Date: 2016-03-25 04:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Zombies; Post Apocalyptic; Romance; Apocalyptic; Horror; Science Fiction; Dystopia; Survival; New Adult; Young Adult
Description: A zombie novel. For the past two years, Jules has floated through life. When the virus was released it changed everything about the world. Jules lost her mom and her home, forcing her to live with the father she barely knows. Now, even as society works to rebuild, Jules still feels like she doesn’t quite fit in. Then she meets Roman. Even before the zombies, he only had himself to depend on. Brooding and rebellious, Roman isn’t anyone Jules would have pictured herself with before the zombies came. But now she finds herself willing to give up everything to be with him. The attraction is too str

Alone

A Zombie Novel

Kate L. Mary
www.KateLMary.com

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Foreword

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Three

Chapter Twenty-Four

Chapter Twenty-Five

Chapter Twenty-Six

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-One

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Three

Chapter Thirty-Four

Chapter Thirty-Five

Chapter Thirty-Six

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-One

Epilogue

Note from the Author

Alternate Ending

Alternate Epilogue

Playlist

Acknowledgements

About the Author

Other Books

Ebooks are not transferrable. They cannot be sold, shared, or given away. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is a crime punishable by law. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded to or downloaded from file sharing sites, or distributed in any other way via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print without the author’s permission.

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are fictitious or have been used fictitiously, and are not to be construed as real in any way. Any resemblance to person, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2016 by Kate L. Mary

Edited by Emily Teng

Cover art by Kate L. Mary

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

For my husband, who shared a dream he had with me, which inspired this story.

Foreword

I don’t want to mislead anyone, especially not fans of the Broken World series, so I’ll be as upfront as possible. Alone is a dark young adult novel that, while set in the same zombie world, has a plot centered around romance. While I know this genre isn’t going to appeal to every fan of the Broken World series, I hope most of you will power through the romance so you can get to the world I’ve built. I’ve worked hard to create something that should raise a few red flags for readers, as well as make you question what the future has in store for our characters. In Alone, only two years have passed since the virus was first released, and the country is still in shock, but they’re trying to overcome. Some people are working to start over, while others are grabbing for power, and there’s a lot in this novel that will lead into the next few zombie books I plan to put out.

With that said, let me give you a little background about the writing of this book. Alone was the fifth or sixth book I wrote, I can’t remember exactly what order I wrote them in, and the first one I’ve taken the time to revise. (The others are still floating in the cloud, waiting for me to get to them.) I wrote this one sometime in 2013, during my early days of writing. It was after Broken World, but did not follow the same zombie outbreak. At the time, I was still living in California and still trying to find an agent—or get a book deal—and the idea of self-publishing was just a glimmer in my mind. I actually got the idea for this book from my husband. He had a dream that resembled the end of this novel—I won’t spoil it for anyone who decides to actually take the time to read this foreword—and he shared the idea with me.

With the success of the Broken World series, I decided this story needed some changes. First, the zombie outbreak had to match the one I’d created in Broken World. I originally wrote this story to have zombies who were still alive—kind of like 28 Days Later—but I was afraid that having two zombie novels with two different types of outbreaks would be confusing for readers. (Plus, I loved the idea of exploring how the world had evolved two years down the road.) The second thing that needed to change was the title. I’d never been a fan of the original, but at the time it was all I could think of. Since I’m notoriously bad with titles, it took me a while to figure out what to call this story, but as I thought about the characters and where they were in their lives, the word alone stuck out. Now, after having read the story through with that title in mind, I know I made the right choice.

I love this story. Even if it doesn’t do as well as Broken World has, and even if fans are disappointed, I’m glad I took the time to revise it. It has an innocence to it that the other series doesn’t have, but it will also give readers a peak at just how dark the world is becoming. I hope people read it. I want them to. But, if you choose to walk away because I haven’t continued the tales of Axl and Vivian, I’m okay with that too. After all, I decided a long time ago that I was going to write the stories I wanted to write, and not worry about who read them.

