didn’t have to answer to anyone anymore. But he watched her, limping badly, his dark hair loose and whipping around in the breeze. He was big and scary, yet he was looking at her like her answer mattered.

Sighing, she said, “I wear it for your safety.”

Long moments passed before he quietly said, “Mel told me things about you.”

Her muscles seized, her blood chilled, and it became impossible to swallow. She stared at the dark clouds coming in from the east. Sunlight still bathed her face, but it wouldn’t for long. She’d hold on to his good opinion for as long as she could. Forever, if he’d let her get away with it.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“Look, I don’t know you and you don’t know me. I don’t have to tell you about everything I’ve done or seen, and I won’t ask it of you. Lay off it, okay?”

“She wears it so she doesn’t snack on our livers, Kaegan,” Colten said. “I vote she keeps the damned thing on. If she’s concerned, we should be concerned.”

“Thank you,” she said with a curt nod. She wasn’t thankful at all to the little twit, but at least in his ramblings, he sometimes became the voice of reason to his less careful companion.

The air smelled of moisture the deeper into the woods they traveled and she shot another suspicious glance at the impending storm brewing. Lightning slashed across the sky. Bad weather was moving closer at a furious pace. She’d always had to fight the instinct to avoid water. It was something ingrained in her since birth. Just another similarity to the Deads, and now a little alarm in her head screamed to run from the coming downpour.

And if her instincts were screaming…

“Guys,” she said, slowing.

“Don’t be a wuss, Z,” Colten said as he clomped by with an empty smile. “It’s just a little rain.”

“Guys,” she repeated, stopping in her tracks as the first droplet hit her arm.

“Soren,” Kaegan said, slowing enough to look back at her. “We travel in rain or shine. We can’t afford to waste time camping out in a shelter over a little rain. If it gets bad enough, I promise, we’ll stop.”

“You don’t understand. Deads avoid water.” Her hand hovered over the hilt of the knife tied to her thigh, body humming with readiness caused by fear that sat right above her senses.

“Great. Then we’ll be nice and safe in the storm.”

A twig snapped to the east and the brush shook with movement that made her draw the blade.

“Unless,” Kaegan murmured, eyes on the shuddering woods around them. “Unless the Deads are running from the storm.”

“Bingo,” she said, forcing herself into a jog. “Run.”

Colten stared at the brush as the first groan reached her ears. “Run!” she yelled again, shoving him in the back.

He stumbled, but righted himself just as the first wave of Deads stepped through the trees. Four, all soaking wet and on the run. Shirts were plastered to their emaciated frames, and their mouths hung open. Gray, vacant eyes swung to their movement, and they switched directions, hunger apparently overriding any deep-seated instinct to avoid the rain that would decay their bodies faster.

In a tight line, they fled. She gasped for breath after the first mile and cursed Dead Run River for her lack of stamina. Kaegan wasn’t even breathing hard. Daring a glance behind her, she did a quick body count.

“How many,” Kaegan said with a hard look.

“Fourteen.”

The rain poured over them, dousing the sound of the groans behind them with a pureness only Mother Nature could offer. He jerked his head toward a pine, the only one they’d seen with branches drooping low enough for any of them to climb. It was too small for his weight though, and Kaegan gave her a significant look.

“Up you go,” she said to Colten and pointed to the tree with her knife.

“We can’t all fit on that,” he argued.

“No, but you can,” Kaegan said. “Hurry up and we’ll draw them away. Stay here tonight, and if we’re able, we’ll come back. If we aren’t back by dawn, follow the river west of us to the Denver Colony.”

“Splitting up is a bad idea,” he panted.

“You can’t go much longer on that leg.” Kaegan was almost yelling to be heard over the downpour. “We have a better shot if we take to the trees where we can. This is your stop.”

Colten cursed ungraciously and tore away from their trio. Kaegan’s eyes followed his friend as his limp deepened beside her. His loyalty, though it made her care about him more, was going to get him killed. Her too, because she wouldn’t leave him to the insatiable hunger that drew ever closer behind them.

