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

Five pairs of anxious eyes turned toward her when Miranda opened the infirmary’s door. She barely had time to close it behind her before Connor and Doug were upon her.

“Where the hell have you been?” Doug demanded, his low, angry voice at odds with the relief on his face. He yanked away one of Miranda’s crutches and gripped her upper arm, propelling her toward the center of the room.

“We’ve been going crazy trying to find you,” Connor said.

Miranda felt abashed. She had known they would be concerned when they could not find her, but not to this degree.

Doug stopped abruptly and turned her around to face him. He motioned the others away, but they hovered close, wanting to hear what she might say. Doug’s blue eyes blazed. The scowl on his lips said whatever she had been doing, it better be good.

She took a deep breath.

“I went to see the Prophet.”

For a moment, silence and blank faces—no reaction at all—then one gasp of horror drowned out the next. Delilah wriggled between Miranda and Doug, whining at the acrimony.

“What were you thinking, taking off without backup?” Doug said, silencing the others with a sharp wave of his hand as he glanced out the nearest window.

“I was thinking that I might find out where the serum was and—”

“Not that he might rape you?” Connor flared in disbelief.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” Miranda said, starting to get annoyed.

“Stow it, Connor,” Doug snapped. “And keep your voices down.”

Miranda nudged Delilah out of the way and sidled past Doug. She had to get off her leg. She set her crutch against the exam table near the center of the room and sat down on a tall three-legged stool.

“I can handle myself, and I’d fuck a baboon if it gets the serum back.”

Seffie snickered. Score for a sense of humor. Connor shot Seffie a dirty look. Mario looked exasperated, while Mike shook his head, unable to suppress a grin. Even Doug’s facade cracked just a little.

Into the moment of quiet, she said, “I know where it is, Doug.”

Doug’s eyes widened. “Seffie, keep watching the windows. Mike, you’re on the door.” He turned to Connor. “Build up that fire,” he said, pointing to the wood-burning stove. “Make it loud.”

Miranda recounted her meeting with the Prophet, the rest of the group gathering round as their jobs allowed. Delilah wagged her tail and trilled, harmony in the pack restored. Quiet filled the room when Miranda finished.

“Are you sure he doesn’t suspect anything?” Doug asked.

“No idea,” she said. “But I don’t think he knows I found it.”

“How are we going to get at it?” Connor asked. “She can’t keep throwing herself at him.”

“Why not?” Seffie asked. “Mario will be there for the ‘counseling’ sessions and that asshole would probably love a three-way.” She looked at Miranda, a crafty smile spreading across her lips. “Jeremiah wants to play Pygmalion and bang you. If he can do it in front of your husband, even better. He won’t waste time getting started, especially if he thinks it will take a while to reprogram you so he can keep what he likes while he upgrades the rest to Stepford 3.0. He’s probably jerking off right now just thinking about it.”

“That’s an image I could have lived without,” Miranda said, suppressing a shudder.

“For Christ’s sake,” Connor said. “This isn’t a game.”

Miranda was glad Connor was sitting across the table from her. Otherwise she’d slap him. “We’re trying to save the human race. I’m pretty clear on what the stakes are.”

“Marriage counseling with the Prophet,” Mario muttered. “And I thought things couldn’t get weirder.”

A buzz of excitement rippled through her. Mario was in. They would go see the Prophet, find a way to get the serum and get the fuck out of here. It was so close she could taste it.

“What about Finn?” she asked. “Did he come back with anything?”

“No,” Doug answered, sounding uneasy. Mike made a skeptical noise in his throat. Doug glanced at him and shrugged. “If he’s not genuine about helping us, then that was one hell of an act.”

“The no-show doesn’t do much to inspire confidence, but it’s the least of our worries,” Mike said. He looked over at Doug. “What next?”

Doug gnawed on his lower lip, taking a moment to collect his thoughts. Miranda could see her news had raised his spirits, but the day’s events had taken their toll.

“Christ, this place,” Doug said under his breath. He looked around the table, addressing the entire group. “I’m not sure any of us can think straight. Let’s call it a night, regroup in the morning. Miranda and Mario can throw themselves at that crazy SOB, and we’ll see if that gets us anywhere.”

An intense desire to giggle hysterically gripped Miranda—shock, fear, and adrenaline catching up with her. The room was too hot, too close, with the fire roaring. The heat made her feel almost disconnected from her body. She bit her tongue, afraid that if she gave in to the impulse to laugh, she would not be able to stop.

“We stay together,” Doug continued. “No more running off on your own initiative. Find whatever you can to keep on hand as a weapon. We’ll keep a watch and try to get some rest.”

Mike shook his head, a rumble of disagreement building in his throat. “Respectfully, Doug, that’s a bad idea. They’ve just shown us the nasty underbelly of this place. To the Prophet, an outsider’s first Faith Walk is a test, an initiation. Will we accept this new reality or reject it?”

Mike tilted his head toward the infirmary’s windows. “There are more patrols of the Prophet’s Guard tonight. Circling the wagons sends the wrong message. If our group cohesion gets stronger when we should be awed by the Prophet’s divine powers, then we’re not initiated. We’ve failed the test. The only thing that is going to buy us the time we need, apart from Miranda’s considerable charms, is if they think we’re part of this now. We should carry on as we have from the start. Miranda, Seffie, and Mario sleep here, and the rest of us in our shared quarters.”

Mike sat back and again kept watch on the door without seeming to. He must have been one hell of a Marine, thought Miranda.

“Okay, strike that,” Doug said. “It’s just me who can’t think straight. Sun Tzu here has a much better grasp of the situation, and I’m not stupid enough to disagree with a guy who never lost a battle.”

“Your weapon idea was good,” Mike offered.

“I don’t need your pity,” Doug deadpanned as he stood up. “We’re shoving off. You three, stay sharp.”

Mike and Doug started for the door, but Connor stayed rooted where he stood, looking torn. “Can you give me a minute?” he asked Doug.

Doug looked from Connor to Miranda. “We’ll be outside.”

“I’ll take the first watch,” Mario said.

Mario blew out the oil lamp on the exam table. Seffie stomped on one of the stools, then pried the legs free. She handed one to Mario and tossed another on Miranda’s cot as she headed for her own.

As the light from the lantern by Seffie’s cot faded, the infirmary plunged into darkness, but the effect lasted only a moment. Flickering shafts of red-gold light escaped cracks in the grate on the wood-burning stove. The room felt stuffy and filled with an awkward vibe. Miranda sighed. When had she started to dread dealing with Connor? She motioned for Delilah to stay before taking Connor’s arm for support as they crossed over to the counter where only hours ago Bethany had stood, grinding herbs in the mortar and pestle. Moonlight streamed through the windows.

“Are you okay?” Connor asked, his voice just shy of a whisper.

“I’m better than okay,” she said. “We’re going to get the serum back and get out of here.”

“Going to the Prophet on your own… Anything could have happened.”

Miranda felt the slightest twinge of temper, but it petered out almost instantly. If he didn’t understand using whatever advantage they had to get the serum back, including herself, no amount of