Mail Horror Bride (One Nation Under Zombies Book 1) (15 page)

“A couple,” Maura mumbled. “I guess you want me to use those to save the injured people who may not even survive the wreck they just had.”

“How kind of you to offer,” Angela said sweetly. “That’s the spirit.”

Hal grinned, then gave the horn a few more taps.

“Dumbasses,” Hank grumbled as the sound of the minivan’s horn faded away. They’d lost view of the vehicle several minutes before.

Janjai sniffed, breathing in and out as evenly as she could in attempt to fight off the panic rising inside her. Hank had already snapped at her to calm down and quiet herself before she drew the attention of any infected people who’d lagged behind. He’d blamed her for the whole incident, claiming her gasp as they’d came upon the bloody, rotting, infected people in the road had caused him to wreck. She’d nearly told him he was already swerving before she’d uttered a sound but then he’d know she could understand words she shouldn’t be able to understand.

Staying with him until she got her citizenship and then divorcing him might not matter any more but she realized she still had to play the game until she was safe. If Hank knew she’d been able to speak English well but had chosen to withhold it for so long he would beat her again. Surviving after the outbreak was hard enough without being beaten into unconsciousness.

“Freaking idiots,” Hank growled, climbing out of the truck and slamming the door, apparently not concerned with making noise himself. “Thanks for the help you dimwitted bastards. Yay, you drew the zombies away. You didn’t notice we wrecked? We might be injured? Assholes. Everybody wants to be the hero but nobody has any common damn sense.”

He walked around to the front of the truck and tried to open the hood, then proceeded to growl out a string of curses when he failed to.

Meanwhile, Janjai held a wadded up T-shirt to her forehead. There’d been no airbags in the old truck to prevent her head from hitting the dashboard when they’d struck the tree. Hank’s head had connected with the steering wheel but not hard enough to break skin. She hadn’t been so lucky. The T-shirt in her hand was now stained crimson.

He’d limped out of the truck but otherwise seemed fine. He’d been able to lower his side window enough to poke his gun through and shoot some of the zombies before the minivan had shown up and diverted the crowd of infected people intent on eating them alive. Now he kicked at the bodies of the ones he’d shot through the head.

“Fucking Russian Nazi bastards,” he spat, stomping on one’s head.

The crunching sound it made caused Janjai’s stomach to roll. Then again, she could be nauseas from hitting her head. She tried to remember the symptoms of a concussion while also trying to sort out what was wrong with Hank’s comments to their dead attackers.

Russians. Nazis. Russian Nazis? The idiot was calling Russians Nazis? She laughed at his ignorance, then realized she was sitting in a wrecked truck in the middle of the apocalypse laughing at the stupidity of her husband, a man she’d actually chosen to marry and call hers despite the fact she couldn’t stand the sight of him. The next thing she knew great guffaws of laughter were erupting from her throat as tears streamed down her cheeks. She didn’t know if she was laughing or crying because although she found the situation funny she also found it extremely sad.

“What the hell’s the matter with you?” Hal asked loudly.

Janjai gasped, sucking in air. She tried to release the breath but choked on it as she saw an infected man amble out of the trees. Half his face was shredded, flaps of skin hanging off. His clothes were torn and dirty and a stick poked out of his chest.

“Huh?” Hank asked again, louder, unaware of the man creeping up behind him. “Maybe I oughtta teach you a little English,” he snapped. “Then you can answer a simple damn question. Of course, then you’d be like my first wife. Broad never shut the hell up.”

The zombie crept forward and Janjai realized this was it. She’d traveled all the way to America for a better life only to marry a horrible, disgusting man and be eaten to death by another one. The laughter bubbled up again and she didn’t know if it was due to her head injury or she’d just lost her sanity.

“What the hell are you laughing—”

A twig snapped under the zombie’s foot and Hank whirled around, a curse ripping loose from his lips before he turned and ran as fast as his limp allowed to the door he’d just slammed closed a few minutes earlier. He grabbed the handle and pulled but it wouldn’t open.

The door always got stuck like that, Janjai remembered and laughed harder. She had to open it from the inside for him all the time.

“Open the door, Jan,” Hank screamed. “Open the damn door!”

Janjai considered it, thought about telling him in English that payback was a bitch, then doubled over with laughter as she pictured his reaction in her mind, how round his eyes would grow. Maybe he’d die still wearing that expression.

“Jan!” Hank slapped his hand against the door, desperate to retrieve the gun he’d left inside. “Let me in!”

“Jan!,” she mimicked, unable to control the impulse. “Let me in!”

Hank’s mouth fell open, his eyes registered shock before morphing into complete anger. He started to say something but the zombie was now on him. He turned and raised his arms to push the rotting man away as Janjai lost herself to the hysteria. Her stomach hurt from laughing. Her eyes were too wet with tears to see.

I’ve gone crazy, she thought to herself before the loud crack of gunfire snapped her out of the madness that had taken over her mind. She wiped her eyes and saw streaks of dark blood and clumps of brain matter covering the driver’s side window. Her heart seized and she held her breath. Had Hank been hit? Was the nightmare over?

“You good?” A strange man’s voice called from somewhere outside the truck, close to the road. “Were you bit?”

“No, but damn near,” Hank called back.

Janjai released the breath and let go of the brief moment of joy she’d felt thinking her husband’s fluids had been among those splashed across the window.

“This might hurt,” Maura warned as she soaked the cotton pad with peroxide.

“I told you she doesn’t speak English,” the older man, Hank, grumbled from where he sat in the middle seat.

“I heard you.” Maura bit her tongue to keep from saying anything more. The man had to be late fifties to early sixties, and this girl, his wife, hadn’t even hit thirty if her eyes were correct. Older American man, young Asian non-English speaking wife. Classic mail-order bride scenario. At least her country hadn’t sent her over with a disease-bomb.

