Chapter 13
Kate
Maybe Jordan allowing me free range of the house wasn’t such a great idea.
It’s still incredibly awkward being in this house together. I follow Jordan around, firing off questions, needing to gather as much information as I can. I’m nervous I didn’t study that corpse properly, but when I asked about looking at it again, I was told no.
Jordan’s gruff demeanor doesn’t shift the longer we spend together. I’m half-waiting for her to get so annoyed with me bothering her that she just rips my head off.
Now that the mattress upstairs is ruined, I’ve moved into a different one downstairs. When I asked Jordan where she’d be sleeping, she told me not to worry about it.
I shrugged it off, but ever since I moved down here, I feel like I’m being watched constantly.
We can’t keep going on like this.
She brings dinner into the living room, setting it on the scratched coffee table before leaving without a word when I pipe up. “I’d like for us to sit together for dinner, if that’s okay.”
She freezes before throwing me a wary look over her shoulder.
I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’m tired of how awkward this is.”
Silence. Jordan turns and struts out of the room, and I deflate like a balloon. So much for breaking bread.
I reach for my dinner when she enters, her own steaming plate in her hand. She doesn’t say anything as she sits on the couch across from me and digs into her meat a bit more aggressively than necessary.
Looks like we’re getting somewhere.
“No longer interested in raw meat?” I inquire to break the tension.
She shrugs. “Thought it would make you more comfortable if I wasn’t eating an animal carcass.”
I wrinkle my nose at the image and force myself to take another bite. Before the outbreak, I was a staunch vegetarian. I’d cry for whatever animal the rest of my family was eating at dinner. But no one can afford to be picky now—it’s either eat what you’re offered or starve.
The sun is setting, throwing shades of orange and pink through the separation of the wooden slats on the windows.
Whoever lived here before clearly tried boarding up the house in an effort to protect themselves.
The few photos still on the walls show a large family with an elderly couple sitting on two chairs in the middle of people of all ages.
All smiling, blissfully unaware of what was to come.
We finish our food quickly, and Jordan clears her throat, clearly unsure of how to proceed. I am too.
“Can I ask you some more questions?” I ask quietly, hesitantly.
“To gather intel?” she replies, her eyes guarded.
Yes. “No,” I lie. “I want to get to know you.”
She hums, clearly not believing me, but she gestures for me to go ahead. I straighten my spine. “Can you explain more about the…beast?”
Her eyes grow guarded. “What, specifically, would you like to know?”
“You mentioned it feels like it’s in your head, waiting for a moment to come forward. Is it…controlling you?”
“In a way,” she starts. “More so in the beginning. I didn’t have any control over my body up until recently, and even then, the control comes and goes.”
“So you’re just…watching your body infect others, but you can’t stop it? Like you were trapped in your body?”
She nods.
“Do you think other people are…trapped inside themselves?”
“I can only speak for myself,” she counters before pausing. “But yes. I was, so why couldn’t others?”
Fear coils through my muscles. When a horde attacks, it’s hard to remember that they were people once—and that they maybe still are.
“What was it like?” I ask, even as nerves spark along my skin. I don’t think I really want to know.
“There are some things too horrible to remember.”
Horror sluices through me. “Being stuck inside yourself without the ability to control what’s happening sounds…” I trail off.
“Horrible,” she replies flatly.
I nod, at a loss for words.
The infected are trapped inside themselves. That means every attack, every bite has been against their will. They’re stuck without a way out.
I think I’m going to be sick. Nausea races up my throat, twisting my stomach. I lurch to the side as I begin dry heaving, the food I’ve eaten threatening to come back up.
I’ve killed people. People who are infected and can’t control themselves. Who are prisoners inside their own bodies.
Harry is still in his body, forced to rip people apart and fend for himself.
My stomach spasms, trying to empty itself, but I fight against the urge to waste food.
I always thought the infected were the monsters, but maybe I’m one too.
Parker was adamant that we die once we become infected. How could he be so horribly wrong?
Jordan doesn’t say anything as I fight to control myself. I close my eyes, trying to regulate my breathing, to pull myself back from the terror. I may have killed, but I can make up for it. Curing the infection will save numerous lives. Maybe that will help absolve me.
Getting back is even more important than before. Harry is still in there somewhere, and I can help him come back.
The thought alone helps the wave of panic recede. I knew there was a reason I kept going to see him.
I lift my head to find Jordan watching me, a look of concern bunching her eyebrows. But then she blinks, and her face smooths out.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her.
“For what?”
“That you had to live with that. I can’t even imagine—”
“Stop,” she snarls, her hands balling into fists on top of her knees.
My breath catches in my throat. “I didn’t mean—”
“I don’t need your pity.”
“It’s not,” I try to argue, but she shakes her head, a look of disgust growing on her face before she stands.
“Save it. Maybe taking you was a bad idea.”
I can’t stop myself from flinching before anger eclipses the hurt. “Yeah, maybe it was,” I sneer. “Maybe you should let me go.”
Jordan hisses and I can’t stop myself from baring my teeth. She’s stronger and faster, but I’m nearly spitting fire.
“Let me go so I can go back to help my team. Do you want to keep living like this?” My voice is getting louder, but I can’t stop now.
“Of course I don’t.”
