Barely Alive (28 page)

She shook her head. My chest felt hollow. I’d hoped, but somehow I’d been cocky and assumed she would like me despite my condition. The truth sucked worse than I thought it could. She squeezed my fingers, her eyes soft. “I’m already interested. I don’t care what you have.”

And she pressed her lips to mine fleetingly like a hummingbird settled for a moment and then disappeared. My dying heart soared and I could have flown out the window and up into Canada. She looked down. “I’ll let you shower.” And she closed the door.

I stared at the white panel for another moment. Had I been dreaming? Impossible, ‘cause I didn’t sleep. She’d kissed me. Leaned up and kissed me. It wasn’t my first kiss, but it was the first one that seemed to matter.

I shed my clothes, dropping them on my way to the bathroom. Cold replaced her touch and I longed to be warm, if just for a second.

And then I was naked. With Heather somewhere in the same house. Was she naked? Was she taking a shower like I was? Maybe I needed to start out with a cold spray. Couldn’t hurt.

Chapter 23

“
Did you get a hold of your grandma?” I acted like we hadn’t bared our souls in my room. I was warmer and felt like layers of grime had rinsed down the drain.

Heather looked more worried and even less rested. “No. I’m trying the hospital now.” She completed the dial on the land line and waited for the ring.

I wandered into the other room to give her some privacy. A sitting room, kitchen and dining room covered one half of the main floor while bedrooms, bathrooms, a laundry room, the lobby, and stairs completed the level.

I enjoyed the smell of burnt cedar from the fireplace, adding to the image I had in my head of a rustic elegant woman chopping wood outside.

Her grandmother’s taste was simple and elegant, mixing pictures printed in sepia with glass topped coffee tables. A shelf overflowing with knick knacks seemed well cared for. Up close no dust had been allowed to settle. About sixteen miniature tea sets lined the first shelf, one entire set smaller than my thumb. The next shelf down brass soldier figurines with small canons and guns had been set up in mock battle, the little bodies straight and perfectly posed, even in fake death.

Heather came up behind me, tears in her voice. “My grandma and I collected those. I don’t know why, but the Civil War and tea always go together for me.” She sobbed, covering her face with her hands.

I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. We sat on the stiff couch under a large picture window. “What’s the matter? Did you find your grandma?”

She hiccupped and wiped at her cheeks. “Yes. She’s fine.”

I lowered my face to see hers better. “Then what’s the problem?”

She met my gaze and sniffed. “She was waiting at the hospital for me to get there. Someone called and told her there’d been an accident and that I’d died at the scene. She was supposed to get to the hospital and ID the body.”

I tightened my jaw. Dominic had no morals. A call like that could cause a heart attack or an accident. He’d blatantly lied.

“
I didn’t realize how unsafe we are. Anywhere.” She gripped my hand. “Do you think he’d stop, if I gave him some samples of my blood and tissue? I don’t have to go, but we could maybe package some and send it?”

He was on his way or had someone tracking her grandmother. I swallowed, but didn’t let on that my insides quaked with fear. For us all. “I’m sorry, Heather. That’s terrible.” I caressed the inside of her wrist with my thumb. “Is she coming home?”

“
Yeah, she’ll be here in a little bit.” She watched me, waiting for me to approve her plan to send the samples.

I pressed my lips together. It was her body, but… “I’m sorry, Heather. I know you want to help, I do. But sending pieces of yourself for him to exploit won’t make him stop. If anything, I could see him craving more.” I pulled her closer to me, until she rested half on my chest.

In moments, she’d cried herself to sleep. I shifted her to lie across my lap, cradled in my arms like a small child. I know she’d wanted a shower, but she needed rest more. I carried her up to her room beside mine, the purples and creams perfect for her personality.

I tucked her into bed. Hell, I didn’t have the balls to undress her. I wanted to, but I couldn’t.

With Travis and Heather asleep, I made my way to James’s room. Connie and my mom were talking about dress styles. Oh, hell, if James hadn’t gone crazy from the pain, he would from the boredom.