She cut toward the river, determined to save him. “You swim, right?”

“Not well,” he answered.

“Better than a Dead?”

A smile curved the corner of his mouth. “Better than a Dead.”

That was good enough for her. They raced for hours, or so it seemed, because every painful step he took tore at her innards. She’d never felt pain before, but she’d gladly take his, no matter how badly it burned. The Deads stumbled as they did, in the mud and the muck, but inch by inch, they gained on them. Soaked to the bone, pain etched on his face and determination lightening his eyes, Kaegan was beautiful. Even with a limp, he was lithe and graceful. He didn’t groan in pain or give up and when she stumbled over a branch hidden in the mire, he reached out and yanked her upright before she fell face first to the ground. His hand stayed firmly on her arm as they ran, like he didn’t want to risk a chance of separating, and she stared at his large fist closed over her skin. He didn’t even flinch away.

Hands clawed at her back, and she pushed herself harder, faster until her legs burned with the effort. “There!” she yelled over the rumble of thunder.

A bank dropped off, and the other side stretched four hundred yards away. But where she thought it had been a shallow bank, when they drew up alongside it, the river raged far beneath them, and a rocky ledge separated them from the churning, black waters beneath. Who knew how deep it was? Surely not deep enough to sustain a fall from this height. If they dove, they could break their necks.

Gasping, the woods ahead of them came to life as six more Deads stumbled toward them.

Trapped.

Kaegan’s glance didn’t offer fear or hesitation. Pulling her behind him, he set their backs to the ledge of the river below. He drew a wicked looking
kukri
machete, the black blade repelling the rain droplets that assaulted it. The tip was sharp, and it curved into a thick weapon for hacking, only to flow to a thinner base that disappeared into the hilt.

Of course he’d have a weapon like this Bringer of Destruction he held ready in his hands. She peered around the breadth of his shoulders at the horde coming for them and smiled at his thoughtfulness. She could go on a good deed. Stepping beside him, she pulled the blades from her back, the battle sword and the smaller dagger with matching metal and shape. Sure, she could walk away without a single bite. Deads didn’t want to eat her after all. She didn’t smell like food. But something fundamental had changed inside her the day Kaegan had walked into Doc’s office. That single sympathetic look as he’d pulled Colten’s knife from her stomach had changed her makeup. He was hers, and he’d never even know it.

This right here, in the rain and mud, with their backs to an impossible escape, was their stand, and they’d make it together.

She screamed a battle cry as Kaegan yelled his and pulled her sword down on the first Dead. The snick of Kaegan’s machete came close as he fought, but he’d done battle with a team before and worry over being cut came second to the growing number of moaners that pushed them closer to the ledge. As she pulled the sword from another, she spun and flipped the hilt of the smaller blade in the air, catching it just she brought it to the temple of a woman not long turned. Grunting, she pulled both blades free and kicked the next Dead in the chest. Raindrops flung from the fingertips of his outstretched hands as he reached for her before launching backward. She swung the blades once more and lodged them into a pair of monsters headed for Kaegan. From the corner of her vision, Kaegan fought like some graceful, feral thing. He never stopped moving, and the arch of his blade was mesmerizing. He was magnificent.

Distracted, she stumbled backward as a Dead gripped her shirt, and she pressed the blade into his temple, gritting her teeth. That moment of hesitation was all they needed, and a surge of undead pushed them to the edge of the cliff. Mud and rocks slid from the ledge, limiting their footing and splashing in the waters below. Kaegan was losing ground too, and she screamed his name. If she was going to die here, that crucial word would be the last on her lips.

He turned, and for the first time, she saw fear in the gray depths of his gaze. It wasn’t for himself, but for her and her breath caught as he grabbed her hand. Water poured from the ends of his hair, and his dark eyebrows drew down with the seriousness of his request. Voice void of emotion, he said, “Jump,” and pulled her over the cliff with him.

