A World Alone (Dead World Series Book 1) (7 page)

CHAPTER
ELEVEN

Stella

I hold the red backpack up in front of me. Its color
isn't as nice as my old one, not as dark. But it's better than the garbage bag
I've been lugging around. Pouring my belongings out onto the floor, I quickly
transfer everything into my new bag.

Click
.

I glance up from my crouch. Peering around the small room, I wait a moment
before zipping the bag shut. My knees begin to ache so I stand up from the
floor, my eyes continuing to dart between every corner of the small living
room. I'm sure I heard something. Frowning, I strain to listen.

Thud
.

Irritation creases my brow as I look up at the ceiling above me. It was
probably Logan or Joey, rummaging around upstairs. It annoys me that they
aren't quieter, if I can hear them from downstairs, who knows what else can
hear them?

Slinging the bag strap over my shoulder I move to leave the room, but stop.
An infected man walks into the garden outside, slowly shuffling past the
window. I stand still, watching it through the glass, hoping it doesn't look my
way. Any movement now will surely catch its attention. It pauses and its bald
head, covered in bloody scratches looks up towards the sky.

It sniffs the air for a moment before walking again, its steps restricted by
the brambles and small bushes of the garden. I start to feel relieved when it
moves past the window and out of sight, but my breath catches in my throat when
I hear a snap, followed by the indistinguishable creak of an opening door. My
stomach drops as a single thought swims to the forefront of my mind.

Is the front door locked?

Logan was the last one to enter, so he should have locked the door behind
him. With clenched fists I dash towards the open archway of the living room,
only to stop myself when I see the front door slowly but surely opening, the
infected already half-way inside. I can slam the door shut on it, but that will
only bring its attention towards me. I curse under my breath. It's too late now
anyway.

Crouching down beside the wall, I poke my head around the side in time to
see its dirty boot stepping over the threshold.

Thump
.

I glance up at the noise.

The infected makes a small cry at the back of its throat, as if
acknowledging the sound. With an arm stretched out towards the banister, it
begins to trudge towards the stairs.

That's not good,
I think, distress tensing my muscles. I throw myself
away from the wall and quietly run towards the back door of the small house. I
don't bother looking for a weapon. There’s no time, and confined in a small
space like this, I'd rather take my chances running. I knew we shouldn't have
stopped.  We should have just kept walking to the stadium.

I hurriedly throw the door open, its blinds rattling against the glass as I
run out into the backyard. Turning back towards the house, I look up at the
second floor windows. They're all empty, neither Logan nor Joey are near a
window.
Damn!

Jumping in the air I begin to wave my arms above my head, hoping that
they'll catch sight of me. But they don't. I glance around the garden, looking
for anything heavy enough that I can throw. A stone maybe, or a stick. But
there's nothing.

Cursing under my breath I run towards the gutter pipe that stretches up the
wall of the building. I drop my bag on the ground and hesitate, wondering for a
moment if there's anything inside I can use to catch their attention. I decide
against it, not wanting to waste any more time looking. With a firm grip around
the pipe, I give it a harsh shake, testing its dependability. It shudders
violently but doesn't tear away from the concrete.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," I mutter, grabbing the pipe and
pulling myself up the wall. I bite my tongue as I hold myself in position,
struggling to find a foothold, the pipe slick under my grasp from the sweat of
my palms.

I lift my foot and place it flat against the wall before kicking myself up.
The pipe shudders forcibly, threatening to break away from the wall, its hot
metal already scraping away chunks of cement.

Awkwardly, I manage to shimmy up the pipe, my breathing harsh in my chest.
With perspiration running down my temple, I throw out my hand and bang it
against the nearest window before clamping it back down on the pipe for
support. If they didn't hear that, I'm leaving them to deal with the problem.

Luckily for them, the window slides open and Joey sticks his head out.
Curiosity overrides shock on his face, and he actually starts smiling.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asks, all of his features
scrunched as he stares at me.

"There's an infected coming up the stairs" —I pause, struggling to
maintain my grip on the pipe— "you have to get out of the house!"

He drops the smile, panic replacing the curiosity. With wide eyes, he nods
and ducks back inside. I loosen my grip on the pipe enough to let me slide down.
My feet hit the ground hard as I stagger back, my palms bright red from
clasping the hot metal. I stare at them for a moment before picking my bag up
and stepping a distance back from the window.

Glancing around the small backyard, I’m grateful to find that there aren't
any others nearby.

Joey reappears at the window and throws down a bag that I fail to catch
before he begins to carefully climb out. He reaches towards the pipe I used,
his foot slipping on the window sill. He scrabbles to hold onto the pipe, his
abrupt leap from the window ripping it away from the wall. Small chunks of
cement and brick rain down onto the garden as the pipe snaps and Joey falls.

