Apocalypse Cowboy: Futuristic Romance with Zombies (5 page)

Home.

Just the thought of going back to the place he grew up made his whole body tense. He’d not left on the best of terms, and now that he’d returned, to a town dead, he never would be able to put things right between him and his parents.

How he wished he could turn back time.

I might not have said sorry while I had the chance, but the least I can do is pay my respects.
He wasn’t stupid, a part of him had known when he returned that his parents probably didn’t live. Hannah’s expression confirmed it.

Avoiding the truth wouldn’t make it easier. Brody had put it off long enough. The time had come to pay a visit to the place he’d called home for over twenty years. And he intended to do it alone.

What surprised him was Hannah’s desire to go with him. While a part of him rejoiced she didn’t want him to face this alone, another part of him didn’t want her to come. Who knew how he’d react? He sure as hell didn’t. A man never wanted a woman he loved to see him as anything less than strong. And he should certainly never let her see him cry.

There wasn’t enough ball scratching in the world to make up for that kind of weakness. And yeah, there was a strong chance he’d shed a few tears.

The guilt he felt about abandoning his parents still hung heavy over him. When the illness struck, Brody had fought an inner battle, wanting to return home, but at the same time, he knew he’d return in time only to see them die.

He’d spent long months regretting that choice. He spent months regretting a lot of things, such as the fact he never should have left and hurt the people who loved him most, his parents and Hannah

With this thought in mind, while Hannah popped into the house to ditch the remains of their lunch, he hopped onto his motorcycle and took off, the route to his parent’s place so familiar he could have probably done it with his eyes closed.

I can still feel the wind on my face as I peddled my bike on my way to meet Hannah by the big apple tree.
They’d spent a lot of time there, first as kids then as lovers. Everywhere he looked, memories haunted him. Good ones for the most part, but sad at the same time too. Everything had changed. The kids they once were no longer innocent.

Signs of nature taking over abounded everywhere, from the overgrown fields where crops pushed through the soil, reborn from the seeds left behind. Domestic animals roamed, cows wandering at will, gorging themselves on the lush vegetation, horses sprinted by, their manes flowing behind and feral gangs of dogs banded together, a danger for the unwary. Even pigs had gone wild, their squeals and snorts enough to make a mouth water with thoughts of pork chops and bacon.

A person could live off the land here. If they could handle the loneliness.
But I wouldn’t be alone. I’d have Hannah.
Enough for him, but what of the others? Beth especially would need the comfort and companionship of others eventually. Forget eventually, she needed it now. He’d not missed her overeager reaction at his arrival.

Something to ponder for the future, once he convinced Hannah to let him be a part of her future.

As he turned onto the side street where he’d grown up, the signs of abandonment became clearer. No children roamed the streets chasing soccer balls. Not a single dog barked. Windows devoid of curious eyes gaped at him. At least he hoped they were empty. While armed, he was in no mood to tangle with zombies.

Then again, perhaps killing a few would help ease his frustration.

Downshifting the gears on his bike, he coasted the weed-choked driveway to the house with the puke-green vinyl siding. Brody’s gut clenched as he braced himself for the memories already assailing him, like the one of his dad playing catch with him on the front lawn. There was the crooked mailbox he’d crashed into while learning to ride his bike, a feat accomplished with both his father and mother cheering him on.

His steps echoed loudly on the wooden risers that led up to the wide porch where, a lifetime ago, his mother had served lemonade to him and a more carefree Hannah.
It seems like an impossible dream now.

The screen door sagged and creaked when he pulled it open. He half expected the thick, forest-green door to resist, but the knob turned easily in his hand. Sucking in a deep breath, he took a step into the musty interior and fell into the past.

Pictures of his family lined the wall. Smiling. Happy. He trailed his fingers along the faded wallpaper, moving deeper into his childhood home. With slow steps, he clomped up stairs, the wood treads creaking under his weight. He made his way to the master bedroom where the miasma of death wafted. Once he saw what lay there, guilt crashed over him, a brutal tidal wave of emotion that sank him to his knees.

I’m so sorry, Mom and Dad.
Sobs wracked his body.

The idiot had left without her.

From within the kitchen where she ditched the dishes, Hannah heard the distinctive roar of his motorcycle and dropped the leftovers she’d covered. Who cared if it crashed to the floor and wasted? She darted outside, only to see the tail end of his bike as it got smaller and smaller.

Oh, Brody.
She knew where he’d gone, and she cursed a blue streak as she bolted for her pink mountain bike. Even as she pedaled, using the shortcuts she’d never forgotten, she knew she’d arrive too late. It didn’t stop or slow her. On the contrary, she pumped faster.

