RecruitZ (Afterworld Series) (20 page)

I didn’t catch it.

“So are you going to start trusting me, or do I get to look forward to more of the same?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I shot back.

“Well, your trust issues don’t seem to be getting any better. I doubt you believe half the things I mention. I get the feeling the moment you could go at this alone, you would. And I’m really not sure this is what I had imagined as far as a partnership. I’d like to take you for a visit. I have some friends close by who’ve experienced similar situations and—”

“You’re not really asking me are you?”

He shook his head. “Not really.”

The sound of the engine rumbled as we continued down the road with the concrete wall on one side and a heavily timbered forest on the other.

“Do you think there’s any hope for me?” I glanced at Preston. It didn’t really occur to me how much I’d only thought of myself.

“Possibly,” he joked. “The place we’re going is a B&B.”

“A B&B?”

“Yeah. My friends always wanted to own a farm and have a bed and breakfast on it. They finally got the resources to do it.” He pressed his lips together.

“Amazing what opportunities the outbreak afforded us all,” I said sarcastically. I thought back to the zombie pit and the countless people throwing their money away as if it was tainted, and in a way, it was. “I understand why the zombie pit is such an attraction. The government payouts seems stained and dirty, like holding onto it is a constant reminder of what we’re all missing, who we’re all missing.”

“And Marcus and his group certainly tapped into that,” Preston said.

“And more. It’s the more I’m really interested in. So how far away is this place?”

“About thirty minutes.”

I nodded and watched as we continued past the last of the concrete wall. There was absolutely nothing to see from the outside. We’d have to go in, if we wanted answers.

***

We pulled down a long, dirt driveway with pasture lining both sides. We were definitely deep into the country. I hadn’t seen any sort of civilization from the moment we’d left the MHA facility. It had been a thirty-minute trip, but that was only because Preston was going about eighty miles-per-hour on a two-lane country road. After our trip, I wasn’t sure who was the reckless one.

“Do they know we’re coming?” I asked.

He shook his head. “They live off the grid.”

“Probably smart. But how does that work with opening their home to visitors and B&B guests?”

He laughed. “It doesn’t.”

We rode along the bumpy drive for several minutes before we rounded a corner, and I was able to catch a glimpse of a building behind a burst of alder trees. It didn’t look like a home, possibly a barn. As we wound along the side of the building, the home came into view. It was a beautiful brick building that looked completely untouched by the horrors we all experienced.

“Wow. This isn’t what I’d call a farmhouse.”

The architecture was stunning. It looked like a Victorian Villa plucked out of 1890. There were six bay windows that were equally spaced, stained glass atop the front entry and above the bay windows, the roof was made of slate, patterned brick designs were located in each quadrant of the rectangular building, and ironwork twisted along the windows and doors. Two of the chimneys released smoke into the air at opposite ends of the house.

Preston pulled in front of the home and turned off the ignition.

“They aren’t very trusting, so I should go talk to them first,” he said.

“Sound like my kind of people.”

Preston gave me a huge smile and left the truck, swiftly walking to the front stoop. He knocked on the door and within seconds the front door opened wide. A woman about my age wrapped her arms around Preston’s neck, kissing his cheek endlessly. A man stepped out from the door and gave Preston a hug just as the woman released Preston from her grasp.

She spotted me in the truck, and her expression completely slipped into one of suspicion and alarm. Preston turned to look at me and waved as he explained who I was. I actually wanted to hear what he said because I wasn’t even sure about myself any longer. I watched as the woman’s expression softened slightly and she waved me over.

I got out of the truck and slowly made my way to Preston and his friends. The woman had strawberry blonde hair that was tied in a loose bun. She was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. The man’s expression turned distant as I approached. His black hair was disheveled and his clothes were dirty, probably from working on the property.

“This is Rebekah,” Preston said. “Rebekah, this is Emily and her husband, Trick.”

My head jolted toward the man. He didn’t look like a Trick.

Preston started laughing. “Kidding. His name is Braden.”

His joke loosened up Emily and Braden, and my apprehension began to dissolve.

“Your humor never gets old,” Emily said, laughing. “Let’s get inside. It’s freezing out here.”

I nodded and thought about what Emily said. Humor? Preston…funny? I suddenly wanted to get to know Preston, the real Preston. Not the one I imagined him to be.

“You can stay for as long as you need,” Emily offered.

The entry hall was as grand as the exterior. The dark wood floors complimented the pale walls. A long pew was placed against the far wall for seating, and above us hung a beautiful crystal chandelier. Preston shut the door, and as he did so, I spotted a large wardrobe cabinet packed full of photo albums rather than coats.

“You’re home is really beautiful,” I said, admiring everything around me.

“It’s been a nice escape,” she said, smiling.

“Although, we never really escape it, do we?” Braden said softly, as he began down the hall.

I shook my head and felt Preston’s fingers gently touch my back, pushing me forward. Glancing back at him, I smiled as I reached around my back and grabbed his fingers, sliding my hand into his.