I will say, however, that if you do choose to read this book, you may be pleasantly surprised by who pops up in the story.

Kate L. Mary

Chapter One

New Beginning

Before the world ended, I was a normal girl who lived a normal life, just like most people in this country. I went to school, trying as hard as I could to blend in while simultaneously dreaming about the day I would stand out. I had hopes and dreams that seemed reachable, and a future that hadn’t been written yet. The world was my oyster.

At least that’s what I thought.

Now when I look back on it all, the memories from before are hazy. Like a dream I can only remember bits and pieces of after waking up to reality. The faces of the people I knew have slowly started to fade away, and the blurrier they get, the grayer my future becomes. Lately, it’s felt like I’m living under a storm cloud, just waiting for it to open up and rain down on me. My only hope is that this move doesn’t cause the cloud that’s been hanging over me to finally open up, because I’m not sure I would survive the storm.

The car that has been my prison for the last nine hours slows, jolting me from my thoughts, and I look up just as the father I barely knew two years ago stops in front of a gated community. Our new home.

“Here. We. Are!” He punctuates each syllable like it’s the announcement of the century, and I have to fight to keep my eyes from rolling.

This move may not have been up to him, but that doesn’t mean I have to be excited about it. The way I see it, moving to the middle of nowhere when we’ve been safe in D.C. for the last two years is not a reason to celebrate.

When I don’t answer, my father’s eyes flit my way. He shoots me a half-smile that makes him look like he’s in pain, but I work hard to keep my face as expressionless as possible. His smile tightens, causing the skin at the corners of his eyes to crinkle. I’m not sure if he doesn’t buy my indifference or he’s annoyed by it. Either way, I’m not playing along. Even though I’m slightly curious to see our new home, I’m not happy about the change.

My father lets out a sigh.

I start to twist in my seat, but before I’ve a chance to venture a glance his way, something slams against the car at my side. A shriek rips its way out of me, and my entire body jerks. A second bang quickly follows, and my heart mimics the rhythm, pounding against the inside of my chest like it’s trying to break out of me and make its getaway.

I face the window just as a zombie throws itself against my door for the third time, and this time I don’t try to hold in my scream.

“Stay calm.” It’s amazing how level my father’s voice is.

He reaches for the glove compartment just as the gate in front of us swings open, and two heavily armed men run out. Next to me, the zombie presses its decaying face against the window, smearing black goo all over the glass. It’s a woman—or it was, anyway—and her blue irises are barely visible in her milky eyes. She has her palms pressed firmly against the glass as she chomps her decaying teeth at me. When her eyes narrow, a shiver runs down my spine.

Is she studying me?

Her whole body jerks, and her eyes double in size. A split second later, the light goes out of them and she slides to the ground, leaving a streak of black blood on my window.

“Looks like they’re on top of things,” Dad says as one of the guards waves us through the gate.

My heads bobs when I find myself too shaken to respond. Even when my dad pulls inside and the gate is closed behind us, I can’t seem to calm my pounding heart.

It’s been a long time since I was this close to one of the dead.

Dad puts the car in park and rolls his window down as a guard approaches. The guy is decked out in riot gear, making it tough to tell exactly how old he is, but he can’t be much older than me. Eighteen, maybe nineteen. He’s big, though. Intimidating. The zombies in this area need to watch out.

The guy is smiling when he lifts his face shield, but it’s so tense it looks more like a grimace. His blue eyes are as cold as ice. “Welcome to Coastal Manor. What can we do for you?”

My father clears his throat and sits up straighter, squaring his shoulders as his lips pull together in a tight line. His typical authoritative look. It takes everything in me to stop my eyes from rolling. That look and I have become intimate friends over the last two years.

“I’m Jonathon Carmichael. The new Judicial Officer.” His voice is even stiffer than his body.

When the guard relaxes, the smile on his face finally reaches his eyes. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow! Sorry for being a little rude. We’ve had some trouble lately with undocumented people. We’re pretty much at full capacity, and they’re having a hard time getting the point.”

They’ve turned people away from the town.

