Rocco wasn’t at their usual table by the window. Phineas and River were, but Rocco must have finished eating. When she caught Phineas’ eye, he quickly looked away. Miranda scanned the rest of the dining hall, but she didn’t see him. She threaded her way through the tables, nodding in acknowledgment to greetings as she veered toward the door at the far end of the room.
She saw Rich approaching from her peripheral vision. He fell in step beside her. “Have a tough night?”
Miranda realized her hasty pigtails were probably untidy, and she hadn’t even brushed her teeth after she walked Noelle and Gemma home. She had put on shoes, then come straight here to talk to Rocco.
“Something like that,” Miranda answered. Mathilde and their children sat a few tables away in the direction they were walking. She caught sight of Rich’s plate. The portions were measly.
“Is that your whole meal?”
He shrugged. “They offered me a little more, but not much. We’re going to the bunker soon, and I’ll have plenty to eat there.”
“Okay,” she said.
When they arrived at his table, she said hello to Mathilde and the kids, and goodbye to Rich.
The amount of food on Rich’s plate wasn’t quite half of normal. So they must be at about two-thirds rations. The pressure of needing to get to the bunker, to do something to get food for everyone, settled on her like sandbags.
She entered the hallway of offices at the back of the building, pushing stray wisps of hair behind her ears. She had her hand raised to knock on the door to Rocco’s office when she heard the low murmur of voices. She fell back and leaned against the wall. Her temples throbbed. She smacked her papery-dry tongue against the roof of her mouth, but there was no moisture to speak of, even after the cider she’d drunk before. Now that she thought about it, though, her hangover had eased a little.
After what seemed an age, but was probably ten minutes, she heard the rustle of movement from Rocco’s office.
“—talk again later this week,” Rocco said as the door opened.
“Sure thing.”
Victor filled the doorway, more than even Rocco’s broad frame did. He nodded to Miranda and made his way down the hall back to the dining room. Miranda pulled her stare away from his retreating form.
“You look like a truck hit you, Tucci.”
Miranda marched into Rocco’s office. “Why is he out? Why is he walking around with an ‘escort’?” She made air quotes with her fingers. “And why is the escort unarmed?”
“I can see what side of the bed you woke up on.” Miranda narrowed her eyes at Rocco and scowled. He added, “I’ve been meeting with Victor a couple times a week the last few weeks. To get a read on him, and—”
“Why aren’t you doing it in the stockade?”
“And,” Rocco continued, emphasizing the word to make sure she understood he was annoyed at being interrupted. “I’ve decided to give him something to do.”
“Since when?” Miranda asked.
“Since you left on the P-Land errand.”
“Really?” They’d stumbled across Kendall’s bunker two weeks ago. “He’s Navy, Rocco, which means he’s scum. He led the attack on us just a few months ago. He’s a killer.”
Rocco settled back into his chair, arms crossed. “So are you.”
Miranda crossed her arms, mirroring his posture. “That was different. I know I owe you for smoothing the way after I killed Jeremiah, but bringing him up all the time is bullshit.”
“Look,” Rocco said, his tone more conciliatory. “I’m sorry for saying it that way. I was just trying to draw a parallel, not imply you still owe me, ’cause you don’t. Okay?”
Miranda nodded, partly mollified.
Rocco said, “Locked up, he’s a drain on our resources, but if we put him to work, we’re at least getting something out of him being here. He says he wants to make amends and start over here.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake.”
“He’s a hard worker,” Rocco said. “He showed me how they sabotaged the sound defenses. We were able to upgrade them so that’s not possible anymore. And he dug out and built those new outhouses at the apartment complex. Now the people over there don’t have to hike all the way to the dining hall.”
“He built the whole thing?” she said, surprised.
Rocco nodded.
She’d seen the latrines when they got back from Kendall’s bunker, ten of them, which was a shit ton of digging, never mind building the outhouse structure and the brickwork and venting. She’d assumed there’d been a work detail for the job… He couldn’t have done it all by himself in that timeframe.
“One person couldn’t do all that.”
“Calling me a liar now?” Rocco said.
“I didn’t know about improving the sound defenses, but that doesn’t square things. Give him a participation award. Don’t let him roam around.”
Rocco sighed. “He’s not roaming around. He’s always got an escort.”
“Who was throwing a stick for my dog and letting him walk with a child.”
Rocco rubbed his forehead with the heel of his hand. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, Tucci…you’re killing me here.” His hand dropped to the desk. “I’ll talk to Phineas. And if you want, you can pick out the escorts. Not you…you’re too much of a hothead.”
“I don’t trust him.”
“I don’t trust him, either,” said Rocco. “But I like to think I’m a good judge of people. He’s done some horrible stuff, but he’s not motivated by inflicting pain. He’s been a mercenary, not a psychopath.”
