Love Lies Bleeding Page 13

  Then she followed B.B., who was already loping off into the house.

  WILL

  He’d been worried about the introduction, had hoped the presence of the dog would smooth it, but B.B. didn’t seem to register for Snickers. He felt off. Snickers’ shotgun swung from her shoulders, Rhiannon all but radiated heat behind him, and B.B.’s nails clicked on the hardwood.

  They’d settled into a kind of routine, Snickers and him, for the last ten days, but Rhiannon was an unknown, another in a long list.

  Snickers climbed on her stool to stir the pasta sauce she had made. He put the box on the table and turned to catch Rhiannon’s reaction. Rhiannon stared at the working electric stove and raised her hand to flick the light switch. The light over the kitchen table turned on.

  “Electricity?” she asked.

  “Multiple generators,” he answered, trying to stop his chest from swelling too large, but enjoying her amazement.

  Snickers crossed to turn off the light and then resumed chopping carrots.

  “We’re still careful about how much we use,” he said.

  “Fresh veggies?” Rhiannon moaned as she removed her hat to expose her golden hair. He could feel the silly grin taking over his face again.

  “Greenhouse out back, self-watering. It was crazy overgrown, but Snickers has tamed it.” He was happy he sounded steady, despite the grin.

  Rhiannon swayed, dead on her feet. He reached for her despite the wary look Snickers threw his way, but she stepped out of his grasp.

  “You’ll want a shower,” he offered as cover. “The bedroom to the left of the main bath has clothes that might fit.” He indicated the stairs.

  Rhiannon looked unsure, but seemed compelled to ask, “A hot shower?”

  “You wouldn’t want a cold one,” he teased.

  “Right.” She seemed to be lost within her own thoughts.

  “Snickers, we’ll have to pick up dog food for B.B.,” he said. Snickers leaped down to write DOG FOOD on the magnetic list on the fridge.

  Rhiannon looked like her head might implode, and Will worried he was playing it too cool. If B.B.’s appearance was any indication, they’d been through hell and more.

  “Or you could sleep,” he started, but then Rhiannon snapped to awareness.

  “Yes, thank you… I… thank you.” She backed out of the room with B.B.

  Will stepped forward to watch Rhiannon climb the stairs.

  Snickers tossed carrots into the sauce.

  He placed a hand on her tiny head, a gesture she accepted now.

  “Maybe she’ll stay, maybe not,” he soothed, “but we’ll be okay either way. I found some Wagon Wheels.” He pulled the peace offering from the box of supplies.

  RHIANNON

  The clothes didn’t fit, but she didn’t care. They were clean and actually pretty… well, compared to the black canvas she’d been swathed in. The shower had been hot, just like he, Will, had said. There was honey and vanilla in the soap, and Rhiannon had almost started crying at the smell.

  When she’d stepped out of the shower to make sure the door was locked for the second time, she noticed that B.B. was asleep on the floor. B.B. feels safe, she scolded herself, but then chafed at the idea of a man protecting her. What if, what if, her brain clamored, but never completed.

  She’d heard him calling when she was dressing, but still testing him, she didn’t answer. He passed her open door on the way to the bathroom.

  “Rhiannon? Dinner,” he called.

  “Yeah?” she murmured. He turned back, and she, wearing only a skirt, made sure her bare back faced the door. She knew he’d caught sight. All the air sucked from the room. She pulled her shirt on, noting in the mirror that he stared steadily away.

  “You up for some dinner? We found some canned meat for B.B.” His voice broke slightly, but maybe only a trained ear would have caught it.

  “Thanks. We’ll be right there.” She turned toward him, but he didn’t look at her as he left. She felt oddly aroused, or maybe disappointed, but definitely awake.

  •••••••••

  Later, after the dishwashing — he’d dried — Rhiannon sat in the living room bay window and watched the sunset burn the sky behind the mountains.

  B.B. slept by the unlit fireplace.

  Will read a book, World War Z of all choices.

