What Survives of Us (Colorado Chapters Book 1) (11 page)

             
“You won’t call me Sanders anymore, either.  You call me Brody.  Say it.”

             
Piper squeezed her eyes shut and held her breath, trapping the sobs in her chest until she thought her lungs would burst.  She wouldn’t say it – he couldn’t make her.  And she wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, she had her pride, damn it–

             
He moved his thumb behind her ear again, pressed, and pride disintegrated.  When she could speak, she did.  “Brody,” she choked, among broken sobs, and hated herself even more than she hated him.

             
He actually smiled at her.  “Good.  Now let’s go.  We’ll go to your cabin first so you can get your things and tell Noah you won’t be back.”

             
Her brain shut down.  Overload.  She couldn’t process anymore.  She walked through the woods beside him, docile as a lamb, and didn’t fight his hand curled around her upper arm.  She entered the cabin she’d been sharing with Noah, felt a moment of vague panic and gratitude that he wasn’t there, and stuffed her things into a backpack.  She left him a note, and had to read it over to discover what she had said:  “Staying with Brody.  Take care.  Piper.”

             
Brody took the backpack from her, and they walked to his cabin in silence.  Piper had just enough brain function left to worry that she might be going into shock, to rage that she was wimping out, giving in, giving up, but mostly, she drifted.  She was in a numb, muffled place, and she wasn’t sure how to get out, or if she wanted to.

             
They reached his cabin, and Brody shut and latched the door behind them.  He set her backpack down, and lit several oil lamps while Piper stood in the middle of the room, swaying slightly, staring at nothing.  He moved to stand in front of her, then reached for the hem of her sweatshirt.

             
Piper roared out of her padded cell with an abruptness that caught them both by surprise.

             
She was swinging before she could think, and Brody caught her fist a scant inch from his nose.  He twisted her arm down and behind her, but before he could yank her close, she dropped to the ground and twisted out of his grip.  She kept right on spinning until she was crouched behind the table.  Her eyes darted around the room, looking for anything she could use as a weapon, anyplace she could barricade and defend herself.

             
A low rumble of laughter from Brody sent ice down her spine.  His chest was rising and falling swiftly, and his eyes were bright with something unholy.  My God, he was
enjoying
this, she realized.  He
wanted
her to fight, to resist – it excited him.  Piper’s mind struggled to analyze, to process this information to tactical advantage, but he didn’t give her time.

             
Rather than go around the table, he simply shoved it to the side and walked straight at her.  Piper tried to scramble around him to make for the door, but he caught her by her long ponytail and yanked her back.  Piper screamed at the shock of pain, clutching her head, and ended up on her knees in front of him.  He pulled on her hair until she was forced to look up at him.

             
His face was flushed and slack with lust, and he was nearly panting now.  Still using her ponytail to control her, he rubbed her face against the bulge in his pants, moaning and rocking his hips against her.  Then he hauled her to her feet and bent his head to kiss her.

             
“I can make it good for you,” he rasped.  “This doesn’t have to be rape, Piper.”

             
His mouth clamped onto hers, and once again, Piper felt gorge rise in her throat.  This time though, she didn’t try to stifle it, oh no.  It comes to this, she had time to think, and vomited onto his face and chest.

             
Brody roared and shoved her backwards so hard she fell.  Using her own momentum, Piper rolled until she was on her feet and sprinted for the door.  He caught her by the back of her sweatshirt this time, and twisted until she was choking, clawing at the neckband.

             
“God damn it,” he muttered.  He hauled her to a corner of the cabin where a water jug and basin were set up next to a sink.  Trapping her in the corner with his body, he let go of her sweatshirt.  While she wheezed in air, he unbuttoned his shirt and peeled out of his t-shirt.  He dropped the soiled clothing on the floor, then pointed at the basin.

             
“Clean up the mess you made,” he gritted.

             
Piper stared up at him, desperately trying to calculate.  His bare chest was about six inches from her nose, heaving with outrage.  An animal-like musk rose off his skin; that, combined with the scent of her own vomit, made her stomach heave again.  He grabbed her by the ponytail and shook her so hard she saw stars.  It hurt too much to even scream – she couldn’t get any air.

             
“You puke on me again and you will lick it up, do you understand?”  He gave her another shake.  “Answer me.”