“And you’re qualified to make that diagnosis how, exactly?”
“I really think he wants to start over,” he said, ignoring her question. “I’m going to give him a chance to do that. We gave Mario the benefit of the doubt when you arrived here.”
“It’s not the same thing,” she said irritably. She didn’t want to think about Mario, much less have him trotted out as an example.
“With the reputation he had when you got here, yeah, it was. We’ve always tried to give people the benefit of the doubt. It’s what Anna would’ve wanted.”
Miranda threw her hands up in exasperation. LO’s previous commander was dead because of the attack that Victor had led.
“I know, I know,” Rocco said, his voice softer than before. “I do. I knew her a lot longer than you. Trust me… I know what he did. He’s not going back to San Jose; he’s said as much. Even if we send him packing, we can’t make him leave the area without devoting a lot of resources to it. Resources that we don’t have right now, quite frankly. I’m keeping a very close eye on him, and I’ve got others doing it, too. ,I had River assess him and she agrees that he’s not a sociopath or anything like that.”
“Just a scumbag.”
“If he really does want to change,” Rocco said, ignoring her comment, “doesn’t it make sense to get him invested in this place? He’s got some valuable skills. He does the shit jobs I’m giving him without bitching, and he does them right the first time. Wouldn’t you rather have him fighting with us than against us?”
A shiver raced through Miranda’s body. “Now I feel like I need a shower.”
Rocco snorted. “You look like it, too,” he said. Then he said, sounding like he was bracing for an attack, “As long as you’re freaking out, I’ve got Victor working on getting a ham radio working.”
It felt like the floor giving way below her feet, the sensation of falling was so strong. She gaped at Rocco, so stunned she literally couldn’t speak. “I can’t have heard you right.”
“You did.”
She pressed the heels of her hands against her temples, elbows sticking out at the sides, and paced in a tight circle.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God…”
“Settle down, Tucci. My thinking is—”
“Oh my fucking God. What the—” She stopped circling and stared at Rocco, her eyes wide. “Have you lost your goddamn mind?”
Rocco had gotten to his feet. When he put his hands on her hands still clutching her head, she jerked away.
“Look,” he said. “I’ve got a handle on it. I’ve got a plan.”
There were words coming out of his mouth, but it was like he was speaking Japanese. They didn’t compute.
In a calm, even voice, Rocco said, “We need to get word out about the vaccine by more than word of mouth when we’re ready to scale up.”
“But—”
“After we’ve hit a critical mass locally,” he said. “After we’ve got a couple labs set up that are isolated and hidden. We’re gonna need to do this on a bigger scale.”
“But you’re inviting an attack,” she said, incredulous. “Isn’t that the reason LO decided to not use long-distance radios? Isn’t that what you told me?”
Rocco sighed, running his hands through his hair. His brown eyes betrayed apprehension. “Yeah… But that— It was a long time ago, when we were smaller and weaker and didn’t know what we were doing. We got our asses handed to us. That’s when we put away the long-distance radios. But we fought them off last time. We lost people, and it’s fucked us for food, but we’re still here.”
“We got lucky, Rocco,” she countered. “There were zombies inside the palisade.”
“I know,” he said. “I know that. And because people know what to do, nobody got bit besides Anna.”
“But why Victor?”
Rocco sighed. His broad shoulders sagged, but his hands started waving in the air as he talked. “Because he knows what he’s doing,” he said, frustration bubbling in his voice like a pot about to boil over. “We’ve got old radios that’ve been sitting for years. They don’t work! The guys who knew how to use them aren’t here anymore, and forget about the flakes at P-Land… We don’t have anybody who knows how to do it, never mind fix one.”
“Get a fucking manual!”
“You’re killing me, Tucci,” Rocco muttered, shaking his head. “We have ’em, but he knows what he’s doing. He can do it faster and better.” He put his big hands on her shoulders. This time, she didn’t shrug him off. “Believe me, I don’t trust the guy. Do I think he can be rehabilitated? Maybe, but I don’t trust him.” He sounded wounded when he added, “I’m not an idiot.”
“I never said that.”
She felt the fight draining away, leaving tired resignation in its wake. Rocco wasn’t going to keep Victor locked up unless he had to, no matter how much she disliked it, and he was set on this ridiculous idea of letting him near a radio. She knew they needed to focus on getting enough food and providing housing for the people who were arriving to get the vaccine. Ramping up vaccine production had taken a distant second in the community’s priorities, because leaving people to fend for themselves wasn’t how things were done here, even if it meant they were scrambling.