I stood in the doorway and crossed my arms. “Connie, do you need a break?”

James’s eyelids flew open. He jerked his head once, twice, in a frantic yes.

My answering smile received a glare.

Mom and Connie looked at me from the slides they were making of James’s blood and tissues. Connie shook her head. “Nah, it’s nice having someone more my age to talk with. I’m fine if,” she looked at Mom, “your mom is okay and not too tired?”

My mom waved her hand at the thought. “Not even a little. I’m a night owl. No way could I sleep with James shot.” She pursed her lips. “We need to watch James’s fever. Connie thinks he might have an infection which could change the situation.”

James groaned.

“
Sorry, Bro. Okay, let me know what I can do to help.” To the women, I turned serious and pointed to the front of the house. “Don’t be alarmed if you hear a car drive up. Heather’s grandma is supposed to be back soon. Dominic called and told her Heather was dead or in serious condition at the hospital.”

Mom slapped the comforter. “That poor thing. We’ll watch for her, if you want to try to find something to eat?” She tried, even with little knowledge about what we ate, to make it seem okay, like we weren’t monsters.

But the idea had merit. “Thanks, Mom. I might. I need food and so does James. Connie, I’m sure you do, too. If it’s alright with you, I’ll see what I can find and trade you places when I get back?”

“
Sounds good.” Connie put the pen down. I turned to leave, but she stopped me. “Hey, Paul. I gave you my theories. What are yours?”

I waved my hand at James. “I don’t know science as much as I liked to. Definitely not enough to theorize.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not asking you about the science. I’m asking about Dominic, this epidemic we’re facing. What do you think is going to happen?”

Headlights bobbed up and down in the dark outside the window. The speed suggested the driver was familiar with the road. Heather’s grandmother was home.

I moved to stand beside the window to check for additional headlights. No way could anyone – Dominic or otherwise – follow behind Heather’s grandma without their lights on. The driveway was too damn erratic.

The brass soldiers on the shelf came to mind. I pushed my hair back. “Well, Connie, if you’ll forgive my bluntness… I see us going to war.”

She sighed. “I thought so.”

My mom’s shoulders sagged. She rested her head in her hands and I was sure she cried, until she lifted her head. Her features were pale, but stalwart. “Are you certain?”

I paced into the room. Dominic was predictable in some things and spontaneous in others. “He’ll make a new army and control them like he does James. We have to make sure we can protect as many people as we can while Connie and Travis search for a reason to hope. I don’t know if that’s a vaccine or a cure, but something has to be possible. Science can’t fail us.”

The sound of the front door opening pulled me to the hallway. Over my shoulder, I added. “I’m sorry, but yes. We have to fight to get back our freedom. Dominic wants Heather for research, too, but to make himself immortal. And I refuse to leave this world with Dominic walking on it forever.”

Hell, no.
I’d rather have my brains jarred and shelved for eternity before I’d allow Dominic reign over the Earth. I’d get ready for war. There would be sacrifices, many. But I’d protect and save what I could. I was outfitted as an enemy but my loyalties lie with the righteous side. I only hoped I could help keep that side alive.

The End of Book 1

Stay tuned for Book #2 of the
Barely Alive
series –
Falling Apart
– coming Summer 2012.

For the recipe of
Barely Alive Zombie Hash
visit
www.bonnierpaulson.com
and click the recipe tab.

About the Author

Bonnie R. Paulson mixes her science and medical background with reality and possibilities to make even myths seem likely and give every romance the genetic strength to survive. Bonnie has discovered a dark and twisty turn in her writing that she hopes you enjoy as much as she has enjoyed uncovering it. Dirt biking with her family in the Northwest keeps her sane.

Find Bonnie and her other titles at

Twitter: @bonnierpaulson

Facebook:
http://facebook.com/bonpaulson

www.bonnierpaulson.com

If you liked
Barely Alive
– try
Into the End
– Bonnie’s
adult
apocalyptic thriller. The first chapter is below.