The infected screams somewhere in the house.

I rush towards Joey and drop down on one knee beside his crumpled form. The
pipe had managed to lower him somewhat close to the ground before snapping, he
shouldn't be too injured.

"I'm okay, I'm okay," he says through gritted teeth, picking
himself up. I help him to stand before looking back up to find Logan, standing on
the edge of the window sill.

"What the hell are you doing?" I yell, shocked at the sight of him.
Joey looks up beside me, his mouth agape, eyes wide. "He's gonna break a
leg if he jumps!" I say.

"What other choice does he have?" Joey mumbles.

The infected screams again. Logan throws a glance back into the room before
launching himself from the ledge. The infected replaces him at the aperture,
its arm reaching out and trying to grab him. My features pinch together as he
hits the ground with bent knees and a loud thud. The infected thrusts itself
forward with a scream, its entire torso sticking out of the window. For a
moment I think it might fall out, but it pulls itself back with a growl.

Logan cradles his leg as Joey and I kneel beside him, looking him over for
any protruding bones.
I didn't hear any snaps
, I think, assuring myself
that that's a good sign. He curses softly with a red face as we help to pull
him up.

I look up at the window. The infected stands watching the three of us, its
lips, encrusted with dried blood are pulled back to reveal rows of blunt teeth,
painted shades darker than they should be. I pull Logan's arm over my shoulder
as Joey does the same. We stand still for a minute, balancing him as he shifts
his weight cautiously from one foot to another, deciding which is the most
injured.

A snarl rips through the infected man's throat as it begins to lean out the
window again, like a bird on a branch, readying itself to take flight. Its
lifeless eyes, reflective and glossy in the sunlight remain focused intently on
the three of us.

"Come on, let's go," Joey says, beginning to steer us away from
the house as he scoops his bag up from the ground.

As if the small movement triggered it, the infected snaps back into the room
and hurls itself away from the window with a violent throw, disappearing
inside. Its snarl rippling through the house as it maneuvers towards the
stairs.

"Let's go now!" Joey shouts louder this time, pulling Logan and I
towards the open gate at the back of the garden. I look away from the house and
do as he says, the three of us struggling in a quick hobble. I glance back as I
hear the back-door being thrown open and slamming against the wall. The infected
sprints out into the garden, its arms twitching violently at its sides.

I try to quicken my pace, finding it difficult under the weight of Logan.
The infected screams again as it draws near, its footsteps easily audible
behind us now.

We reach the open gate. Joey drops Logan's arm and spins to slam it shut,
but the infected crashes against it just before he can. I drop Logan's arm and
throw myself against the gate, the impact forcing the infected back enough for
Joey to reach over and shut the metal latch. He snatches his hand back as we
both push ourselves away, the infected scratching and punching at the hard
wood. I rub my shoulder, surprised at how thick and sturdy the wood is.

Joey and I share a glance. He puffs his cheeks out with a sigh, his face red
and splotchy with sweat. I give myself a moment to breathe, wiping the
perspiration from my forehead with the back of my hand.

"I told you we shouldn't stop to scavenge," I huff, too tired to
glare at either of them. Joey rolls his eyes and Logan limps to the fence
across from us so that he can lean his weight against it. I glance up and down
the small alley we are in, wedged between rows of houses. All their back fences
lead here. Some open. "Let's get moving," I say, not feeling entirely
safe as I try to ignore the commotion on the other side of the fence.

"Here," Joey says, shrugging his bag off and handing it towards
me. "You carry the bags and I'll help him," he juts his chin towards
Logan. I reach out to take the bag, but hesitate, imagining which of the two
would be easier to drop if we had to run again. I nod and take the bag from
him, slinging it over my other shoulder.
Logan could grab me and pull me
back, no risk of that with a bag
.

Joey moves towards Logan and reaches out towards his hand, only to have
Logan push him back.

"I'm fine," he hisses, his face pinched in pain. "I can walk
on my own."

Joey looks back at me, unsure.

"Don't be a baby, Logan, you can barely stand!" I gesture at him,
struggling to hold himself upright against the fence. He takes a step down the
alley, his eyes squeezed in concentration, his nose scrunched and lips pursed.

"Just give me a minute," he says through gritted teeth, using the
fence as support.

"We don't have a minute!" I say, more than a little annoyed now. I
throw a hand towards the gate behind us, rattling on its hinges. It looks
pretty sturdy, but I don't want to take any chances.

He opens his eyes, but only to glare at me.

