Love & Decay
A Novella Series
Episode Eight
By Rachel Higginson
Copyright@ Rachel Higginson 2013
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To Zach,
This would not exist without you.
Just like so many other things.
Chapter One
698 Days after initial infection
Tyler
I closed my eyes and pulled the trigger. Bang. Bang. Bang.
And then I kept them closed.
I was too afraid to look, too terrified to see the damage- or lack thereof….
“Don’t you want to see?” Vaughan asked with that careful tone to his voice again.
“Nope,” I said quickly.
“It’s actually not that bad.” He sounded surprised. Surprised was good. Surprised meant I might have gotten something right.
I opened my eyes and stared at the makeshift target against one of the interior walls of the gift shop we claimed as home for the last week. I didn’t even hit it. Not one time. The last three bullets blended into the spray of other missed shots roughly outlining the computer paper taped together with Haley’s artistic handiwork- a life size Zombie stick figure with huge boobs. She called it Zombie Parton. I told her she better watch her mouth when talking about the greatest songstress and role model of all time- my lovely Dolly Parton.
It had been our first real fight. Apparently Haley was an absolute music snob and in no way from the South. I wondered how good her taste could really be though if she didn’t respect Dolly.
Bless her heart.
Haley, not Dolly.
“Vaughan, I didn’t hit anything!”
“I know,” he intoned dryly. “But you should at least see for yourself how bad you are.”
I stomped on his foot and he howled in surprise. “You got my hopes up!”
“Goddamn, woman!” He hopped around while acting like an idiot. “That hurt!”
“Good, at least I can do something right.” I sunk down into a conference room chair and threw my arms on the table but only so I could face plant in them.
“It would help if you kept your eyes open,” Vaughan growled with extreme frustration.
“I can’t help it! It’s loud. And it freaks me out! What if I hit something I didn’t mean to?”
“You will hit something you don’t mean to if you keep shooting with your eyes closed!” He sat down next to me and spoke in his serious voice- the one everyone else seemed to not have a problem listening to. “Tyler, you have to start taking this seriously. Lives are at stake here- including yours. Right now you’re in danger without a gun and you’re definitely dangerous with a gun. If you don’t at least try to learn, I can’t help you. And without my help you’re going to die. Or worse. And since you went to all that trouble to get away from your dad’s little colony, I know you don’t want to die. Start thinking about what it would mean for you if you died or were bitten. Think about what it would mean to Miller. Stand up. Aim your weapon. And keep your goddamn eyes open this time.”
I groaned. At some point during his speech I’d rolled my head to look at him, so he knew he had my attention. He was right, which was the most annoying part.
I didn’t share everyone else’s easy obedience for everything Vaughan said, but it wasn’t entirely his fault.
After escaping a father and brother who made it their daily goal to assert their dominance in every single way, over-controlling authority just didn’t do it for me anymore. I had a free spirit- I had always had a free spirit. And while the Zombies were somewhat restricting for how I wanted to live my life, I was determined not to have my liberties stripped again. Ever again. I was hell bent on never bending under anyone else’s rule for the rest of my life.
Vaughan and I would probably never get along for that very reason. And while I appreciated the effort he was making to ensure I stayed alive for at least my little bother’s sake, he annoyed the ever-living hell out of me.
“Teach me,” I pleaded. It was the most polite I could make myself under the circumstances. And I had been raised with an insane amount of manners. I was from Arkansas after all.
“Stand up,” Vaughan instructed. Then he proceeded to walk me through the entire process again. He reminded me to keep my eyes open no less than thirty times and at the end of it threw in some half-hearted encouragement. “You’re a strong, independent woman, Tyler. You control the gun, not the other way around.”
I bit back a cynical laugh and aimed at the target in front of me. I lined up my shot, just like Vaughan taught me. I checked the safety. I slid my pointer finger over the smooth metal of the trigger and then I exhaled a slow, controlled breath.
Then I immediately squeezed my eyes closed and panicked.
“Stop!” Vaughan shouted.
And this time I really did listen.
“You’re doing it again! You’re closing your eyes! I cannot afford to waste anymore bullets, Tyler. Get your crap together and grow the f up!”
And then I lost my mind. “Shut up, Vaughan!” I shouted back. “You don’t think this is me being a grownup? You don’t think I can be grown up and still hesitate to want to learn how to end a life? I’m so happy the rest of you adjusted to being cold-blooded killers as soon as the first Zombie reared its ugly, distorted face. But I am not you. Nor do I want to be you! I just left a life where my daddy killed senselessly on a daily basis! If I’m going to stoop to y’all’s level and murder something I want it to mean something! I want it to be worth losing my soul over!”
