2. Lucas
CHAPTER TWO
LUCAS
The pump squealed every time I forced the handle down, the rusted metal protesting loud enough to echo through the quiet morning.
I paused for a moment to make sure that it hadn’t drawn any infected my way.
Hearing nothing, I resumed my chore.
Water splashed into the bucket at my feet in uneven bursts as cold air settled against the back of my neck, sharp enough to wake me faster than anything else except maybe a strong cup of coffee.
The sun hadn’t fully risen, and everyone in the house was still asleep. I loved the silence before the day's chaos began, because I could almost pretend the world was still normal.
With one hand braced on the old well's side, I worked the handle once more, my jaw tightening at the metal's groan under my grip.
I was still getting used to the fact that, in a sense, I was now Hercules. I smirked, thinking about the look on Adrian’s face when I mentioned that to him… he was always such a stick-in-the-mud.
We were lucky to have found this place. After weeks on the road, dodging the infected and trying to keep everyone alive after the disaster at Ben’s place, the old farmhouse seemed like a gift from God.
It sat at the end of a long driveway, hidden behind dead fields and overgrown trees that had long since been abandoned. We’d been here for a while, and I didn’t know how much longer it would be feasible for us to stay.
When we initially came across the place, we all assumed that no one was living there.
We’d been wrong. Well, we had the living part correct.
The family had been upstairs. Parents in bed and two little girls curled together between them.
No blood.
No signs of a struggle.
Just an empty pill bottle on the nightstand beside a folded note, none of which we bothered to read beyond the first sentence.
I swallowed hard and focused on the bucket, rather than thoughts better left in the past.
It was easier that way.
The journey here had been bad enough. Too many roads and too many horrible sights that my human mind still had trouble processing.
People were so desperate, they were ready to kill over half a bottle of water or a can of beans. I understood, though, because I’d do whatever it took to survive and protect those I cared about.
Supplies here were running dangerously low.
That’s the only reason any of us had entertained the idea of the town being an actual option.
On our journey here, we’d seen messages painted in uneven black letters on scraps of plywood, nailed to trees or abandoned buildings.
SAFE SHELTER.
HOT FOOD.
SURVIVORS WELCOME.
I thought it reeked of desperation and didn’t trust it, and neither did Adrian. But trust stopped mattering when Lane’s little sisters started waking up hungry often enough that Lane began skipping meals, thinking we wouldn’t notice.
That pissed me off. The girls were only six years old. Too young to already know what hunger felt like. And definitely too young to ration food and water.
We’d tried hunting for food but hadn’t had enough luck to make a difference, and most of the stores within a reasonable walking distance were already picked clean. So, Adrian and that punk Beck went to check out the town while the rest of us stayed behind.
It should’ve been only a one-day walk there. Maybe less, given how those two were moving now. And then a few days to check the place out and return. But they’d been gone much longer than expected, and I was starting to worry.
My grip on the pump handle grew tighter as irritation bubbled up. I still thought it was crap that I was stuck babysitting while they vanished into who knows what kind of trouble.
Something shifted in the woods behind me.
My head turned sharply toward the trees, every muscle tightening automatically as I listened harder.
Nothing.
No voices or shuffling footsteps to signal trespassers or the infected. Just the faint scrape of movement somewhere deeper in the brush.
Rabbit, most likely.
Still, I stayed motionless for another few seconds, listening to the woods breathe around me until my pulse finally slowed.
Maybe we’d catch it in one of the traps Lane had set. One could only hope.
The extra sharpness of my senses that I’d gained after awakening from the fever still felt wrong sometimes.
Useful, but wrong all the same.
I grabbed the bucket and started back toward the house, some of the water sloshing over the sides at my fast pace.
I noticed the smell long before I got to the back porch. I must’ve been outside longer than I thought.
Scrambled eggs and the Spam frying we’d found in the nearly bare cabinets made my mouth water.
Lane was probably making breakfast for the girls.
The farmhouse had a small chicken coop out back that had somehow avoided complete destruction. Most of the birds had likely been eaten by coyotes or infected months earlier, but the few remaining were enough to provide eggs occasionally.
I stepped onto the porch just as the front door slammed open hard enough to rattle the frame.
Ethan stormed outside barefoot, with his jeans on and shirt partially buttoned, breathing hard and looking half a second away from losing his shit completely. “Where the hell is Lila?”
