Four (Their Dead Lives,1) Read online

  You don’t look back till you take every breath he has. His grip tightened around Kale’s neck.

  “She,” Kale choked and gasped, “she was infect-infected.”

  “No,” Evans growled, “she was one of us.”

  KALE

  Stay awake. Things are not what they seem.

  Outside on the main deck, Kale fought to keep his eyes open. He’d watched them bring Erica into the interior. Bit. Dangerous. Must. Stay awake.

  Miller walked past Kale. “What’s going on?” he asked the deputy.

  “Talk to me again and I’ll put those cuffs back on you,” was the only reply he received. Miller left the main deck.

  Bitter asshole. Kale stayed on his back. Howard snored viciously on the bench across from him.

  The interior of the yacht was dark. So much darker than out here. He wondered if they were killing her or trying to save her. He doubted there was any cure. So soon? No way. His eyes grew heavier, his head lighter, and his body went to rest.

  He forced himself off the bench and his legs carried him to the interior, and he passed the sleeping forms of Alec, Nicole, and Homer. Although he wanted to stop and check on them, he kept moving, heading right for the closed cabin door.

  From inside came a stifled scream and a thud that shook Kale’s bones. The door seemed to shrink with every step he took. He tried to stop and call the others for help, but instead, he kept moving, his feet padding silently along the carpet. His hand was outstretched, his eyes on the door.

  Tremors ran through his hand as it hovered over the gold handle. He briefly formed a fist before resting his palm flat on the door. A deep sigh and his fingers slid around the handle. Cold, so cold it sent a warm shiver down his spine.

  Another thud from within the room.

  Do it, Kale!

  The door blew open, striking Kale to the floor. He stared at Erica leaning rabidly over him. Blood covered her face and dripped from her lips. A chunk of human flesh rolled off her chin. She licked her lips and he could tell she wanted to devour him. Behind her, the white cabin room was covered in red. Blood was splashed as high as the ceiling. He saw Dr. Dylan crawling on the floor, reaching for something. With one hand, the doctor clutched his hollowed-out eye socket, while with the other he shakily reached for his eyeball rolling along the carpet.

  Pat was dead, eviscerated, on the bed.

  Miller was in the room. Evans tried to resuscitate him but the deputy choked to death on his own tongue.

  Kale’s view of the room was cut off. Erica pounced on him and struck for his face. He shoved his hands against her chest and screamed, kicking his legs in a frenzy. Drool fell from her mouth and her tongue flopped long and moist against his cheek. His fingers sunk into her face, the side of it blown open. He tried to shove her away; he tried to dig his hand deeper into her skull to destroy her brain, but he was too weak.

  He tried to scream but found no voice. His hands gave out and he realized she was chewing on his ribs, but he felt nothing. His vision blurred as a red chunk of his heart fell from her mouth.

  Get a gun!

  This thought blasted through Kale’s mind after he jerked awake from the nightmare. Shakes consumed his sweaty body. He fell off the bench and landed on all fours on the deck. He raised his head, his eyes locked to the dark interior. Get a gun. He remembered the shotgun in the bridge that belonged to the good doctor. He also remembered the night before when they reached the yacht, Dylan had held off the remaining horde as they waited for Evans and made their escape. He remembered how badass the doctor looked, blasting and yelling, “Get the hell off my boat!”

  Now it’s my time to be the hero. All infected must die. He snuck past Miller, who was leaning over a white railing and gazing off into the ocean.

  The shotgun was right where Kale expected it to be. He grabbed it, not expecting it to be so heavy. Sneaking past Miller again with ease, he entered the interior.

  Alec. Nicole. Jeff. All were still sound asleep. He stood outside the cabin door again, but unlike in his nightmare, he had control over his body. He could control his next move.

  Save them all.

  His world turned in slow motion.

  The door swung open, he heaved the shotgun and pumped it, the effort straining his arm. Evans charged at him, screaming his lungs out. Dylan fell to his knees with shaking hands. Pat peeked from the bathroom, eyes widening with terror. But Kale knew what had to be done.

  Erica was on the bed directly in front of him. There was no time to see what they had done to her, so he fired.