The thought makes my stomach lurch uncomfortably. It seems harsh, but maybe that’s just the way the world is now. Harsh and unforgiving.

At least in my experience.

“You can head on over to city hall,” the guard says to my father. “Turn right at the first road and you can’t miss it.” He jerks his thumb over his shoulder as he talks, and I try to look past him. The only things visible are trees. Lots of them.

My father nods once but doesn’t thank the guy or really even acknowledge him before rolling his window up. He probably thinks talking to a lowly guard is beneath him. He just works the gate, after all. He isn’t an important government official like Jonathon Carmichael.

I try to force the bitterness away—there’s enough sadness in the world without having to live with all this negativity inside me—but bitterness is as much my companion as my father is these days.

“That is one of the many reasons they sent me here,” he says as he accelerates, sounding like he’s talking mostly to himself. “They need to get with the times. Despite being told numerous times that he needs to expand, the Regulator has resisted the idea. He’s turning people away instead of trying to figure out how to add houses. He doesn’t want to grow, and with our current situation that is totally unacceptable. If he doesn’t get it together, Atlanta may decide to replace him.”

When my father talks at me like this, it makes me feel like I’m back in school.

“You alright?” he asks when I don’t respond. He doesn’t look at me.

He never looks at me.

“I’m fine.” My voice shakes, though, giving me away. It’s been a long time since I’ve been fine and my father knows it. I’m not sure it’s something I can be anymore. How can anyone?

“It’s going to be different here, Jules. Not like it was in D.C.”

Different good, or different bad? I haven’t decided yet. It’s not like I’m leaving anything behind in D.C. other than memories, but here we’re so far from everything. The seclusion is terrifying.

“It will be fine.” My voice comes out sounding like someone is shaking me. Not exactly convincing.

Dad turns the corner and the town hall comes into view. The man at the gate was right, we couldn’t have missed it if we’d tried. The house they’re using for the city headquarters is the first one on the street. It’s big and white. Two stories. The kind of house that would have had kids running around in the backyard and bikes lying on their sides in the driveway before all this. Now there’s a huge hand-painted sign mounted in the front yard that says Town Hall.

My dad pulls to a stop in front of the building, and my stomach does a series of acrobatics that probably would have won a gold medal at the last Olympics. I force myself to get out, trying my best to ignore how jittery my legs are. It’s been years since I felt this unsure. My life hasn’t been relaxed since this whole zombie thing started, but at least it had become routine. Here, though, I’m not sure what to expect.

Things in D.C. were different. More…uniform. Regimented. From everything my dad has heard about Coastal Manor, there isn’t a lot of order to the place. The Regulator is playing too loose with the rules.

My father heads toward the house, and I trudge after him, keeping a couple paces behind so we don’t have to talk. Not that talking is a normal thing for us. He was never exactly there for me as a child, and his newfound role of single parent hasn’t been an easy one for him to adjust to. He was a workaholic before the infection, and there are some things that even a zombie apocalypse can’t change.

We cross the lawn and I take the opportunity to get a good look at the rest of the street. Every house has been converted into a business of some kind. There are signs that say clinic, school and library, as well as a few others I can’t make out from this far away. It looks like the street has been transformed into a town square. People walk up and down the sidewalk, moving between booths that are piled high with random goods, as well as in and out of houses. Occasionally, someone will stop to talk to a neighbor, making this place feel more like an actual community than anything I’ve seen in D.C. It’s a lot more normal than I expected, and it helps ease the twisting in my gut.

It’s nice. Almost peaceful.

“You coming, Jules?”

My father’s voice breaks through my thoughts, making me jump. I turn to find him holding the door open. He actually smiles—a rare sight—but it doesn’t help me thaw toward him.

I duck under his arm so I can step inside. Not returning his peace offering.

He sighs as he follows me inside.

We step into a large foyer. A staircase to our left leads to the second floor, and to our right sits a reception desk. On either side the doors are open, revealing what used to be the living and dining rooms but have now been set up as offices. Every personal item that used to adorn the walls has been stripped away, leaving the house feeling almost empty. They’ve done a good job of converting the space, but it still seems…wrong. Disrespectful to the people who used to live here.