Out of breath, she rode right up onto the lawn of his old house and hopped off the bike, letting it fall to the ground as she raced up the steps and through the open front door.

“Brody!” She called his name in the dead silence. He didn’t answer, yet she sensed he was there.

She knew where she’d find him, and though her heart stuttered, she took the stairs two at a time until she reached the hall leading to his parents’ bedroom. She stopped in the doorway. She’d found him but not before he’d discovered the secret she’d tried to hide from him.

Brody knelt on the floor, head bowed and shoulders heaving.

Hannah approached quietly and, dropping to her knees behind him, hugged him tight.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered hoarsely.

Guilt nagged her. “I didn’t know how.”

A bitter laugh escaped him. “I guess it’s not the easiest thing to say, ‘Hey Brody, your dad killed himself’.” Hannah winced at his blunt words. “It’s stupid, but you know it never occurred to me he might be immune too. I just assumed they both died, that everyone did. That my surviving was a curse for my selfishness.”

“You weren’t selfish.”

“Don’t try and make me feel better. I did this. I left him alone, and he couldn’t handle it. How long after my mom died did he off himself?”

Hannah swallowed at the misery and intense guilt she heard in his voice. “I don’t know. We’d closeted ourselves at the farm when things got bad. I thought everyone died. But when I came to town for supplies the first fall after everyone was gone, I ran into him. He didn’t make much sense. He scared me. I didn’t know what to do. So I left him and went home.”

“But?” he prodded.

“The next day, I went looking for him.” She swallowed, and Brody trembled in her arms. “I wanted him to come stay with us, but when I went arrived here, the next day, this is what I found.” A devastated man with a hole in his head and blood staining the sheets.

She didn’t tell him how she’d screamed and cried when she’d seen Brody’s father lying beside his wife, a peaceful look finally crowning his face, even amid all the horror.

“I never imagined they survived. I would have come back sooner if I’d known. This is my fault.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s mine. I should have brought him home with me that same day.” She admitted aloud the guilt she’d lived with since that moment.

“This isn’t your fault.” He sighed. “I don’t know if either of us could have prevented it. My dad lived for my mother.”

Hannah’s heart ached for him. Would the outcome have been different if Brody had returned? Maybe, but then again Harold had been married to his sweet Marie for thirty-five years and known her for almost fifty. His heart had died when she had. The idea of a love that strong both appealed to and frightened Hannah. Especially since she’d thought of death a few times when Brody had left her.

“I’m sorry, Brody. I should have warned you, but I didn’t know how.”

He turned in her arms and wrapped himself around her, his body shuddering as he grieved. She hugged him tightly, her own eyes wet as she shared his pain.

Together they knelt, both finally crying for a past they could not change. Some of Hannah’s barriers fell at his obvious pain, his vulnerability, a side of him she’d never expected to see.

In that moment of grief, perverse as it was, she couldn’t help herself from falling in love with him all over again.

It took him longer than he would have liked to control himself. What a big wuss, bawling like the biggest baby and in front of Hannah no less.

What must she think?

Whatever her opinion of him, this was the closest she’d gotten to him since his return. She hugged him as if she’d never let go, her head resting on his shoulder, the feel of her so right in his arms.

Unable to look behind him and see his parents again in their makeshift tomb, he grasped Hannah tightly and stood with her, his knees protesting after having knelt on the hard floor for so long.

Hand in hand, they walked down the stairs. Out they went, through the front door of the house to the fresh air outside. He gulped deeply to erase the scent of death. Nothing, however, would ever remove the horror and guilt of what he’d done to his parents through his selfish absence, but if he’d learned one very important thing since the apocalypse, it was that he couldn’t dwell on what could have been.

In order to survive, he had to move on and look to the future. While he couldn’t atone to his parents, he could make sure he didn’t repeat the mistakes of the past with Hannah. By sticking close to those he cared about. The future started with taking better care of her and the family she had left.

The mental promise had him swinging her back into his arms for another hug. She didn’t protest or try to escape. On the contrary, her arms crept around him and clung just as tightly.

Much too soon, she leaned back to look at him.

“Are you okay?” she asked timidly, her eyes red-rimmed from crying. He still thought her beautiful.

He made a crooked attempt at a grin. “I’ll live.” Or not.

The zombie lurched from around the side of the garage, the tattered remains of its clothes hanging from emaciated limbs. With its mouth open wide emitting the ghastly “uhm” they were known for, it stumbled toward them.

“Get back in the house,” he ordered as he pulled the gun he kept on him at all times from his waistband. His holster was at the farmhouse, left behind in his haste to come here.