Vaughan walked around to face me. He stood in between the gun I gripped tightly in my shaking palms and the target on the wall. His eyes were blazing blue, furious and frustrated.
“Your life, Tyler! Your life means something! Fight for it!”
I immediately deflated as all of the air was sucked from my lungs. I tossed the gun onto the table, not caring that the safety wasn’t on, not caring that I could have just as easily finally hit the target as I could have gotten Vaughan in the kneecap.
“That’s what you’re not getting! That’s what you refuse to get! I am not concerned with my life, Vaughan. I’m not concerned with the living, the dying. None of it. So stop using my own life as an incentive. It’s clearly not working.” Tears pooled in my eyes and I fought desperately to keep them at bay. I would not show him weakness. I would not show him how upset this made me.
Vaughan seemed stunned by admission. He stayed where he was and stared down at me like I was from a different planet. He ran two hands over his face and then one through his tussled blondish hair. “And Miller?” His voice grated thick and gravelly and I could hardly stand his vulnerability
right now. Commanding, dominating Vaughan was much easier to hate than this broken, wretched version of him. “What would Miller do without you?”
“I’m not completely calloused,” I grumbled. “I realize he needs me. But-“
“He wouldn’t be,” Vaughan growled cutting off the he would be better without me part. “Don’t even say it. Don’t even think it.”
Something flashed across Vaughan’s face and I was almost shocked by the depth of raw pain I saw reflected for a moment. But as quickly as it came it was gone- Vaughan went back to being the smartass dictator I knew and hated. And whatever almost-sympathy I thought I was garnering disappeared completely.
I shrugged helplessly. “I can’t make myself want to learn this.”
“You’re the most frustrating person I’ve ever met, you know that?” And then his back was too me and he was gone.
Training session over with.
I exhaled and found myself sitting down at the same time. I stared at the stupid target and the gun on the table. I reached over and flicked the safety on, before picking up the handle with my thumb and forefinger.
The handgun was heavy and cold in my fingers. And yes, there was physical weight to the construction of the gun, but the true heaviness for me came from the capabilities the weapon held.
This thing had the potential to hurt someone and not just hurt, but kill.
That was a big freaking deal.
Obviously they were a necessity in our on-the-run lives. Feeders couldn’t be allowed to live any more than any evil creature. But what about the other lives these bullets could change, ruin…. end?
I closed my eyes against two years of horrid memories and forced my breathing into an even pattern. Meeting the simplistic gaze of the stick-figure Zombie once again I thought over how these people I was with now had been fighting hard to survive for just as long as I had been, and yet they still didn’t understand the true dangers of this world.
Zombies were a catalyst for the change that was coming- frosting on the savage, demented cake that was ready to be served.
“Are you alright?” Reagan asked from the doorway. Her long, dark hair was down for a change and curtained her face so that I could only barely make out the worried lines in her eyes.
“Peachy.” I shot her a tired smile and stood up from the table.
“Is he being an ass again?” She stepped into the room and leaned her shoulder against the open door.
“No, it’s not him.” She shot me a disbelieving glare and I felt the need to defend him further. “Honestly it’s not. Vaughan’s just trying to help.”
“It’s you then?” she laughed lightly. “Guns can be…. uncomfortable to use at first. But it gets easier. The more you handle them, the more you force yourself to use them, the more familiar they become. You just have to get used to the idea that you are a bad ass Zombie hunter now and not one of them stands a chance against your insane skills.”
She was trying to lighten the mood and it was working. I laughed and shook my head. “You’re right. I need to get that tattooed on my forehead or something. Tyler Allen- Zombie Hunter, all around bad ass, talents unreachable by mere mortals.”
“Exactly! You might even get a theme song.”
“Do you have a theme song?” I asked dryly.
“Er, no.”
“It’s Ok, if you do, Reagan. I’m not going to judge you.”
She snorted a laugh and then blushed. Walking all the way into the room and leaning against the wall she whispered, “Sometimes, and only sometimes, when we’re checking out a new building, the theme song from Mission Impossible runs through my head on a loop.” She dropped her face into her hands and giggled. “I can’t help it! I think it helps me diffuse the tension.”
I laughed with her, almost doubled over from her admission. “Is that why you hunch over?”
She squealed and then looked up at me, “I do not hunch over!”
I pointed my fingers into a pretend gun and then started slinking around the room singing out the theme song in a do-do-do-do-do-do beat. Reagan burst into hysterical laughter and chucked a pen at me.
“I should never have told you that!” she gasped out.
But all I could do was laugh. I fell back into the chair I had been sitting in earlier and threw my arms around my stomach- trying to hold in the laughter.
“What’s so funny?” King asked as he and his brother Harrison stuck their heads in the room.
“Theme songs,” I explained with a wave of my hand. I was still laughing so I sounded breathy and wheezy. “Do you have one?”