I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to get used to a world that has been stripped so bare.

The girl sitting at the reception desk looks up as we approach, peering at us over a pair of dark-framed glasses. Her hair is dyed jet black and cut short, and has streaks of purple in it. Bracelets made of leather and brightly colored string cover her wrists, and she has more piercings than I can count. Both ears glint with little silver balls that go all the way up, and she has two small bars in her left eyebrow and a silver ball in her right nostril. In normal times, she would have looked out of place working in a government building. But normal times are long gone.

Despite the excessive piercings, she’s cute, in a funky kind of way. Her features are delicate and feminine, and her skin is as smooth as a porcelain doll. She reminds me of someone who, in days gone by, would have spent her free time protesting animal cruelty or hanging out in hip coffee shops on the weekends. Maybe she even performed spoken word on open mike night in some dark, little-known café somewhere.

“Can I help you?” Her tone comes out flat and bored, and she doesn’t even attempt a smile.

My father flashes her his most charming smile—his politician’s grin—and extends his hand. “Jon Carmichael. I’m the new Judicial Officer from Washington, here to see the Regulator.”

“Roz.” She takes his hand, pumping it twice before letting go. Her arm flops against her leg like she has no control over the limb, and her expression is just as lifeless.

Roz scoots her chair away from the desk and stands. She’s wearing a shabby plaid shirt, dark jeans riddled with holes, and a pair of bright, red Converse. Clothes covered with holes are a common sight these days, but I have a sneaking suspicion hers are more the result of a fashion statement than a lack of clothing options.

“I’ll tell Mr. Smith you’re here.” Roz’s mouth stretches into a wide yawn as she stalks off. She must be the life of the party.

My father doesn’t even glance my way once we’re alone. Not that I expected him to. I’m pretty sure he forgets about me sometimes, and these days the silence between us is the only constant in my life.

My eyes focus on my own shoes while we wait for Roz to return. I wiggle my toes in my pink Converse, savoring the familiarity of something as simple as shoes. They’re a lot nicer than most people get these days. A benefit of having a father in an important position.

Roz reappears a few minutes later, saving my father and me from being swallowed by the stillness. A man wearing a polo shirt and khaki pants trails behind her. His clothes are clean, but they’ve seen better days. Haven’t we all, though? Sometimes I feel exactly like the shirt he’s wearing: worn and faded and ready for a break. Pathetic at the age of seventeen.

“Mr. Carmichael!” the man calls in an overly enthusiastic tone.

“Mr. Smith, how nice to meet you.”

“Call me Rick, please.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

“Rick, of course.” My father returns the Regulator’s smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t have a sense of humor, and he takes work way too seriously. Mr. Smith will not be finding a new poker buddy in my father. “This is my daughter, Juliana, by the way.”

I’m an afterthought, like always.

The Regulator gives me a quick nod before turning back to my father.

Oh joy, another person to look through me. As if I haven’t gotten enough of that since my mom died.

With the exception of their indifference to me, my father and Mr. Smith don’t seem to have much common ground. In fact, going just by looks, I’d say they are polar opposites. My father is impeccably groomed, as usual. So much so that a person may not notice how worn his suit is or how scuffed his shoes are. It would be clear to anyone the minute they saw his perfectly in-place dark hair and immaculately trimmed beard that he was once an important and wealthy man. I guess he still is, as much as people can be these days.

Mr. Smith, on the other hand, is completely forgettable. He’s of average height and build, and is neither good-looking nor unattractive. His brown hair is cut short, but not too short, and his eyes are an unspectacular color of brown. Dull like mud. He resembles a Chemistry teacher more than a politician during zombie times. When there were Chemistry teachers, that is.

“Welcome to Coastal Manor! I’ll give you a quick tour of the place on the way to your new house, but before that why don’t I give you a little tour of the building?” The Regulator’s voice is enthusiastic, but there’s something about his tone that catches my attention. It sounds fake. Guarded.