             
“Yes!” she gasped.  He let her go, and she couldn’t stop herself from reaching up to rub her head.  My God, she had never imagined her own hair could be used as a weapon against her.  Her scalp sang with pain.  Keeping her eyes lowered, she turned slightly away to pour water into the basin, then took one of the washcloths from the stack.  She wet it and wrung it out, her movements as slow as she dared to make them, her mind racing and calculating.

There had to be a way she could debilitate him, just for a moment, so she could get out the door.  Why hadn’t she run when she had the chance?  Why hadn’t she just asked Levi for help?

She shook her head, trying to order her thoughts.  Berating herself for past failures wasn’t going to get her out of this.  She re-wet the washcloth, wrung it out, and pretended to drop it.  Brody growled, and she flinched, scooping the washcloth out of the water with quaking hands.  She was out of time.

Turning, she wiped his face, throat and chest clean with quick, economical movements.  She wasn’t rough, which would anger him, nor did she hesitate, which he might interpret as a caress.  Finished, she turned and dropped the washcloth into the basin, then stood with her arms hanging at her sides, face lowered.

For a moment, he didn’t seem to know what to make of her stillness.  He slid his arms around her waist, and she went completely limp, as if she had fainted.  She heard him grunt in surprise, then lean to put his shoulder against her stomach.  He straightened with her draped over his shoulder and moved towards the bed in the opposite corner of the room.

Piper forced herself to let her body flop unresponsively.  If he liked a fight, she’d give him the opposite.  He lowered her to the bed, and she sprawled awkwardly, hair draped across her face, one arm twisted painfully underneath her.  Still, she didn’t stir.  He straightened, and she could feel him looming above her, staring.

This was a desperate gamble, and she didn’t have a back-up plan if it failed.  Her brain logged that away as something to remedy in the future: she needed to be prepared, to have multiple contingency plans.  Never, ever again would she fail because she hadn’t thought a situation through.

After several long moments, she felt him tugging at her shoes.  One by one, they dropped to the floor.  It took every bit of concentration Piper possessed to keep her face slack and her limbs relaxed.  This was the moment of truth; if there was any humanity in him, he would leave her like this, and wait until she regained consciousness to resume his amorous attentions.

His hands slid up her legs, lingered appreciatively on her thighs, then slid higher.  His thumbs brushed the apex of her legs before they moved on to the snap of her jeans. 

Gamble lost.  She was dealing with a pervert who would strip and rape an unconscious woman.  Piper’s eyes snapped open, and she kicked as hard as she could at his face.

Her foot caught his cheekbone a glancing blow, but without her shoes, all it did was arouse him again.  He caught both her ankles, yanked her legs apart, then landed on her with his full weight.  Piper’s air left her with a whoosh.  He snagged her wrists and pinned them to the bed on either side of her head.  When her struggles weakened, he braced himself on his forearms, still holding her wrists, and stared down at her.

Piper sucked in air and stared back.  She was out of calculations, out of options.  There was only one thing left for her to do:  damage him as much as possible.  She lifted her head, shifted her shoulders, and sank her teeth into his wrist as deeply as she could.

She never saw him swing, never saw the fist that exploded against the side of her head.  Her ear popped excruciatingly, and the world spun with crazy colors.  She was too dazed to stop him when he yanked her jeans and underwear off, then reached for the hem of her sweatshirt.  She flailed at him weakly, thwarting his efforts, until he just fisted his hands in the neckline and tore it off her. 

Piper curled into a ball and locked her arms around her knees, but he was relentless.  Inch by painful inch, he pried apart her protective cocoon until he was once again sprawled on top of her.  By now, she knew that fighting was only egging him on, only hurting her, but she could not stop.  She would not make one thing about this easy for him.

“Piper,” he grated.  He had her wrists pinned again, and he rose up off her so he could look down at her naked body, her sweatshirt hanging shredded and open from her shoulders.  He shifted so that he held both her wrists in one hand, then coasted his hand from her neck to her thighs, lingering and stroking.  Everywhere he touched, it felt like worms were squirming against her skin, burrowing into her, rotting her.

“I don’t want this to be rape,” he whispered, staring into her eyes.  “Stop fighting me.  Let me make this good for you.  I can make it so good.”

