Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(47)

“What do you miss the most, Alex?” Evelyn asked abruptly. “From before?”

He didn’t answer right away, his eyes taking on a sort of far-off, glazed-over quality. I watched him, wondering if that was how I looked when I thought about the past.

“Music,” he finally said, refocusing on me.

Still watching him, I felt my heart thump painfully inside my chest, my good mood quickly deflating. It wasn’t what he said, but the way he’d said it. Quiet and full of longing, but at the same time, sounding resigned. As if he truly believed that music, along with cold beers and pink fuzzy slipper boots, had all become extinct, and only in our memories would we ever have those things again.

Evelyn cleared her throat. “How about we head west?” she asked. “And see what’s causing that smell? Who knows? Maybe we’ll find a pair of pink slippers.”

? ? ?

Ever the protector, Alex was insistent that Evelyn and I stay behind him as we made our way down the dirt path. We stayed to the side of the trail, mostly, Alex wanting quick access into the forest if we happened to need a quick getaway. I kept my hammer tightly in my grip, though I had no idea that if it came down to actually using it on an infected, if I would be able to muster up enough courage.

For at least a half an hour, it didn’t seem to me that the path was leading us anywhere. I began feeling like Dorothy in The Wizard of Oz, on a long road to nowhere good, with the possible threat of monsters waiting to jump out at me at every twist and turn. But for Dorothy, it had all just been a dream.

If only it were really that simple, I thought, feeling suddenly sullen. To click our heels together and chant, “There’s no place like home, there’s no place like home.” And then, poof, we would wake from this nightmare, safe and sound in our own warm beds, the monsters gone.

“Dorothy was a lucky bitch,” I muttered under my breath.

“What did you say? Did you just curse?” Evelyn asked, watching me curiously. “Who’s a bitch?”

“No one,” I mumbled, feeling silly.

“The smell is getting stronger,” Alex announced, slowing his pace to a mere crawl. “Look.” He pointed up ahead and around a small bend. “A driveway.”

I squinted, trying to see better, and found a gravel-covered path hidden among the trees and up a small incline.

We continued walking, the three of us on constant alert for any hint of movement or sound that seemed out of place, Alex with his rifle held in front of him, and Evelyn clutching her blade while I kept a firm grip on my hammer. Slowly and silently, we approached the driveway, and Alex held out an arm, signaling that Evelyn and I were to stay put while he checked it out.

I reached out, tugging on his sleeve to get his attention. As our eyes met, I didn’t know exactly what I wanted to say, just that I felt I should say something. Every other second, it seemed, we were walking into some form of danger or another, and just in case we weren’t able to walk away from what we were about to walk into this time, I just wanted Alex to know…

Actually, I wasn’t exactly sure what I wanted Alex to know, maybe only that I did care about what happened to him. Yes, I wanted him to know that I cared, so I tried to convey that emotion by standing up on my tiptoes, lifting my face to his, and pressing a soft and quick kiss on his lips. Alex’s hand found my waist, pulling me tightly against him as he deepened what had only been meant as a small gesture, turning it quickly into something so much more.

“Be careful,” I murmured, then pulled away. Déjà vu washed over me, dizzying and powerful, and suddenly it wasn’t Alex standing in front of me, but Thomas. Together with Shawn, ready to scour the neighborhood for food and water, standing in front of me, kissing me good-bye, and me whispering to him, “Be careful.”

Four hours later he’d returned covered in bite marks, Shawn half carrying him into the house. The very next day he’d succumbed to the fever.

I stepped away from Alex, feeling nauseated and a little breathless, and searched out Evelyn’s comforting hand. She was there, she was always there, slipping her hand into mine and gently squeezing.

“I’ll whistle,” Alex said, looking between the two of us. “Once to come up, and two to run.”

Hand in hand, Evelyn and I stood at the bottom of the small hill, watching as Alex made his way up it and out of sight. We waited there for what seemed like an eternity, not speaking, barely breathing, until we finally heard it—a single whistle.

Together, Evelyn and I jogged up the driveway. Alex came into view, first his dark hair, then his broad back. There were more trees, then a large clearing, and was that a truck? Yes, it was a truck! And then, as the rest of the scene revealed itself, we stopped dead in our tracks.

Off to the far left of the clearing sat the shell of what was once a home. Thick splintered beams reached toward the sky, blackened and charred, towering eerily over a foundation of ruins—piles of broken glass, black dust, and burned, twisted wood.

“Oh my God,” Evelyn breathed. “There are so many bones…”

My eyes widened, my mouth falling open. What I had thought were twisted pieces of burned wood were actually bones. And now that I knew exactly what I was looking at, I could make out what appeared to be a rib cage, and beside it, a skull.

“We have company,” Alex said, his voice low as he gestured toward the truck.