Are you prepared?

Chapter 1: Rachel

The end of the world had come.

Finally.

Rachel hadn’t had a solid night’s sleep in twenty-three months, three weeks and two days. An hour, maybe two a night for the last two years. Twenty-four hour news flickered on the TV.

Crisp May air breezed through the open windows. Rachel tucked the blanket tighter under her chin and readjusted her legs on the couch cushions. Restless leg syndrome would be a perfect excuse for her sleeplessness, but couldn’t be further from the truth. Her legs weren’t restless. She was.

The news anchor returned from commercial. Rachel turned up the volume. A squared picture flashed of burning buildings and gaping crevices. The older woman on screen sighed, weariness covering her lack of surprise. “Another earthquake in the string of disasters to the west coast struck an hour ago in Ellensburg, Washington. The Washington coastline has now been decimated to the middle of the state. Experts project a following tsunami to the new islands created from the Cascade Mountains should manifest in the next few hours.”

Ellensburg? Mere hours away. Andy had been right.

The camera shifted to the man who shuffled paper. Lifting eyes desensitized to the horrors from recent days, he continued below a new popup screen. “In other news, after almost ten years of closed, high security airspace, the president has released a statement declaring that the airspace over the States is now open. He has requested assistance from other countries. The White House sent his formal request yesterday morning and has yet to receive answers from the NATO countries. The open space is an invitation for any help we can receive. Do not be alarmed if you spot airplanes or helicopters in the air.”

A muffled thud sounded from the roof. Rachel muted the TV. And waited. At least she thought she’d heard something. Maybe… Well, maybe she’d slipped into that place between sleep and awake. Or maybe she was finally ready to sleep. It might be the mentioned assistance dropping food and supplies.

Rachel closed her eyes, smiling at the image of care packages dropping to the ground.

Thump! This time from the roof above her. Rachel snapped her eyes open and followed the sound with her gaze until it dropped off the steep grade. An orange glow drifted past the closed vertical blinds. Another. A new thud. Care packages didn’t glow… did they?

Rachel escaped the pull of the blanket and knelt at the window. A burnt umber shone around the edges of the blinds. Faded in and out. Maybe young neighbors played with fireworks.

She pushed a few of the slats out of the way and gasped.

Falling debris, some on fire, catapulted from the sky. Large pieces hurtled to the ground while other materials and paper rode the calm May air to settle wherever it wafted. Flames burned out on contact with the grasses and streets, but here and there a small ember took hold on a tree or roof top. Smoke billowed black and white with different fuel.

A scream rent the air.

Rachel scrambled from the couch and shot down the stairs. Out the door, she landed on the grass and froze. Where had it come from? A second shriek slashed from the house next door. Bob and Martha. Rachel ran to the front door and pounded.

The retired gentleman flung the panel open, his white hair tufted here and there. “Rachel. What’s going on?” He stuck his head out the door, the fire light revealing his absent hearing aid. “Where’s Martha?”

Crackling from the back yard and another scream led Rachel through the gate, Bob trailing behind. Both dodged the increasing onslaught of fiery remnants. A paper bag, the corner curling with flame, slid off Rachel’s shoulder. She stepped over a yellow charred chunk of foam in the shape of a small seat. A doll’s head, or half of one anyway, rolled on the grass when it landed.

Rounding the corner of the house, Rachel tripped over the cement patio. Damn. Every time she came over, she stumbled over the same protrusion. Good thing she hadn’t changed into her robe. The last thing she needed was to fight terry cloth tripping her up.

Finding Martha took a moment with vision limited through the falling debris. By the side fence, behind the rhododendrons, Martha chased her dog, whose tail and lower back had caught fire. Yips filled the air. Burning hair and flesh permeated the smoke trailing from burning paper and wood. The dog’s water dish sat on the edge. Rachel picked up the bowl and dumped it on the burning animal.