Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗
- Author: A.M. Geever
- Performer: -
Book online «Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗». Author A.M. Geever
“Stay put, Mario,” she said. “Listen, just this once.”
“It was usually the other way around.”
But he stayed, so Miranda joined the others downstairs. Mike and Connor pushed an upright piano against the front door. Delilah pranced around them, unhelpfully underfoot.
“Delilah, come!”
Miranda looked through the living room picture window. Delilah hopped her front paws up on the sill to look out and began to bark. Zombies were already teetering onto the porch.
“Get upstairs!” Doug yelled from the hall. “Miranda, let’s go!”
Miranda continued to stare out the window. A sea of zombies swirled around the house, as far as she could see. She stood transfixed by the churning mass of death that surrounded them. When a hand touched her arm, she startled.
“Miranda,” Connor said. “Let’s go.”
Mike stood on the landing, as if he might need to cover their retreat. Delilah’s nails clicked against the hardwood as Miranda took the stairs two at a time, Connor and Doug right behind her. When they reached the landing, it was empty. Miranda’s panic was instantaneous, even though she knew nothing could have gotten to Mario and Seffie. Then Seffie stepped into the doorway of the room closest to the bathroom.
“We’re in here.”
“I’ll start checking vantage points,” Mike said. “See if we can figure a way out of here.” He disappeared into the room opposite Seffie.
“Do you want the honors, Miri?”
Doug tossed a grenade up and down in the air. Even with the pin in place, playing catch was not a smart way to handle a grenade, which Doug knew full well. His insouciance soothed Miranda. Someday she’d have to figure out why his recklessness made her feel better, but not today.
“Be my guest,” she said, shaking out her arms to dispel the tension that filled her body as she backed up toward the rooms where the others were.
“Everyone stay put,” Doug called out. He moved into the doorway of the bedroom at the top the stairs that Miranda had checked earlier, pulled the pin, and rolled the grenade gently down the staircase. “Fire in the hole!”
The house shuddered as it absorbed the force of the exploding grenade. Miranda stood next to Doug, a bandana pressed over her mouth and nose. Her eyes watered as she waved the dust away from her face. Only three steps remained of the top half of the staircase, the rest—obliterated. Mike and Connor stepped in close to see the grenade’s handiwork.
“We’re really stuck now,” Miranda said.
“Don’t sound so grim, Miri,” Doug said. “You still have a firm grasp of the obvious. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
Connor and Mike snickered.
“Oh, fuck you all,” she said, but she couldn’t suppress a smile.
“I’m spoken for,” Doug shot back.
Connor caught Miranda’s arm as she tried to sidle by and pulled her close. Despite what he had said back at the reservoir, leaning into him felt good. Then Mario appeared. He still looked pale and drawn, but at least he wasn’t swaying. When he saw Miranda, he didn’t look crestfallen like before. He looked coldly furious. The comfort of Connor’s arms drained out of her body and puddled around her feet.
“What’s the plan?” Mario asked while Delilah rubbed against his shins.
“We don’t ave uhn,” Doug said, his words distorted by a wide yawn.
Mike wiped at the dust on his face that cast a sickly gray pall over his dark-brown skin. “Let’s figure it out sitting down. I’m beat.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day.” Doug clapped Mike on the shoulder as he walked in Mario’s direction.
Miranda shrugged free of Connor, wishing she could as easily shrug free of the conflicting feelings he and Mario stirred within her. She reached down to rub Delilah’s head as she squeezed past Mario, knowing the attention would make the dog come with her.
Focus on the mission, Miranda thought as she sank to the floor, her back against the wall. Sitting down had never felt so good. She felt like she had been running for her life for years instead of hours. Delilah wriggled in close and lay her head on Miranda’s thigh. Miranda stroked Delilah’s head and a sudden thought cheered her.
If I die out here, none of this shit with Mario or Connor will matter.
Connor’s voice was pitched low.
“Mike saw what might be tanks of something in the basement, so you and Doug are going to check it out. If it’s flammable, we’re going to blow up this house so we can make a suicide run for the house two hundred yards away, because the truck over there that’s been sitting abandoned for ten years will magically have a working battery and gas that hasn’t turned to jelly. Am I missing anything?”
Miranda clenched her jaw, half expecting to feel the crunch and crack of enamel. She searched the outer compartments of her rucksack.
“That’s about the size of it,” she said, trying to keep her voice down.
“Have you ever seen a gas explosion, Miranda? It’ll be a miracle if we’re not all killed.”
Miranda’s fingers found the thin steel cable. Thank you fucking Jesus. She grabbed the cable and started for the door.
“I should be the one going down there with Doug,” Connor continued.
“You’re not. Let it go.”
“You’ve got burns on your hands,” he tried, sounding exasperated.
Miranda whirled around to face him, her body vibrating with anger. The room swam a little, making her acutely aware that he had a point, but not enough of one. Everyone was banged up.
“And you’re sixty pounds heavier than me,” she snapped, unable to keep her voice down. “I’ll be easier to pull up, and you don’t know Doug like I do. And you don’t get a fucking say. It’s decided.”
Connor’s whole body seemed to slump. “I can’t lose you, Miri.”
He looked forlorn, lost. Every line of his body implored her to stop, to listen to him.
“This isn’t about you and me,” she said, trying for a more even tone. “It’s about the mission. I’m not trying to get killed, Connor. I’m just doing my job. I promised Father Walter.”
“This is a terrible idea.”
“Terrible is all we have right now.”
Miranda turned and stalked out to the hallway. Connor’s footsteps fell in behind her. Doug stood next to the blown-out stairs, almost prancing in place, anxious to go. Mike and Mario waited with him. Seffie wasn’t in sight. She must already be up on the garage roof, Miranda thought. It was the farthest point from where the tanks were, if Mike was right.
Mike looked calm, sure. Mario tried to project a similar confidence but couldn’t pull it off. Miranda could see anxiety in his eyes, worry in the straight line of his compressed lips.
At least he tries to pretend he has faith in me, she thought with no little annoyance. She knew that wasn’t fair to Connor, but he was letting his feelings get in the way. Just like you did back at the reservoir, an unhelpful voice whispered in her head. Connor and Seffie thought Mike’s idea would only get them killed. They had a point, but waiting around hoping the zombies would move off was not a realistic option.
“You ready?” Doug asked.
Miranda nodded as she handed the steel cable to Mike.
“We’ll lower Doug first,” he said.
Bigger and stronger, Mike anchored the line. Connor took hold of the cable and stood in front of him. Mario and Miranda positioned themselves nearer to the edge of where the staircase had been, guns trained below in case of trouble. Doug bumped down the top two steps on his butt. If what was left of the steps gave way under him, he wouldn’t jerk the cable as hard as he would if he were standing, which improved the odds Mike and Connor wouldn’t lose their grip and send him falling fifteen feet to the floor below.
Outside, the zombies moaned. They scratched against the siding and windows so insistently that the walls sounded like insects burrowed inside.
Doug lowered himself over the edge.
Miranda scoured the area below as Doug descended. Doug scanned the room as he touched down, then unclipped the cable and looked up at her. “Come on.”
Miranda grasped the cable sliding past her feet as Mike and Connor pulled it back. She clipped it to her belt and looked up at the others.
“Be careful,” Connor cautioned.
Miranda nodded. “I will.”
She sat and swung her legs over the edge. She turned back to say ready, but Mario spoke first through a tight, forced smile.
“Don’t get dead, Miranda.”
His words pulled her up short. Her flippant farewell from the early days did not sound so clever anymore. How many times had she said those three words as she left the safety of Santa Clara’s walls? She always
Comments (0)