She knew they’d have to scale up getting word out to people if—when—they got to that point, but h
er entire life had been turned upside down. Her friendship with Doug was careful and strained. Mario was gone, but tormented her in her dreams. Father Walter might be able to help her sort things out, maybe even fix it, but he might as well be on the moon. Karen wouldn’t know what to do, except take her shopping and bring her soup from Chef Chu’s, but it would help because it would be motivated by love.
And Tadpole… She almost whimpered out loud as the familiar feeling of desolation swamped her, sharp and bright as it rubbed like rough leather against the blister of her loneliness. She was so lonely she ached. She had friends here, but they weren’t the right ones, somehow. They weren’t the people who knew her best. That Mario was one of those people who did made her feel so crazy she choked on it, but so lonely she wanted to cry, and now this.
“Just give it a chance, okay? He’ll be under guard the whole time—not Phineas,” he said quickly, when she opened her mouth to object. “Larry, for one, because he gets the technical shit. And a couple bruisers who can’t be manipulated. Who hate his guts. I promise.”
“Jesus, Rocco…”
“And if it turns out you’re right and I’m wrong, we’ll lock him up again. He helped Gemma get home today. Seems encouraging to me.”
Rocco’s pinched face and beseeching eyes implored her to understand. He’s scared…desperate, she realized. That wasn’t a good mental state for making sound decisions. This whole thing scraped against every instinct for self-preservation she had, but his mind was made up; she could see it. Not only that, he needed her to believe in him. Now that her temper had been checked, she could see just how much.
“Fine,” she grumbled. “We’ll do it your way.”
For a second, she thought about telling him how terrified she’d been when she first saw Victor with Gemma. How the instinct to protect the toddler had hit her so hard that it might as well have been her own child. She couldn’t stand the idea of another baby lost to a monster.
“You okay, Tucci?”
Miranda blinked, surprised by the tears beginning to pool in her eyes. Her exhaustion wasn’t just making this morning’s developments hard to take in; it was loosening her grip on her emotions.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I didn’t expect this much drama before breakfast.”
Rocco’s eyes narrowed. “You still having trouble sleeping? Are you drinking that tea?”
“A little, sometimes,” she said, deflecting his concern. “I woke up with a headache.”
Rocco didn’t look like he was buying it. “Have you been drinking this morning?”
“What?” she said. “No!”
“You smell like booze.”
“I had a few ciders last night and spilled one. I grabbed the first thing I laid hands on so I could go look for Gemma. I’m not drinking my fucking breakfast.” She plastered a smirk on her face and said, “If you don’t like me objecting to your cockamamie schemes, come up with something better than that to harass me with.” The hair of the dog, he didn’t need to know about. She wasn’t getting into the falling on her ass part, either. “I still don’t like this.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you did.”
Miranda crinkled her nose and pursed her lips. “That was weirdly complimentary. You aren’t going to hug me or anything?”
He snort-laughed. “Hardly. You still leaving for the bunker tomorrow?” She nodded. “Go get that shower and bother someone else, okay? I’ve got work to do.”
Rocco was still adjusting to being LO’s new commander. He needed people who believed in him, not people who stormed into the office to yell at him. It wasn’t that the two were mutually exclusive, because she already believed that Rocco was good at his new job. Once he got more comfortable with it, he’d be great. This nonsense aside, she ought to let him know that she had faith in him, even if she disagreed with him sometimes.
“I hope I’m wrong about Victor,” she said.
Rocco gave her a wan smile. “You and me both.”
Portland made Miranda’s neck itch, and not the kind relieved by scratching.
It wasn’t like their world was predictable, not in the way that the old one had been, but the zombies in Portland were weird. You could walk for hours without encountering them, then turn a corner and bam! You’d find yourself in the middle of a horde. In the ruins of other cities, large areas with no zombies weren’t as common; they were pretty much everywhere even if density varied. In Portland this wasn’t the case, and there didn’t seem to be any rhyme or reason for why sometimes you’d find zombies in an area, but the next time you wouldn’t.
Rhyme and reason with zombies, she thought to herself. I’m more tired than I thought.
Maybe it was because, coming from the West, Portland felt like a tease. Most of what was in the city’s limits—not that that meant much these days—was east of the Willamette River. The idea that reaching the Willamette was the same thing as being through Portland wasn’t true, but somehow, the notion that it was had become embedded in Miranda’s brain. From the crossing at Ross Island Bridge, it was fifty miles to Kendall’s bunker, give or take. They would drive beyond the bridge until the roads got so bad that they had to set out on foot, which still left at least two day’s walking.
She hated the Ross Island bridge. It was a reminder of when she’d arrived here. When she’d still been with Mario, and they’d been happy. When there hadn’t been the emotional distance she now felt between herself and Doug, and none of them had any idea what the next six months would hold or how badly everything would go off the rails. She tried not to think about it when she made the crossing, but she always did.
