RecruitZ (Afterworld Series) (10 page)

“No. I’m a night owl too. I haven’t been to bed yet.”

“Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You need to sleep then. Don’t worry about today,” I told him. “That’s not healthy.”

“I’m totally fine. I’m sure everything else I do will get me first,” he laughed.

“Point taken.”

“I’m gonna get some shut-eye when we hang up. Promise,” he said.

“Are you sure?”

“I am. So where do you live, and what time do you want me to come to the house?”

I gave him my address and ended the call. I thought about curling up in bed again, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to fall asleep. Instead, my mind drifted back to the towers Preston showed me the other night. My curiosity was killing me. I wanted to see them in the daylight. I let out a deep sigh as I pushed the covers all the way off and stood up. I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize us. I just wanted to see them from a distance. I wouldn’t even pull off the main road. A jolt of adrenaline shot through me as I hopped under the warm spray and quickly showered. I toweled off and pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. I was staring at myself in the mirror, trying to untangle my hair, when I heard it, a loud thump downstairs. I froze in place, closed my eyes, and listened intently as I steadied my breathing.

Another thump and then another.

I ran to the back window and looked outside, but I didn’t spot anything. It didn’t sound like the noise was coming from inside, or at least I hoped the noise wasn’t from inside.

The pounding was becoming more persistent, and if whoever wasn’t inside yet, they would be soon. I grabbed the lockbox from my night table and rapidly entered the code and grabbed the pistol out of it. I walked down the hallway and slowed my speed as I approached the stairs, which would lead me directly into the family room. Exactly where the sound was coming from.

I paced myself with each step, not wanting the adrenaline to cause me to do something I’d regret.

The thump hit hard again, and this time I was able to identify the location. It was the far wall of the family room. Why would someone be thrashing against the siding of the house? I walked slowly toward the noise, and as I reached that section of the wall, the noise moved to the sliding glass door. Instead of the deep thump of wood, I heard the banging transition onto the glass. Not exactly what I was hoping for. The curtain was closed, but I needed to know what was out there. I slid along the wall, not wanting to cause shadows, and slowly lifted the edge of the curtain.

The sight was absolutely gruesome, and I let go of the fabric. Part of me was relieved and the other was sickened by what I saw. It was a straggler walking into the glass over and over again. That must have been what it was doing to the side of the house. I wasn’t sure how it got into the backyard since Gavin had fenced it in completely.

I let out a deep breath, walking quickly to the kitchen. I placed my pistol on the counter and picked up the landline phone. Every occupied home was now equipped with a phone that dialed directly to the authorities who were in charge of picking up the rogue zombies. It was a great idea in theory, but there were loopholes. For one, cell phones weren’t part of the program, and the system would drop calls immediately if they came from cell towers.

“What are you reporting?” a woman’s voice picked up after the second ring.

“There’s a straggler in my backyard. He’s continually walking into the slider. I’m not sure how much longer the glass will hold.”

“Can you move furniture in front of the opening to block the intruder in case he breaks through?” she asked, her voice monotone. She was obviously bored with these calls.

I glanced at the family room furniture and realized I could move the sectional in front of the door as well as the coffee table. But I knew if I answered yes, they wouldn’t make me a priority. And I wanted to be a priority.

“No. Not really. It’s just me in the house, and I don’t think I could manage,” I lied.

“Okay, ma’am. Dispatch has been notified. Someone will be there shortly. Stay locked up until you hear their sirens and a knock at the front door.”

“Thank you,” I replied and hung up.

I walked over to the sectional and tugged and pulled on the arm until I was able to slide the large couch in front of the slider. As I positioned it, the curtain caught and pulled to the side slightly, revealing the zombie staring back at me.

It was definitely a rotter. I couldn’t guess how long this one had been roaming, but it looked to be a very long time. Its flesh had darkened to a bluish-grey from the level of decay, and the clothing was mostly tattered and frayed to bits. I shivered as I saw the hollowness in its eyes. I recognized the emptiness. I felt the emptiness. Only I was supposed to be alive.

I tugged on the curtains as if that would block out the dark thoughts that were invading my mind. I wanted to kill the straggler. I wanted to point my pistol directly at its head and pull the trigger. I didn’t want to be that person who enjoyed the thought of destroying these creatures or any creatures, for that matter, but I was that person. I often found myself hoping to come across one in a parking lot or some random place where I would be legally allowed to knock it off. But as long as there was no threat, discharging weapons in civilized areas was a crime and worthy of a trip to jail, and that wasn’t how I wanted to spend my Friday.

I paced back and forth until I heard the sirens barreling down the street, stopping in front of my house. The zombie was still continually thumping into the slider, and I was just relieved that they’d arrived so soon to dispose of my problem.

The stragglers were easily corralled. They were normal zombies. Normal zombies.

From the living room window, I watched two officers wrangle the zombie into the back of the truck. I glanced at the clock. Nine o’clock. I could still take my little drive. I heard a light tap on the back slider and made my way there, shoving the couch away from the door. Opening the slider, I poked my head out and greeted a female officer.

“The straggler’s been captured. For some reason, it got the idea to bust down a portion of your fence. I’d have someone fix it for you right away. Once there’s a trail from one straggler, others tend to pick up on it.” She pointed to the side of the house.

I took a step onto the patio and saw the hole in the fence. Images of Gavin building the fence flooded through my mind, and I felt as if I was going to be swallowed by grief.

“Ma’am, are you okay?” the female officer asked.

I nodded and leaned up against the house as my eyes fell to the splintered wood along the ground. “Thank you for coming so fast.”

