A World Alone (Dead World Series Book 1) (11 page)

CHAPTER
SEVENTEEN

Logan

The sound of a blooming firework pops in the distance.

Rocket and I stand by the side of the bus, watching Aaron as he peers
through a set of binoculars he managed to find in one of the Geography
classrooms. He stands on the bus's roof, his posture rigid and his lips pressed
into a thin line. I glance in the direction he's looking, hoping to catch a
glimpse of the colorful burst, but I'm unable to see over the English block.

Instead I turn my attention towards the sun, bright and glaring down on us.
I had my doubts that the fireworks would be effective in the daylight, but
according to Aaron, we didn't have time to wait until nightfall. After the
first firework was lit, he had glanced down at us with a smirk, telling us that
they were more than visible. As I think about this, he glances down once again,
a similar smirk on his lips.

"That was the last one," he tells us, moving the binoculars away
from his face. He takes a step back, his attention held on the firework in the
distance.

"Good," Rocket replies, before quickly adding under her breath,
"now get the hell off my bus."

I shoot her a smirk as he begins to make his way down, carefully maneuvering
past the branches of the low hanging tree. She flinches as he jumps onto the
hood of the bus, his weight forcing the metal to bend under him. He pauses,
throwing one last glance at the sky before jumping down.

"They lit all of them," he says, stepping round the bus and
towards us. "I think we're in the clear."

Rocket wastes no time in pushing past him and patting the area of the hood
that he dented, cooing to it softly as though it actually felt pain from the
dent. Aaron regards her with a roll of his eyes before turning his gaze towards
me.

"We may not have the best defenses," he says, the tone of a hurt
ego shining through his words. "But as you can see, I clearly have things
covered."

My eyes narrow into a glare. "Are you gloating?"

"Gloating?" he asks with a laugh, "no, no, no. I'm just
letting you know that I'm more than capable of looking after this group."
He begins to turn away.

"Really?" I ask, stepping forward and regaining his attention.
"
Because from where I'm standing
, it looks like Stella and Gale did
most of the work."

He remands me with his eyes, his upper lip pulling into a snide curl.
"They wouldn't have done anything if it weren't for me! Now I'll admit
that they did a good job, but if I hadn't convinced them, we would be dealing
with a horde right now!"

"You don't even know if it worked yet! The horde could still be
coming!"

"We may get a few strays, but that's nothing we can't handle. Why don't
you just admit that I've done a good job?" he asks. I blink at him, unable
to fathom how someone could maintain an attitude like this without getting
killed.

"All I'm saying is that it feels like you're taking a little too much
of the credit," I growl, staring him down. He doesn't quiver under my gaze
like most people would, and that annoys me.

"Huh," he huffs, amused. "Alright, listen pal. Ever since you
got here, you've done nothing but criticize my leadership, all while you've
done nothing but rest that leg of yours." My hands curl into fists and my
jaw clenches. "Maybe you should step back and come find me when you have something
important to say."

My blood begins to simmer and heats the surface of my skin as I step towards
him. He holds his ground as I stare him down, threatening him with my eyes. I
think of what I can say to him, how I can retaliate, but I realize that I'm at
a loss for words. My jaw remains locked as I fight the urge to hit him and my fists
just begin to shake when Rocket steps between us.

"Alright boys, settle down," she interjects and, noticing that
neither of us are calming down, continues. "Look let's just take the win
and move on. We evaded a horde, it's a good day!"

Aaron tears his eyes away first, and I pull back, feeling somewhat
triumphant. He looks to Rocket before shooting me with another glare, and I
can't help but feel satisfied that I've gotten on his nerves. The guy needs a
lesson in humility.

"I'm going to go and tell everyone that they don't have to worry."
He offers Rocket a small nod before turning around and walking towards the main
hall. I stare at his retreating figure for a few seconds before turning to
Rocket.

"That guy is an ass," I tell her. She gives me a look.

"Yeah, well, it
was
his idea to use the fireworks."

"That doesn't give him the right to be so conceited," I growl,
remembering the smug expression on his face.

