Chapter 4
Grumpy Bastard
Theo
Alex still hasn’t turned up by the time I drag my weary ass to my sleeping bag. Ollie refuses to cuddle with me, her eyes darting to the other people around us as she tells me no. So both of us have to suffer a shit night’s sleep.
And then, because things couldn’t get any more frustrating, we wake to the sounds of screaming and raised voices.
“I told you that was mine!” someone shouts, their voice bouncing off the metal walls of the warehouse. “Give it back!”
There’s a feminine shriek that threatens to cause my ears to bleed, followed by what sounds like a fight.
What the fuck is going on?
I drag myself from the warm comfort of my sleeping bag to see that I’m not the only one roused by the argument, looking half-asleep.
Ollie’s still got red lines across her face from her pillow, strands of her hair brushing against her cheeks from where they escaped from her plait.
Beside her, Harlow grumbles before burrowing her way into her sleeping bag.
Rhys at least looks more alert, although there are heavy bags under his eyes and his hair is a chaotic mess.
Alex is the only one missing, and glancing toward the argument, I see why.
He’s in the middle of breaking up a fight between two women. I don’t recognise either of them, and they appear to be fighting over a small wrapper of… something. It’s hard to see between flying clawed hands and incessant tugging between them.
Grunting, Rhys extracts himself from his sleeping bag and strides over. “What’s going on?” he demands as he scowls between the fighting women and Alex.
At his voice, the two women stop their flailing and turn their gazes to him. Alex, having copped a scratch across his cheek, sighs and steps away.
“I came back from guard duty and they were already fighting,” he says, his voice thick with exhaustion.
Guard duty? I frown as I glance at the weak sunlight streaming through the broken warehouse windows. Didn’t he get some sleep last night? Judging from how he looks, probably not.
The knots in my gut tighten.
“She took my chocolate bar, the one I called dibs on last night,” one of the women snaps before giving the small wrapper a tug.
The other woman holds onto it and glares. “You didn’t say shit about calling dibs last night, Nicole. You didn’t even know it existed until ten minutes ago.”
The first woman, Nicole, scoffs. “How would you know, Tracy? You weren’t even there! And even if I didn’t say it last night, I’m saying it now. So give it back!”
The two women continue to bicker while the rest of us watch on with gaping mouths.
All of this is over a chocolate bar? Rhys looks about done with all of this shit and Alex isn’t far off as the two of them sigh and try to break up the argument.
But the women aren’t having it, ignoring the men as they fight.
“They’ll be at this for at least another hour,” a feminine voice says beside me.
I jerk my head away from the fight to see the brown-haired woman who was cooking with Tobias and Ollie last night sitting between me and Ollie.
“How do you know that?” Ollie asks, frowning at her.
“Because they were like this at the camp. I’m pretty sure they’re going to fuck at some point so that should help the tension. As long as one of them doesn’t try to edge the other. Then we’re all screwed.” She shudders.
I almost choke on my spit. “What?”
She turns to me with a pitying look. “Don’t know what edging is, Tattoo God? That’s a shame, but not unexpected.” She leans closer to Ollie. “This is why my money is on the grumpy one.”
“Rachel!” Ollie shoves the woman’s shoulder. “You’re such a pain in the ass.”
“And the grumpy guy could be a pain in yours.” The woman—Rachel—wiggles her eyebrows, and I can’t help but chuckle at the incredulous expression on Ollie’s face.
“If he’s not, I certainly will be,” I say, unable to stop myself from joining in on teasing Ollie. “Or both of us could be, if that’s your kink. DAP is a thing.” I wink at her.
Ollie groans and covers her bright red face with her hands. “I hate you both.”
Rachel turns her head back to me, eyebrows arched. “Both of you?” She taps her chin in contemplation. “I didn’t think of that, but now that you’ve said something…” She glances back at Ollie. “It’s not just one, is it? It’s all three of them.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” is Ollie’s muffled reply. “You’ll just tell my brother, and he’s an awful gossip.”
Rachel snorts. “He really is.” She goes to say something else, but the argument explodes into shouting. “I should help sort that out,” Rachel sighs and gets to her feet. “I’ll pray for your vagina.” She pats Ollie on the shoulder.
I huff out a laugh at the mortified look Ollie shoots her as the other woman strides off to intercept the heated argument between the two other women.