  Rhiannon breathed. She hadn’t been this calm in… maybe ever. She watched Snickers, who was crashed on the sofa and cuddled up with her shotgun. She felt the moment Will’s attention hit her.

  “We’re locked in for the night if that’s what’s worrying you,” he whispered.

  She shook her head and indicated the gun. ”Not loaded, is it?”

  “Wouldn’t do her much good if it wasn’t,” he replied, and returned to his book.

  “That your answer for everything?” she asked.

  He laughed, and then soberly stated, “It’s a world gone mad.”

  Quickly changing the subject, she tried, “How long have you guys been here?”

  He shrugged and guessed. “Two months, maybe, for me. Ten days for Snickers.”

  “Snickers?” she asked.

  “Were what she was eating,” he answered.

  “Amazing she didn’t get snatched. If it’s not the rebuild humanity one-rape-at-a-time group, it’s murderers or the Infected.”

  “The Infected?” he asked, and she was glad she had recent news to offer for his generosity. She never did like owing anyone.

  “They figured out how to stave off death.”

  “What?” He couldn’t get his jaw up. “Jesus. Not a cure, though?”

  “No,” she replied, “But the blood of the immune can sustain them indefinitely.”

  He was reeling, working it out. “But the virus burns through the body’s resources, like consuming the Infected from the inside out.”

  “Large doses of blood,” she added. “It sustains them, but the virus symptoms are still present, so they’re sick, but fast, strong, angry —”

  “And in need of our blood,” Will whispered. He glanced at Snickers, who was now sucking her thumb. “Living, breathing monsters. Nice.”

  “Rebuild Humanity keeps them as pets,” she added casually. Nevertheless, she could feel the questions he didn’t ask practically burning her.

  He settled on, “You lost someone?”

  “With 99.9 percent of the worldwide population wiped out, we all lost,” Rhiannon countered, but Will just shrugged. Then there’d been no one special for him, before. She could say the same and they could bond over never truly being loved, but she didn’t.

  •••••••••

  That night, the terrors started. Rhiannon was trapped in utter darkness with one of them, the Infected, its putrid snot dripping on her face right before it —

  She woke, hoping she hadn’t screamed.

  WILL

  He thought he heard Rhiannon scream, but as he continued to try to sense her through the multiple walls that separated them, Will got nothing. He’d been awake all night, his brain too full to turn off, not a problem he ever had in the past. He’d watched her, collecting clues: perfect table manners… hesitation with the dishwashing... She wasn’t used to this life. Again, it had nagged him, that feeling that he knew her. He wondered if she was going to stay. He wondered if it came to it, whether or not he’d ask her to. For himself? Or Snickers?

  He was pretty sure Snickers should be talking by now. He was starting to think maybe she was mute; maybe he shouldn’t have given her the gun, but he couldn’t start second guessing, not even with Rhiannon’s doubt. He thought of the Fleetwood Mac song and wondered if he could still play it. Not that he’d picked up a guitar since college.

  Movement at the door distracted him and he turned his head expecting Snickers but, traitorously, hoping for Rhiannon. It was Snickers, sans gun. He patted the bed beside him and she, dragging all her bedding, climbed up. Maybe one of her parents might have been part Asian?

&nb
sp; Now, with Snickers awake, he was pretty sure Rhiannon must have screamed, because it’d been days since the child had needed to crawl in with him.

  Snickers stared at him with her almond-colored cat eyes, and as he always did, not knowing what she needed, he just let her look. She raised her hand to suck on her thumb and he pulled it away gently with a smirk. She smiled at this; their habitual, familiar behavior.

  He heard more movement at the door as Rhiannon and B.B. silently slipped in. They curled into bed with Snickers wedged in the middle.

  Snickers curled her hand in the hair at the side of Will’s neck, and he realized how long it was getting. B.B. sighed as only a satisfied dog can.

  He was glad he’d claimed the master bedroom with its king-sized bed. The responsibility had scared him at first, but now Rhiannon was here. Smiling, as he closed his eyes to finally sleep, he thought maybe he could see the first glimmer of dawn at the edges of the blinds.