The bridge was a waypoint, and something caught her eye as they approached the barricade. There was one at both ends, made of welded steel slabs that had been used in road work to cover holes in the road. Rectangular inset windows about a foot long and covered by bars were at eye level every few feet, so the integrity of the fortifications could be checked before entering. They stopped the truck and Miranda and Rich got out. She shaded her eyes as she peered through.
“It’s the food scouting party Rocco took out yesterday,” she said softly, a jolt of surprise running through her at the sight of a white box truck.
“Didn’t they have two trucks?” Rich said, turning to her.
“They did,” she said.
A few minutes later they were through the gate and pulling up to the scouting party truck. Rocco was near it, and recognized as they drew near. Sean, the red-headed mechanic Miranda had met at the meeting about the food shortage, was with him. Sean’s right arm was in a sling, and he winced with every step.
“Why’s Rocco doing this?” Alec asked. “Surely he’s too valuable to lose, since he’s running things.”
“That’s why he went,” Rich said. “To set a good example.”
“Good to see you guys,” Rocco said when they were in earshot. He looked like he’d aged since Miranda had seeen him yesterday. His mouth was set in a grim line, and his broad shoulders slumped.
“What happened?” Miranda said.
“Nothing good. We got to the grocery distribution center, like we planned. It was farther away, but there was more food there than I expected…canned stuff. Peaches mostly, but better than nothing. We got both trucks loaded up and were on our way back when the other truck got a flat.”
Rocco shook his head and closed his eyes. Miranda could tell he was blaming himself.
“Rocco’s truck was already around the corner when we got the flat,” said Sean.
Rocco said, “We backed up into the intersection so we could turn around to go back. We’d already decided to leave the truck in place and come back for it, and then there were zombies everywhere, from one minute to the next. Bill and the others weren’t even twenty feet from the truck when they had to run back to it.”
“Did anyone make it besides Sean?” Rich said.
“Yeah,” Rocco said. “Victor was in the cab with me, and—”
“Victor’s with you?” Miranda said. The idea that Rocco would take the mercenary out to cover anyone’s back beggared belief.
“Victor’s the only reason we got anyone out of the truck Sean was in,” Rocco said tiredly. “Gloria and Phil—they’re newcomers—were in the back of our truck with the food, so I wasn’t worried about them. We drove into the horde.”
He paused at the collective intake of breath. Driving into a horde was never a good idea. Bodies got tangled in axles, windows broken. A box truck sat high enough that zombies would have a harder time swarming the cab, but they’d all seen it happen.
“We got our cab about three feet from theirs, on the passenger side. Victor climbed to the roof of our cab, to make room. Bill was—” Rocco stopped.
Sean said, “Bill had been driving, but he couldn’t shut the door after he got back inside. They were trying to get over him, drag him out. I was firing at them.” His voice got tight, and Miranda saw tears well in Sean’s eyes. “He was trying to hold on to them while they were attacking, so they wouldn’t fall back out. So they couldn’t get to the rest of us. It was one of the bravest things I’ve ever seen.”
Rocco sighed, scrubbing his face. “Victor shot enough of them between the trucks that they could open the door. We got Alicia through no problem, but—”
Phineas barked, “Alicia’s with you? What the hell is she doing with you?”
Alicia was the virologist who’d worked with Mario to create a new vaccine for the zombie virus. From the appalled looks on everyone’s faces, Miranda and Phineas weren’t the only ones shocked that she was participating in the food scouting.
“I didn’t want her to come, but she and Bill have been dating…” Rocco grimaced. “I figured if I let her come this time, she’d get it out of her system and that’d be that. I fucked up. Obviously.”
“But she’s okay?” Rich asked.
Rocco nodded.
“What happened to your shoulder?” Alec said to Sean.
“One of them caught my foot when I was jumping over. Victor caught my arm and pulled me up, but it got wrenched pretty bad. He thought we should immobilize it till the doctor can look at it.”
“Good Lord, Rocco,” Rich said. He put his hand on Rocco’s shoulder. “Is there anyone in the back of the other truck?”
Rocco’s laugh was bitter. “Of course there are people in the back… We’ll try to get them tomorrow or the next day, once things settle down. They’ve got water and food.”
After a moment’s silence, Rocco turned and walked toward the truck. Everyone followed. The back roller door was up. The truck was crammed to the ceiling with boxes of canned goods. The ones Miranda could see had PEACHES IN SYRUP written on the sides. Not a lot of caloric value, but like Rocco had said, better than nothing. The stacks of boxes looked like a lot, but she knew this wouldn’t last a week at LO. And they needed more than peaches.