The bucket I was carrying hit the porch, sloshing more water over the sides. At this rate, it’d be empty before I made it into the house. “What?”
“She’s gone!” His voice cracked somewhere between anger and panic. “Her pack’s gone too.”
Something cold settled low in my stomach instantly.
There was only one person stubborn enough to sneak out in the middle of the night without telling anyone first.
And more importantly, only one person Lila would’ve followed without thinking about the danger.
“Taryn,” I muttered under my breath.
Ethan shoved a hand through his hair aggressively. “You knew?”
“Hell, no,” I snapped, already heading for the door. “But I know enough about the little brat to realize her fingerprints are all over this.”
I shoved past Ethan and headed straight for the stairs, two at a time.
“Taryn!” I barked.
No answer.
My pulse slammed harder against my ribs with every step.
I hit the hallway and crossed straight to the room she’d been using, throwing the door open hard enough that it cracked against the wall.
It felt satisfying because I’d wanted to storm in here and punch that asshole Beck in the face every time I heard Taryn moan late at night… these fucking walls were paper-thin.
I felt embarrassed to admit that Taryn’s sex sounds had probably made my right arm significantly stronger.
At least I wasn’t standing outside her room at night like my best friend. I’d stopped him from going in there and killing Beck more times than I could count.
Empty. Just as I expected.
The blankets were tossed back, and her bag and knife were gone. The space near the door where Max usually slept was also empty.
“Fuck.” I ran a hand down my face.
Behind me, footsteps pounded up the stairs.
“What’s happening?" Lane called out from the kitchen while the girls, Avery and Emery, spoke anxiously over one another.
Ethan appeared in the doorway, breathing hard. “Tell me Taryn’s still here.”
I slowly twisted, my jaw clenched so hard it was painful. “She took Max.”
His face turned pale immediately, as we both understood what that signified. Taryn never went anywhere for long without that dog, and judging by how things looked, she’d been gone for hours.
“Son of a bitch,” Ethan snapped, dragging both hands through his hair. “What the hell was she thinking?”
“She was thinking Beck and Adrian should’ve been back days ago.” I shot back.
Why I was defending her was anyone’s guess.
He didn’t have anything else to say because we both knew it was true.
A one-day walk there, and a few days to check things out.
Something had happened.
Without delay, I went to the room where I slept. Grabbing my bag, I hurled supplies inside almost faster than my mind could keep up.
Knife.
Gun.
Ammo.
My hands moved automatically while my mind kept trying to go somewhere else entirely.
I felt more scared than angry, which pissed me off. No, I wasn’t making sense… when it came to Taryn, I rarely did.
Fucking brat.
She could have said something to me. I was worried, too. But like a child, she just up and left. Worse, she took Lila with her.
“You’re not going by yourself,” Ethan said from behind me, his voice rougher now, less angry and more desperate.
“Yes, I am.”
“The hell you are.” He stepped forward. “Lila’s out there, too.”
That stopped me for half a second. “I know,” I said tightly, understanding how he felt.
“No, I don’t think you do.” His voice cracked slightly. “She’s not built for this shit like Taryn is. We weren’t fortunate enough to gain the extra senses y'all did.”
I always felt a knot of guilt in my gut watching the unenhanced fight with things I found easy now.
Lila had adapted better than most people would have, but she was nowhere near Taryn’s level.
I shoved more ammunition into my pack harder than necessary. “She chose to go.”
“She chose Taryn,” Ethan snapped back immediately. “There’s a difference.”
I knew that was what pissed him off more than anything, and I didn’t blame him. Lila trusted Taryn enough to follow her into something dangerous without waking the rest of us. That showed devotion.
“Are you absolutely sure she didn’t mention anything to you?” I questioned Ethan.
He wasn’t known for his listening skills.
“Hell no! I would’ve forbidden it if she had.” He growled.
Forbidden?
The boy was a tool.
But I thought, perhaps a little hypocritically, that I would give anything to love a woman who was so easy to handle.
I paused… love… fuck no… I hated that brat.
Didn’t I?
I didn’t have time to worry about it now.
“I’m going, and I don’t give a shit what you say. You’re not my teacher anymore.” Ethan turned to head to his room to gather his things.
I bet the punk would give a shit if I punched him in the face.
I took a deep breath.
Woosah.
“You want the girls left here with nobody protecting them?” I snapped. “Because Lane can’t do it alone.”
He stopped in his tracks. “They’re not my responsibility!”