End game.  No way out. Piper closed her eyes, and felt tears stream out of the corners, tracking warm and wet down her temples.  Taking a deep shuddering breath, she nodded. “Okay,” she whispered.  “Okay.”

A deep, approving rumble shook his chest, and he nuzzled his face against hers.  His mouth slid down her throat, and she turned her face towards him, nuzzling back, finding the edge of his jaw, then his throat, with her lips. 

Then, with all the strength and rage in her, she lunged and latched her teeth onto his throat.  She bit deep, deep, felt his blood spurt into her mouth, heard him roar.

His hand fastened around her throat, and still she hung on, determined to kill him or die trying.  Finally, lack of oxygen broke her grip and she fell back against the pillows, clawing at his hand.  Her vision darkened around the edges but he didn’t relinquish the crush-hold he had on her throat.  She could feel his other hand fumbling at his pants, hear his animal growls of lust and pain, but it was all starting to seem very far away.

She stopped struggling, her hands falling limply at her sides.  Alright, she thought.  So this is it.  At least I died trying.

He released her then, and as her body sucked in breath after desperate breath, he shoved her legs apart and tore into her brutally.  Piper’s scream was long and anguished.  Her last thought before she finally lost consciousness was that she would rather have died.

              Naomi lunged into wakefulness, stifling a shriek and clawing at an invisible hand that had locked around her throat.  In the bed beside her, Macy was shivering and whimpering in her sleep.  Panting, Naomi scooped her close, tucking her small body into the curve of her own.  On the floor beside the bed, both dogs stirred and lifted their heads.  Hades rumbled with a low growl that ended on a whine.  Naomi shushed him, then shut her eyes and concentrated on stilling her violently pounding heart.  Macy stirred, and burrowed closer to her mother.

             
“Piper,” she whispered.  “Mama, it’s Piper.”

             
“I know,” Naomi whispered back.  Here, in the dark, they could talk about it, about the way Macy
knew
things now.   “She’s hurt.  But she’s still alive.”

             
“Yes,” Macy agreed.  She cuddled her face into the curve of Naomi’s shoulder, and Naomi felt warm tears against her skin.  “Mama, it makes me so sad.  I wish she didn’t have to hurt.”

             
Oh, God.  Naomi cradled her close, kissing her soft, soft hair.  “I know, baby.  I know.  I would give anything, do anything, to be able to take the hurt for her.”

             
Macy rested her hand in the center of Naomi’s chest, and Naomi felt a profound warmth radiate and spread.  “Keep your heart touching hers.  It’s what will keep her alive.”

             
Naomi mustered up her courage.  “Macy?  How do you know that?  How are you so sure what will be?  Do you have dreams?”

             
“Sometimes,” Macy answered promptly, her sweet voice lilting in the dark.  “Sometimes, I just know.  It’s just a feeling, but it’s as sure as what I see, or what I touch.  I know it’s true, for sure.”

             
Her words resonated with Naomi on an instinctive level.  Something inside her had shifted and changed as well – she could
feel
the truth of things,
feel
what to do and not to do, and she was starting to trust those feelings as much as her other five senses. 

“Do you think something happened to you, when you were sick?  Do you think you…” her voice trailed off – she couldn’t give voice to such an awful possibility. 

Macy giggled a tiny giggle.  “What, mama?  Do you think I died and came back?”

“Don’t say it out loud,” Naomi admonished, and hugged her tighter.

Macy giggled again, harder.  “Mama, it’s not like saying ‘Voldemort’ – it’s just words.”  She paused, and Naomi felt her shift into a more serious vein.  “And it’s not an awful end, it’s not just nothing.  It’s like a curtain we can’t see through, just like they say.  We go on – it’s just…different.”

             
In this, Naomi was the child, Macy the teacher.  “Did daddy go on?”

             
“Oh, yes!  He hasn’t moved all the way through the curtain yet – he comes and goes.  You can do that sometimes, when there’s great need.”  Macy paused.  “He’s here now.”

             
The hair on the nape of Naomi’s neck rose.  She blinked frantically in the dark, looking for – what?  A ghost?  An other-worldly light?  Ectoplasm?  “Don’t say things like that, Macy, it scares me half to death!  I don’t know what to think about the changes in you!  Or the changes in me!”

