RecruitZ (Afterworld Series) (18 page)

“I’ve been dying to look on that thumb drive,” I said, once Preston locked the boulder back into place.

“So no taking tonight off?” he laughed.

I looked around the place. “And do what?” I laughed.

He shrugged. “Point taken.”

Preston ducked under the stairs and flipped on a tablet and a printer. A light hum as the electronics booted up reminded me how silent it was underground.

“I think we should lay low for a few days, let ourselves heal up…” his voice trailed off.

I wasn’t so sure. I bit my lip and looked down at the coffee table. There was a People magazine, the cover plastered with people I didn’t recognize. I picked it up and glanced at the date. “April 20, 2020. Impressive,” I mumbled, flipping through the news of many years before.

“Have the thumb drive?” he asked, walking over to me.

The lighting softened the marks on his face and arms. His color had gotten better and he didn’t seem as stiff. There was something relaxed behind his expression as well. I, on the other hand, still felt horrible. I snaked my fingers into my jeans and grabbed out the little device, handing it over to him. Our fingers touched slightly, and I felt something flash through me, which made me uneasy. I glanced away and he didn’t say a word.

I watched him shove the thumb drive into the USB port on one of the tablets. He hooked it to the mini box and the images projected onto the wall.

“There are lots of files on this little guy,” Preston said.

I shifted to see the wall better and squinted my eyes.

“Are you just gonna stay over there? I don’t bite.” His eyes connected with mine, and it felt like he could read the uncertainty I was feeling inside.

“Sorry,” I mumbled and walked over quickly. He pulled out a chair and I sat down as we read through document names. “Look at that one.” I pointed at a title that read, ‘Genetic Development Foundation’. He clicked on it, opening up an Excel spreadsheet listing names, titles, and schools.

“What is this?” I asked, searching through the names.

“Looks like one big data dump. I’m not sure that we’ll get anything out of this.”

“There’s always a method to someone’s madness,” I laughed.

I clicked on a new spreadsheet and began typing in formulas that would run a macro looking for shared characteristics and graph the findings.

“Where’d you learn that?” he asked.

“Before art school, I thought I wanted to be a data analyst, but I was very, very wrong.”

“Well, you never know what will prove to be useful, huh?”

As the data continued churning, I watched as the graphical equations began grabbing some of the consistent data points.

“These people are genetic researchers,” I said, taking a closer look.

“Really,” he said, scooting in closer to get a better view.

“Yeah.” I watched as another data point flashed onto the screen. “And they all seem to have one thing in common.”

“What’s that?” he asked, his eyes fastening onto mine.

“They’re dead.”

We both sat in stunned silence. Gavin’s name appeared on that list and so did Preston’s sister, Sophie. Who’d been keeping track and for what purpose? I stood up slowly and walked over to the couch as the heaviness of the revelation ruined me for discussion.

“Whoever the person was, probably no longer exists,” I said, slouching onto the couch. The pain from my wounds as I pressed into the cushion awoke my senses. “At least in a capacity that would be helpful.”

I looked up and stared at the metal ceiling and let my mind rewind through the events of the last several weeks. There had to be clues I was missing. Why a zombie pit? Why waste time on pinning the creatures against one another? I was sure they were making money from it, but enough to make it matter?

“I think we should meet with Albert or Terrence,” I said, bringing my attention back to Preston.

“Who?” he asked, his eyes completely void of emotion.

“The gang members,” I said. “I’m sure they’re not thrilled about getting pinned with something they didn’t do. That might make them willing to talk to us.”

“What makes you think they’d know anything?” Preston walked over to where I was and took a seat on one of the chairs.

“All good criminals have a pulse on what’s happening on their turf, especially if they’re getting targeted. It’s just a hunch, but I think we should talk to one of them before they get charged with anything in the coffee shop incident.”

“I was really thinking that we should stay low for awhile, stay hidden here,” Preston said, twisting his lips together.

“Every day that we let slip by, brings us closer to failure. We have to find out what’s going on before it’s too late.”

Preston let out a groan, but a smile was right under the surface of his expression.

“I think this is the perfect base for us, but I never would’ve agreed to come up here, if I knew you planned on hanging out and hiding in it until everything reveals itself.” I arched a brow.

“That’s not what I intended at all. I only thought we could give our bodies a chance to—”

“Resilient,” I interrupted. That was what Preston had said about humans, our bodies. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner.

“What about resilient?” he asked, sitting up straighter.

“Our bodies are resilient, but zombies aren’t,” I paused for a few moments. “Imagine if they were. They’d be unstoppable. If zombies could regenerate…”

Preston let out a deep breath and said, “The zombie pits. Once we know how those incorporate into Marcus’s bigger scheme, we might have a shot at stopping whatever it is he’s planning.”

“He has a team. There are only two of us. As much as I’d like to cower in the corner and never leave this refuge, I think we’ve got one night here and that’s it. I want to find a way to talk to either Terrence or Albert,” I told him.

Preston nodded and shoved his hands through his hair as he stared at the floor.