A man and woman Miranda didn’t know, the newcomers Rocco had mentioned, looked rattled. They were sharing a rollie cigarette. Alicia sat on the tailgate. Her dark, curly hair was braided close to her head, the ends pinned in place at the base of her skull. Her blood-streaked face was upturned to Victor, who was applying a butterfly bandage to a cut above her eye.
“That’ll be good enough until River can check you out,” he said.
Alicia nodded. When she saw Miranda and the others, she offered a weak smile. Victor stepped away after a glance at Miranda, which she returned with a frosty stare, and joined the other newcomers sharing the cigarette.
“Alicia, I’m so sorry,” Miranda said.
“Yeah, me too,” Alicia said. “No more scouting for me, I guess. I don’t need another reminder I’m more valuable at the Institute, even if things aren’t moving along like we’d hoped.”
“You went north today, right?” Miranda heard Rich say to Rocco.
“Yeah. You’re going south; you should be okay, but I wouldn’t stick around.”
Miranda squeezed Alicia’s shoulder. “Let me know if you want to hang out, okay? We should be back in a couple weeks. I’ll check in with you then.”
Alicia nodded, and Miranda rejoined the others. They said their farewells and walked back to their truck.
Rich said, “Sounds like it was a good thing Victor was with them.”
“Yeah,” Phineas agreed.
Miranda said. “I still don’t trust the guy as far as I can throw him.”
“Why’s that?” Alec asked.
“Long story,” Rich said. “Tell you later.”
Alec nodded, and let the matter drop. Miranda was grateful to Rich for saving her from explaining it. The attack on LO was enmeshed with other things she’d rather not think about, and deep down she felt guilty for bringing the problems of San Jose here. The last thing she needed right now was getting distracted by Victor’s ‘good deeds.’ They needed to stay vigilant to get to the bunker alive, even with two people who repelled zombies in their group. The fate of Rocco’s scouting party had reminded them of that fact.
Rich and Alec walked ten paces ahead of Miranda and Phineas. Delilah brought up the rear for most of the past hour since they’d left the truck behind, but in the last ten minutes ventured ahead. She stayed in sight, but something had caught her interest. The mood of the group had lightened somewhat since leaving the food scouting party behind. What they were doing required vigilance, but letting it amp up into rattled paranoia rarely led to performance improvement. You learned to shake even the most horrible things off when you needed to. Your brain could spring it on you later for processing, assuming you were still alive for that to happen.
Rich looked back to Miranda over his shoulder. “You all right back there?”
“Yep,” she said. “Just bored.”
“Now you’ve done it, lassie. Jinxed us for sure,” Alec said over his shoulder.
“Don’t be talking smack on my girl,” Phineas said.
Miranda shook her head, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. The journey might feel endless, but Phineas could be counted on to defend her honor.
Alec looked back at them, grinning. “It’s not smack if it’s true.”
“Hold up, Alec,” Rich said. They stopped, waiting for Miranda and Phineas to catch up. Rich pushed his sunglasses up on his head. “I think we should look for a place to stop. I know it’s a little early… I don’t know about y’all, but I’m tired.”
“Another mile?” Miranda said. “That’ll get us to Gresham. There are a few good places there.”
“Sounds good,” Rich said with a nod of his head.
Over his shoulder, Miranda saw Delilah stop at the end of the block. Her body tensed, then she turned and ran back to them. “I think you’re right about me jinxing us, Alec.”
They all looked to see Delilah’s approach. A moment later, staggering figures rounded the corner into the intersection.
“Oh, Lordy,” Rich said, sounding resigned. “Let’s see how many there are. We might be able to go through.”
“Time to get cozy,” Miranda said to Phineas.
He raised his eyebrows as if she had just propositioned him, then did as told and sidled up close. They passed the first group of zombies that had already turned the corner. About fifty zombies were shambling up the block. Too many for most people, but nothing they couldn’t handle. Alec walked behind Rich, keeping a hand on his shoulder. Phineas did the same with Miranda.
“You can get closer,” Miranda said.
“I don’t want to step on your feet.”
“I’d rather that than the alternative.”
“I will if I need to,” Phineas promised.
Even though she knew the zombies would shy away and not harm her, the feeling of walking through groups of them was so unnatural that Miranda wanted to jump out of her skin. Her breathing grew shallow, rasping in and out of her lungs too quickly.
The zombies turned toward them, shuffling closer on unsteady feet. Even though the breeze was blowing away from the horde, the overpowering stench of rotting meat was so strong Miranda’s eyes began to water.
“These ones really stink,” Phineas said in a tone of voice that gave her a mental image of his crinkled nose.
“Yeah,” she said, breathing through her mouth.