"Look," she sighs, "like him or not, but you can't deny that
he's doing a good job. It isn't easy being a leader."

I shrug, not exactly wanting to admit that she's right. Even if he was doing
a sub-par job, it's a fact that good leaders don't take credit, even if it was
his idea. I still think it's only a matter of time before he gets everyone
killed. Thinking you've done everything perfectly only leaves room for errors.
It's only a matter of time.

She nods at me. "Alright, well I'm gonna go pack up my tools and drive
the back-up bus back into the garage now that we don't need it," she says,
turning. "Do you wanna join me?"

I appraise her for a second, wondering if that was a flirtatious offer or
merely a friendly gesture. Her eyes look innocent enough, but the smile on her
lips leaves me confused. I shrug regardless, realizing that I have nothing
better to do either way.

"Sure," I say. She smiles and waves for me to follow.

As we begin walking away from the bus, I remember the night before, and how
it was awkwardly interrupted by Stella's intrusion. While I work to keep pace
with her, I wonder if I should bring it up. She glances back at me as if
sensing I have a question on my mind, and as she begins to turn away, I decide
to spit it out.

"Hey, Rocket," I breathe, struggling to keep my words steady as I
hobble on with the crutch.

"Hmm?"

"I was just thinking," I say, "about last night."

At this, she stops walking and turns around, her eyes finding mine in an instant.
"What about last night?" she asks cautiously. I'm so alarmed by her
quick change in demeanor that I find myself feeling almost vulnerable.

"Well I just thought you might want to talk about it?" I manage to
get the words out without a single stutter despite her sharp gaze piercing my
skin and making me feel uneven. She lifts a hand atop her hip, an orange brow
arching.

"And why would I want to talk about it?"

Her eyes narrow at mine and I find myself struggling for an answer. My mind
races to find the right words, but all I can wonder is why I bothered to bring
the topic up in the first place.

"I-I don't know, you're a woman, and I just thought—"

"We had sex," she snaps, interrupting what would have been a very
long ramble. "That's all it was," she shrugs, cocking her head to the
side. "There's nothing to talk about." I nod, my tongue suddenly
feeling uncomfortable in my mouth.

"Okay, well that's," again I struggle to think of what to say.
"Good," I finish meekly.

I cringe at my awkward statement, but realize that it doesn't matter what I
say, because she isn't listening to me. Her attention has drifted someplace
else, her piercing gaze fixed on a spot over my shoulder. I turn to see what
she is looking at.

Joey stands before the hood of the bus, his arm raised above his head as he
slashes the hood with some sort of liquid, a silver can glinting in his grasp.
Tucked under his other arm are what looks like a bundle of sticks, but after a
moment I realize that they're leftover fireworks.

"What the hell is he doing?" Rocket mumbles, more to herself than
to me as she begins to walk towards him, her strides long and quick. I throw
the crutch out in front of me and try to keep up with her.

"Joey, what the hell are you doing?" she all but shouts. He keeps his
back to us for a moment, tipping the rest of the liquid out over the hood
before turning to meet her challenge. My steps falter at the sight of him.

His pupils have receded to pinpricks, almost completely lost in the blue of
his eyes. His jaw hangs open, shifting from one side to another as his tongue
sticks out, running along his dry, cracked lips. I pause for a second,
wondering what could be wrong with him.

A new strain of infection?

Rocket stops a few meters away from him, her hands clenched firmly at her
sides. I move to stand next to her, my eyes glancing down at the metal can in
his hand. At a closer distance I can see the red hazard label. Majority of the
letters are blocked by his fingers but I see enough to know what they spell.

Lighter fluid
.

His hand jerks behind his back, and I look up to find him staring at me. He
sways softly where he stands, like a gentle breeze is softly brushing past him.
But there’s no wind, the air is still.

A heavy sheet of dread drops over me as I notice the splotches of liquid
splashed along the side of the bus and drenched over its hood.

He can't be. . .

His jaw snaps shut with a
clack
, his eyes pouncing to Rocket.
"You and I need to have a little talk." His words tremble in the air,
his voice abnormal and different from what I have grown accustomed to. It
sounds flat, estranged from the cheerful perversity that normally bounces off
his tongue.

