13. Chapter 13
Chapter thirteen
Shelby
The temperature in the hallway dropped ten degrees when Cason barked his orders, all while drilling holes in Nate’s skull.
I don’t trust the asshole but now is not the time for a confrontation. It’s coming though.
Thankfully, Nate follows behind Cason like a sullen puppy and as soon as he’s gone, I turn to Amanda, who’s glaring after him.
While I share the sentiment, we need to focus and after touching her arm, I say as she shies away, “Amanda, honey, I need . . . can I, um, do you think I could have one of your mom’s shirts?”
I’ve been hyperaware of my near nakedness since Cason eyed me with a weird glint before turning away.
Does he see me as the weakest link? He probably should but I’m desperately hoping that he won’t come to his senses and leave me behind or worse, the group, I guess.
Unfortunately, Amanda turns to me with wide glassy eyes. I suspect the reality of the world we now inhabit is catching up with her but there’s no time for her to process shit.
We have to leave before we’re surrounded.
“Here,” Zoey says, pointing to the last bedroom at the end when Amanda merely blinks at me.
The rumpled covers of the king-sized bed lead me to believe that the girls have been sleeping here since their parents were bitten. I don’t know how they managed to corral them both into the other room, but I guess it doesn’t matter now.
Still, I avoid the family pictures on top of the dresser as Zoey pulls open a drawer and grabs the shirt laying on top of the pile.
It's a tank top that billows on me, but it’ll do and after pulling it over my head, I turn to Amanda standing in the door and say, “We have to go.”
She seems to have pulled herself together, to my relief but my stomach sinks when she slowly shakes her head, her pretty bronze-colored locks swishing around her shoulders.
“You can’t stay here alone,” I say, pointing to the floor but Amanda just looks away, her lower lip quivering.
Zoey touches her sister's arm just while I step in front of her, forcing her to meet my gaze. “Please," I say.
I don’t know what I plan to do if she refuses but I can’t leave these two girls here to fight this alone. Thankfully, the decision is taken from me when Zoey whispers, “Mandy?”
My soul aches for the young woman who just shot her own father in the head whether he was already dead or not as she slowly nods to her sister before saying, “Okay.”
With their parents gone, the burden must feel great for Amanda but hopefully as part of our group, she can relax her guard knowing she’s no longer alone.
While Amanda rounds the bed, I step into the hall before glancing back. We need to go, like now but the urgency dies on my lips when she grabs a backpack hidden behind the nightstand before tossing it to Zoey.
Zoey’s little fingers clutch her pack adorned with unicorns and glitter and bemused I step aside to let the two pass before stifling a chuckle.
“Let’s roll,” Cason calls.
Maybe these two girls don’t need me after all. Still, I feel better knowing they’re joining us in our escape although I mentally groan when we reach the top of the stairs.
It’s bad enough that Zoey had to watch what happened upstairs but now, they have to climb over their dead mother’s body.
Fuck me.
When Nora searches my expression from the bottom I nod before grabbing Larry’s proffered hand as he helps me step over the woman.
Once I’m in the clear, I turn back to Zoey, whose tears still cling to her lashes and my heart breaks all over again. She’s far stronger than I am though and grasps my hand while staring into my eyes.
Amanda follows with a grim smile, and I avert my gaze when Cason helps her over before turning back to the group.
By silent agreement, we move into the kitchen, where I spy the writhing bodies beyond the sheer curtains in the living room. Although we’ve attracted their attention, they don’t know quite where we are, but one false move could have them breaking down the door to pile inside.
Of course, Nate stands in the corner with his arms crossed but his feelings are the least of my concerns. He can go fuck himself.
“We can’t leave out the front,” Cason says. “Which means we have to go on foot.”
When no one responds to the bad news he says, “We’ll go through the back and get to another street where it’s quieter.”
We don’t have any other choice but that doesn’t mean I can breathe past the hysteria circling through me as he leads the way to the sliding door and opens it carefully.
After stepping onto the back patio, I survey our surroundings.
This house is enclosed by a tall wood fence hiding everything at eye level including the one story home to the left.
From here, all I can see is the semi complete roof, a new build or remodel on the right with the faint thump, thump, thump, opposite revealing the woman slamming her head against the window upstairs.
None of this inspires confidence in our choices and I turn to Cason as he crouches in front of Amanda and says, “Sweetie, do you know which direction the highway is?”