“Then let me go back to the safe zone.”
“No.” Her jaw sets and she crosses her arms, signaling the end of this discussion.
My nails dig into my palms as fire spreads through me, ready to eviscerate.
Ready to fight.
Without thinking, I dart from my seat and sprint into the kitchen where Jordan has dumped my backpack.
Including my gun.
I don’t need to look over my shoulder to know she’s moving for me, so I reach for the bookshelf in the hallway and throw it down, blocking her. Her snarl makes my heart jump, but I keep going, racing into the kitchen.
I spot my weapon on the counter and I charge forward.
My hand closes around it before I’m shoved against the wall, the gun clattering against the tile.
All the air rushes from my lungs as I’m forced against the wall with Jordan at my back. Her hands bind my wrists between us. I slam my head back to smash into her face, but I don’t make contact.
Instead, I’m roughly spun around, my wrists gripped in one of her hands above my head as she presses herself against me. We both growl at each other, and I squirm against her iron hold.
“Let me go,” I grit out.
Her knee presses in between my legs as she brings us nose-to-nose. “You think you know everything. Have you ever stopped to wonder if maybe you don’t?”
“All the time,” I fire back, instantly regretting the small moment of vulnerability. “Have you ever considered that people don’t want to be around you, not because you’re infected, but because you’re an overbearing asshole?”
Her breath fans across my mouth as her face contorts with rage, her knee between my legs pressing against me. A long-forgotten sensation sparks in my belly, throwing me off kilter for a moment.
Jordan seems to sense it too, because she pulls back, her head tilting. “What was that?”
“I—” I don’t know, I nearly say.
We observe each other for a moment before her knee presses against me harder. A little gasp builds in me as the sensation gets stronger. Is this…no, it can’t be—
Jordan’s eerie eyes alight with mischief, completely replacing the anger. She sniffs once. “Oh, I see.”
“What?” I sputter, my skin suddenly feeling flushed. “What are you implying?”
She chuckles and it skitters across my bones. I’m suddenly very aware of every place we’re touching.
“I can nearly hear your pulse.” Jordan leans forward, her mouth lightly skating over my jugular. I hold my breath, fear pumping through me alongside this newfound feeling. “It’s calling to me, telling me things.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” It’s a half-lie.
Her breath is warm against my throat. She shifts slightly, keeping herself against me. The rough pressure between my legs makes my breath catch. I can’t feel aroused right now; this is so wrong. I have an infected holding me hostage, and she’s turning me on?
She pulls back slightly, studying me with a smirk on her lips. “Are you in need?”
Before I can reply, she presses her knee against me harder. A small, pathetic noise comes from my throat. “This—”
Suddenly, her face changes, an alertness etched into her features. As quick as a whip, she releases me and heads to the front door. “I hear them. They’re coming this way.”
It takes me a second to realize what she’s saying: infected are moving toward us. They must have heard our altercation and want to check it out. Still in a confused daze, I rush after her and peer through the window slats.
About a dozen infected are prowling right to us.
Before I can even register worry, I’m ripped from the window and pressed against the wall, Jordan’s hand covering my mouth.
“Quiet,” she whispers urgently before she cocks her head, listening.
The sounds of snarls and hisses reach my ears just beyond the wall. I quake in fear, my eyes on Jordan, afraid to even blink. Breathing into her hand, I try to be as silent as possible.
Creaks from someone stepping onto porch stairs nearly make me jump out of my skin before the front door handle shakes. Jordan and I both stare at it twisting and turning, trying to open. The small lock is the only thing that separates us and them.
After a few tries, the knob stops moving, and the sound of footsteps dissipates. We stand still for a few more minutes, too afraid they’ll hear us and come right back.
Eventually, Jordan sighs and says, “They’re gone.”
Her hand leaves my mouth, and I take a large gulp of air.
“How do you know they won’t be here later?” I pant.
“I don’t,” she murmurs. “Which is why you need to not destroy furniture and make a lot of noise when you’re angry.”
She really knows how to push my buttons. “You know I can’t stay here forever. I need to get back.”
Jordan’s eerie eyes narrow. “To run off and tell your little scientists about me?” She scoffs. “I don’t think so.”
Anger spurs in my stomach. “Don’t you want to get rid of the virus? Why would anyone want to live like this?” I ask again, still not understanding her.
“Maybe some of us can’t go back,” she snaps. “Maybe some of us have seen and done horrifying things, and to be cured means having to come to terms with that.”
My irritation extinguishes. “Jordan—”
“Don’t.” She stalks out of the room.
I hadn’t considered…what happens once they’re cured? What horrors have they experienced?
And will they ever come back from them?
I’m so engrossed with my thoughts that I barely register my feet moving me to the bedroom.
A deep sigh escapes me as I stop to lay down and curl up on my side, my eyes lifting to the lone window.
I can’t even begin to unpack the way I felt when she tackled me this time. Maybe my body is ready for stimulation, but my mind has been too distracted, so focused on survival that I’m ignoring my baser instincts.
I squeeze my eyes shut, not ready to deal with that. One thing at a time, I think.
First things first, I need to stop arguing with Jordan. There has to be a way for her to see how important it is for me to get back.
It’s as if a light bulb goes on above my head as an idea starts to form.