Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

Mario leaned against the wall, doubtful he could stay upright without its assistance. He felt like he was covered from head to toe by a lead dentistry vest, the kind that protects vital organs during x-rays. The longing that washed over him at the idea of doing something as mundane as going to the dentist, instead of waiting for Miranda’s safe return, caught him by surprise. He had been spared such vigils the past five years.

The gunshot wound throbbed. He checked the red spot on the bandage, bigger now than when they had stumbled upon their refuge an hour ago. Miranda and Doug’s impressive track record at staying alive did not tamp down the almost suffocating fear Mario felt, but if anyone could handle themselves well in a bad situation, it was those two. They always come back, he told himself, this won’t be any different.

Mario studied Connor as the younger man paced the hallway. When Connor got to the stairs, he crouched on hands and knees and craned his neck to get a better look before jumping back up. And then, unable to stay still, he did it all over again. Connor’s restlessness distracted Mario from his own pain and stupor. If he didn’t feel about to collapse, he would probably be just as jumpy.

Connor looked down to the first floor. “They should be back by now.”

“It’s only been five minutes,” Mike answered, voice firm. “Give it another five before you start to worry.”

Yeah right, Mario thought as Connor leaped to his feet and paced like a caged tiger, back and forth, forth and back.

Connor had played things wrong with Miranda earlier. Mario had almost felt sorry for him as the entire team listened to them argue, hissing at one another in not-hushed-enough tones. He had been in the same position so many times himself until he realized that he could not change her. Once Miranda decided to do something, there was no dissuading her. Cajoling, begging, threatening, pleading—Mario had tried them all. None worked.

As soon as Mike floated the idea, Mario had known it would be Doug and Miranda. His own injuries ruled him out. And Miranda might shoot him, just because. Mike’s strength was best utilized getting them in and out. There was no reason Connor or Seffie couldn’t have gone, but it didn’t make sense. Miranda and Doug had teamed up for years. Each knew what the other was going to do before they knew it themselves.

“I want to go down,” Connor said.

Mike fixed Connor with a stare as unforgiving as a hickory switch. “Connor, you’re my friend, so I’m only going to say this once. If you try to go down there, I will shoot you.”

“Mike,” Connor implored.

“I’m not kidding,” Mike answered, unmoved. “They’ll be back any minute.”

“Why aren’t they responding? They should be able to hear us through the hole they hacked in the floor.”

“Over all the noise that horde outside is making? Maybe they’re actually busy.” A sly grin crept over Mike’s lips, lighting a devilish gleam in his eye. “Or maybe your lady doesn’t appreciate you trying to protect her.”

Connor snorted in disgust.

“You know what your problem is, Connor?” Mario heard himself say. “You think you know what she needs, but you don’t.”

Connor turned and looked at Mario, eyes narrowed. “And you do?”

Mario started to laugh before he remembered how much it hurt. “The last time I thought that… Hell, I don’t know what she needs. Some honesty, maybe.”

Connor flinched, then nastily drawled, “And when did this confusion cloud your judgment? When you lied to her about switching sides?”

Connor’s reaction, the flinch, surprised Mario. Had Mr. Perfect done a little lying of his own?

“I told myself I was protecting her but now,” Mario winced as he took a breath. “Maybe she could have done it, played along, convinced people. Doug and Walter still don’t think so. When Walter said it was for her own good, well.” Mario scrunched his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose against the piercing stab of his conscience. “What a joke that turned out to be.”

“I think I have a better idea what she needs than you,” Connor said, his voice full of accusation.

No, it wasn’t that. Condemnation. Connor’s superior attitude filled Mario with rage. What the hell had this sanctimonious little prick ever done? What had he ever given up? What price had he paid?

“You don’t even know who she is anymore,” Mario snarled, his hands clenching into fists. A detached part of his brain noticed that his arm did not hurt as much. “You think she’s the girl you remember, but she’s not.”

“Cool it, you two,” Mike broke in, “we don’t need this kind of—”

“Guys, come here! Come see!” Seffie’s voice, from out on the roof.

“Connor, go check it out,” said Mike.

Connor shook his head. “I’m staying here.”

“Worrying over your girlfriend doesn’t help her any, and Mario’s in no condition to be out there,” Mike answered, his voice rising in irritation.

“Guys, come here!”

Mario looked back to the blown-out staircase, loathe to leave, but Mike was right. Miranda would be okay or she wouldn’t. As much as he hated to admit it, there was nothing he could do for her here. He was damned if he was going to be self-indulgent like Connor.

“I’ll go,” he said. Mike started to protest, but Mario shushed him. “I’m fine, I’ll go.”

With more effort than it should have required, Mario heaved himself off the wall and headed for the master bedroom. His toe caught on a ripple in the moldering carpet as he crossed the room and he froze, waiting for the howl of pain from his ribs to subside. If it wasn’t for this whole breathing thing, it wouldn’t be so bad, he thought. Seffie’s head and shoulders were outside the window.

“Don’t just stand there, Mario, hurry up! You won’t believe this!” she said, her face aglow with excitement. “It’s a miracle!”

Puzzled, Mario squeezed through the window. He squinted, even though the day was far from bright. He had not realized how dim it had become inside. An ocean of groaning zombies surrounded them, the smell of rotting flesh even stronger than indoors. He leaned into the house, away from the downward slope of the garage roof, and cautiously followed Seffie. At the far edge of the roof, she thrust out her arm and he followed the line of her pointed hand.

“What am I looking for?”

And then he saw it. Some of the zombies were walking in the direction of the far end of the house, where Miranda and Doug were.

“Miranda and Doug are over there!” he said. “This isn’t—”

“No, no, look,” Seffie urged, still pointing. “That’s what I thought at first too, but they keep going. They’re heading into the woods.”

Mario looked again. Seffie was right. Perhaps fifty zombies had walked beyond the house. But that still left hundreds around them.

“How long have they been doing this?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes?” Seffie guessed with a shrug of her shoulders.

Mario nodded. In the minute he watched a few more zombies began to head in the same direction. If enough of them went that way, if even just a third did, they might actually be able to get out of here.

“We have to stop Miranda and Doug. We need more time.”

“Oh shit,” Seffie said, eyes growing wide.

She turned and scurried toward the window, Mario two steps behind her. His ribs cried foul at the overcompensating required to keep his footing on the slanted roof. Seffie was almost to the window when something flashed past Mario’s peripheral vision, then thump! The fletching from an arrow erupted from the side of the house, less than a foot from Seffie’s head.

Seffie reared back, arms pinwheeling as she tried to regain her balance. Mario watched in horror as she fell. Unable to get clear of her, Seffie slammed into his legs. They tumbled and slid, limbs tangled. Seffie clawed at him blindly, desperate to stop her fall. Shingles crumbled under Mario’s outstretched palm as he tumbled headlong toward the edge. Seffie slipped past him, her fingertips skimming his injured left arm.

Mario caught her bicep. Her fingers clamped around his elbow like a vise. He glimpsed a flash of Seffie’s terrified brown eyes, then she slipped over the