“I’m not leaving you alone.” Any other time he might have rejoiced at her stubborn insistence. This wasn’t one of those times.

More moans arose to send a shiver down his spine. As he spun to look, five more ghastly plague survivors staggered into view, drawn by the noise of his bike, or did they scent fresh blood? Their presence certainly explained the lack of dogs in the area. Zombies tended to remain close to the places they knew, although this seemed excessive for this small area. The winter wasn’t kind, and he’d heard that the zombie situation was no longer as dire, given their depleted numbers. However, just because there were fewer didn’t mean those they encountered were any less dangerous.

“Do you have your gun?”

He could tell by the stricken expression on her face that she didn’t.

“I was in such a rush to reach you I forgot it. I didn’t think I’d need it. I thought I’d cleared the zombies in this area.”

“I think you missed a few.” He took aim and fired at the one closest to them. Even as its body sank to the pavement, twitching in the throes of true death, the others increased their pace.

“Take this.” He handed her his revolver.

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me. Let’s see if you’re still little Miss Annie Oakley.” Knowing Hannah could shoot, he opted to give her the weapon that let her take on the zombies from afar. As for him, there was a reason he kept an aluminum bat in a rig alongside his bike’s saddlebags. He withdrew it and swung it through the air a few times as he strode toward the approaching menace, a menace that saw a few more stagger forth.

Where are they coming from?

“Brody! What are you doing?”

“Surviving,” was his cocky reply.

And perhaps showing off. Nothing like showcasing to the woman he loved that he could take of himself and her. A pity his demonstration was so messy.

The thud of the bat connecting didn’t stop the blood from spraying, nor did it prevent scrabbling fingers or slobbering jaws from snapping, covering him in a slimy patina.

The fight itself didn’t last long. Between his powerful swings and her deadly aim, soon the zombies were just cooling bodies on the ground. While Brody didn’t see or hear any others, his neck prickled. It didn’t feel safe, but he said nothing aloud. He didn’t want to freak her out.

“I don’t understand,” she said, looking around. “Where did they come from? And so many? I’ve been through all these houses. Ridden through here more than once. This makes no sense. How are there so many? And why now?”

“Maybe you missed them because they were hiding.”

“That’s not how they usually act. Usually as soon as they hear or see me, they’re coming after me. And never in a crowd. Up until now, I’ve only ever encountered them one on one. In total, I think the whole town maybe only had about four zombies, and they were all locked in houses, unable to get out.”

“Could be they learned to open doors?”

She shot him a droll look. “Those mindless things don’t open doors. I found enough of them trapped in rooms to learn that.”

“What did you do with those?”

“I killed them, of course, in case I was wrong and they eventually managed to escape or someone else came across them.”

His kitten didn’t mess around. “I don’t suppose you recognize any of the bodies?” What he truly wanted to know was whether the zombies were residents. If she’d cleared this area then where did these things come from? Had they changed their pattern as food grew scarce, to the point where they wandered away from their familiar turf? If that was the case, then they’d need to remain even more vigilant than before.

The possibility the zombies were moving around and banding together to look for food wouldn’t bode well for the remaining flu survivors.

“None of them look familiar, but then again, I doubt their own mothers would recognize them. And I’m not checking them for identification.”

“We should get out of here.” He scanned the street and realized he didn’t see a vehicle. “How did you get here?”

She pointed to a pink bike sprawled on the grass in front of his old house. The thought of her riding it, she who’d hated biking growing up but did it just to see him, made him want to whoop in joy.
Deny it if you want, kitten. You still care for me.

“I don’t suppose you’d ditch it and hitch a ride with me?”

She shook her head. “Much as I hate the thing, it’s handy to have.” She lifted the bike and straddled the seat.

How he’d rather she straddled something else.

The idea of going back to the farm just yet didn’t appeal. “I don’t think I’m ready to head back just yet.”

“Take all the time you need. You know where to find us.”

Before she could peddle off, he placed his hand on the bars. “Wait. Don’t go. I might not want to go back yet, but I don’t want to be alone. Stay with me.”

The plea just about made him cringe, but Hannah didn’t mock his weakness. On the contrary, her face softened. “Of course I’ll stay with you.”

As they walked their bikes the few blocks into town, the prickling unease dissipated. The day, which had taken such a horrible twist, brightened again as Hannah finally talked to him and asked the questions Beth and Fred had already bombarded him with.

“What’s it like outside of here? Did many survive?”

Not according to the stench and the legion of flies he encountered in the cities and towns he explored. Bodies rotted everywhere. Not all victims to the virus. Those immune to the plague weren’t safe, not with the zombies roaming about. Only those willing to kill survived. The Darwin theory at work.