             
Macy reached up in the dark, and stroked her cheek.  Her touch felt like the brush of fairy wings.  “We’re all changing, mama.  Everyone that’s left.  It’s why we’re still here.”

             
Naomi closed her eyes, and let her daughter’s touch comfort her.  They were both quiet for long moments.  Then, Naomi whispered, “Is daddy still here?”

             
“Yes.  It makes him sad that he scares you now.”  Macy sniggered.  “He says that he’d die before he would ever hurt you, but, well, it’s a little too late for that now.”

             
Naomi barked out a sound that was half-laugh, half-sob.  “That sounds just like him!  Smart alec!”  She relaxed, and almost immediately, she could feel him there – his warmth, his comfort, his steady, sweet presence.  “Tell him I miss him, honey.  Tell him I miss him so much.”

             
“He knows.”  Macy hesitated.  “He says we have to leave soon, too.  He says you promised.”

             
Naomi grimaced.  “I don’t want to go.  I think we can be safe here.  I don’t want to leave our home.  What if Piper comes here looking for us?”

             
“He’s right, mama.  We can’t stay.  The soldiers will come.”

             
“How do you know that for sure?  There’s half a city between us and Fort Carson, and Peterson’s clear out on the plains.”

             
“Mama.”  Exasperated.  “I just
know,
remember?”

             
“Macy.”  Frustrated.  “Do you know
everything
?”

             
Naomi hadn’t meant the question seriously, but Macy took it that way.  “Not everything, but I know lots.  We have to go.  They need you in Woodland Park.”

             
“Woodland Park?  What in the world?”

             
“Ugh, mom!”  She sounded so much like Piper, Naomi’s heart clutched.  “You’ve just got to take my word for it, okay?”

             
“Well, yes ma’am.”

             
They both fell silent, then, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Naomi felt Macy’s little body relax, felt her ease back into sleep, felt her own mind begin to drift on half-awake currents.  Just before her eyes slid shut, she would have sworn she felt the brush of Scott’s kiss on her lips.

              They woke to a chorus of growling dogs.  Hades and Persephone were both facing the bedroom door, Persephone standing between Hades’ front legs, her little head not even rising to his chest.  Naomi sat up, blinking in the early morning light, and both dogs looked over at her.

             
Danger
.

             
Naomi’s heart rate kicked into high gear.  She didn’t question the strength or the accuracy of the message she had received in stereo.  It hadn’t been delivered via audible sound, per se, but was more a pair of transmitted impressions, one distinctly “Hades” in origin, the other clearly “Persephone.”  Both of them agitated. 

She would have to sort that mystery out later.  She rose and slid into blue jeans, stuffing her nightgown into the waistband.  A distant banging sound, accompanied by a slight vibration in the house, made her go still for a moment.  She looked down into Macy’s wide-awake, frightened eyes.

“I want you to hide in the closet,” Naomi whispered.  “And I don’t want you to come out, no matter what.”

She helped Macy scramble into the closet, and tucked a blanket around her.  “Persephone.”  She called the little dog over, then snapped her fingers and pointed to the floor beside Macy.  “Down.  Stay.”

Persephone obeyed instantly, and Naomi sent a mental image to her as well:  Comfort.  Protect.  As if she heard her, Persephone scooted closer to Macy, her eyes bright and alert, her delicate, butterfly ears belying the deadly protectiveness Naomi could feel radiating from her.  She stroked the dog’s tiny head, then her daughter’s bright hair.  “Persephone will stay with you.  ‘Though she be but little, she is fierce.’  I’ll be back in a minute.”

She stood up, shoved her feet into shoes, grabbed a hooded sweatshirt to cover her flimsy nightgown, and she and Hades were out the door.

“Heel,” she commanded, and he prowled silently along beside her, his big body taut with power and watchfulness.  Underneath, she sensed the aggression he would unleash only as a last resort, and only if she asked it of him.

They slid to the front window and Naomi peeked out.  A convoy of Humvees, all painted desert beige, stretched out in the street in front of the house.  Across the street, she could see soldiers moving around in the Sullivan’s home – to the best of her knowledge, there was no one left alive over there to protest.

Macy had said the soldiers would come; Naomi shivered, then hurried towards the kitchen.  She didn’t keep much food upstairs – Scott had warned and drilled and nagged about visible lights, cooking smells, and keeping the bulk of their resources hidden.  The storeroom was concealed in the basement behind a pile of storage boxes, and Naomi vowed to never, ever again complain each time she had to shift them all, then shift them all back again when she had retrieved what she needed.

