Chapter One

1070 Days after initial infection

 

Okay, this wasn’t so bad. So what if I was trapped in a cage like an animal and could potentially be fed to Zombies in the morning? So what if the sun had set and now I was freezing my ass off and surrounded by lonely men? So what if I was going to die of dehydration and my skin was blistered from the unrelenting sun during the day? So what if I had lost my best friend to slavery and her boyfriend whom I also loved and Page and Miller?

The sob caught in my chest, but I refused to let it go. That was too much. The power of positive thinking could only get me so far and losing Haley was too goddamn far.

I pulled my knees tighter to my chest and ignored the metal poking into my back from the side of the cage. My body trembled from the shock of the cold on my superheated skin and my throat screamed from thirst and misuse.

I was a mess and so damn tired. It seemed I hadn’t slept in days. Maybe weeks. And all I wanted to do was curl into the fetal position and cry my heart out.

But I couldn’t. I couldn’t do anything I wanted. I had to keep a vigilant eye on the men sharing my cage because they weren’t just lonely, they were desperate. And I was one of the only women in this cell.

God, I hated this place.

This was the worst thing that had happened yet. The very worst thing.

Sometimes, during my endless hours of sitting here, wondering when I was going to be made Zombie food or sold into slavery, I wondered if maybe I was already dead. Maybe the cannibals had killed me after all.

Or maybe it happened before then. Maybe I had never made it out of Iowa.

Maybe this was hell.

Because it couldn’t be anything else.

How did something top Zombies? How did anything get worse than the Colony? Or Cannibals? Or starving to death in a desert?

Every time something bad happened to us, I kept thinking that we’d bottomed out and that the only way left to go was up.

A few days ago, I had been locked in a room, waiting to be eaten by other humans. There should not be a more terrifying scenario than that one.

Except here I was.

And worst of all… worst of all was that my best friend had been taken away from me. I lost her and Nelson and their baby. I lost Page and Miller. How was I supposed to go on from that?

I had never been the kind of girl to give up on life before, but facing these circumstances, I didn’t think I could go on.

The grief tore through me like a savage beast, shredding my soul with its slimy fangs and sharp claws. I could not breathe through this aching cavern of loss. I could not think beyond my sorrow.

We had been through so much. We had fought and survived and risked everything to stay together. Yet, in the space of a few minutes, my loved ones had been dragged away without even a goodbye.

And instead of crying or screaming or raging against the evil that had taken them from me, I had to stay alert in this goddamn cage and protect myself from my newest threat- men who looked at me like I was a piece of meat.

The sun had set an hour ago. I had spent the majority of the day staring at the dirt drive in front of the house, waiting for Haley to come back. I felt like a lost puppy.

I couldn’t believe she had actually been taken. And I really couldn’t believe she hadn’t figured out a way to escape. I half-expected her to lead a prisoner-led revolt on that stupid truck, rise up against her captors and drive it back here to save the rest of us.

As the minutes turned into hours and she never returned, the reality of our situation had settled on me like a concrete block attached to my feet. When the truck finally pulled back in front of the house and prisoners were returned to their cells, that same concrete block dragged me down into the deepest parts of an ocean of despair. Haley hadn’t returned. Nelson, Miller and Page had not returned.

They had been sold.

And there was no way for me to know how or where to get them back.

Not that it would matter. I would probably be dead by noon tomorrow.

And what would happen to the rest of my friends? I was all alone in this cage but I could sometimes catch glimpses of them. Hendrix, Vaughan, Harrison, King and Tyler were going through the same thing that I was. They were also sunburnt, dehydrated, starving and at risk for the next Zombie manhunt. They had also lost people they loved more than life.

Blurry feet appeared in front of me and I shook my head to clear my vision. I blinked away tears I had been trying to keep at bay. I could not let these people see me breakdown. I could not show them any weakness.

My eyes moved from blistered, scabbed bare feet, up to torn, tattered clothing that smelled like feces and human decay and to a leering face that sent nausea roiling through me. He leaned forward when our eyes met, speaking suggestively in Spanish. I had no idea what he said, but I could tell by his tone that I was not interested.