We walked into the kitchen where an oversized farm table was placed in the corner with enough seating for ten people. The industrial size stove was in the center island. A double fridge was on the wall closest to me, and the sink was centered in front of a greenhouse window. Fresh herbs stretched for the sunlight, and a Christmas cactus sprawled behind the sink.

“We’d love to hear what you’ve been up to,” Braden said, noticing my fingers intertwined in Preston’s. I hastily dropped my hand from his and Preston laughed.

“More than I wish to relay, really,” Preston said, taking a seat at the table.

“I’ll put a pot of coffee on,” Emily said.

“Probably a good idea,” Preston said.

I took a seat next to him and watched Emily glide through the kitchen seamlessly. Her movements were so graceful, and I got the feeling that this wasn’t all that unusual, having two people pop up at the start of an evening.

“You look like hell,” Braden said, a wide grin spreading across his lips.

“Yeah, she really does,” Preston said, glancing at me.

I punched him in the shoulder. “He wasn’t talking about me.”

“How do you put up with him?” Braden joked.

“I haven’t seen this side of him until we arrived,” I confessed, catching Preston’s mischievous expression. “But I kind of like it.”

Preston’s eyes fastened onto mine, and his carefree demeanor vanished.

“Last we heard, you were working at some dive bar,” Emily said, missing the entire interaction as she scooped the grounds into the filter.

“No longer there, but I found out enough to carry our theory forward,” he said, glancing at me. “This one came snooping around for info and a way into the pits while I was at the bar.”

“Oh, girl. Why on earth would you want to go sniffing out that mess?” she asked, giving me a sympathetic smile. She grabbed a plate of cookies and placed them on the table, taking a seat across from me.

“I saw it online and couldn’t believe that it could possibly exist. Zombies fighting one another? I had never seen that during the outbreak. They were never organized, or thinking, and it sounded like both those qualities would be needed during a fight. At least partially.” I shifted in my seat and felt Braden’s gaze on me.

“What made you interested in zombie behavior? That seems like kind of an odd preoccupation for a college girl,” Braden said, eyeing me. Emily tapped his arm and gave him a disapproving look.

“My husband was killed by thinking, organized zombies. A horde of them surrounded us. They had their sights set on him. There was nothing I could do…” my voice trailed off.

“I’m so sorry,” Braden said, glaring at Preston. “You should’ve told us, man.”

“I’ve learned not to speak for her,” Preston said, shrugging. “Well, whatever the case, TRAC seems to think we’ve come across some information that they don’t want us to have. They kidnapped us—”

“And almost killed us,” I interrupted.

“What information did you find that they’re willing to kill you for?” Emily asked, her eyes wide.

“We have no idea,” I said.

“Well, that’s not good,” Braden said, shoving his fingers through his hair. “TRAC, you say?”

Preston nodded, and I watched Emily and Braden trade worried glances.

“What?” I asked.

“I think we have a lot to talk about,” Emily said, her eyes misting over.

The cold air ignited my senses as I followed Preston outside to grab our things from the truck. Emily also suggested we move it back behind the house to a garage. I couldn’t imagine anyone ever finding this house out in the middle of nowhere, but she obviously knew something I didn’t.

“Are your walls starting to come down around these two?” Preston asked, hauling the large duffels out of the truck bed.

I glared at him with a smile anchored on my face. He saw right through me. “My walls might even be crumbling around you…marginally.” I tossed my backpack on the steps next to the duffels.

He laughed and shook his head. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“Believe it or not, I do value what you have to say. I just have an odd way of showing it.”

Preston’s eyes met mine, running his finger along his jawline. The look in his eyes was intense, sharpening his already chiseled features. He was good-looking in a rugged sort of way. A ping of guilt rattled inside of me for noticing, and I dropped my gaze to the ground.

“You can go back inside, and I’ll move the truck,” he offered, noticing my reaction.

“That’s okay. I’ll come with you.” I walked around to the passenger door and climbed onto the truck bench.

“You suddenly shy to go in there by yourself?” he teased, but his expression was warm, kind.

“No.”

Maybe I was.

“So are you going to tell me what this place really is?” I asked, as he drove the truck along the side of the large home, reaching the back garage.

“I’ll let them explain it to you,” he said, driving the truck inside the dark garage. There was another older model car. They obviously weren’t believers in our new technology either, but I did notice an auto-driver under a carport.

We slowly walked to the front of the house to collect our bags. There were plots for several gardens that had already been covered over for the winter, and a few random sheds placed along the side of the property. The place felt lived in, like it had somehow missed the entire outbreak and nothing ever stopped moving forward. The rest of the world felt stagnant and so did some of the people in it. Whether I went to pick up a carton of milk at the grocery store or a piece of clothing at the mall, there was a certain expression some survivors wore. It was a mix between defeat and hopelessness, almost like they were experiencing the same lack of brain activity as the undead. Even though we were officially living in the afterworld, it didn’t necessarily feel like anyone was living at all, myself included.

“Thanks for putting up with me,” I said, glancing at Preston. “I kind of disconnected from the world and reality once Gavin was killed. I know I haven’t been the most pleasant person at times, and I’ve gotten so used to working solo that I’m not always sure how to fit someone else in.”