  Evans tackled him so quickly Kale wasn’t sure what hit him. Most of the spread had ripped the bed’s headboard open. Most of it.

  Evans slammed Kale to the ground and choked him. The doctors yelled something. Evans yelled something back. Kale choked out words but even he couldn’t hear himself. He finally made his point clear, yelling, “She was going to turn!”

  Evans’ grip tightened even as Dylan and Pat struggled to pry him off of Kale. “He killed her!”

  “Let him go, Jonny! It’s done,” one of them said.

  Kale’s vision spun and clouded, but finally Evans released his chokehold. Kale heaved and curled up on his side, bringing his shaking hands to gingerly touch his neck. He glanced at the enraged Evans, yelling, “She was going to turn and kill us all!”

  “No, Kale.” Pat knelt to him. His eyes were sad. “She was cured.”

  “Cured?” Kale repeated in disbelief. He swallowed. “Cured? How?”

  The impact of what he’d just done hit him as he stared at the bed — at Erica’s destroyed face — at Dylan and Pat doing their best to calm Evans — at this mess of his.

  And a sickness roiled within him. He clutched his stomach and fell forward on his knees. “I wanted to save us,” he sobbed. His eyelids trembled. His lips shook. Feeling the need to the need to justify his actions, he stumbled, “I—I...”

  “He killed her!” Evans screamed in rage.

  “Calm down, Jonny,” said Dylan.

  Kale collapsed, his face slamming to the ground. He heard the sounds of Alec and Nicole waking behind him, and heard Miller making his way to the scene. But Kale only curled, shivering in place, his eyes shut as he ached for that feeling he’d once savored.

  That feeling he had in high school.

  That day he saved his friends.

  That day.

  eight years earlier

  THEM

  The Garner family’s living room was bright, wide, and carpeted in a lovely shade of sea green.

  When Scot awoke, he shuffled on the couch, his dry eyes hard to open. He rubbed his short reddish hair almost angrily. “Did you guys even sleep?”

  Kale rolled on the carpet, his hand loosely holding a remote. “Dude, we watched Batman Begins again. How did you fall asleep?”

  Scot yawned. “By closing my eyes.”

  Kale grinned. “If it was my origins story, your eyes would stay open.”

  “Why would you have an origin story?”

  “After I save the world? Every good hero needs an origin story. Come on.” Kale waved him off, falling back to his chest next to Jeff. In front of them was a large flat-screen that TV that Scot’s dad had bought a few weeks earlier. Some cartoon was on.

  “Shouldn’t we be watching the news?” said Scot.

  “Why?”

  “See if they caught that kidnapper guy.”

  “Ha. I’ll catch him,” said Kale. “I’ll be the hero.”

  Scot ignored Kale and scanned the room. Wide windows surrounded them, allowing the morning sun to seep in. “Where’s Alec?”

  Jeff slowly pointed his fat arm at Scot’s driveway, never taking his eyes off the cartoon. He seemed half-awake. They never sleep when they're here, Scot thought.

  Outside, Alec was sitting on a brick wall, swinging his legs. A bright smile crossed his face as he talked on the phone.

  “Oh, Nicole, of course,” sniped Scot.

  Kale blew out his cheeks an
d sang, “Wherever Nicole may be, Alec you’ll see.”

  Jeff gave a light chuckle. “You sound like Yoda.”

  “Yeah, man, Yo-duh.”

  Scot lowered his head and sighed. “Lord, help me.” He glanced at his watch. Another hour before school. “How did you guys get away with sleeping over?”

  “Meh. I’ll deal with the consequences later.”

  Jeff scratched his neck. “Mom’s away on business.”

  “You mean staying at another guy’s place?”

  Jeff’s chubby face jiggled in displeasure. “Not cool, Kale.”

  “Sorry, Homer.”

  Scot, having enough of their silliness, hopped off the couch and went outside to join Alec. It was a nice morning — cold in the shade, warm in the sun.

  “All right, baby, I’ll see you at school. Okay, yeah, love you.” Alec hung up.

  “Whoa, you guys are using the ‘L’ word now, huh?”

  Alec hopped off the wall, landed right next to his friend. “We’re growing up.”

  “A freshman in high school is grown up?”