"Fine," he spits, "come on then." He reaches an arm out
and slings it over Joey's shoulder as he pushes himself away from the fence.
Together they stagger up the alley and out onto the street. A quick survey of
the area proves that the coast is clear, at least for now. The sound of the
infected is still loud behind us, and I’m sure that it will attract others.

I walk slightly ahead of them as we trudge down the streets, Joey asking
every ten minutes if Logan needs a break. I scoff every time I hear him ask.
Logan's ego is far too big to allow him a break. Although I suspect that Joey
is only asking because he wants one.

As we round the corner of a street, I come to a stop, observing the large
amphitheater at the end of the road. Logan and Joey stop beside me.

"There it is," Joey points.

I follow his finger to see a bright yellow school bus, parked just beside
the entrance.

CHAPTER
TWELVE

Stella

Joey grins broadly, as if he didn’t expect to actually
find them. I squint at the bus, barely distinguishing the outlines of people
moving around inside. Or what I hope are people.

"Come on," he beams, his entire character seemingly rejuvenated.
"Let's go!"

Joey pulls Logan forward, emitting a string of curses from his tightly
pinched lips as he struggles to keep in step with the eager strides Joey
insists upon. "Don't worry, you can sit on the bus," Joey tells him,
ignoring the sideways glare Logan shoots him with.

Joey and Logan walk past me as I stand and watch, peering at the small
movements within. Although not tinted, the windows are dark, making it
difficult to see inside. I stand still, watching for another minute. The
movements within seem too smooth and fluid to be that of the infected. This
calms me some. Walking forwards, I make sure to remain behind Joey, just in
case they aren't friendly to strangers.

As we approach, one of the figures within the bus stops what they are doing
to look at us, their body moving closer towards the window before lurching back
in a sudden, swift move. My steps falter, unsure of what could have caused such
a reaction. Maybe Joey really was locked in that bathroom for a reason, and
they were hoping never to see him again. . .

If that's the case, it's strange that Joey appears so enthusiastic to
reunite with them.

The door of the bus slides open with a creak. I stumble to a halt as I wait
for someone to appear. Joey pulls Logan a few steps closer before coming to a
stop, his focus centered on the open door of the bus. It isn't long before a
woman appears, her long, orange hair, pulled into a retro style is like streams
of lava, clashing against the chestnut color of her skin. Her eyes land and
linger on Joey before glancing at Logan and I.

"Rocket!" Joey exclaims, bringing the woman's attention back to
him. Her expression remains blank as she stares at him from the door of the
bus. Throwing her foot out, she steps down, her boot crunching on the gravel of
the pavement. The corner of her mouth pulls slightly into what could pass as a
smile.

"Joey," she says lightly, her eyes trained on his. "I thought
we'd lost you."

"Oh, you should know you can't get rid of me that easily!"

She stares at him with a blank, unreadable expression. Her shoulders are strained
back in a rigid posture and her hands hang furled at her sides. My eyes dart
between the two of them, the air thickening with the tension around them. She
attempts another smile as she looks Logan over, her eyes analyzing the
situation.

"I see you brought new friends," she glances at me, her honey
colored eyes seemingly dark in thought. Remembering the importance of first
impressions, I step forward and hold my hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Ste—"

"She's my girlfriend," Joey interrupts with a smirk, drawing both
our attentions back to him. "And this is my grandpa," he gives Logan
a light shake. I cross my arms as Logan growls under his breath, the three of
us appraising Joey with irritated looks.

"Why don't you help him on the bus?" She steps aside and gestures
with a sweep of her hand for them to board, before turning uncertain and
looking at Logan and I for confirmation. "If you're coming with us?"

"If that would be alright?" I say, glancing at Logan for any sign
that his opinion has changed.

"Of course," she smiles, this time authentically as she tips her
head forward with a small nod. "But if you try anything," she
continues, "either of you." She splits her cautionary glare to Logan.
"I ain't gonna say how easy it would be for me to put you both down."

Joey flashes a toothy grin in her direction before pulling Logan onto the
bus. I linger outside, appraising the woman once more. She looks at me
expectantly, waiting.

"Sorry," I say with a shake of my head, realizing that I’ve been
staring. "I'm Stella."

Her lips pull into another smile. "Rocket."

"That's an interesting name," I note.

"Oh thanks," she says, her tone genuinely flattered. "It was
my nickname back when I was a NASCAR driver, I like it better than my real name
so I figured, what better time to change than during the apocalypse?" She
smiles with a small shrug of her shoulders.

I begin to reply but stop when Joey pulls down one of the windows at the
back of the bus. He sticks his head out and looks down at the two of us.

"Do you two ladies wanna get a move on?" he asks with the same
grin he always seems to carry. He ducks his head back inside and rolls the
window up as we both glare at him. I look back at Rocket, ironing my features
out into a softer expression.