That the soldiers would eventually try her house, she had no doubt.  She didn’t want to give them a reason to look more closely – best to
hide what food was visible, and–

She never made it to the kitchen.  Without warning, the door to the garage popped open, making her jump and yelp involuntarily.  Hades gave one hard bark, then moved in front of her, hackles up, growl rumbling.  The soldier in the door raised an automatic weapon and pointed it straight at Hades’ brave heart.

“Call your dog off or I’ll shoot him, ma’am.”

She stepped to Hades’ side and rested a hand on his back.  Hades stopped growling, but remained on high alert.  “What do you want?”

“Ma’am, we have been authorized to search for and seize all food and fuel in this area.”

“Authorized by whom?”

“The United States government, ma’am.  Colorado Springs is under martial law now and for the foreseeable future.”

Thank God Scott had warned her about this, too, or she’d be shaking out of her shoes right about now.  She was shaking enough as it was.  “Really.  And what if we’re still using that food and fuel?”

“Ma’am, under martial law, you will not be permitted to hoard food or fuel.  We are escorting all surviving, non-infected civilians to the refugee camp on Fort Carson.”

Naomi was quiet for a moment, scrutinizing him.  Good grief, he was no older than Piper.  Discomfort rolled off him in waves – he was not enjoying the task he had been assigned.  “What about people who are recovering from the plague?  My daughter shouldn’t be moved until she’s stronger.”

She could track what he was thinking by the expressions on his face:  Surprise, disbelief, wariness and pity.  “Ma’am, very few people survived after being infected with the plague.  We know of less than twenty between here and Denver.  Are you sure it was the plague your daughter had?”

“Very sure.  My husband died of it.”  It was the first time she had said the words out loud, stark and naked like that, and she was surprised by how badly they hurt.  “Yes, my daughter survived, and no, I’m not delusional.  I don’t have her body tucked into bed in the other room, slowly decomposing.”

His face blanched, and he looked down for a moment.  “I’m glad to hear you say it, ma’am.  We’ve seen that.  More than once.”

Okay, it was time to cut to the chase.  “We aren’t interested in moving to the refugee camp.  We have other plans.”  She paused, locking eyes with him.  “If I give you what food and fuel I have, will you move on and pretend you never found us?”

He dropped his head, unable to maintain eye contact.  “Ma’am, I have a job to do.  I have orders.”

She waited until he peeked up again, his face miserable under his helmet.  Really, after dealing with Piper all these years, it wasn’t fair to him.  She could read him like a book:  gentle maternal authority should do the trick.  “Son,” she said softly.  “Your orders come from a government that probably no longer exists.  My daughter and I aren’t ‘civilians’ – we’re human beings, survivors, just like you.  Please forgive me for asking, but did your family make it?”

He looked down again, but not before she saw tears shining.  “I don’t know, ma’am.  They’re in South Carolina.  I haven’t been able to reach them.”

“Your parents?”

“Yes.  And my wife.  She’s expecting our first in July.”

His agony and desperate worry caught her like a kick in the chest, left her breathless.  “I am so sorry.  I truly am.  I can’t reach my oldest daughter, either.  That’s why we can’t go to Fort Carson.  If she doesn’t find us here, she’ll know where to look for us.”

He stared at her for the longest time.  A humvee roared to life out in the street, and she saw him come to a decision.  “You need to lie low, ma’am, and you should get out of the city.  You’re lucky we found you first – word is there’s some kind of super gang forming, based out of the downtown area.  Looks like they’ve got military training and they’re heavily armed.  Rumor is they’re holed up in the houses around Memorial Park, but if brass knows, they’re not telling us.  We’ve come across some of the homes they’ve looted, and it looks like they’re either recruiting or killing survivors.  You sure you have somewhere safe to go?”

Naomi nodded.  “We do.  I’ll get us ready, and we’ll get out as soon as we can.”

“Good.  Keep your food and fuel.  We’ll get by without it.”

“Thank you.”  She pressed her hand over her heart.  “Thank you so much.”

He ducked his head.  “You make me think of my mother, ma’am.  She can give a guy the stink eye and make him do the right thing, too.”