“No,” I growled in a voice that sounded barely human.

His lascivious grin spread across his ugly face. He spoke up, drawing other men into the conversation. He bounced his shoulders for effect and the other men moved closer to him. To me.

There were two other women in the cage with us and they cowered in the other corners. Their arms were wrapped around their heads and I could hear their quiet, terrified crying.

I would not cry in front of these people. They would not break me.

I would not give them the pleasure after everything else I had been through.

Nothing truly awful had happened in front of me the last two nights, but I felt the shift in the air tonight. We had survived the Zombie feeding today. We had survived the slave auction. Where I had reason to grieve, these people were celebrating.

And they wanted to include me.

“No,” I repeated, pouring as much loathing and disgust as I felt into that one word. My tears of sorrow turned into tears of rage. They would not touch me.

They shuffled closer as if testing my resolve. I used the bars of the cage to pull myself into standing and I faced them straight on. Weak from hunger and thirst and nearly delirious from lack of sleep, I squared my shoulders and met their hungry gazes. They would not see how afraid I was.

They would not see how close to giving up I was.

No matter how close I was to shattering.

There were three of them standing near me. The guy in the middle reached out his hand as if to touch me… pet me maybe. I slapped his hand away roughly.

“No me gusta,” I hissed. I didn’t know enough Spanish to tell him exactly how I felt, so that would have to do.

They laughed at me, sadistic sounds of condescension and glee. My hands itched for my guns. Hell, I would have loved to have my baseball bat right now.

I rubbed my hands over my jean pockets, desperate for something to magically appear. I looked beyond the three men in front of me, to where the rest of my cellmates sat, pretending not to notice us. Sure, not everyone here wanted to rape me, but they weren’t going to stop it from happening either.

Acid bubbled in my stomach and flooded my throat. Fear curled around my insides, crushing me with its vicelike grip. My rage pounded a heavy rhythm in my chest as I thought about the consequences of tonight. It mingled with terror and hopelessness, humiliation and repulsion.

Their laughter died at once and their leers became more threatening. Sounds from other cages interrupted the quiet night. In the distance Zombies moaned and screeched, announcing their ever present addition to this nightmare.

The middle guy took a step toward me and I fisted my hands and prepared to fight. This would not happen to me. I would tear out their jugulars with my teeth if I had to. I would claw out their eyes and rip off their balls.

I would maintain this one thing. I would keep this one thing about me because it was mine and it was all I had left.

“You will not touch me.” My voice was granite and unmovable. I had no idea if they understood me, but I was pretty sure there was only one way to interpret my meaning.

The man stared at me with his beady eyes gleaming in the darkness. His lips twisted into a cruel smile and he raised his hands as if to settle me down.

Didn’t he know? He couldn’t settle me. I was untamable.

I was wild.

I lashed out before he could take another step, kicking him as hard as I could in the junk. The air whooshed out of him before he sucked in a rasping groan. The men on either side of him chuckled at his misfortune but did not make a move to back away.

I didn’t have real fighting skills. I didn’t know self-defense or martial arts or anything other than the experience of the last few years. I could run. I could shoot. I could be creative with weapons when I had to be. But I had no idea how to go into hand-to-hand combat and come out unscathed.

Dread churned in my stomach. These men could overpower me easily. They could do whatever they wanted to me.

A sound I had never made before punched out of my chest. No. I did not accept this. I did not accept this reality.

I wanted a new one.

The guy on the left lunged forward. He was the biggest of the three, muscle still clung to his skinny arms and he didn’t hunch over from emaciation. The back of my neck pricked with warning, but I didn’t have another choice.

I kicked out at him, as hard as I could. He caught my foot in a tight grip and yanked. I stumbled forward, arms flailing. I winced a frustrated sound and tried to tug my foot back. His grip tightened on my ankle until his fingers dug into my skin, his jagged nails piercing through my jeans. He grinned at me and jerked my foot powerfully hard. My other foot slid forward, I reached out to catch myself but my sweaty hands couldn’t grab hold. The world tipped upside down as I flew backwards, landing on my back. My head slammed against the cage bars and my spine cracked with the impact.