  •••••••••

  He later thought it was the worst damn idea he’d ever had, and he’d done many stupid things. Taking the girls with him; beyond stupidity.

  A road trip, he’d suggested. The girls glowed with excitement, and he’d felt so damn satisfied. Only four hours south, they‘d be back before dark.

  He’d been systematically collecting supplies from the surrounding towns, to restock the store, hotel, and houses. He didn’t know why.

  He hadn’t ventured this far since he acquired Snickers, but he thought it would be fun and get Rhiannon out for the first time in weeks.

  They’d relaxed into a rhythm, but he had noticed the strawberry plant in her bedroom. Even with room in the garden, she hadn’t planted it.

  •••••••••

  Rhiannon saw the gun shop as soon they entered town, and in minutes, the bullet belt was around Snickers’ waist. So the gun idea was okay now. Will attempted to be pleased rather than smug.

  Rhiannon went clothes hunting. Snickers stuck with him. He hoped to add rarities to the hotel library, but prioritized medical supplies.

  He left Snickers by the magazines, she liked the pictures, and went to box as much antibiotics, painkillers, and whatever else he could carry.

  He hadn’t realized that B.B. was with him until she started to growl a deep warning, just as his hand reached for the box of condoms.

  “Hey, it’s not like that.” He started to back away. Then he saw the hulking shadow by the window. Jesus H. Christ, what the hell was that?

  B.B. couldn’t get lower to the ground and still move, and she was scaring the hell out of him with her noises. He set his box down.

  He suddenly had a terrible feeling he was about to come face to face with Rhiannon’s and B.B.’s past.

  RHIANNON

  She didn’t know at the time what the fuck she’d ever do with the grenades, but she took them anyway. She also scored a cool MEC backpack. She remembered her hair had almost been that orange, same as the pack, in her first starring role — kicking vampire ass with great dialogue — still one of her favorites. The side pocket was perfect for grenades, and the water bottle holder adapted nicely to a shotgun. She took as much ammo as she could carry.

  The bullet belt was too big for Snickers, but Rhiannon punched another hole with her Swiss Army knife. She’d always had to be easily adaptable.

  Currently, she was appalled at the plethora of pink in the girls clothing section; maybe Snickers would prefer boys’ browns and blues? She grabbed and stuffed; she’d never been much of a shopper even when it had been expected, with her millions and all that. She got winter stuff too, in case it got picked over.

  It was at that moment she realized she was planning to stay.

  Was such domestic happiness even possible? She’d stopped dreaming of such; young, around the time she’d torn the horse photos off her walls. Around the time her childhood had been forcefully, or perhaps sneakily, stolen from her. Around the time she’d learned that no one, no matter their title or blood tie, would step up to protect her; even when she asked for help. She guessed she’d been just a little older than Snickers currently was —

  She heard the chains dragging on the concrete sidewalks before she saw them. Asked earlier, she would have thought she’d freeze in fear, but she didn’t.

  It was him: Shotgun-Fucking-Asshole, though he was missing an ear now. She was going to fucking blow his head off, right through the store window.

  Then, like a cold shower, she thought of Snickers. Had she and Will moved from the drug store? Still hidden, Rhiannon spied through the window.

  The Ford was still parked by the gun shop. She couldn’t see anything through the Drug Mart windows. Fuck.

  And where the fuck was B.B.?

  She left the clothing box by the front door, because she’d fucking be back for it, and then slipped into the back alley.

  WILL

  He didn’t have a leash, so he tied a tensor bandage around B.B.’s collar. Together, they silently shifted until they had eyes on Snickers.

  She seemed to be scrutinizing a Vanity Fair cover. Then, coming to some sort of decision, she turned as if to bring him the magazine. She’d only taken a step when she spotted him and B.B. partway down the aisle. Chocolate was smeared across one of her cheeks.

  Then the army-jacketed guy grabbed her, twisting her into a football tuck as he ripped the magazine from her little hands.

