Only Love Survives (Love and Zombies) (9 page)

Megan adjusted the ridiculously large sports watch for about the hundredth time that day making sure the scar remained concealed. She was probably the only person on the planet who knew what time it was, the date, and their exact global position. The GPS part of the watch still worked. Apparently, all the satellites had not fallen from the sky just yet, because she’d been able to plug in coordinates from a map and had been following them to the Hoover Dam. Hopefully, there would be signs posted to guide them from there. Sam seemed confident in being able to find it.

She glanced up at his strong profile highlighted by the flickering campfire. He needed a shave, but Megan knew just how soft the blond hair growing along the edge of his chin was. She shivered at the memory of those whiskers brushing her cheek. His arm tightened around her and she looked away.

Megan reminded herself not to become too fond of him. After all, he wasn’t exactly accompanying her because he couldn’t live without her. He was going to Vegas to look for his sister. Besides, any feelings Megan might develop toward Sam couldn’t possibly amount to anything. The scar on her arm would make sure of that. A wave of guilt washed over her.

She should tell him. Hiding the scar was the same as lying, and Megan had no use for liars. But, she couldn’t bring herself to say the words. She’d been shot at enough for one lifetime by people who didn’t care to listen. Although Megan didn’t believe for a second Sam would shoot her, he might decide to leave her there in camp. And that just didn’t work for her. She had to get to Vegas. It wasn’t only about Sam…or her for that matter. It was about the survival of humankind. Maybe, given the chance, she could undo this mess.

Megan felt Sam stiffen next to her and it drew her attention back to the conversation going on around them.

“Summer Woods? You met a doctor named Summer Woods.” Sam lifted his arm off Megan and leaned forward. “Where was she?”

“I only stayed a month. I think they are way off base with their research. Last time I saw her, she was in the genetics lab. You a relative?” The woman who asked was thin and pale, with dark circles under her eyes.

“Her brother. What the hell was she still doing in Vegas? I told her to come home.”

“Vegas has an open door policy for most people. However, they discourage anyone with skills they deem
necessary
from leaving. Summer is a geneticist. Once she stepped in that door, they were never going to let her go.” The woman said it like that answered all his questions.

“She’s a prisoner?” Sam stood up and paced between Megan and the fire, kicking up dirt in his wake.

Megan stopped herself from reaching out to him.

“She’s only a student. What do they want with her?” The timbre in his voice grew frantic, and Megan wished there was something she could do or say.

“A student of genetics, not to mention a doctor. She went there the same reason we all did. To help.”

“You worked with her, how did you get out?” Sam stopped pacing and demanded an answer.

The woman turned her head. “I escaped.”

Sam slapped his hands on his thighs in exasperation.

Then she pinned him with a hollow stare. “I hid in the garbage.”

“Son of a bitch!” Sam stormed away from the campfire swearing.

Megan shuddered.

The woman turned to Megan with a mixture of desperation and defiance clouding her expression. “They didn’t like Summer’s theories, but they wouldn’t let her go either.”

“What theories?” Megan was almost afraid to ask.

“We believe it’s an astrological organism equivalent to a virus. The infection began, close as we can tell, the day after the Lulin Comet passed.”

Megan couldn’t believe her ears, “You’re telling me it’s the space flu?”

She nodded eagerly. “The illness is just like any other plague. It will take its toll, and then it will pass, rearing its ugly head from time to time throughout history. But the people who will survive are the ones spread out, away from large communities. The corpses may be walking around, but they are also decaying. As long as no new cases are contracted, they will eventually rot away like a fallen log does. The warmer the climate, the faster the process. But places where the snow never melts…those corpses will take a long,
long
time to die off. Maybe never. It’s like keeping a body in cold storage. I imagine those places will eventually become prohibited for travel.”

“What about a cure?” Megan couldn’t help herself, she had to ask.

“When I left, there were rumors of people who are immune, but more research has to be done. I wasn’t willing to risk my life to stay and do it.”

How could anyone not be willing to save humanity?

The woman turned away from Megan’s incredulous stare, so Megan got up to find Sam. She walked the direction he’d gone, between some cars back by the fence, but kept the campfire within view just in case.

The Lulin Comet
. She suspected they were right. It had been a terrific spectacle. The student who bit her bragged to several of her friends how she stayed up all night to see it.

Megan found Sam, a large silhouette leaning against the woodpile, his profile outlined by the distant fire. She couldn’t make out his features in the dark, but she felt the hurricane of emotion blow off him just as well as if reading it in his eyes. Megan stopped in front of him.

“You okay?” She couldn’t think of anything else to say as she wrapped her arms around her middle to ward off the night chill.

“I will be once I find her.” Sam ran his hands through his hair, then reached out and pulled Megan to him by the elbow. “Come here.”

She allowed herself be drawn into the comfort of his arms. Warm, safe bands of strength coiled around her.

“We’ll find her, Sam.” Megan promised as she slid her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

He just rested his chin on her head and didn’t answer.

The next day Megan found herself digging in the dirt, planting seeds. Comical, considering in her former life, houseplants shook at the mere mention of her name. The community garden grew outside the safety of the fence line, and when Megan pulled that rotation, Sam insisted on being part of the guard detail that stood watch while they dug. Megan wouldn’t admit it to him or anyone else, but she felt safer with him standing watch.

The garden flourished behind the camp against the back fence line. The guards could stand with their backs to the barbed wire fence and watch the entire garden in front of them, about three driveway lengths, while people tended their row. Everything grew low to the ground. Even the green beans grew on a trellis no higher than the hip. No corn grew. No trees to hide behind. But potatoes, carrots, cabbage and green beans flourished in tidy rows to the end of the field.

