Part 22 (1/2)

Time to patrol.

He wandered the perimeter of the motel they'd chosen, kicking at rocks as he went. He tried to imagine the place before the plague. What kind of people had stayed here. Families on their way to the Magic Kingdom? Traveling salesmen without a lot of cash? Maybe a few cheating husbands and their sleazy girlfriends, never knowing, as they enjoyed their dangerous liaisons, that soon infidelity would be the least of their problems.

A sudden noise came from the bushes. Startled, he backed up, only to hit a wall that served to separate the motel from the former pool area. He reached for a rifle he'd brought out of Paradise-a lucky find when he'd stolen the scooter-praying he was wrong and it was just a racc.o.o.n or maybe one of the children up to go to the bathroom.

But it was no racc.o.o.n. And it was no sleepy child. Instead, a small Other wandered into the parking lot. A female, by the looks of it. Remnants of stringy blond hair hung off her head and what was once a flower-patterned dress clung to her emaciated frame.

She turned on a dime, her bloodshot eyes zeroing in on Chase's hiding spot, deep in the shadows. He cringed as her b.l.o.o.d.y mouth twisted into a gruesome smile at the sight of potential prey. He could almost hear her stomach rumbling with desperate hunger as she took a slow step forward in his direction. How had she gotten so close so fast?

He lifted his rifle slowly, resting it on his shoulder, knowing any sudden movements would only set her off. His hands shook as he attempted to line up the gun's sight with the creature's head. The money shot. The one he'd need to take her down for good.

It was more than a bit tempting to run. To get as far away as possible from this pus-dripping creature of his nightmares. But she was too close to the campsite where Peyton and the children were sleeping. And while Chase had failed before-failed whenever it counted, in fact-things were different now. For the first time since the plague erupted, he had hope. And no dumb, oozing, post-apocalyptic zombie was going to take that away. Not on his watch, anyway.

He blew out a breath and steadied his gun, eyes narrowing to slits. Steady as she goes, he told himself. This was a matter of protecting his family. A matter of doing good.

In an instant it happened. The creature lurched forward and Chase fell back a step, squeezing the trigger of his rifle. Its recoil bruised his shoulder. He watched as a gout of blood spurted from the woman's chest-he'd missed. Only a flesh wound. And she was still coming. Not only her, but two other shadows had appeared behind her. Three... no, four? How much ammunition was left in his gun?

He fired again, twice more, and finally hit his mark, the creature's head exploding in a ma.s.s of red and gray pulp. At the same time he reached around his neck and pulled free a whistle. He blew as hard as he could. The shadows that had risen stopped in their tracks. A cacophony of inhuman protests a.s.saulted his ears as the creatures turned and fled.

Chase watched them go, slumping his shoulder and allowing the rifle to slide off to his side. The whistle fell from his bloodless lips. ”Yeah, I thought so,” he said, shaking out his arms and trying to regain some composure. ”I thought so! Run, cowards!” He nodded to himself and stepped out from the shadows.

Only to find himself thrown backward.

He crashed hard onto the asphalt, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred and, for a moment, nothing made sense. Then he looked up and saw what had struck him. An Other towered above, clearly not scared away by his whistle. It was growling and spitting and looking as if it hadn't eaten for weeks.

The creature lunged, hands finding Chase's neck, encircling and squeezing tight, cutting off his breath, just as Toro had in the ring. Desperate, Chase kicked wildly, managing to connect his foot with his attacker's groin. The monster bellowed but didn't let go. Chase struggled harder, panic slamming through him as he used one arm to brace himself, fighting to keep away from the monster's mouth. He reached for his boot with his free hand, feeling for the knife he always kept there for emergencies. It took what seemed like forever to wrap his fingers around the hilt. In the meantime, the creature's grip tightened on his neck, and the blackness swam toward him with frightening speed, while pain seared his shoulder. In his final moment of consciousness, he managed to yank the knife free and drive it into the creature's heart.

The zombie recoiled then fell on top of him, crus.h.i.+ng Chase with its weight. But the fingers loosened and Chase was able to breathe. He sucked in a huge breath and pushed the creature off. It rolled back onto the pavement, staring up at the sky and whimpering. The heart was always a weak spot.

Chase surged to his feet and stared down at the monster. It looked a lot more human lying there now, vulnerable and bleeding. This was something he always hated. He wondered who it had been before the change. A doctor? A lawyer? Maybe a humanitarian who built houses for poor people.

It didn't matter. It was none of those things now, he reminded himself. Just a monster. A monster that needed to be put out of its misery.

He grabbed his rifle and pressed the barrel to the zombie's head. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger. The shot shook his arm and echoed in his ears. He let the sound fade away before opening his eyes again. The body was twitching, the head disintegrated.

He forced himself to look away, but as he did, a piercing pain stabbed at his right shoulder. Startled, he glanced down, his mouth falling open as he saw where his leather jacket had come undone, the s.h.i.+rt below ripped and b.l.o.o.d.y. And then he saw them. The teeth marks.