“The whole planet is like a ghost town. Entire cities and neighborhoods, silent. It’s really uncanny.” Spooky even, to have so many windows and homes watching, sitting there empty of the life once inhabiting them. “There are survivors, but in my travels across America, they’ve proven scarce. Many have hidden themselves out of fear. Others have gone mad.”

“So the world truly has ended. Humanity is done.”

Such sad despair. He shook his head. “Not quite. There’s also rumors of rebuilding. Of people banding together to form new societies. Once I left here, I planned to check out rumors about an Amish village that’s been taking in survivors.”

She smiled. “An Amish village? That’s brilliant.”

No kidding.
What better place to live than one that didn’t rely on any modern conveniences like electricity?

“Yup. Of course my visit to check it out will wait now that I’ve found you.” Hannah ducked her head, but he could see the hint of a smile as his reaffirmation he would stay pleased her.

“Do you think they might have some people Beth’s age? I worry about her.”

“Only one way to find out. If we’re going to travel, though, we’re going to need more than just my bike. I’ll take a poke around town and see if I can’t find any more motorcycles that can be fixed up. It’s easier to maneuver the roadblocks in those than a car or truck.”

“What about Uncle Fred. He can’t drive one.”

“I’ll scout for a big cruiser and Fred can ride behind me.”

“But I don’t know how to drive one.”

“Then you’ll have to learn. It’s pretty easy. I’ll give you and Beth lessons if you want.” Such a pity so many of the roads were overrun with stalled vehicles and other detritus. With no one to clear storm debris or toppled power lines, some places were virtually impassable. A car would have made things much easier, but as the panic had spread, people had tried to escape, as if they could outdrive the disease. Some had died in their cars, others had fled when the roads became impassable, and nature had overtaken the rest of the arteries that had once linked the towns. It was surprising how quickly civilization crumbled with nobody around to tend it.

Motorcycles made a decent choice for travel, once you learned how to ride one and if you took it slow. Potholes waited to toss the unwary.

Actually, now that Brody thought of all the hazards that could happen on a motorcycle, he wondered if perhaps he should look into a different mode of travel. He refused to take chances with Hannah’s safety.

“Beth can already ride. She had a dirt bike for a while until she wrecked it doing stupid stunts.”

“What about you? Did you want to learn?” Personally, he would prefer her as a passenger, holding on to him nice and tight.

“No thank you. Motorcycles are dangerous.”

So primly said by the girl with the gun tucked in her pants who, only minutes before, had blown the brains out of the zombies coming after them.

“I don’t think we can avoid the fact that this new world is dangerous, even if you don’t get on a bike.”

“True.” She went silent for a moment as if thinking. “Will humanity survive?” she asked as she peered at him with a serious mien.

“Of course we will. We’re a stubborn bunch. Tell you what. We can get started right now on repopulating the species if you’d like,” he said with a naughty grin. What perfect timing. He stopped walking in front of the wide display window for the mattress store.

“Brody! I was being serious.”

‘So am I. I think we owe it to humanity to have sex, kitten, lots of it, and pop out babies. Dozens.” He couldn’t help but laugh at her shriek. Hannah dropped her bike and came after him. Brody easily skipped out of her reach.

While she pretended outrage at his comment, the flush on her cheeks and sparkle in her eyes told him the idea had merit. And his jest had done the trick and chased the shadows from her face.

When she slowed down her chase, with a mock growl, he U-turned and stalked her.

With her chest heaving and her lips moist from running her tongue over them, she watched him come. While she said a halfhearted, “no,” she didn’t stop him when he caught her in his arms and lowered his lips for a kiss.

He meant it to be a light caress, a gentle reminder of the passion they’d shared, but he’d dreamed of her for too long. When she moaned softly, he crushed her soft body to his chest, reveling in the curves, and slanted his lips forcefully across hers.

She tasted as sweet as he remembered. Sweeter actually. She opened her mouth and let her tongue play with his. Brody groaned against her mouth.

His hands slid down her back to cup her full bottom, and he squeezed those cheeks, their rounded weight making his cock throb. He pulled her hard against his groin, letting her feel his erection, but to his confusion, he felt her hands push at him. Reluctantly, he let her go.

She panted, her eyes heavy lidded and lips swollen. “I can’t. It’s too soon.” Her face crumpled a bit as if she would cry.

Brody clenched his fists, angry at himself for pushing her too fast. “I can wait.” For her, he would do anything.

She looked as though she wanted to speak again, but instead, she rubbed her eyes and turned away to walk briskly toward the hardware store.

Brody followed, hating that he’d hurt her but unable to stop the euphoria at having had her, even if briefly, in his arms.

I will make her love me again.