"I hope he wasn't a
bad
surprise," I nod towards where Joey
sits on the bus. She appraises me with a look before glancing over her shoulder
at Joey's outline in the window. She stares at him for a moment, her lips
slowly pulling into a firm line as the air begins to tense once again with the
weight of unspoken issues. 

"Me too," she says absently. Turning back to me, she forces
another smile and gestures for me to board the bus. I manage a smile back and
reach out for the railing, pulling myself up. I pause on the first step as I
catch sight of a tall, slender man. His dark eyes widen behind thick glasses as
he meets my gaze. He drops his eyes quickly, running a pale hand through his
dark, gelled hair.

"That's Gale," Rocket says, coming up behind me. "He's
clever, but he don't talk much."

He forces a tight-lipped smile that is short lived, keeping his eyes on the
floor of the bus. Logan and Joey sit together near the back, although Logan doesn't
look too happy with his company, he seems content staring out the window as
Joey talks in his ear. He spares me a look before returning his attention to
the window.

"Why don't you sit up here with me?" Rocket suggests, gesturing to
the bench behind the driver's seat. "It's a long trip and I could use the
company," she smiles with a shrug. I return her smile with a nod and sit
down on the cushioned seat, shrugging both bags off my shoulders and throwing
them onto the bench opposite me.

"I'd say buckle up," she slides into the driver's seat and starts
the ignition before hanging her wrist over the wheel and looking back at us.
"But we don't have any seat belts."

She stomps her boot down on the accelerator and the bus jolts forward as she
pulls it off the sidewalk and out onto the road. I lean back in my seat for a
moment, grateful for the opportunity of rest, no matter how short it lasts.

"So Joey mentioned that your base is on the way to Las Vegas?" I
ask, leaning forward so that she can hear me over the roar of the engine. She
glances back at me, but keeps her eyes primarily focused on the road.

"That's right, we're about a two-hour drive away." She looks back,
"one and a half if you're me," she winks, returning her attention to
the road. "Is that where you and your friend are headed?"

I nod. "Yeah."

"He your dad?"

I almost laugh. "No, no he is definitely not."

"Well, our next scavenging trip might be to Las Vegas. It's been tough,
most of the towns have been stripped bare, we've had to move further and
further out. But maybe we can give you a ride?" She shrugs, steering the
bus around a small congregation of feeding infected. They look up from their
meal to regard the bus, but quickly return to their feast, some of the bones
already stripped clean.

"That'd be appreciated," I nod, not bothering with a smile because
I know she can't see me.

I make small talk with her for the next hour and a bit, asking her about her
hair and how difficult it must be to maintain.

"All worth it when I end up looking this good," she waved,
gesturing to the large curl atop her head that flows straight down her back in
a classic 50's housewife style. It’s an unusual look, but one that suits her.
She loves all things retro.

I make up some things about myself to tell her. I like cats, Disney films
and iced tea. Anything that slowly builds a steady foundation of trust. After a
few more minutes of small talk, I figure I have her buttered up enough to ask.

"So what's the deal with you and Joey?" I finally inquire, leaning
forward further so that I can catch any expression that flits across her face.

Her brow furrows. "Oh, that?" she waves. "That's nothing, we
just don't get along."

"It must be something if you locked him in a bathroom," I press,
curious as to what she's hiding.

"Girl, you've spent enough time with him, tell me you don't want to
lock him alone in a room somewhere." She glances back with an amused
smile. "Besides, I don't like tainting people's perceptions, I'll let you
make your own assumption of him."

I lean back defeated. "Fair enough," I mutter, resolved that I'm
not going to get anything else out of her.

Turning my attention towards the window, I fully push myself back into the
soft cushion. Desolate and barren lands whisk by as I settle down, my eyelids
drooping with a slowly increasing weight. They close completely, and I’m not
sure if sleep takes me until I feel the familiar shadow of a nightmare creeping
upon me.

The darkness hugs me as I drift off, the momentum of the bus cradling me
into the dark abyss of dreams. I'm not on the bus anymore, I'm at the coast.
I've finally made it. I'm walking along the sandy shore, the spray of distant
waves settling on my skin when I see him. His back is turned to me, but he's
turning around, slowly. I've finally found him after all this time. I call out
his name, but I don't hear a sound. I grab his shoulder and pull him towards
me. His head begins to turn and—

"Hey!"

I jerk awake, slapping at the hand on my shoulder. Panting heavily I look up
at Rocket, the lines of her face creased in concern.

"You okay?" she asks, inclining her head towards me in question.

I glance around at the bus, remembering where I am. I look up at her, and
nod.

"Good, cause we're here."