  B.B. didn’t even twitch when Will changed his mind about the tensor leash: all her muscle was honed on her prey.

  “Who’s this, kid? Who’s the pretty on the cover?” Army cajoled. Then he slammed Snickers on his shoulder to knock the breath and fight out of her.

  B.B. took him out at the knees before Army saw what hit him.

  Will caught Snickers before she hit the linoleum face first, then still managed to stop Army from bludgeoning B.B. with his gun.

  Snickers wasn’t happy to be placed to the side, and Will heard her pump the shotgun a split second before she got it in Army’s snarling face. He yanked the barrel up and to the side as Snickers pulled the trigger, and the redirected shot took out an entire window with spray.

  Army’s body slammed into Will’s chest and knocked him back. He wrenched the shotgun from Snickers’ hands as he fell, and then lost it underneath the shelves.

  They wrestled, their footing insecure in the fallen magazines. If not for B.B. clamped to Army‘s leg, he’d be seriously outmatched. At the edge of his vision, he could see Snickers burrowing under the shelving to retrieve her gun.

  Rhiannon burst through the back door like some avenging angel. Her entrance seriously distracted Army. ‘Course, Will felt that way every time her saw her, so it didn’t come as a surprise to him.

  He grabbed Snickers and rolled as Rhiannon spun to crack the side of Army’s skull with the butt of her gun.

  Snickers scrambled from his arms to stare down at Army, who was out cold but breathing. B.B.’s lingering snarls summed up Will’s own feelings nicely.

  “Move, Will,” Rhiannon urged as she wrapped her hand around B.B.’s collar and pulled the dog away. ”There’s no way they’d miss shotgun fire.”

  “They?” he groaned as he got up and followed Rhiannon out the alley door.

  “Two more, and one of — them — the Infected,” she warned as she soothingly smoothed Snickers' hair, then gave the child her secondary gun.

  “We get to the truck and go,” he firmly stated, but Rhiannon just smiled, almost sweetly. “No, Rhiannon. Not with Snickers here.”

  That momentarily stalled Rhiannon, but they didn’t have time for another plan before they heard footsteps, crunching glass, and loud cursing coming from inside the drugstore.

  “Rhiannon,” he ordered, “you take Snickers and hide, somewhere with a big, locked door between you and them. I’ll lead them out of town.”

  “Oh, yeah? Hide the useless females?” Rhiannon growled, but he cut her off.

  “No. You don’t hesitate or compromise. You’re the guns
linger here.”

  She wasn’t that easily convinced.

  ”I need you to do this Rhiannon. Snickers will be safe with you.”

  So she scooped Snickers up and was gone.

  She left. Just like that. No goodbye. Christ, get your head in the game! You begged. She did. So, heart in his throat, Will turned back into the store.

  •••••••••

  He almost made it to the truck before he saw It: the Infected. It was lumbering up the far sidewalk toward him. It sniffed the air in his direction and then bellowed.

  He was happy he hadn’t eaten, because despite frozen limbs, he was pretty sure he could and would throw up.

  It dragged two broken chains.

  Two guys, one missing an ear, sprinted from around the side of the drug store after it. They shouted and actually gestured at him to flee.

  He did.

  Why didn’t he just climb in the Ford and drive off? Because he was an absolute, goddamn, going-to-hell idiot.

  He ran; It was faster.

  It didn’t care he used to be an All-Star quarterback.

  It didn’t care track and field had been his yearly charity gig.

  It. Wanted. His. Blood.

  He didn’t know the town footprint. He made a wrong turn, but was actually able to leap the fence that blocked his way. The Infected just tore through.

  Then It had him pinned.

  He noted, as he was choke-pressed against a brick building that he thought might have been the bank, that It still had a couple of fence boards on its arm.

  It bit his shoulder.

  He screamed. He couldn’t help it.

  Then they were there, yanking at its chains. The one-eared guy cursed up a firestorm, but Will couldn’t hear him for the pain of being eaten alive.