  “I said growing up, not grown up. Anyways, what’s new with Kelsey? Any progress?”

  Scot stared at the cement, puffed out his cheeks. “Trying. I can’t find the nerve to ask her out.”

  “Just do it, man. What’s the worst that could happen?”

  Hands tucked in the pockets of his pajama pants, Scot shrugged, his face reddened.

  “Don’t be shy.” Alec slapped his arm then flicked his nipple. “Man up.”

  “You already got the girl, so this is easy for you to say.”

  Alec smiled benevolently. “God bless America.”

  Hours later, Scot sat in the back of the classroom of his history class. Rows of nodding heads were seated in front of him. A few students focused on the old teacher ranting about the Norman invasion of 1066.

  Next to the scrawny fifteen-year-old was Kelsey. His heart raced whenever he thought she was looking at him. He wanted to look into those bright green eyes of hers. His courage grew. He turned.

  Instant deflation. She’s not looking at me.

  Kelsey stared forward at the teacher, clearly deep in thought, then peeked at a paper on her desk and made her move. The two teens, as they often did during class, were playing a heated game of Hangman. She handed the paper back to Scot. A six-letter word.

  As he wrote down letters, waiting for Kelsey to nod or shake her head no, a lightbulb went off. He successfully finished guessing her word, JAZZED, and was relieved he didn’t guess something inappropriate. He started a new game, pencil trembling as he drew each line. Keep going, you got this.

  In the front of the classroom, the old teacher paced back and forth, talking about something none of the kids cared about. Half of them were falling asleep, if they weren’t already in a boredom-induced coma.

  Scot’s pencil kept shaking and he paused halfway through his sentence.

  Just do it, he heard Alec say.

  Kelsey tapped her foot against the leg of his desk, urging him to hurry up.

  “One second,” Scot quickly whispered.

  Finished, he handed her the paper, fighting to calm his nerves. He was surprised by how quickly she picked the correct letters. His heart was in his throat. She knows already? His face heated. A minute went by and the game board was three-quarters full. Scot gulped, analyzing Kelsey for her reaction. She figured it out. What’s she thinking? Looking away, he fought to stare back, pretending to pay attention to the teacher, waiting for Kelsey to do something. Anything. Her hand touched his wrist, and the sensation brought heat to his face. Fighting to breathe, he looked into her beautiful eyes.

  “Yes,” Kelsey whispered, her smile beaming. She moved her hand to his, knocking the paper to the ground, revealing its contents:

  “m a y i t a _ e y o _ o _ t f o _ d i n n e _?”

  Distracted by her hand on his, Scot failed to notice another person reach down and pluck the paper. Tug Plowsky glared up at Scot and Kelsey with a devilish grin.

  “Scotty asked you out through a game of hangman?” The lanky teenage boy sneered, waving the paper around.

  “Give it back.” Scot lunged for it. A miss.

  “Seriously, Tug, drop it.” Kelsey whispered the order, her voice furious.

  “No, think I’ll keep it. Show kids around school how romantic Scotty is.” Tug Plowsky rammed his seat back, sending Scot’s desk against the wall with ease. How Scot hated Tug Plowsky. A stereotypical bully in his junior year of high school, Tug was attempting to pass history for the third time. Like most bullies, he cared less about the class and more about tormenting other students. Especially Scot.

  “Everything okay back there?” The old teacher mumbled, but within seconds she went back to lecturing. With her attention distracted, Scot lunged for the paper in Tug’s hand again. The larger teen thrust his elbow down, slamming into Scot’s shoulder, and Scot tumbled from his desk, crashing on the dirty classroom floor.

  Scot’s face burned red. Feeling all the students staring at him, he raised his hands to cover his eyes. He felt scrawny, small, and pathetic.

  Tug nudged him. “Get up, you’re making a scene.”

  Stand up for yourself. Do something. Scot raised his head. “Fuck you, Tug.”

  Jaw dropping, Tug’s eyes widened. “Mrs. Acedia, did you hear that?”

  “Scot Garner! Get back in your desk.” The old teacher inquired no further and lectured on.