The man dropped my foot, brushing his hands off arrogantly. I groaned on the ground, desperately struggling to gather my determination. My back screamed in pain and my head hurt like a son of a bitch.

“Don’t come near me,” I wheezed. They didn’t listen.

My vision cleared just in time for me to see three very angry men loom over me. The intent was clear in their eyes and they were tired of playing around.

Unable to accept what was about to happen, I leaned over and spit on their feet. “Get away from me.”

One of them barked out something ugly right before kicking me in the side. The wind knocked out of me as his foot connected with my kidneys. They waited for me to settle down, but as soon as I sucked in some air, I leaned over and spit at the ground again.

Another foot pounded my shoulder and another one hit my hip. I clamped down on my tongue until I tasted blood, refusing to cry out. I would not stop this. I would take being beaten over their original plans for me.

When another hit my stomach and I started to gag from the force of it, I knew I would die like this. They were going to kill me.

I expected to be okay with it. I had nearly died too many times already and just a few days ago, I had been willing to sacrifice myself to cannibals if it meant my friends could live.

But this was different. This death wouldn’t save other people. This death wouldn’t provide justice for anyone. This was senseless and stupid and I didn’t deserve to die this way.

A bone-deep instinct swelled inside of me and I felt my resolve to live build itself back up. Block by block, I restored my confidence and willpower. I turned my resolve into iron and steel. I lifted my chin and dared them to do their worst.

I waited for their next hit or their next move or whatever they planned to do, but it didn’t come. I crawled into myself and shut out the outside world as I rebuilt myself. It was an odd place to find self-actualization. I couldn’t deny that.

When nothing hit me or kicked me again, it took me a while to come out of that place and return to reality.

A car engine roared through the night and tires crunched aggressively against the dirt. Headlights suddenly lit the dark night, bouncing over the cages and blinding me. I heaved in an effort to drop my arm over my face. Once it was there, I did not move.

The engine shut off and car doors opened and slammed. A vaguely familiar voice started shouting in Spanish. As exhausted and beaten as I was I still jumped when gun shots popped through the air.

I peeled my arm away and myself off the ground. A quick look around showed the men who had planned to attack me hunching against the opposite side of the cage. Apparently they could understand what was going on and they did not like it.

Cowards.

What kind of men beat and tried to rape a helpless woman but cowered when the hint of danger hovered near.

“Chickens,” I spit at them.

Probably not my best insult, but my head hurt.

Raphael exploded out of his house, buttoning his pants. His shirt was missing and his hair was disheveled from sleep. The guards that flanked his front door had raised their weapons at the newcomers. Raphael didn’t bother to carry a weapon, but he had enough men to protect him so he probably didn’t need one.

The new guy had brought his own muscle. They waved their weapons around and continued to shout in Spanish.

I stumbled with the effort to standing and leaned against the bars. I was only a few cages from the house and when I worked to focus I could make out their faces clearly enough with the lights of the house now shining on them.

“Oh, shit,” I groaned. Diego stood there shouting at Raphael, weapons flailing with their threats. I glanced around, frantic to find the Parkers and Tyler. The light didn’t fall far enough for me to see them. A new sense of panic pricked at my nerves, waking me from the stupor I’d slipped into.

Raphael gestured toward the cages, shouting angrily. I froze as the guards around him reached for something, but then relaxed when all they produced were flashlights. They flipped them on and pointed them toward the number of cages dotting Raphael’s front yard.

“Oh, shit,” I repeated desolately when I realized that they were searching the cages.

I winced and dropped my head back. I rubbed my hands over my face and appealed to the star filled sky. “I need help,” I nearly cried. “I can’t do any more of this. I am tired and I am dirty and I am so hungry I’ve thought about become a Zombie just so I could have something to eat. Help me. Please.”

A flashlight spotlighted me, turning my hands red. I pulled them away from my face and blinked at the bright light.