“Sorry,” she said softly as she pressed the pad against the cut running across the woman’s brow. She tried to be gentle despite knowing it didn’t matter. It would sting either way.

The woman flinched and made a slight hissing sound but didn’t speak.

Angela handed her a bandage and she covered the wound.

“There you go.”

The woman nodded slightly, eyes lowered. She’d kept them averted since they’d opened the door to the truck and retrieved her, except for one moment when they’d come around the back of the truck and she’d glanced up at her husband. She hadn’t looked up long but it had been long enough for Maura to see the fear, fear of the man claiming to be her husband.

Maura studied the woman. She wore a wedding band matching the one on Hank’s pudgy finger so she didn’t think the man had abducted her, though it was still possible. She was a lot younger than him and far too pretty, and then there was the whole no English thing. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

“How’s she doing?” Hal asked as he continued driving them through Missouri, headed toward Nebraska. They hadn’t wasted any time getting back on the road after rescuing the couple.

“She’ll survive without stitches. I don’t think she should sleep very soon.”

Hal nodded although he kept his eyes on the road. “Where were y’all headed?”

“Lincoln,” Hank answered. “Heard there was some sort of military set-up there for uninfected. We’d tried to stay and protect our home but had to leave quick after those things invaded the house.”

“Where was that?”

“Arkansas. You from there? You look familiar.”

Maura watched as Hal glanced into the rearview mirror, sharing a look with Angela who had stiffened.

“No, can’t say that I am. I must have one of those faces.”

“No, I swear I’ve seen ya somewhere. It’ll come to me soon enough. Maybe after I rest. I was driving a long time before the wreck.”

Hal’s hands tightened around the steering wheel. Interesting.

“Think we could stop somewhere?” Angela asked. “Set up a safe house?”

“We’re going to have to,” Hal answered. “Gas is running low. Would’ve been nice if we’d been able to siphon some from the truck before leaving it but we weren’t in a good spot. We could stock up on food as well.”

“So what’s the plan? Just hole up somewhere and try not to get eaten?” Hank asked. “We need to get to that military camp.”

“We will, but not without gas. I’m going to find somewhere secure. We have weapons for protection. It never hurts to restock our food supply before we’re down to nothing. We don’t know what setbacks might happen before we reach the military camp.”

“Some more medical supplies would be nice,” Maura interjected. “I’m sure Jan would appreciate some pain reliever.”

The woman showed no visible reaction to her name being spoken. Something about that irked Maura. Her gut whispered to her that there was something dark about this couple’s relationship, something dark about Hank particularly. But weren’t all men bad, really? Even Daniel, despite his efforts. It was nature. Men were bad. But she’d freed Daniel from his badness. Maybe Hank just needed freeing.

Janjai gasped as the back of Hank’s meaty hand whipped across her face. One hand touched her throbbing cheek tenderly as the other reached out to grab the countertop, stopping her from propelling into it. She had enough bruises on her body already.

They were in a vacant house, the owners having either abandoned it to find safety elsewhere or been killed at some point. No bodies had been found in the house yet, no signs of an attack, but they hadn’t been in it long.

The man, Hal, had driven them off the expressway and into a little suburb where they found the house. It was far enough from the city he’d felt the zombie population wouldn’t be excessive. They could stay here awhile and rest. Heal.

They’d split up once inside. Hal and the young girl were checking the second floor. Maura, the lady who’d taken care of her wound, had taken the right side of the bottom floor, leaving Hank the left. And anywhere Hank went, his obedient wife must follow.

She’d dreaded this moment, the first moment alone with him after what had happened at the accident site. He’d been in danger and she hadn’t helped him. Worse, she’d laughed at him. Hank was a proud man for a man who had nothing of value. He wouldn’t let something like that go.

“I almost died out there,” he said between clenched teeth, crowding Janjai against the kitchen counter.  “And you just sat there laughing.
Laughing
.”

Janjai kept her head lowered, pretending to not understand his words. While he continued telling her what she’d done she listened, hoping for the sound of footsteps. Hank may have been at a point where he didn’t care about witnesses, after all, he did think she was his property, but she still had hope that the people who’d rescued them were good. They had saved them, hadn’t they? They could have ignored them and went on their own way, putting their own safety ahead of the strangers they’d happened upon. But they hadn’t. They cared enough to help complete strangers. If Hank lost it again and started to beat her as he had back in Arkansas, maybe they would help. Maybe just knowing they were there would keep Hank from hurting her.

“I see that wheel turning in your head, girl.” Hank grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye. “You are mine. You won’t be leaving me for anyone else. We will be leaving these people as soon as they are no longer useful to me. Where I go, you go. If I die, you go with me too. Whether you understand my words or not you’d better find some way to understand this. You belong to me.”

“Everything good in here?”

Hank released her chin and turned to face Maura. “Just a man and wife having a chat. Can we help you with anything?”

From where she stood against the doorframe, arms folded across her chest in a defensive posture, Maura looked at Janjai and tightened her hand around the handle of the machete she carried.

“Are you alright?”

“I told you she can’t speak English,” Hank said. “She’s fine.”

“Do you speak her language?”

“No. I don’t need to. We communicate just fine.”

“You must not be much of a conversationalist,” Maura commented.

“I find actions speak louder than words.”

“Coincidence. So do I.” Maura narrowed her eyes on Hank before stepping away from the doorframe. “The rest of the house is clear. Lower level, anyway. I assume the upstairs is good since I haven’t heard any screaming or sounds of scuffling.”

Jan averted her eyes as Maura neared, flinching as her hand rose, but the woman just checked her bandage.