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

An hour later they were holed up in the second story of the Sinsheimer Lab building. The Prophet sat on the floor, hands lashed to an ancient radiator.

“The horses are tethered,” Doug said as he and Connor entered the room. He leaned against the wall, then slid to the floor. Connor sat down heavily between her and Doug. He sat close to her, unlike Mario, who was on her other side. Seffie squatted a few feet away, cursing as she tried to light a small camp lantern. Miranda wondered why she bothered. It would raise the light level to gloomy, if that. Eventually the lamp flickered to life and Seffie sat down beside it.

Miranda was about to screw the cap back on her canteen when she eyed Jeremiah. Giving him a drink would be the Christian thing to do, she supposed. A day without water hardly constituted a threat to his survival, but it would give her a reason to move. At the moment moving was more compelling than Christian duty. Sitting so close to both Connor and Mario made her antsy. She would sell her soul right about now just to be held, to be told that everything was going to be all right, but which of them would she choose? The one she still loved despite herself, or the one she had most recently slept with?

Karen would get a good laugh out of this. I’m supposed to be saving the world and my head is stuck in junior high.

Connor reached over and took her canteen. As if he’d read her mind, he got up and crossed the room, then offered some to Jeremiah.

“Behave,” he said, “or you won’t get any.”

Jeremiah glared at him. Connor reached behind his head and untied the gag. Jeremiah opened and closed his stiff jaw, making dry, puckery noises with his tongue. Connor held the canteen to his lips, trying to keep the water from dribbling down his chin as he sucked on it greedily.

“You will not succeed in thwarting the Heavenly Father’s will,” he said when he had finished drinking. “You will die among the Hollow Men for your blasphemy and sin.”

“They’re not Hollow Men, they’re zombies. And you’re not a prophet, Jeremiah. You’re just crazy.”

“How dare you insult Us!” Jeremiah sputtered.

Connor shoved the gag back in his mouth, then checked his restraints.

“Who tied him up?” Connor asked. He still stood by Jeremiah. A rigid stillness had settled over him.

Miranda rose to her feet without knowing why, except that Connor sounded off. Dangerous.

“I did,” Seffie answered.

For a moment Connor looked at Seffie. Then he lunged. He lifted Seffie by the shoulders and threw her against the wall, like a child taking out a tantrum on a doll. His hands clamped around her throat. Seffie flailed, trying to break free, but was totally overpowered by her larger opponent.

“You killed them all,” Connor shouted at Seffie. “All of them! You killed all of them!”

“Connor, stop!” Miranda cried, grabbing his arm, but Connor didn’t acknowledge her. His muscles flexed, shaking with effort beneath Miranda’s hands. Seffie’s face flushed darkly. No sound escaped her mouth. Her panicked eyes bulged from their sockets. He’s going to kill her, Miranda realized.

Doug’s voice cut through the others. “Let go of her!”

Connor didn’t hear, or didn’t care. A moment later the hard smack of Doug’s punch caught Connor on the jaw. Connor staggered back a step. He never let go, but his grip loosened enough that Miranda and Mario could pry his hands away. Seffie collapsed to the floor between them, gasping and hacking for air. She wrapped her hands around her throat.

“What is wrong with you?” Doug demanded, shoving Connor away. He positioned himself between Connor and the others.

Connor stood chest to chest with Doug, a furious, murderous stare directed at Seffie over Doug’s shoulder. Miranda had seen Connor in action. She knew that he could use violence as well as anyone. Until a moment ago she could not have imagined him attacking a woman. He was not that kind of man.

“You said you never sailed before,” he spat.

Seffie stared up at him, scared and confused. “What?” she whispered hoarsely.

Connor hurled his accusation with such venom that Seffie flinched. “You said you never sailed before, that you didn’t know anything about it, and then you tie him up using constrictor knots?”

“I’m not following you, Connor,” Mario said, his calm voice trying to placate Connor’s fury.

“Oh shit,” Doug muttered. The tension drained from his body as he turned to face Seffie, Miranda, and Mario.

Connor tore his eyes from Seffie with visible effort as he answered Mario’s question. “Someone sabotaged the sailboat we took from Mazatlán. That’s why we lost it in the storm, why everyone died!”

Connor directed his attention back to Seffie. “Why would you use one of the most difficult sailing knots to tie him up if you don’t know how to sail?”

“Never said that,” Seffie croaked in protest.

“You killed them,” said Connor. “Everyone who drowned, everyone who died after. And Mike, too. You killed all of them.”

Seffie’s face crumpled. “I did not kill Mike,” she said furiously, but her raspy whisper drained her protest of strength.

“But you helped sabotage the yacht,” Doug said.

Seffie looked from face to face, panicked, shrinking in on herself like a sick animal. A sinking feeling took hold of Miranda’s stomach.

“You don’t understand,” she rasped. “My sister…taken by a Navy ship.” Seffie stopped, interrupted by a coughing fit. “If I did a job for them, they said they’d let her go.”

“Well, shit,” said Doug. “That explains a lot. And it means the Council knows where we were going.”

Miranda believed Seffie. Slavery had become rampant since the ZA, and her anguish felt real. But she had to think of the mission first.

“If she’s telling the truth,” Miranda said.

“It doesn’t matter either way,” Connor countered. “We have to get rid of her. We can’t trust her.”

Seffie appealed to Doug, fear transforming her face into a rictus of pain. “Please,” she begged, sobbing. “Please don’t leave me out here. I didn’t know you had the vaccine!”

“How did they contact you? What did you tell them?” Doug asked.

“Said to go to the church, morning, for an hour, last row,” she rasped, then was racked by a coughing fit. “Second time I met a guy, but only twice. He asked about the journey, what I knew.” She stopped again to cough. “I didn’t know anything…then we left in the night.” Seffie paused and cleared her throat. Pain spasmed across her face. She appealed again to Doug. “Out here alone…it’s a death sentence.”

“What did he look like?” Doug asked.

“Just a guy.” She hacked again. “Five ten, one sixty? Brown hair, eyes.”

“He must have said something,” Miranda said. “Think. It might be something minor. Did he live at SCU?”

Seffie thought for a moment, tried clearing her throat again, then shook her head. “He was…average.”