  Scot pulled himself back into his desk, hiding from all the eyes on him, hiding from Tug’s chuckles, hiding from the girl he wanted ever so badly. Slumped down in his desk, he pretended to focus on his notebook, shielding himself from whatever expression was crossing Kelsey’s face.

  I hate today.

  “You’re dreaming, man.”

  “Am I? I’m pretty sure I’m standing here awake, Jimmy.” The stubby Kale slammed his locker shut, staring at Jimmy Miller’s pimply face.

  “Yeah, whatever. You’re not going to find him. If the sheriff can’t, how can you?”

  “I’ll find him. He’s a crazed maniac. They’re always found.”

  An abductor had been plaguing Green Hills for the past few months, kidnapping kids.

  “Yeah, in movies. In books. This ain’t those.” Miller smiled, showing his crooked yellow teeth. Gross.

  Does he ever brush? “Well, where would you look?” Asking Jimmy was pointless, but he wondered what the bonehead thought.

  Miller shuffled his feet as several kids shoved past him. “How about those woods by the coast? Lots of trees. Lots of hiding places. No one goes there.”

  Kale was surprised that Jimmy actually made sense. “This might be the smartest idea you’ve ever had, man. You should be a cop.”

  Miller kicked one foot aimlessly, his hands gripping his backpack straps. “No, I want to be an astronaut.”

  “But imagine if we found him? We would be heroes. Famous.”

  “I don’t want to be famous.” Miller looked out the hall at the sun, his voice dreamy, distant. “I want to be in space.”

  “Let’s go search today after class. We can go check out those woods.”

  Miller snorted. “I was kidding. Get your other friends and check it out.” He left for the open quad.

  “You mean my real friends,” whispered Kale. He shoved one hand in his locker. Without looking, he rummaged for his English book. I hate class. A kidnapper preys on our town, and I have to read about less interesting stuff than the poop I made this morning. He yanked the book out, slammed his locker shut, and left the dark hall, stepping under the sun.

  Jeff lowered the town newspaper to his lap, legs crossed on the grass. “He got another one. I don’t believe it.”

  “Who?” Alec draped his arm around Nicole’s shoulder. The three of them sat near the baseball field as the Panthers practiced for their next game.

  “The kidnapper guy. Third kid from Green Hills. Gone.”

  “How do you know it’s a guy?
” Nicole asked, placing a grape between her lips as she raised an eyebrow at Jeff.

  “Uh.” Jeff shifted nervously. I don’t want to be sexist. I don’t want to offend her. He folded the paper and picked up his crustless PB&J sandwich. I’ll just eat.

  “Relax, Homer.” She smiled. “I’m kidding.”

  “It could be a creature from the black lagoon for all we know.” Alec snagged the grape from Nicole’s lips and tossed it for his mouth. He missed. The grape bounced off his nose.

  “Dork.” Nicole kissed his cheek.

  “Thought I had that one.” Alec’s phone vibrated. He struggled to yank it from the pocket of his tight jeans.

  Jeff had yet to receive a cell phone. His mom wanted to wait until he got his driver’s license.

  Nicole bit a new grape. “Who is it?”

  “Kale.”

  Jeff watched a baseball player strike out. Annoyed, the player threw his bat against the cage. The coach yelled at him to take a lap. I want to play again. I was just getting good. Although slow, the pudgy teen was quite powerful.

  Staring at the discarded bat clouded in dirt, he yearned to pick it up, just as he choked on a mouthful of creamy peanut butter. His eyes watering, he looked back at the others, turning from the baseball practice.

  “You okay, Homer?” asked Nicole.

  Jeff nodded, needing milk to wash it all down.

  “Hey, tell me the meaning behind the nickname!” Nicole wiggled, excited.

  “Hang on, baby,” Alec interrupted, showing his phone to Jeff.

  Nicole smashed a grape against Alec’s cheek. “Rude.”

  Laughing, Alec kissed the skin to the right of her lips. “Can you get us some water? Please, baby?”

  “I’m not your servant.”

  “Please, please. I’ll try that thing you’ve always wanted to try.”

  Nicole’s eyes lit up. “Promise me.”

  “I swear,” he smiled.

  She jumped and jogged for the vending machines.

  “What new thing?” Jeff asked.

  Alec responded with a smug expression.