The hisses and groans grew so loud they became grating white noise. Rich and Alec walked five steps ahead of them, which mitigated the pinball effect when the zombies withdrew from pursuing them and turned toward her and Phineas. We must look like ducks paddling up a stream with zombies instead of water rippling in our wake, she thought.
Phineas yelped. His hand jerked off her shoulder. Miranda whirled around. A zombie had latched on to Phineas’ pack and held him in place. The other zombies had noticed his lack of protection and turned to him. In two steps, Miranda threw her arms around his neck, body pressed tight against his.
“Jesus, Phineas!” she said, the rush of adrenaline flooding her body enough to give her the shakes. “You can’t drift back!”
“I didn’t,” he protested.
“You must have.”
She wanted to shake him—hard. Shake some sense into his not fully developed twenty-year-old brain. The temptation to become complacent when Miranda or Rich were around was real; she’d seen it happen before. She’d also seen it in some of the small cohort who had received the vaccine, despite lacking the repelling effect. A vaccine couldn’t save anyone from being ripped limb from limb.
“Are you two all right?” Alec asked, concern making the burr of his accent stronger.
“Yeah, we’re fine,” Miranda called over her shoulder.
Around them, the zombies retreated, though they were more agitated than before.
“Really, Miranda,” Phineas said, his voice low as he spoke into her ear. “I was right behind you.”
His breath felt like a puff of warm breeze against her skin, and now that the jolt of adrenaline was beginning to recede, she noticed how nice being pressed up against Phineas felt. He was a little shorter than her. The warmth of his chest against hers felt solid and strong. The stubs of his newly styled dreadlocks were soft on her skin.
Fucking hell, she thought. Phineas was a sweet kid. She enjoyed their harmless flirting and banter because that’s what it was: harmless. It was flattering to be admired, but it was never going anywhere. Even if her body wasn’t quite on the same page, she wanted Phineas to get his emotional baggage from someone else. She practically drank herself to sleep most nights trying to avoid nightmares… Nobody needed that.
“You weren’t close enough,” she said, putting a few inches between them, but still keeping her hands clasped around his neck. “I don’t care if you’re halfway up my ass. Stay as close as you can.”
A rakish grin split his face. “If that’s where you want me, babe.”
“Oh, for Pete’s sake.”
They joined Rich and Alec. Phineas was a lot closer to her this time. Close enough to be annoying in any other circumstance, but it was welcome now.
Alec said to her, “At least we’re through this pack. We’ll get a nice distance on them in no time.”
They turned at the next corner and Rich said, “We need to find somewhere to spend the night now.”
The smell hit her like a brick. A few blocks away, the street was crammed, block upon block, almost as far as she could see. It hadn’t been the zombies they’d just encountered that stunk so bad, but this horde. It was so thick it would take ages to get through. Miranda was glad that Rocco and the others were on the other side of the Willamette.
“Do you know any buildings here?” she said.
“No,” said Rich. “We’ll have to pick one.”
They walked over several blocks to get some distance from the horde.
A minute later, Alec said, “What about that one? The liquor store?”
The building he pointed to was of newer construction with a stucco exterior. There were bars on the windows and door, and all of the glass was intact.
“Let’s go around back and see,” said Rich.
They set up in the back of the liquor store, and the intervening hours passed uneventfully. Miranda could sometimes hear the nearby horde. The swells of sound probably due to the direction of the wind. At least, she hoped so. She couldn’t sleep, so had volunteered for first watch. Rich and Phineas were out cold. Alec had wandered off half an hour ago to check out the surprisingly plentiful stores of booze. It seemed like no one had hit this store—ever. It had more alcohol in one place than Miranda could recall seeing in quite some time, apart from Kendall’s bunker. She heard the soft scuff of shoes, then Alec’s shadowy outline appeared in the light of her covered headlamp that sat on the floor beside her.
“So you’re all moved in at LO now,” she said as Alec sat on the floor. He set a bottle-sized box down beside him.
He nodded. “Building six in the apartments.”
“You didn’t waste time getting out of P-Land.”
Alec chuffed a soft laugh that conveyed a healthy dose of trepidation. “Rocco made it pretty clear he expected me to move immediately. I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with him.”
“Rocco’s okay,” she said. “He’s kinda scary when he’s pissed, but he’s fair. He’ll like that you didn’t drag your feet.” She paused, then said, “I hope they got home okay.”
“I’m sure they did,” Alec said. “They don’t have far to go until they reach the sound defenses.”
Miranda nodded, but didn’t comment. Wanting to distract herself, she said, “How’d Daphne take your move?”
Alec averted his gaze. “Not especially well.”
Miranda snorted. She’d had a feeling the P-Land Council member might not be thrilled by this development. “That’s what you get for leading her on.”