“Don’t laugh at me, asshole,” Ollie says with a scowl, which only makes me laugh more.
“Sorry, princess, but your expressions are priceless.”
“Dick,” she mutters as she staggers to her feet and sets about clearing up her area.
With Rachel handling the argument, I seize the chance to go to Alex to make sure everything is okay between the two of us.
My muscles and joints scream as I stretch, my body feeling like I got dragged through a hedge.
The fight, plus the lack of sleep and the journey yesterday, has done a number on me.
I can’t wait to get back to Haven so I can sleep in a proper bed.
Alex stands beside Rhys, the two of them watching as Rachel talks down the two women.
“Hey,” I say, moving to stand beside him. “Did you even get any sleep last night?”
His gaze flicks to me, his eyes cold and hard. “I got an hour or two.” He returns his focus to the women.
I frown, my stomach tightening with nerves. “Well, at least that’s something, but you should probably get some more tonight.”
He grunts but doesn’t otherwise acknowledge me.
Rhys leans back, his brow furrowed as he inclines his head towards Alex’s back before mouthing, “What’s wrong with him?”
I shrug and shake my head. He knows just as much as I do. I nudge Alex’s shoulder. “Do you think the two of us could talk?”
“I’m busy,” is all he says before he walks away.
I bite back a curse as I watch him go.
The dread in my stomach writhes and expands until it’s pushing into my chest, making it hard to breathe. I don’t know what the fuck crawled up his ass, but I need to sort it out before things get worse.
Alex is refusing to talk to me.
I try everything. I try walking next to him, hoping to spark a friendly conversation between us as we cut our way through the ruined city of Birmingham, but all he does is grunt or ignore me.
Next, I try putting Ollie between us, but even she can’t coax the big guy out of saying one or two words.
It’s like a huge storm cloud is hovering above his head, unwilling to give him even a moment of happiness.
I hate it, and so does Ollie. Which only makes me want to fix it more.
So, when we come across another warehouse big enough to house our group for the night that’s filled with zombies, I volunteer to be on Alex’s team to clear out the place.
He’s not pleased, but he doesn’t protest. Instead, the big grump just leads our team to the back of the warehouse to wait for the order to enter.
“Fuck, it stinks,” one man I don’t recognise moans, much to the agreement of the rest of the group.
He’s not wrong. The stench of decay is thick even with the rusted metal door to the back of the warehouse firmly closed. It doesn’t bode well since only a fairly large horde could give off a smell like that. But with the sun going down, we don’t have a choice.
A door at the front of the warehouse bangs open, signalling for us to move.
With more force than I expect, Alex shoves open the metal door, causing it to slam into the wall.
The first thing that hits me is the overwhelming stench, worse than anything I’ve ever smelled in my life.
I swallow a gag, but the people behind me lose the fight and their lunch.
The second thing I notice is the sheer amount of glowing eyes staring back at us from the dimly lit interior.
Fuck. There has to be at least two dozen zombies in here, all packed together like rotting sardines.
“How the hell are we going to kill all of those?” the same man who complained about the smell says, his voice thick with horror as we all stare at the small horde.
I slide my knife from its sheath. “The same way we do everything else, I guess; one at a time.”
“But there’s at least twenty in there! Almost double our numbers!” another person says, their voice quivering with fear.
At least they seem to have enough brain cells to do simple calculations. Always a good thing to have in someone watching your back. “At least, yeah, but not the worst odds I’ve seen.”
After everything that’s happened on this journey, this warehouse—while horrific—doesn’t faze me.
I’ve survived a horde a hundred times the size of this, hid in a supermarket toilet while another horde banged on the door during the night and helped take out an entire gang camp with only three other people.
This is nothing.
Alex grunts in agreement. Fucker still isn’t talking to me.
“This is suicidal!” the first man shouts.
“Not if we’re smart about this,” I say, keeping my voice clipped but calm. “Use the doorway as a choke point and stab them in the head. Easy.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth, the first few zombies lunge towards me.
I step back, forcing them to squeeze through the narrow doorway in order to reach us and fall into an easy fighting stance.
Alex is by my side, his mouth set in a grim line and his blue eyes focused on the horde struggling to push through the doorway.
The rest of our group hesitate behind us, but I ignore them.