I study him while my father asks a few questions, but there’s nothing about Mr. Smith’s answers that seem off. He’s perfectly relaxed and friendly. Professional, even. Whatever it was I thought I saw, it must have been my imagination running away with itself.

“Alright then, follow me,” he says, waving for us to follow him.

My legs move on their own, trailing after the two men who don’t even seem to notice that I exist. On the way out of the room, I sneak a peek at Roz. She doesn’t even look up. The silent boredom must be part of her persona.

We go through the former living room and toward the back of the house, with Mr. Smith talking every step of the way. The things he points out don’t seem that important, which tells me he just likes to hear himself talk, and he doesn’t stop until we’ve almost reached the kitchen.

He finally stops walking just outside a closed door, and when he turns to face us his expression hard. Like a statue etched out of marble. The Chemistry teacher that greeted us in the foyer has somehow vanished, and in his place is a man whose eyes swim with darkness. Is this a glimpse of who he really is? It’s impossible to tell. He’s so guarded that his face appears almost emotionless. Everything is smooth but his eyes. They crackle with fire.

His gaze meets mine, and his lips pucker as his eyebrows pull together, almost like he isn’t sure if I should be here. That makes two of us.

“I’m obligated to show this to everyone who decides to live in our town,” he says in a cold voice. “As a warning. We have a zero tolerance policy.”

He pushes the door open, and there’s so much production to the whole thing that I find my heart pounding in anticipation. My father and I lean forward at the exact same time, trying to get a better view of the room. When I do, I blink. It’s a bathroom, or at least that’s what it was. Now, a metal cot has been shoved into the small space.

What the hell is this?

I turn back to face the Regulator, and his dark gaze holds mine, sending a shiver shooting through me. Why does this once-upon-a-time bathroom make me so nervous?

“This is the room,” the Mr. Smith says.

That clears it up. My eyes twitch with the desire to roll.

I wait for my father to ask questions but he doesn’t, and my own voice is muffled by the questions bouncing around inside my head. The seconds tick by, and the shiver that had moved through me settles in my stomach.

“If you choose to leave the safety of our fence,” the Regulator finally says, “you go out at your own risk. We can’t stop you. Just know that if you get bitten and choose to return to Coastal Manor, this is where you will be placed until we can determine how the virus will affect you. We abide by the guidelines Atlanta has put in place, but I will not take risks.” His eyes grow harder and his eyebrows pull down, making him look even more sinister than before.

My stomach buzzes uncomfortably, but even under the intensity of the Regulator’s cold stare, I find myself trying to figure him out. His appearance might be bland, but I have an odd sense that he has darkness inside him that is desperate to get out.

My father nods, and Mr. Smith’s brown eyes burrow their way into my soul while he waits for me to do the same. I shrug, which must satisfy him, because he relaxes. The darkness fades and the mask returns, the Chemistry teacher coming with it.

His lips turn up into an unimpressive smile. “Okay! Now that we have that out of the way, we can check out the rest of the building.”

The men head toward the kitchen, but I back away. I’ve lost interest in the tour after seeing the Regulator’s little room of torture. Or whatever it is.

I head back the way we came, not bothering to tell my dad where I’m going. He probably needs as much of a break from me as I do from him. We’ve been stuck in the car together—just the two of us—for more than nine hours. Long for anyone, but torturous for two people who don’t know how to communicate without fighting.

I arrive back in the lobby to find Roz still sitting at the desk but no longer alone. A teenage boy, not much older than me, leans against the wall at her side. He has his arms crossed while Roz smiles up at him, making her even cuter than before. The bored girl who was sitting at the desk just a few minutes earlier has totally disappeared, and she actually lets out a giggle. The sound is lighter than air, which is such a stark contrast from her dark clothes that I feel like I’m watching a very bad play.