She cocks her head, her dark hair sliding over her shoulder before raising a trembling hand and pointing beyond the two-story home with the undead inside.
Ugh. I’d rather avoid known hotspots but in this I trust Cason to know what he’s doing and when he follows her finger, I know what’s coming as silently, we cross the backyard.
The faint buzz of hundreds of them fills the air around me and I resist the urge to cover my ears. How many survivors are there because so far, the measly few we’ve come across are not nearly enough.
How do we fight something that doesn’t die and outnumbers us by hundreds, hell maybe thousands or more to one? It feels ridiculously hopeless and yet, here I am marching behind Cason. I guess the instinct to survive truly does outweigh the rest because I’m not ready to run into the mess yet.
Absently I touch my aching ribs and lament the fact that I didn’t take a painkiller while I had the chance. It’s too late now in any case but I know I can’t put it off if the opportunity presents itself soon.
When Cason reaches the fence, he grabs the top and pulls himself up and over. I quietly admire his strength before setting it aside because these thoughts lead me to trouble and I’m full up on it, as it is.
Still, when he pops back over after a minute and lands softly on his feet, I examine his features by the light of the moon. The flop of hair gracing his brow softens his features, especially that crook in his nose. How did he break it? What other mysteries are there to learn about him?
When he scratches his chin, I eye the stubble dotting his skin and shadowing his high cheekbones, turning my focus to his lips as he says, “The yard is clear. Keep to the right. Avoid the house. Wait by the driveway.”
Altogether, his features create a beautiful symphony that if I had to guess he’s unaware of.
After Cason’s softly spoken speech, he gestures toward Larry, who does not climb the fence quite so easily or gracefully, despite the advantage of his height. When he fumbles against the wood, I glance toward the house, relieved to find it clear so far.
Once Larry’s on the other side, Cason lifts Bo up and Bo scrambles over. Next, Cason intertwines his fingers and Nora steps into his cupped hands before straddling the wood and dropping to the other side.
Lance follows and when we turn to Zoey, standing with Bean in her arms, she clings to Amanda like a barnacle until Amanda whispers, “It’s okay.”
Zoey shakes her head, her lower lip wobbling and although Nate doesn’t say a word, I can physically feel his impatience.
Gritting my teeth, I smooth my hand over Zoey’s silky hair and say, “It’s okay, sweetie. Just a little jump and you’re over.”
When she merely raises wide eyes to mine, I glance behind her and say, “What if your sister goes first, hm?”
Amanda’s mouth drops but when I level a look at her, she snaps it shut and mumbles, “No problem. I’ll show you how easy it is, Zo Zo.”
Thankfully, Zoey acquiesces but when Amanda brushes past me, she mutters, “You get her over the fence.”
Or else . . . She doesn’t say it but she doesn’t need to and I admire her that much more. I’m not sure if anyone should trust me with their loved one though. After all, I couldn’t find my own way out of my prison for years.
It’s a moot point for now though because once Amanda is over, Zoey slowly approaches Cason. When she places her tiny hand on his shoulder and looks back to me, I smile, sending her the courage to enter the unknown.
After that, Cason lifts her up, dog and all and sets her on the wood where I assume Larry grabs her out of the air. With her safely over the fence, I exhale shakily as Cason turns to me but the loud crack of something behind us inspires me to spin around just as he says, “Fuck.”
They’re funneling down the side of the house. There are too many to count and time is of the freaking essence which is why I silently agree when Nate cries, “Shit.”
Simultaneously he jumps for the fence but he’s not the least bit coordinated and proceeds to claw at the wood while his feet slide down the sides.
“Hurry,” Cason grunts, and I scramble over to the fence, where he grabs me by the waist. All too soon, I’m attempting to straddle the wood although the gaps between the slats leave me cockeyed and wincing.
I manage to pull my foot over but before I reach the ground, Cason’s already on the other side, catching me when I drop.
Thoroughly uncoordinated, I stumble in his arms, shivering when his warm fingers spasm around my waist.
However, the fleeting moment disappears because he steps back, averts his gaze and stalks away.
What’s his problem? My earlier irritation resurges, and I bite back a curse when Nate finally huffs and puffs his way over.
The others are gone, presumably waiting at the driveway and I follow Cason’s path, only to pause when Nate grumbles, “Thanks for the help.”
Are you kidding me?