“What do you mean do I have one?” King asked. Harrison and him stepped all the way into the room and eyed us suspiciously.
“Like when you’re taking care of Feeders,” Reagan explained. “Do you have a song that goes through your head?”
“What’s yours?” Harrison asked.
“Well, I don’t have one, but Reagan sings the Mission Impossible theme song in her head!” I had to rush that out because at the same time Reagan yelled, “Don’t you dare!”
“Mission Impossible, huh?” Harrison laughed. “A little conceited, yeah?”
She just rolled her eyes while I choked on another laugh.
“So do you have one?” I raised my eyebrows at the boys.
“I don’t personally have one,” Harrison grinned while shooting King a sly look. “But I think my little brother does. But hopefully it doesn’t have anything to do with Zombies.” He patted King on the shoulder and then turned to walk out of the room. Over his shoulder he threw out a, “Bow chicka-bow-wow.”
My eyes bugged out of my head and I pressed my lips together to keep from laughing. King grew beet red in front of my eyes and sucked in a sharp breath before spinning around to chase down his brother. Reagan and I suppressed our laughter just long enough for King to jump on Harrison’s back in the hallway and send them face first into the wall.
Reagan kicked the conference room door closed before the fight erupted into full on MMA style cage fighting. Once the door was shut we dissolved into more laughter until Vaughan and Hendrix came out to break them up- which then only sent us into more fits of giggles.
“Oh, my gosh,” I gasped. “That was hilarious!”
“Somebody’s got a crush on you,” Reagan sing-songed, stilling at the end of her giggles.
“Oh don’t start,” I groaned. “That’s all I need.”
“Just don’t break his heart. I would have to kill you if you hurt that boy.” She was dead serious.
“I would never intentionally hurt him!” I shrieked at the insinuation I would toy with a fifteen year old boy. “Besides, he has never even said three words to me.”
Reagan pinned me with a serious glare before finishing eloquently with a, “Mmm-hmmm.”
“Reagan!”
“Alright,” she sighed. “Ready for dinner? Or did you want some help with that?” She gestured toward the target and the wall of missed bullets.
“Go ahead,” I shrugged. “I’m going to give it another try, but you should go eat.”
“I don’t mind.” She took a step closer and she really did look sincere. But this was something I had to do on my own. This wasn’t exactly an issue of fear. Well, it was. But it was a different kind of fear than any of these people would understand.
“No, go ahead. Get yourself some dinner.” Seeing that she was determined to help me anyway, I tried out a little bit of honesty. “Really, I need to face this alone, Reagan. I’ll be alright, you go along now.”
Her expression softened at the same time her eyes lit up with curiosity. But she did listen. She shot me a small smile and then headed back to the door. “I’ll tell Miller where you’re at.”
“And can you make sure he eats his dinner?” I called over my shoulder. “Don’t let him give all his food away or he’s going to start passing out!”
“I’m on it,” she promised and then closed the door behind her.
I looked down at the gu
n that I had set back on the table and growled at it. “I guess, it’s just you and me now, huh?”
I took a few moments to enjoy the pure blissful solitude of the conference room while I was by myself. Alone time wasn’t something I would ever take for granted again.
At The Colony, I not only had almost complete freedom to do whatever I wanted- as long as I didn’t leave or express my opinion or any individuality- but I had my own house.
Granted it was next to my parents’ house, but it was mine. I came home to an empty space, I went to bed alone and in a real bed and anytime and every time I needed to use the little girl’s room I got to do so completely alone. Even if the little girl’s room was a dug out pit in my backyard.
Things were drastically different now. And though those things didn’t always seem better- they were.
I knew they were because while I didn’t have a house to go home to or a bed to sleep in, my journey on this crazy road was fought for independently. I didn’t go to bed alone anymore. I went to bed surrounded on every side by rude, cover-hogging people that often times smelled bad. But it was a bed that represented freedom and liberty. It was a bed that I wasn’t afraid of, that I wasn’t expecting a man, twice my age and overly hairy to show up in just because he could do something my daddy thought he needed. I never went to the bathroom alone anymore. In fact, I had a bathroom buddy and we watched each other’s backs while business was taken care of and my privacy destroyed. But still, I would take peeing with an audience over having more than just my bathroom breaks monitored.
I picked up the gun and allowed my hand to become gradually acquainted with the weight, smooth metal and fit.
This wasn’t the first gun I had held before.
Nor was this the first time I’d been taught how to shoot.
But those memories- those thoughts, feelings, regrets- were buried deep inside my unforgiving heart and I wasn’t going to let them escape today just because this felt a little like déjà vu. Nor was I going to succumb to the darkness that hovered over me like a constant storm cloud.