Neither one looks my way, obviously too focused on each other to notice that they’re no longer alone. Cloaked in relative anonymity, I allow my gaze to rake over the guy. He’s wearing dark jeans—also ripped—and a black, short-sleeve shirt boasting the name of some band that was long ago turned into flesh-eating monsters. A couple tattoos peek out from under his sleeves, and thick, silver hoops hang from both ears. His medium brown hair is just a bit too long, constantly dropping across his eyes. As I watch, he flicks his head to the side to move it out of the way. Normally I’m not a fan of long hair, but the messy, unkempt look suits him. When he smiles, only the right corner of his mouth pulls up—which is totally adorable—and his brown eyes sparkle with so much mischief that it’s visible from all the way across the room.

I can sum him up in two words: juvenile delinquent. It isn’t the dark clothes or the tattoos that give him away, but the expression in his eyes. I’ve known guys like this before. I’d be willing to bet money—or, more accurately, my government credits—that this guy had multiple problems with the law before all this. Maybe he even had a record. Not that it matters anymore. All that stuff has been vaporized, along with everything else that was once stored on computers.

When I shuffle my feet, they scrape against the floor, causing both Roz and her boyfriend to look up. Warmth moves up my neck to my cheeks, but I square my shoulders and walk forward, keeping my face as expressionless as I can.

“It’s you,” Roz says flatly.

The flirty, laid-back girl disappears, and she shoots me what can only be described as a look of disgust. Her top lip curls up, and her nose wrinkles like she smells something bad.

I guess we aren’t going to be friends.

“Sorry. Wasn’t interested in the tour.” I keep my eyes on Roz and off the guy at her side. She already seems to dislike me, and I don’t want her to think I’m encroaching on her territory. “I’m Jules, by the way.”

Roz shrugs, and her eyes flick to her boyfriend. Her mouth softens a bit when she says, “Judicial Officer’s daughter.”

My gaze shifts back to the guy to find his eyes raking over me from head to toe. Under his gaze, the hair on my scalp prickles and my feet seem to shuffle on their own as my heart thumps violently in my chest. It’s beating so loudly that I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy could hear it already, and the longer he stares at me the harder it pumps until it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.

“Roman,” he says when his eyes finally make their way to mine. “The illustrious Regulator’s son.” His voice oozes with sarcasm.

He doesn’t offer his hand or give me the half-smile I’d admired a few seconds earlier, but instead reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Real cigarettes. Not the bootlegged ones most people smoke these days. Marlboros. He sticks one in his mouth and then whips out a lighter. His eyes hold mine as he puts the flame to the end of the cigarette, and once again the hair on my scalp prickles. When the cigarette is finally lit, Roman takes a long drag before leaning back against the wall casually.

Roz laughs a little too loudly, making it sound forced and fake. “Your dad is going to love that.”

The corner of Roman’s mouth turns up again as he blows out a mouthful of smoke, finally tearing his eyes away from mine. “Like I care.”

Daddy issues. I should have guessed. Not that I can judge, I have a fair share of those myself.

Roz laughs again, and Roman’s eyes don’t leave her face. She has to be a couple years older than he is, but it’s clear something is going on between them. She leans forward and bats her eyelashes behind her funky glasses, and my eyes roll so far back in my head that all I can see is black. Please.

When they go back to ignoring me, I flop onto the couch and cross my arms over my chest. Even though I try really hard not to stare, I can’t tear my eyes away from the couple in front of me. I’ve always found people-watching fascinating, and these two are more entertaining than anything I’ve seen in months. The way she fawns over him, like some fan girl at a boy band concert, and the casual way he does everything, from taking a puff of his cigarette to flicking his head to the side.

Roman ignores me completely, but Roz catches me staring, and her face hardens. Not that I care. It’s obvious that she is going to hate me no matter how I act, so I might as well go all in.

Male voices float down from the second floor, and a second later, my father and Mr. Smith appear at the top of the stairs.

I sit up straighter. Roman is still smoking. This should be good.

Roman doesn’t even bat an eye, and he doesn’t glance his father’s way. The fact that he starts taking longer drags off his cigarette is the only indication that he heard his father coming. He blows smoke into the air lazily as if smoking in a public building is totally normal.