He'd been bitten. He'd been bitten!

”Chase! Chase, are you okay?”

He looked up. Peyton. She was running toward him, her face white, her eyes filled with panic.

”Chase?”

”I'm okay,” he said, shrugging his jacket back on and turning at an angle so she couldn't see the blood. ”I got him.”

She stopped a few feet away, looking down at the remains of the two dead zombies. ”G.o.d, what happened?” she asked.

”One got the jump on me. No big deal. It's all fine,” he lied. The pain gripped his shoulder like a vise and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees. But if he fell, she'd know. He couldn't let her know.

She took a step forward but he held out a hand. ”I'm all slimy,” he said. ”Zombie gook. You know. I'm going to go find a fountain or something to wash off.”

”Are you sure you're all right?” she asked, peering at him, confusion and worry warring on her face.

He felt sick to his stomach but nodded. The last thing he wanted was to lie to her. But what choice did he have? If she knew about the bite, she'd insist on stopping again-like they did when he detoxed-to make sure there was no infection. But to delay their journey once again? There was no way Peyton's broken-down body would be able to handle that.

From past experience, he knew it took two weeks for the virus to work its way through a person's system, mutating cells and destroying the brain. Meaning he had two weeks to get Peyton and the kids to Disney World. And he was prepared to do that, if it ended up being the last thing he did.

”Go back to sleep,” he told her. ”I'm just going to do one more round of checks.”

”I'm coming with you.” She was stubborn to the end.

He sighed. ”Okay. But go put on your leather first. It's too dangerous to be out here in that flimsy nightgown.”

She nodded and headed back to the camp. Chase looked at his bite. It was ugly and already growing yellow. Maybe he was immune, he reminded himself. His brother had been, after all. But maybe he wasn't. There was no way he could tell.

He felt tears slipping from his eyes and brushed them angrily away. G.o.d, Chase, be a man! he scolded himself. But he couldn't help it. There was a time, even recently, that he wouldn't have cared much about death. In fact, he might have even welcomed it. But now, for the first time in forever, he had a real reason to live. Just figured this was the time the Grim Reaper finally caught up.

Peyton. He ached as he thought of her. Her smile. Her soft skin brus.h.i.+ng against his. The sweet taste of her lips. She was so beautiful. So precious and perfect. She'd brought him back from the darkness, showed him there could be life in a dead world. Gave him a reason to exist. To hope and pray and struggle.

He loved her. So much more than anything. He wanted to be with her forever. To marry her and have babies and grow old by her side. He wanted to spend a lifetime taking care of her, making sure she had everything she needed. But now he couldn't. Until he was sure he wasn't infected, he'd have to stay away from her. No more kissing. No more snuggling. No more anything.

She wouldn't understand. And he couldn't tell her the truth because she'd insist on quarantine. She'd want to stop and care for him until they knew what was going on, and there wasn't time for that. She was already getting weaker; he'd noticed it in the mornings. It took her longer to get up. She was stiff. She had headaches. He'd noticed, even though she'd taken great pains to hide them the symptoms. Her nano insides were breaking down at an accelerated pace and he wasn't going to allow her to endanger her own life for the sake of his.

No, he had to play it safe. And that wasn't going to be easy. It involved pus.h.i.+ng her away but not letting her know why. It would be the hardest thing he'd ever done, he realized. But it was the only way. Better to make her hate him than allow her to sacrifice herself for him. She'd already done too much of that. It was his time to be a man. He would save her, even if it meant his own death. She was worth it. h.e.l.l, she was worth a lot more.

He grabbed the first-aid kit from one of the scooters and cleaned his wound; then he resignedly rose to his feet and trudged back to the camp. His mind weighed a ton with what he was going to have to do, and he wildly wished for just one more night to show Peyton how much he loved her. She was going to be so hurt. So confused. And he would hate himself for it all. But he had no other choice.

Maybe someday it would be okay. He'd find out he was immune. That he wasn't going to turn into a monster. Then he could explain. Once she was safe and sound at Disney World. But only then. For now, Chase had to be the bad guy-or at least push her away so she wouldn't want to be with him and tempt him.

It was the only way to save her life.

Chapter Thirty-seven.

The meeting ended and the kids dispersed, leaving Trey, Chris, Peyton, and little Tara hanging out on the stage. Tara contented herself with her Barbie dolls, as she was too young to really understand what was going on.

”So, do you think everyone's on board?” Trey asked Chris and Peyton. ”I mean, they seemed to be listening, right?”

”Yeah, you did a good job,” Chris said. ”I think everyone's really happy to have someone come up with a real plan. Everyone's so scared, you know? It's good to have someone take charge.”

Peyton nodded in agreement. ”You were great,” she said. ”And I think you gave everyone hope.”