Some of the gardeners dug in the dirt, like Megan, but others, mostly young men walked the rows carrying five-gallon buckets full of water hauled from the river, making sure each plant got its share.

As it turned out, Sam was a mean business negotiator. He ended up trading a jar of peanut butter and a gun for two containers to haul gas in. Then he managed to finagle four days’ worth of labor to fill both those cans and his old one with fuel. The deal got them what they needed with little time lost and no necessary supplies exhausted. Megan was impressed, although she’d never admit
that
to him. Sam didn’t need any help with his ego.

Megan stole a glance at him and the way he held his gun in those powerful arms made her think about how he’d held her and she felt a blush creep up her cheeks. He caught her staring and winked. Mortified, Megan turned around and paid much more attention than was needed to her row of dirt and bucket of seeds. When she finally gathered the courage to look up again, she found that she was not the only one staring at Sam.

A beautiful, olive-skinned woman sporting a head full of thick, dark curls watched Sam openly from under a perfect layer of lashes that didn’t require twelve coats of mascara to be seen. Megan turned to see if Sam noticed her. He didn’t seem to, but not for lack of trying on the woman’s part. Megan turned back to her pile of dirt and jabbed her trowel into the clumps.

After all, what claim did she have on him? Just because they’d had sex in the heat of an emotional moment didn’t constitute a relationship. Megan squelched the impulse to throw a dirt clod at the woman. Apparently, she’d been hanging around fourth graders too long.

Megan sighed. She missed her students. Every time she felt that way, she had to keep her mind from wandering to the memory of each student’s face. It broke her heart to think what had become of them. Harsh and unforgiving, this world was no place for children. Up until finding this camp, Megan had not believed children could survive in this world. But in order for the world to survive, children would have to be a part of it. Now, seeing the families band together and carve a life out of this mess bolstered her heart.

Megan glanced up and the woman was actually arching her back.

Dear lord.
Megan searched for a dirt clod.

The woman’s efforts weren’t lost on Sam. He used his skill of watching people without them knowing it and the longer he ignored her, the harder she tried. The woman all but waved at him. She embodied the very spirit of every starlet he’d ever had on his arm. Exotic, beautiful, well-versed in the language of “get the guy to notice me” and…
oh yeah
, he noticed. But, he wasn’t interested. He’d sampled all that type of woman had to offer in the past, and it had left him dissatisfied, disinterested and generally ready to move on as soon as the encounter was over. These days, his tastes ran more toward grade school teachers.

Sam adjusted his gaze toward Megan and watched her without her knowing it.
Damn.
How was it women always seemed to bend over to pick things up off the ground, rather than bend at the knees? Her butt was the perfect heart shape, and she had it pointed right at him without even meaning to. He found her ten,
no
…a hundred times more exciting than the kinky haired woman who was now arching her back in a vie for his attention.

Sam couldn’t resist. He yawned on purpose. She got the hint and turned away from him in a huff. Megan seemed oblivious to it all, for which he was grateful considering her temper. He didn’t want her angry later this afternoon when he told her that he intended to leave her here in Allan’s camp while he headed on to Vegas.

It had been a shock to his system to learn his sister was a prisoner. The mixture of wanting to rip her captors apart and finally getting a lead on her made for a heady emotion that fogged things. A dangerous state of mind to be in. And having Megan at his side only complicated things further.

In the past few months, he’d had his share of close calls. Killed enough zombies to fill a stadium and stolen enough supplies to keep himself fed. But, Sam had a feeling telling Megan the cold hard truth, that she would be staying here when he left, was going to be the hardest thing he ever had to do.

Chapter Seven

The cold water felt great after a day of digging in the dirt. Guilt needled Megan for not sharing her soap with the women bathing around her, but there wasn’t enough for everyone. And Sam had been so excited about the prospect of a clean shirt, Megan intended to have him hack it in half, before they parted ways.
Best not to think about that
.

The soap sat back at camp, safely stashed inside her backpack. It felt strange not to have the pack within reach, naked even. Megan looked around for it about every thirty seconds purely out of habit. Sam promised her if anything happened, he would not leave without the pack…or her. His eyes had been so intense when he spoke the words, Megan had no choice but to nod and walk away following the group of women to the river. When she’d looked back over her shoulder, he stood at the gate, arms crossed like a totem with the pack swinging from his closed fist. The pull to get back within his reach was almost stronger than the pull of her pack.

In the meantime, she followed suit with the rest of the women and washed best she could with a scrap of cloth and knee-deep river water. Her shoes slid on the slime covered rocks as she bent down to scrub the dirt from the clothes still on her body. No easy task, but totally worth the effort. She adjusted her stance to wedge her foot up against a submerged rock. It did the trick, and she washed her legs without falling on her bottom and floating down stream.

Two of the women held shot guns at the edge of the riverbank while the rest washed. Megan wondered if they knew how to use them, or even knew what the guns were called. As far as Megan was concerned, there were two kinds of guns, big ones and little ones. Something about the way the women held those guns made her believe, not only could they shoot, but they could hit any target they deemed worthy.

The woman from the garden with the tons of hair showed up late and made quite a show of stripping off her shirt before emerging herself in the water. A stupid risk in Megan’s opinion, but none of the other women said anything to her. She was obviously the head cheerleader here, and who was Megan to point out the error of her ways? Megan stole a glance and cringed. It was not natural for anyone to have that many curves.
Wench.

Within two months of this ordeal, every curve Megan started out with had given way to starving, lean muscle. Megan turned away and went back to rinsing the dirt from her clothes but the
‘Wench’
tapped her on the shoulder.