Alec arched an eyebrow at her. “I did not lead her on. She just didn’t want to believe me when I said I wasn’t getting serious with anyone.” Then he muttered under his breath, “Women are like that.”
“Oh my God,” Miranda said, laughing. “You didn’t just say that, did you? I thought you might not be one of those men who are asses, but I guess I was wrong.”
“One thing I will say for Rocco,” Alec said, ignoring her comment, but with that sly smile she’d seen before. “He makes a decision and that’s that. They’re a wee bit over the top in the other direction at P-Land.”
“They’re good people,” Miranda said. “But I wouldn’t last a week. I am not a process person. Assess a situation, make a decision, get it done. Talking things to death makes me want to scream. And my way of doing things makes them want to scream.”
Alec’s laugh was a low rumble. “I’m not as bad as you—”
“No one’s as bad as me.”
Alec picked up the box and set it on the floor between them. “Guess what I found?”
“Booze?”
“Pah,” he said dismissively. He lay the box down longwise and began to tease the lid away. He pulled the bottle out, but gently, as if he were cradling a baby. It flared like a slightly opened fan from a narrow, tapered bottom. “Scotch. The Macallan Reflexion.”
Miranda’s mouth began to water. She was partial to bourbon, but Scotch was good, too. “I like Scotch,” she said. “Fancy bottle.”
Alec pursed his lips and, even in the very low light, fixed her with what she could tell was a pained expression.
“This isn’t just Scotch, lassie,” he said, holding it out so she could get a better look. “This is the good stuff. A bottle of this used to go for over a thousand Euro.”
“Pass it over, then,” she said, hand outstretched.
Alec snatched it to his chest. “You’re a right savage, Miranda. You don’t drink this from the bottle. You sip it, ideally from crystal, or at least a real glass, but we’ll have to make do. Get your cup out of your pack.”
“C’mon,” she said, beckoning him to hand over the bottle with her wiggling fingers. When she realized he was serious, she suppressed a laugh. “For Pete’s sake,” she said softly, rolling her eyes.
Alec was already digging in his own pack. Miranda did as he asked and got her cup; she wouldn’t get a drink if she didn’t.
The spicy, rich scent that wafted from the bottle almost as soon as the stopper was removed filled Miranda’s nose. “That’s the antidote to zombie stink,” she said.
“It’s the antidote to a lot of things,” he said, pouring some in her cup.
She waited while he poured his own, re-stoppered the bottle, and scooted over to sit beside her. She held up her metal camping cup, then took a sip. The taste of almost burnt caramel flooded her mouth as she leaned against the wall, accompanied by the faintest undertaste of smoke. She rolled the liquid over her tongue, hints of cinnamon and something she couldn’t quite identify lingering as she swallowed. The heat was pleasant, smooth as butter with no burn.
Alec had been right. It would be a crime to drink this out of a bottle. She was pretty sure it was a crime to drink it out of her metal cup, but needs must. She took another small sip, let it settle on her tongue, savoring the taste for close to a minute before she swallowed.
“Oh. My. God,” she said slowly.
“I am a right savage for wanting to take a slug like it was cheap rotgut.”
“You are,” Alec agreed. “But you’re learning.”
“Where did you find this? I didn’t see it on the shelves when I looked earlier.”
“There’s a locked storeroom. That’s where the good stuff is.”
She took another sip, savoring the smooth warmth with not a hint of peat. “How much is in there?”
“Six full cases, and a couple cases of Cristal and Veuve Clicquot champagne, but I quit searching when I found this. We’re stopping on the way back.”
“Damn right.”
They sipped their Scotch, the quiet companionable. After a time, Alec refreshed their drinks before putting the bottle back in the box and carefully replacing the lid. Sitting around and not talking, especially with someone she didn’t know well, usually made Miranda want to talk to fill the silence. When she did that, she ended up babbling. Maybe it was because she had something to do, even if it was just sipping her drink, or maybe Alec was one of those people.
“You’re easy to be with, Alec,” she said. “And this is really good Scotch.”
A corner of his mouth quirked up. “It is.” He paused, then said, “I figured you for someone who’s at ease with pretty much anyone.”
She shook her head. “Nope. No time for whiners, and quiet people can set me babbling to fill the silence. Kendall’s tough.”
“I didn’t find him that hard to talk to. He’s awkward, sure, but he’s not hopeless.”
“I didn’t say he was hopeless.”
“He’s rusty,” Alec conceded. “It doesn’t help that you’re a woman.”
“I’m the first he’s seen in years. If he’s into me, that’s why. I’m not so vain that I think it’s because I’m all that.”
Alec took another sip, then said, “He does seem to have taken a wee shine to you.”
