Learning To Live (Zombie Overload Series) (18 page)

His
face becomes more concerned and then he says, "Ok. That's ok.
Try this one. Who's the president?"

I
know this!

"Bush!"
I exclaim, quite proud of myself-but he looks even more worried.
Uh
oh.
I think I'm failing this test.

Then
he asks me what my name is, what his name is, and what the other
man's name is. At each question I feel frustration build because I
can't tell him. Obviously, I should know my own name and from his
reaction, I should know their names, too. But I don't. And with each
question I have to struggle with, the pain gets worse and worse until
I can't stand it! I grab my head with both hands and moan.
Even
moaning hurts!

I
see the other man punch the dash next to the steering wheel and I
jump, then look at him.
Why is he so angry?

"I'm
sorry. Please don't be mad at me. I'll try to remember you!" I
beg him.

The
man in front of me shoots the other man a cold look and tells him to
"cool his shit."

The
man who punched the dash turns to me and puts his hands on my cheeks.

"I'm
not angry with you. I'm angry with myself. I'm so sorry, Canada. Damn
it! I'm so sorry!"

I
look back at him in confusion, not understanding what he's sorry
about. "Why are you sorry? You didn't do anything." He
opens his mouth to answer but the other man stops him.

I
look from one man to the other and then something registers that the
man behind the steering wheel had said. "Why did you call me
Canada? Is that a nickname for me because I'm Canadian?"

"No,
sweetheart," the man in front of me says and the man behind the
wheel gives a low and almost inaudible growl just after the other man
calls me sweetheart. But I heard it and I know the other man heard
it, too, because his jaw clenches, but he doesn't respond or react to
it.

"Canada
is your actual name. Does it sound familiar to you at all?"
Pretty-eyes asks me.

I
think about it. I say it in my head. I say it aloud. But shake my
head at the man. He smiles gently at me and tells me it's ok. It
doesn't matter right now.

I'm sorry,
maybe it's just me, but not knowing my own name seems rather
important.

"Let's
just get out of here and then we can talk about all this, ok? There
is one thing you do need to know about
right
now
. Does
the word 'zombie' mean anything to you?" I stare at him to see
if he's serious. He
looks
serious.
Why in the world is he
asking about zombies at a time like this?

I
let out a laugh and ask, "Like in the movies? Of course.
Everyone knows about zombies." My amusement fades as I take in
his expression. He's deadly serious and it scares me, even though I
don't know why.

"Ok,
in normal circumstances, I shouldn't do this because of the risk of
shock to your already damaged head, but this is far from normal and I
have to tell you. We had a problem a few days ago and we now have
zombies taking over. But I'm going to keep you safe―"

"And
I will, too." The pretty man shoots the angry man a very dirty
look and the angry man drops his head. I look back at the pretty man.

"You're
kidding! That can't really happen. Zombies aren't real. And I don't
feel so good so I would appreciate it if you wouldn't do this right
now, ok?"

"I
wish I
were
kidding, but I'm not. I'm going to move away so
you can see them but I want you to know that you are safe and I
swear
to you, I will not let anything happen to you."

I
stare into his eyes and I feel real fear spread throughout my body
even though my mind is in denial that this isn't real and for some
reason this beautiful man is screwing with my head. My very, very
painful head.

He
moves slowly, but I don't take my eyes from him, afraid to look. When
he's no longer in front of me, he takes my hand gently in his own and
tells me to "look". I slowly and gently shake my pounding
head "no" and he moves to sit beside me. Putting his arm
around me and pulling me close to him, he tells me again to "look".

Very
slowly, I lift my eyes and look out the windshield. What I see is the
last
thing I see before everything goes black again.

I
slowly open my eyes and pain stabs my head. Slamming my eyelids
closed again, I moan. I bring my hand up to my forehead and feel a
bandage, sticky with what I assume is blood. I become aware of being
held on someone's lap and big muscular arms wrapped around me. My
head is tucked against his neck.

I
again try to open my eyes, and this time, manage just enough to be
able to see a limited view. I see black clothing on the person
holding me and I move my head back and look up at him. It's the
beautiful man. To be honest, the other one may be beautiful, too. I
didn't get a real good look at him, though. I'm gonna have to do
that. I also realize we are now in the backseat, and the other one is
alone in the front, driving.

The
beautiful man looks down at me, and smiles.

"How
are you feeling?" he asks me.

"My
head is killing me. What happened to me?"

"You
tried to beat the windshield in a contest to see which of you has the
thickest shell. Unbelievable as it may seem, and it's
definitely
hard for me to believe, you seem to have lost."

I
grin at him and he grins back.
Oh, wow!
Killer grin!

"And
you seem to have a bit of amnesia."
Really?
I've never
had amnesia before.
Or have I?
This is so weird and scary.

"What's
your name?" I ask him as I snuggle deeper into his chest.

He
shifts a little and coughs, then says in a strangled voice, "Jake.
My name is Jake." I say his name aloud a few times but it just
doesn't ring a bell. I sure hope I'm not his girlfriend or something.
That would be a shitty thing for him to have to deal with.

My
gaze lands on an engagement ring and wedding band set on my finger
and my body jerks with the horrifying realization that
I'm
married
! Putting all the things I know together such as-this
man is holding me, he obviously cares about me, he called me
sweetheart, and seems to know me pretty well-I come to the conclusion
that this beautiful man is my husband.