“I’m not tired after the nap, but something tells me I better enjoy tonight’s sleep. We should get up as early as we can handle tomorrow and head out,” I said.

Preston nodded and glanced at the bed. “You take the bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. We can share the bed. We’re grownups. We both need a good night’s sleep. I’m gonna go look some stuff up and then I’ll be in.”

Preston’s gaze dropped away from mine.

“You can handle that, right?” I teased, as Preston walked slowly toward the bedroom.

He only laughed.

I made my way to the tablet and began swiping through news articles relating to Albert, hoping I’d find something that listed where he lived. Sliding my finger from one tidbit of information to another about this guy made me very uneasy. He wasn’t a good guy, and I was beginning to doubt why I thought he’d be willing to give us any information whatsoever. I turned my search to Terrence and found more of the same. It was really a crapshoot between who to pick until I saw a picture of Terrence’s house. I captured the image and dragged it to the search engine. I tapped on the screen, and a satellite image of the same house popped up, this one with a street address.

Guess we’d be visiting Terrence. I hoped he still lived there. I turned off the small light and turned around to see Preston gently working his shirt away from his wounds. He was probably right. Staying here and healing before we started it up again was the smart thing to do. But I didn’t feel we had the time. In fact, I knew we didn’t have it.

“Let me help,” I said, walking through the living room and into the partially separated bedroom.

His lips twisted in pain as the shirt stuck to his skin. I felt a pulse of guilt as I thought about what I was asking of him, of us.

“Spin around,” I instructed, placing my fingertips along the hem of the Henley. I slowly glided my other hand underneath the fabric, releasing the skin and cotton from each other. His breathing changed as I got closer to his shoulders. That was where the injuries were most severe.

“I’m so sorry,” I whispered.

He nodded, and I used that as a distraction as I lifted the fabric from his skin.

“Thanks,” he said.

“Believe it or not, it’s looking better,” I said, my eyes falling down the length of his back. The wounds were not as red, and the skin around the lacerations had calmed down and were now back to flesh color.

I felt air movement between my back and the shirt I was wearing, which told me that my skin wasn’t as attached to my shirt as his was.

“Let me do the honors,” he said, moving his hands to my shirt before I had the chance to object. He worked the material away from my skin and raised it over my head.

I felt completely exposed at this simple gesture. It wasn’t sexual, but it felt sensual. And my wounded mind and body shuddered at the thought. How twisted was it that two people damaged by a gruesome war were left peeling off layers of themselves?

“In other news,” I said, trying to shake the unexpected feelings away. “I found Terrence’s address. Hopefully, he’s still there.”

Preston removed sheets and a comforter out of a plastic box and made the bed.

“Here’s to finding out what he knows tomorrow,” Preston mumbled, and I wondered if he felt the same odd connection to one another as I did.

He slid under the covers and hugged the edge so tightly I thought he was going to fall off.

“I don’t bite,” I teased, slipping under the covers.

He laughed.

“I just don’t want you accidentally flopping an arm on my back. I think that would be the last straw,” he confessed. “My back feels like it’s on fire again.”

“Don’t laugh, but I think I’m going to wear leather from now on.”

Of course, he started laughing.

“From head to toe.” I started laughing too.

Soon the laughter turned to silence as I heard Preston’s breathing steady and signal that he had fallen asleep.

I laid on my side and moved the comforter over my shoulders. It smelled slightly musty, but for some reason that was reassuring as if to tell me that I was safe here, buried under the ground. The silence inside this box beneath the earth was actually deafening. As I closed my eyes, I attempted to make myself relax but that was impossible. Even the heavy sound of my heart beating made me feel uneasy, like it was the sound of a clock reminding me that I shouldn’t be wasting time in a bed. The thought was ridiculous. I knew that, but sleep felt like a guilty pleasure.

Preston shifted slightly and his breathing changed. I wasn’t alone any longer. At least for now. I’d been so used to being alone with my own thoughts that sharing them left me filling anxious, jittery.

Preston’s hypnotic breaths tricked me into falling asleep, and before I knew it, I was dreaming again of a world untouched by war.

***

We drove in silence to the address that was listed on the satellite image. Preston was at the wheel, and I was determined to make sure we didn’t make any wrong turns. Both of us were armed, but our weapons were concealed.

“Turn right at the next light,” I said, stretching my body as much as I could while anchored in a seat belt. We’d been driving for almost two hours back toward the city, which was where Terrence theoretically lived.

“You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I said. “I feel less frightened about encountering him than Marcus, though. How crazy is that?”

“Not crazy at all.”

“There it is.” I pointed at an old house that matched the images perfectly. It was a pre-centennial home that had seen better days. The siding was falling off in places and the shutters seemed to be held on by only a nail. The fence surrounding the yard was rusty, and the landscape was completely overgrown. My hope faded that he was still living here as I took in the condition of the property.

“I guess they haven’t gotten around to updating the satellite images,” I muttered.

Preston parked along the street and looked over at me. “You ready?”

I nodded and we both got out of the car and slowly walked over to the home. There was a kid’s bicycle out in the front yard and two deflated soccer balls. Again, not promising.