Thicker Than Blood (Thicker Than Blood #1)(5)
“Evelyn, quickly,” she pleaded, gesturing for me to come down. Repeatedly, she glanced over her shoulder, back to me, and over her shoulder again, as if she was afraid that she’d been followed, or worried that someone was watching her. Looking her over, I realized that not only was she still wearing her apron, but she also had flour in her hair, all telling me that she must have departed the cookhouse in a hurry.
Fredericksville functioned like any other well-oiled machine. Everyone had a job to do, and everything worked fine as long as people did those jobs, and did them well. Just like before the infection, there were certain jobs that held more importance, more sway, than others. Contrary to public opinion, it was my personal belief that every job held just as much importance as any other, simply because a leader could not exist without his citizens, and vice versa. Even the children responsible for recycling our garbage were important, and in my humble opinion, much more so than the cruel men in charge.
Not everyone shared my belief, though. My husband, the superior bastard that he was, was one of the many men around here always looking down on anyone he believed to be lower than him.
Turning away from Angela, I found Jami sliding his military jacket over his broad shoulders, his pants once again buttoned. Realizing another of our few-and-far-between moments had ended, a pang of regret passed through me. I watched him tucking his gun back inside its holster, until his gaze finally found mine.
Smirking and without another word, he turned away, already heading for the stairs. No kiss good-bye, not even a longing glance over his shoulder. I wanted to be pissed about his indifference; I should have been pissed. My adoring husband always gave me a kiss good-bye whether I wanted one or not, yet Jami gave me nothing. Nothing to cling to when he wasn’t here, nothing to tide me over while Mason demanded I be his adoring wife. As was his usual MO, Jami just left, leaving me desperate for more of him.
I heard the soft click of the back door as it closed, signaling Jami’s departure, yet I continued to stand there, waiting for one more minute—the longest of my life—before descending the stairs. Taking the steps two at a time, I shook my head, dismayed. That was too close; we were getting reckless. Or at least I was, although I wasn’t exactly sure if I cared anymore.
No, scratch that. I did care. My thoughts veered to Leisel, my best friend. She was the only family I had left, and I couldn’t deny that I still in fact cared. I had to care, for her sake, because if I didn’t, she wouldn’t have survived this place, this world. Her dependence on me and my strength could grate at times, but then, I couldn’t fault her so completely. I had dark days of my own during which I longed to end it all, to eat a bullet, finally shutting the world out. Then I would think of her, and would be unable to go through with it. In a way, I guess you could say we were constantly saving each other.
We’d promised each other—back when this all had begun, when the world crumbled right before our eyes, taking with it everything we’d ever known, everyone we’d loved—that we’d never give up. That we’d survive no matter the cost, that we would always stay together. Always. Those promises had been hard ones to keep, and Leisel especially had suffered more than I. Daily, I hated myself for what she’d been forced to endure, for not being able to do more to protect her.
Reaching the dark foyer, I flipped the lock and pulled open the door, quickly backing away as Angela barged inside. She seemed frantic, a sheen of sweat glistening on her wrinkled forehead, and I began to fear that there’d been a breach in the walls. It had happened once before, during the first year when the walls had yet to be completed. A large group of the infected had managed to find their way inside, and were freely roaming the streets. But it had ended nearly as soon as it had begun. Our soldiers had controlled it, quickly and efficiently. Still, we’d lost people.
That had been three years ago. Three long years spent in this infection-free…prison.
“It’s Leisel,” Angela said, and my rambling thoughts came to a crashing halt. Grabbing the short, stocky woman by her shoulders, I lowered my face to hers.
“Where is she?” I demanded, the quiver in my voice laced with worry.
“She’s—they took her!” She started to sob, hiccupping sobs that I didn’t have patience or time for.
Still gripping her shoulders, I shook her hard. “Where is she?” I yelled. But Angela was still crying. I frowned down at her as annoyance and worry wormed their way into my panicked state. It wasn’t as if Angela and Leisel were close, yet the woman was behaving as if they were.
“Stop crying and tell me where the hell she is!” I shoved her backward, slamming her back against the door.
My body, that only moments ago had been heated by lust, was now humming with anger. Leisel was a mouse, a quiet little mouse who had never done a damn thing to anyone. She’d never once caused trouble in Fredericksville, always keeping to herself, barely speaking to even me because of that bastard husband of hers. She was a broken and beautiful ghost, my sweet Leisel.
“I swear to God, if he’s hurt her again…” I cursed under my breath, releasing Angela to begin pacing the length of the room.
Lawrence Whitney, Leisel’s husband and our oh-so-enigmatic leader, was outwardly charming and charismatic, everything a leader should be. He was what the people of Fredericksville had needed in the beginning, someone to put their broken world to rights, and they’d followed him blindly. But privately, with Leisel, he was a monster. Beating and abusing her, using her in every horrific way possible, simply because he could. Because he knew that no one could or would stop him.