Feeling
very satisfied with myself for figuring something out on my own-and
hoping I can make him feel better after the shock of finding out his
own wife doesn't know his name-I wrap my arms around his neck and
pull him down to me. His eyes widen and he stops to raise his head
and look toward the front. Then he looks back at me and stares into
my eyes. I feel almost hypnotized by his own.
They are
so
intense.

He
lowers his head slowly toward mine, and stops a few inches away, his
eyes full of questions and uncertainty. I smile at him and give him a
light tug and his lips come down and meet my own. The kiss deepens
and we both sigh against the others lips at the same time, which
causes us to grin at each other when we break apart. He comes back
down for more and I feel love burst through me.
Yep.
Definitely my husband.

Too
soon, he pulls away and lets out a shaky breath, his gaze going back
to the front. I struggle to sit up more and he helps me but keeps me
on his lap. I look around outside, remembering the zombies. We are
moving down a highway and there's a semi in front of us. Jake tells
me there is another semi ahead of the one I see and other
vehicles-and that a lot of these people are my family.

That
excites and scares me at the same time. More people I have to
disappoint and hurt if I don't remember them. I briefly think that I
should ask him who they are and learn some things about them, but my
head's still pounding and I just can't deal with it yet. But there is
one thing I really need to know.

"Jake?"

"Yeah,
Babe?"

I
lean in close to his ear because I don't want the other guy to know
how horrible a person I am for not knowing the answer to my next
question, no matter that I have amnesia.

"Do
we have any kids?" I whisper.

Jake
jerks back slightly, and shoots a quick look into the front again. I
turn and see his reflection in the mirror, and I see the other man's
worried eyes looking back at us. Confused, I turn back to Jake. He
looks at me and pulls me close to him, bringing his lips to my ear.

"Two
boys, Bo and Ashton. Bo is fourteen and Ash is eleven. You rescued a
baby girl who has no one else but her two-year-old brother, Kaleb,
and your family. Her name is Grace." I feel the kids names out
on my tongue and I'm ashamed as hell when I remember nothing.

"Jake?
Am I ever going to remember anything?"

"Probably,"
I'm confused by the disappointed tone in his voice, but he continues
before I can mention it. "Just don't push it. The headaches will
most likely get worse if you do. Here. Sit on the seat for a minute.
I need to talk to Will." He helps me move from his lap to the
seat as my mind races.

Will.
The name of the other man. I felt something when Jake said his name.
But what?
It was too brief, so I repeat the name, in my
thoughts first, and quietly aloud when that produces nothing more. I
still get a stirring in my brain but I can't latch onto anything
specific. Then the shooting sharp pain forces me to give up.

I
stretch out on the seat and rest my pounding head on the pillow Jake
had placed at one end. For a few moments, I watch the back of their
heads and try to hear what they're saying-but all I can hear are the
angry tones. Giving in to the pain, I close my eyes and pass out.

I
watch my wife and that asshole from the rearview mirror. She's
sitting on his lap and they're whispering who-knows-what in each
others ear. The rage inside me is boiling to a point it scares me,
but the guilt and shame of almost killing my wife far outweighs the
rage.

I
can't believe I let my anger take over like that! I could have lost
the most important person in my life! I could have killed our boys'
mother! How would I ever have been able to look them in the face
again? Hell, it's going to be hard enough now, since it's my own
stupidity that got her hurt and caused her not be able to remember
anything...or
anyone
.

My
guilt makes me keep my mouth shut and my anger hidden as I watch my
wife, who has no idea she even
is
my wife, in the arms of
another man. I have no idea how to handle the amnesia or the head
injury itself, but Jake seems to. I hate him with every part of me,
but I need my wife to be ok. I know head injuries can still kill a
person hours, days, weeks or even longer from the time of injury. But
does the son-of-a-bitch have to hold her in his lap?
Touch
her
beyond medical purposes?

I
see Canada move off his lap and the tightness in my chest eases,
slightly. Then I watch as Jake climbs over the front seat and settles
in.

"How's
my
wife?" I ask through clenched teeth. It kills me to
have to refer to him over anything to do with my own wife.

"She's
not good, Will. I'm afraid her being around all these people will
either set her back further or cause more damage than she'll be able
to recover from."

My
gut clenches into hot fire.

"What
do you suggest we do?" I ask him.

Jake
gives a snort and a short bark of laughter. Looking at me with a
smirk, he says, "
You?
Haven't you done enough, Will? Are
you going to keep it up until she is gone for good? You've got to be
kidding me."

I
look away from his face full of cockiness and hatred. He's right. I'm
obviously not worth a damn at keeping my own wife safe.

"Then
what do you suggest
you
do? Regardless of what happened, I'm
still her husband, Jake. I'm not going to let you push me out of her
life."

"Unfortunately,
Will, that may be exactly what needs to be done."

I
jerk my head toward him and give him a sharp look. "What the
hell do you mean?"

"She
needs to be away from too many people and noise until she recovers a
little more. She has, and will have, migraines for awhile. Each one
she has can cause more damage. Her family is amazing and would do
anything for her, but there are just so many of them, and too many
kids who won't understand the need to be quiet. I'm going to have to
take her somewhere quiet and safe until the migraines are gone and
maybe she might even get some memories back."

"I'm
not leaving you alone with my wife, Jake, and no amount of guilt is
going to change that. I
will
fight you on this."

"Fine.
But there's something you need to know, and
I
need to know
that I can trust you to accept it and control yourself, because if
you interfere, you may never get your wife back. So decide how much
she really means to you, and then really-
for once-
prove it."