“Reagan,” Diego growled, mispronouncing my name.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

He ignored me and turned to Raphael. “I want her out of there. Now.” His words were in English and I had to assume they were for my benefit.

Raphael slowly walked to the door of the cell, his guards flanking him with weapons raised. Raphael barked something at the people around me and they seemed to want to melt into the metal. They completely froze. They didn’t even make a sound.

Raphael scared the ever-loving-hell out of me. I could relate.

Except he didn’t point a gun at me. At least not right away. He opened the cell door and motioned me out.

“No, thanks,” I told him. “I’ll stay here with the rapers.”

“Out,” he commanded.

“Let’s go,” Diego echoed. “Now.”

Then the guns turned on me. Damn it.

I looked up at the thousands of stars overhead. They sparkled like diamonds and stretched out as far as I could see. They weren’t going to help me.

They were cold, distant and removed from my pain and suffering.

I let out a resigned sigh and forced my feet to move.

“You’re filthy,” Diego grumbled when I walked by him. “You should never have left. At least I would have let you stay inside. I would have given you water. I wouldn’t have treated you like an animal.”

“Right before you handed me over to Matthias.” I clenched my fists and tried not to scream.

“You’re right,” he chuckled darkly, “Raphael is a much better alternative.”

“I hate that you speak English.”

“In the house,” he snapped. “We have a deal to work out.”

I followed Raphael and Diego toward the house while Raphael’s men pointed their guns at me. I could feel eyes on me as I trudged forward. The entire camp of slaves and prisoners had turned their attention on me, but it was the Parkers’ fierce gazes I felt the strongest.

I walked by Harrison and King, who had been lucky enough to share a cell. King’s jaw was set firmly, but Harrison offered the smallest smile. I recognized his intention to encourage me, but I couldn’t help but feel like I was marching toward my death.

Although, if I were honest with myself, the last three years of my life felt like a slow procession toward my end. I couldn’t survive this world.

Nobody could.

I passed by Vaughan too. His steely gaze bore into me. I could feel his anger vibrate through the air. “Reagan,” he mumbled in a low, threatening voice.

I looked over at him and nodded with a tilt of my chin, trying to reassure him that I would be okay. He didn’t need to worry about me. He just needed to figure out how to save what was left of his family.

He stared at me with haunted eyes. He had lost too much today. This was enough. This was too much for all of us. His shoulders were hunched as if the weight of the day and this world were pressing down on him in a very tangible way. My chest clenched at his filthy, rumpled body with those hardened blue eyes that would never soften again.

I knew that.

Vaughan had changed today. I could see the loss of humanity and compassion in his expression, see the way his body had turned to stone without forgiveness. I could see that he would never recover from today. And I couldn’t blame him.

I looked for Hendrix but I couldn’t find him in the darkness. Panic flared inside of me. I stood up on my tiptoes and searched the cluster of cages, desperate to see one last glimpse of him. My feet moved slower and one of the guards jabbed his gun into my side to keep me moving.

Out of my peripheral I saw Diego shoot me an impatient look, but I had to find Hendrix. I had to see him.

Just one last time.

Something dawned inside of me in that moment. Or maybe it awakened from its temporary slumber. It awoke with a vengeful, frantic need. It started to punch and claw at my chest. It lashed its body and bucked uncontrollably.

It was primal.

It was uninhabited.

It was emotion so desperate and consuming I struggled to breathe through it.

I recognized it immediately and the jolt of it made my feet stumble and my limbs tingle as if they’d gone numb.

We reached the house and Raphael stepped through the opened door. Light spilled onto the hard ground and bathed the first few rows of cage in a soft glow. The men herded me up the steps, barking orders in Spanish.

I moved as slowly as I could. I didn’t want to go in the house. I didn’t want to face this next obstacle. If they were going to kill me, I wished they’d just get it over with. If they were going to separate me from my friends, I wished they’d just kill me.

I took a steadying breath, convinced myself not to start crying and turned around one last time to see the crowd of rapt slaves watch me walk to the gallows.

There he was.

Hendrix.

The only man I’d ever truly loved.