“Anytime,” she said. “Anything else we can do for you?”

I shook my head and watched her walk away as I slid my body down the wall. I needed to regain control of my emotions. I’d been doing so well at channeling my grief into anger that the tears that threatened completely destabilized the façade I’d attempted to build. I looked up at the blue sky and stared as if I halfway expected a sign of some sort but none came. I let out a deep sigh and stood back up. I walked over to the hole and peered into the field that was next to our home. Gently kicking aside some of the debris, I turned around and went back in the house. I was starting to crack and that couldn’t happen. Checking out the towers could wait. It was time to go blow off steam.

I darted up the stairs and changed into my workout gear. I wrapped my hair into a tight ponytail and pushed my feet into some sneakers. I glanced at the clock and figured I’d even have time to grab some coffee. It wouldn’t hurt to treat myself twice today.

I was out the door by nine twenty and on my way to my favorite espresso stand and then to the gym.

Wow. That sounded halfway normal. I hopped in my truck and started the engine. As I turned onto the main road, I noticed how vacant the roads were. I guess rush hour didn’t exist any longer. I hadn’t been up this early to find that out. A shudder ran though me as it dawned on me what that really meant. There weren’t enough people left to fill up the roads.

I saw green garbage trucks parked down alleys, and construction workers tearing down buildings that had been condemned. The level of devastation was still difficult to comprehend, and it literally changed from street to street. Some streets were completely unscathed, while others looked as if a bomb went off. It was the strangest of things, really. It’s like the home I’m living in now. It was actually my parents’ home. After the outbreak, homes were turned over to whoever was the closest living relative. In many cases, that left several pieces of property to one sole survivor. That was what happened in my case and Gavin’s. We both inherited several houses each. How sick was that?

I drove up to the drive-through window at Crazy Beans and ordered my iced-latte. The moment I felt the cold liquid trickling down my throat, I was immediately better. And I knew the moment my fists connected with a punching bag, I’d be back to my new self in no time. There was nothing like the feeling that came with beating the shit out of something.

I pulled into the parking lot and noticed only a couple of other cars, which was perfect. I’d have the run of the place. Glancing in the mirror, I yanked my ponytail tighter and hopped out of the truck. The door opened in front of me and Frank peered out the opening.

“Becky,” he said, grinning. “What a pleasant surprise. I don’t have you on the schedule.”

“Nope. Just stopping in to let off some steam. Had a straggler in the backyard this morning.”

He nodded, his expression full of understanding. Frank owned the MMA gym and was the instructor who first got me hooked on the sport. I took countless private lessons from him, and I still popped into the gym every so often to keep up my speed.

“Rough morning,” I mumbled, as I walked into the gym.

It looked the same as it always did. There was a boxing ring on the far left side of the gym. I shivered when my eyes landed on the fighting cage that was to the right. I’d never had a reaction like that before. Then again, I’d never been to the zombie fights before either. The thought of going inside the cage freaked me out, which told me that was exactly what I needed to do.

“Anything in particular you want to work on?” Frank asked, as I stood staring at the metal frame.

“Maybe cage work,” I said.

“You’ve never really focused on that,” Frank said, scratching his goatee. “Any particular reason you want to start now?”

I shrugged and walked over to my locker. “Not really. Just feel like changing it up.” I taped my hands and slammed the locker shut.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Frank said, walking back into his office.

“Will do.”

Opening the latch on the cage, I walked inside and let go of the door, hearing the clank behind me as it closed. Standing in the middle of the cage, I looked around the ring slowly. My heart rate sped up as I continued taking in the enclosed space. My mind drifted back to Peter and the fight. He was in something just like this but without the mat flooring.

With gritted teeth I ran toward the chain-link and leapt toward the metal, entwining my fingers through the loops. My toes lodged into the squares, and I began scaling up the side. I didn’t know what was pulling me to experience this but something was. I swiftly climbed up the fence and reached for the dangling metal rings. My fingers slipped off and the rings began swinging back and forth.

Once I got ahold of them, I wasn’t even sure if my upper body strength would be enough to hold me above the cage, but there was only one way to find out.

Keeping my toes secured in the chain-link, I waited for the rings to stop moving and stretched for the rings again. My left hand made contact, and I wrapped my fingers around the cold metal, squeezing until my nails dug into my palms. I grabbed the other ring with my right hand and gripped as tightly as possible. I looked down, trying to calculate my risk before dislodging my feet from the fence. I was perched about twenty feet up so I was pretty sure if I slipped, the landing wouldn’t be kind to my bones.

My upper arms began burning from the angle I was hanging—arms stretched up and toward the center of the ring—while my legs were still splayed to the side, hooked into the fence. I took a deep breath in and unhooked my feet from the fence. Now or never. The weight of my body tugged on my hands as they desperately clung to the metal rings. My body swung above the mat, sailing through the air as if I suddenly had wings. I had always been afraid of heights but forced myself to keep my eyes open as my body swung over the mat.

With every moment that passed, my courage soared and my muscles adjusted. I was actually surprised that I was able to hold my body weight. As I dangled from the rings, I took a deep breath in as I surveyed my way down. I could swing and hop from the rings, hoping I’d hook my hands through the chain-link in time, or I could swing to the metal bar across the cage and attempt to lift up my legs and hook them over it, kind of like a trapeze artist. The thought made my hands sweat. This was a really bad situation to be in. I didn’t need to slip off and crash to the ground, twenty feet below. I needed to take baby steps. I worked my body back and forth to create the momentum needed to touch the side of the fence. It worked exactly like a swing only it was my hands holding on for dear life, and my legs controlling the direction of my body.