“Men are annoying,” she said. Alec looked at her askance. “Present company excepted.” She gathered her thoughts for a few seconds. “Women spend a lot of energy trying not to hurt the feelings of guys we don’t like. It wasn’t so bad when—”
She snapped her mouth shut. She’d been about to say she hadn’t dealt with it as much when she’d been with Mario, since most people knew they were together. Alec knew her as Miranda—just Miranda. Not Miranda who’d broken up with Mario, or Miranda who’d been bitten by and then killed Jeremiah, or Miranda who’d lost her baby. She wanted to keep it that way for a while.
“Do me a favor when we get there,” she said. “Pick up some of the slack.”
Alec smiled. “I will. It’ll be easier for me, seeing as he doesn’t want to get into my knickers.”
“Your what?” Miranda asked, confused.
“You know, your knickers,” he said, gesturing at her hips.
“Oh,” she said, getting his meaning. “My panties.”
Alec snickered. “Panties sound like something my granny would wear.”
“Do you miss home much?” she asked, the question slipping out before she had time to consider whether or not she should ask.
A lot of people didn’t like to talk about their lives before, herself included a lot of the time. But like she’d said before, he was easy to talk to, and the warm glow of the Scotch had taken hold.
“Scotland? Yes, I do,” he said. “Glasgow and Edinburgh were brilliant cities. Different, mind, but brilliant. The countryside was always a bit wild, kind of like us Scots.” He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I’ve missed good Scotch, but not the wee village where I grew up. People were too set in their ways.” He took another sip, then continued. “But I don’t know… I could have ended up in a worse place than I did. Could have still been on the plane when people started turning.”
“You were flying?” she said. She didn’t know many people who’d been flying when it started.
“I didn’t see the first zombie until the baggage claim, and we thought the fella was crazy. That was on the Sunday. By Friday…well.”
She remembered that Friday. The day Sam had coaxed her out of her dorm room, and Karen had told her she wasn’t dying for her. The day she’d decided she was going to live.
“I’ve seen a lot of America over the years, just not how I thought I would.” Alec shrugged. “In a way, this world suits me.”
“It suits you?” she said, coughing, because she’d gulped her Scotch in surprise.
He looked abashed. “Of course I’d rather have it the way it was. I just didn’t have deep roots anywhere. My parents and grandparents were dead. No brothers or sisters, or other family to speak of. My job kept me moving all the time, from one war zone to the next.”
“You were a war correspondent?” she said, surprised. “I thought you did government stories.”
“Same thing, different form. Seeing all those conflicts is what saved me. When you see the latest savior turn into the next dictator, see the slaughter that goes along with it enough times, you get good at spotting the next storm.”
Coming from a large, extended family, where Sunday dinners at her nana’s house with her aunts and uncles and cousins had been the default throughout her childhood, she had a hard time fathoming what he was describing.
“There must have been some people you were close to.”
“I’m not saying it verra well,” Alec said. “Of course I had my mates. I just… I never wanted to settle down. It never made sense to me. People leave in the end, want different things. Want different people. I thought it was better to be the one doing the leaving. And now, well… It’s even easier to get yourself killed. It doesn’t pay to get too tangled up.” He looked at her sidelong, a mischievous gleam in his eye. “Enjoy the moment, don’t get too serious. It’s easier. And more fun, in my experience.”
His smile set butterflies fluttering in her stomach, and a warmth that had nothing to do with the Scotch made her cheeks hot. Alec was flirting with her, in his low-key way, and she liked it.
“In mine, too,” she said.
She took a long, slow breath. This wasn’t the same as Phineas’ flirting, which was just in fun. Alec was flirting with intent. And with the way she’d just agreed with him, so was she. It might be the Scotch clouding her perceptions, but as she studied him, all she saw was an easygoing, good-looking man who didn’t want anything demanding, and wouldn’t demand much in return. After how things had ended with Mario, with his desperate needing that had felt like it was sucking her dry, an undemanding lover, only interested in the here and now like Alec seemed to be, was appealing.
Warmth filled her belly, then sunk even lower. A low-grade tingling seemed to skate across her skin. Alec’s lips, which she hadn’t paid attention to until now, when they were only eighteen inches from her own, looked just right. And the way he carried himself, brimming with relaxed confidence, all but guaranteed he rocked in bed.
“Thanks for sharing the Scotch,” she said.
“Anytime,” he said, covering his mouth when he failed to suppress a yawn. “I think I’ll turn in.” He climbed to his feet, then added, as if it were an afterthought, “I’m not sure what Kendall thinks, but it wouldn’t be you being vain.”
He gave her another one of those smiles, sly and easy. She couldn’t see his eyes, just the low light reflected in them, but there was almost an invitation in his voice.
She said, “Dream sweet.”
The burr of his accent buzzed gently against her ear when he said, “That won’t be a problem.”