He stood to my left, his arms propped through the bars of the cage. He looked relaxed, he looked unnaturally at ease. I sucked in a sharp breath and forced myself to meet those intense blue eyes that had pulled at things inside of me since the first day I met him.

His body had that cool, calm demeanor he always seemed able to pull off despite our circumstances, but his expression depicted the opposite. He held a look of pure, unfiltered rage. And when our gazes clashed, I felt the connection like a jolt to my heart.

It zinged through my body with high voltage electricity. It spun in my head like a dizzying cyclone. My skin erupted with goose bumps and a thousand butterflies took flight in my stomach.

Hendrix.

Why had it taken me so long to remember this?

And now it was too late.

I licked my dry lips and willed this moment to last forever.

I couldn’t tear my eyes off him. I couldn’t force my feet to move. Hendrix was suddenly my entire world, my complete existence, the beginning and the end of me, and I couldn’t make myself leave him.

“Reagan,” Diego snapped. “Ven conmigo.”

Raphael cursed something in Spanish that had to be rude. Diego turned back to him and retorted something equally nasty sounding. The men with guns helped me into the house.

By pushing me with rough, cruel hands.

I stumbled forward, my feet tripping on a rug. I fell, catching myself just in time. My knees cracked on the red floor and my hands slapped the cool ground painfully. The door slammed behind me with a finality that silenced the room.

I lifted my head and tossed my ratty hair out of my face. “Ouch.”

“Get up,” Raphael barked in a thicker accent than Diego.

Raphael hadn’t spoken much English in the short time I had known him. I had wondered if he knew it. Guess that answered that.

Diego’s men flanked him, while Raphael’s men kept their guns pointed at me. I crawled to my feet and brushed off my hands with as much dignity as I could muster.

Raphael’s house was tastefully decorated. Colorfully designed afghans were thrown over the backs of comfortable looking couches. The house smelled clean and floral. I could see the kitchen from where I stood and my stomach grumbled loudly, interrupting the tense silence.

Neither Diego nor Raphael held a gun, but they glared at each other with enough hatred that I expected one of them to drop dead from bad vibes.

Once I was on my feet, Diego started speaking in Spanish. I didn’t know what he said and I could only pick out a few words and try to interpret the tone. Raphael listened intently until something that Diego said resonated with him.

Raphael inclined his head and one of his men dropped his gun and disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later he returned with a pitcher of water. Whatever moisture was left in my mouth disappeared and my throat ached for the clean water.

I tried not to look at it or reveal how very thirsty I was, but I couldn’t stop glancing at it. I nearly whimpered.

I expected them to try to bargain something for it or demand I do something in order to get it, but Diego simply nodded at me and kept speaking with Raphael. The spindly looking henchmen held out the ceramic jug without a word.

I took it with hands shaking and stomach clenched. He moved back into position and re-raised his gun.

The water was mine.

I nearly dropped it, the jug was so heavy and I was so weak. I lifted it to my lips and tried, as hard as I could, to drink slowly.

But once the water touched my gritty mouth and made its way down my burning throat, I couldn’t help but guzzle it. I lapped at it desperately. It sloshed over my mouth and chin, down my neck and all over shirt. I whined as I drank it. It had been so long. I was so thirsty.

“Slow down,” Diego warned me, breaking out of his conversation with Raphael. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

I reluctantly pulled the jug away from my mouth, knowing he was right. I savagely wiped my chin on the back of my hand, feeling primitive and crazed. The water had revived something inside me. I felt like a wilted flower that had been nurtured to life again.

My mind sharpened and my muscles sparked with energy. I was still exhausted and beaten, but I wasn’t useless.

I cleared my throat and met Diego’s assessing gaze. “What’s going on? Why am I here?”

“I saw your amigos yesterday,” he explained.

“At the auction?”

“Si. I saw that Raphael has you, but I found you, so you are mine. I am negotiating your return.”

“I’m not going with you,” I told him.

“You are.”

“I’m not,” I growled. “I won’t go. You’ll have to kill me first.”