The fall stole her breath as they plummeted to the ebony waves beneath. Kaegan held her hand until they hit the water, and she was ripped away from him in the fury of the current. Silt laden water choked her and she clawed at the inky waves, desperate to find air. She swam and swam, but couldn’t tell which way was up. Her body was thrashed against downed trees and boulders, and panic spurred her efforts. She was drowning. What a horrible way to go.

And just as she thought she’d die, her head broke the surface, and she filled her lungs with vital oxygen. Her body snagged on debris, and she pulled herself to shore, choking and coughing.

“Kaegan,” she rasped. “Kaegan!”

Standing, she scanned the thin beach and waves but couldn’t see him. Movement drew her eye. A hand broke the water up the river, and she bolted as fast as her legs could carry her. Why wasn’t he coming up for air? His hand just reached out as if he were hailing her, and then it disappeared beneath the water. Unthinking, she dove in and swam for where she thought he’d been. The current carried her quickly, and a log under the water stopped her progress. Opening her eyes under water, she pressed against the log as the water pushed her toward it. A hand latched onto her leg, and as she screamed, a bubble of air burst from her.

Kaegan must be stuck on something. She pulled herself down, feeling his body until she came to his ankle, wedged in between a rock and the log. Oh God. He was drowning. He was tall, just not tall enough to break the surface of the water and breathe! Her lungs burned as she pulled and clawed at the log. No good.

Pulling the knife from its sheath, she wedged the blade between the surfaces and pried to no avail. Kaegan’s hands had been scrabbling at his ankle but floated away as his body jerked and went limp.
No, no, no!

Bracing her feet against the boulder, she pulled up with all of her strength, and the log gave a little. Her body screamed for oxygen. Readjusting, she pulled again, releasing the last of her air as she screamed her anger at the unfairness of the world.

The log moved, and Soren yanked his ankle free. Pushing against the rocky bottom, she clung to his body as her lips found air. The raging rapids pushed them farther and farther downstream, and she struggled and kicked to bring them closer to the shore. Kaegan still hadn’t shown a single sign of life, and adrenaline laced her veins as she pushed him against the shore’s shallow craggy bottom. Shaking, she pulled him safe of the current and pressed her ear against his chest. She couldn’t hear anything over the rain and sat up, pushing her balled fists against his chest rhythmically. She looked around helplessly. She couldn’t give him mouth to mouth without turning him. He wasn’t vaccinated. A muffled sob filled the clearing, and tears blurred her vision.

“Damn it, Kaegan.” He’d teased her with friendship, and now he was leaving her worse off than when he’d entered her life.

Struggling with his body weight, she dragged him onto his stomach and pounded on his back. Over and over again, she punched him with every remaining ounce of energy.

Kaegan’s body convulsed, and coughing wracked his body. He struggled to breathe, and she fell backward, watching in joy as he fought to survive. Gripping the sand and pebbles of the beach in her palms, she smiled behind the sopping muzzle. Slits of gray focused on her. Even pale and gasping, with sand plastered to one of his cheeks, the slow smile that took his mouth made him the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

He rolled over, pushed himself up and stretched his neck, offering his face to the clouds above. It was too much to resist. He sat there vulnerable, and even if it ruined everything, it would be worth it. She catapulted into his lap, straddling him, and threw her arms around his neck.

He was alive. Nothing mattered but the racing rhythm of his heartbeat.

Seconds ticked by, and he sat rigid under her hug until finally, he leaned forward and slow hands slid around her waist, encircling her completely. He wasn’t gentle. His hug didn’t coddle her or treat her like some fragile flower under careful fingertips. He squeezed her until she couldn’t breathe, and he buried his head against her neck.

“Thank you for saving me,” he said in a voice both gravel and satin.

She leaned back and gripped his steely shoulders. “You didn’t make it easy.”

His gaze dipped to her muzzle, and he ran his fingertip over the strap across her cheekbone. His gaze flickered behind her, and he frowned. When she turned, Deads bobbed in the river, sinking and clumsily resurfacing.