"Cut the shit, Joey, what the hell are you doing to my bus?"
Rocket asks. His head cocks to the side, his jaw jittery as it opens into a
smile.

"Well I don't mean to be rude, but we never did discuss how you locked
me in a bathroom and left me for dead!" His words are growled and
scratchy, sounds I can only imagine the infected making.

Rocket’s eyes dart to mine. Joey falls silent as he waits for her response.
Seeing the lull in their conversation, I take the opportunity to turn to
Rocket. "What the hell is wrong with him?" I ask.

"Nothing!" Joey snaps. "Nothing is wrong with me!" He
takes a step away from us, his back now resting against the hood of the bus.
Rocket's nostrils flare as she sighs, her fists visibly clenching.

"He's an addict," she spits through her teeth.

"A what?" I ask, certain that I've heard her wrong.

"No I'm not!" Joey shouts, sliding across the hood.

"Yes you are!" she shouts back, turning to look at me. "Look
at him! He's off his head!" She throws an open palm out towards him, her
eyes traversing between the two of us. "That's why I locked you in that bathroom!
You're a danger to be around!"

"She's lying!" His eyes, wide and panicked jump to mine, pleading.

"Look at what you're doing!" she shouts at him. He begins shaking
his head, his hair flying around his face.

"I wasn't hurting anyone!" he yells. "Unlike you!" He
juts a finger at Rocket, "you didn't even give me a chance! You wanted me
to starve to death!"

Rocket shakes her head. "I gave you plenty of chances! I watched you
for weeks and you only got worse. You may not have hurt anyone, but it was only
a matter of time. Maybe not directly, but I knew,
I knew
that you were
gonna get me, or somebody else killed. And I wasn't about to let that
happen!"

"Shut up! Shut up, just shut up!" He's moving down the side of the
bus when he reaches the gas cap, his fingers digging into the latch and popping
it open.

"Joey," I hold my hand out to him as a useless gesture to calm him
down. "Just step away from the bus."

He bares his teeth at me, his breathing rapid and uneven now. As I stare at
him I'm reminded of a feral animal, cornered and threatened.

"We can talk about this kid, just step away from the bus." With my
hand still outstretched, I try to step forward, a task made difficult by the
crutch.

"What! So she can lock me in another bathroom?"

"Boy you'll be lucky if I let you live," Rocket snorts. I throw
her a glare over my shoulder. Before the outbreak I had spent my fair share of
time dealing with intoxicated people as a security guard at nightclubs. If that
time has taught me anything, it's that the last thing you want to do is
aggravate them; a task Rocket has managed to accomplish.

His eyes turn wild, the usual pink tinge beneath them more prominent than
ever. He throws the lighter fluid to the ground, its metal case clanking
against the pavement. "I'm not gonna let her kill me!"

His entire body is shaking as he rips a firework out from under his arm,
allowing the others to drop to the ground.

"Joey no one's gonna hurt you, buddy, we just want you to calm
down." Another step closer. Just a few more and I'll be able to reach him
with my crutch. It's too late to rationalize with him, especially if he's
already delusional.

He's shoving the tail of the firework into the gas tank, ensuring its wick
is inside. I watch him, realizing that this wasn't a spur of the moment
decision. He had planned this.

He's trying to use the wick of the firework to ignite the gas tank. Although
I doubt that will work, the flames alone could be powerful enough anyway.

"Joey!" I raise my voice to a yell this time as he bends to pick
up another firework. He pauses to look up at me. "Think about what you're
doing!" His gaze shifts to Rocket.

"It's revenge," he growls, moving to grab the other firework. With
his head down I try to rush forward, throwing my crutch out to hit him in the
face. He manages to step back, dodging the attack altogether. I move to rush
him but stop when he throws his arm out to the bus, a lighter in his hand.

"Joey . . ." I say, the word so low I'm not sure if he’s even
heard it. I let my crutch fall to the ground as I hold both my hands out in
front of me, palms towards him. His body is still now as he looks at me,
conviction alight in his eyes.