He tipped his head back, revealing a smooth neck. For all of Diego’s faults, he was obnoxiously well groomed for the Zombie Apocalypse. He laughed at my defiance. “I’m not going to kill you. And I don’t plan on giving you to Matthias.”

I didn’t believe him, but I also couldn’t figure out why he would lie. “What do you want, Diego?”

His eyes narrowed and he glanced surreptitiously at Raphael before asking, “The girl that you helped escape, from my village… Is she still alive?”

My heart thumped aggressively in my chest. How to answer that? I decided to deflect. “Why wouldn’t she be?”

“Your pregnant friend told me that she died.”

I took another slow chug of water. Haley told him that for a reason, but why? Ugh. Sometimes it felt like Haley and I had a telepathic connection. It would be easier for everybody if we actually had one.

“Haley would know better than me,” I shrugged.

“Reagan,” he emphasized irritably, “I am losing the patience. Tell me what happened to her. Now.”

“What happened to who?” Raphael barked, his words connecting like cursive. “Who are you talking about?”

Diego whipped around to face him and launched into a verbal attack. I heard Adela’s name tossed around from both men, both of them gesturing wildly. Raphael’s face turned eggplant purple and he took a step toward Diego. The men around me bristled with the tension and snapped into focus.

Raphael’s young wife appeared in the doorway wearing a white nightgown. Raphael barked something at her and she retreated, wide-eyed, back into the house.

Diego growled something that made Raphael’s eyes bug out of his head. I clutched my water, positive I was about to be caught in the middle of a gunfight.

I made a squeak of surprise when Diego flicked his wrist and there was a knife at Raphael’s throat. Diego took a step into him, the sharp blade nicking Raphael’s Adam’s apple. Diego snarled something threatening and Raphael’s men backed off.

Raphael stood there, his chin raised and a stubborn set to his eyes. He inclined his chin just barely and one of his men stalked off further into the house.

My heart hammered in my chest. I wanted to run out the door and never look back. Fight or flight had kicked in and this time I was pro-flight. And fast.

The henchman reappeared with Adela. She was bound and gagged. Tears streaked her wet face and blood drenched her clothes. Oh, my god. What happened to her?

As soon as she appeared, Diego started freaking out at Raphael. The knife pressed into Raphael’s neck as Diego gestured animatedly with his free hand.

Adela looked between the two men before turning her terrified gaze to me. I felt her fear from here. She looked awful. One eye was swollen and a huge bruise bloomed across one side of her jaw. She shook her head at me. I heard her muffled voice fight against the gag, but I couldn’t tell what she wanted.

“Go with my men, Reagan,” Diego commanded in English. “Wait for me in the car.”

I wanted to tell him no. I also wanted to listen to him, since I could feel how ugly this was about to turn. I didn’t want anything to do with Diego or Raphael.

“Now!” Diego shouted.

Someone pulled on my arm. Their fingers twisted my bicep in a painful grip and jerked me backward. I let out a yelp and struggled to get away from him. The jar flew from my hands, crashing and breaking against the red tile. I knew that if I got in that car with Diego, I would never get away from him again.

I knew it.

I could feel the crazed control he wanted and instinctively I knew he had a plan to pit me against Matthias. I could not get in that car. No matter what.

The man, who had my arm, pulled me backwards and shoved me through the door. I stumbled down the steps, still fighting.

“Get off me!” I screamed.

The men chuckled at my fight. Their laughter echoed over the cages and bounced off the house. They weren’t going to help me. And they weren’t going to be easy on me.

Whatever Diego had planned was not an escort service out of Mexico.

They kept hold of me and half-carried, half-dragged me toward the sedan Diego showed up in. The car was unassuming at first, but this close, I could see that it had been outfitted with bars over the back windows. There was also a cage between the front seat and the back. The entire body seemed to be reinforced with armor. This wasn’t a simple ride back to his village.

I would once again be a prisoner.

Or maybe not.

I struggled for thirty seconds to figure out an escape plan before the first explosion went off. When the second explosion followed closely on its heels, I stopped worrying about trying to escape. Survival was more important.

Because once the explosions started, they didn’t stop.