My mouth twitches when a smile tries to break its way to the surface, and I’m forced to press my lips together to keep it in. Roman’s eyes meet mine, and the corner of his mouth pulls up a little. He winks, and a shiver runs through my body.

“Roman.” Mr. Smith’s stern voice fills the foyer. The Chemistry teacher is a distant memory when this man looks at his son. His eyes burn brighter than before, and there’s an evil glint in them as he hurries down the stairs and rips the cigarette out of Roman’s mouth. “I know we’ve discussed you smoking in the town hall.”

Roman smirks, and his eyebrows shoot up, getting lost under his shaggy hair. His expression is the definition of smart-ass. “This isn’t a real town hall, and you are not as powerful as you think you are.”

Every muscle in the Regulator’s body tightens. He clenches his fists, crushing the lit cigarette in the palm of his hand. His right eye twitches. “You should be in school,” he says through clenched teeth.

Roman pushes himself away from the wall. “I’ll see you later, Roz.” He walks through the lobby without another look at his father, glancing briefly at me as he goes by. “Nice meeting you, Jules.”

He winks, and my heart stops briefly. When it starts up again, it’s beating so fast I’m sure it’s going to explode.

Chapter Two

The New Girl

I step out onto the porch and let out a deep breath, willing the ever-present pressure in my chest to lessen. It may be October, but the humid South Carolina afternoon is so hot it’s almost suffocating. Or maybe that’s my bastard father. It’s hard to say, everything pretty much sucks these days.

When the heaviness inside me doesn’t ease, I pull another cigarette out and light up. Rick doesn’t get to have a say in my life.

I take a long drag while trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my day. There’s no way in hell I’m going to school. What a joke. It’s not like there’s such a thing as college anymore.

I blow smoke out the side of my mouth as I glance back through the window and catch Roz’s eye. She giggles and shakes her head, and I tip my cigarette toward her before taking another drag. I like Roz, but the giggly schoolgirl shit is getting old. She was cooler before we started fooling around.

My gaze moves across the room to where the new JO’s daughter sits. Jules. I didn’t really have plans to switch things up on Roz, but a new girl in town is a new girl in town. Could be a nice distraction if things between Roz and me don’t work out. And Jules seems cool. She didn’t look disgusted when I started smoking in the house, and I even caught her smiling when Rick came down the stairs. Plus, she’s hot, in a subtle way. Nice smile with dimples in both cheeks—dimples are super sexy. Her dark blue eyes are sexy as hell, too. And observant. She watched everything going on between Rick and me, and she saw right through him. I can tell. No one ever sees through Rick’s bullshit exterior. But she did.

Jules runs her fingers through her dark blonde hair as I take another drag. I bet it would look real sexy fanned out around her in my bed…

A smile curls my lips. Hell, yeah.

I pull my gaze from Jules and find Roz watching me, her glare hotter than a blowtorch even through the window. I shoot her a little smirk, but the fiery expression in her eyes doesn’t fade, and her face is so red she looks ready to explode. I can talk her down, though. Or kiss her down, which would be even better.

I turn away and jog down the stairs, heading across the lawn. It’s almost noon, which means Mac will be getting ready to break for lunch. I have no plans to go to class, but rescuing him sounds like a good idea. Poor kid doesn’t deserve to waste away in that hellhole.

The sun pounds against the top of my head as I cross the street. My shirt is already sticking to my back, and it’s still early. Damn. I can’t wait until fall really kicks in. Although winter sucks big time. Just means more time stuck inside with that asshole dad of mine. If the zoms froze the way they did in the colder states, I’d look forward to it. Here, though, it just slows them down a little.

Maybe I should start thinking about heading to one of the settlements up north.

The house they converted into a school is massive—at least six bedrooms with a big, fenced-in yard. I hop over the fence and drop into the backyard, then sneak up the steps of the back porch. A set of French doors leads into the kitchen, and I pause outside so I can get a good look around. Jackpot. Carmen is alone.

When I push the door open, she jumps three inches off the ground. One hand goes to her neck, and she fans her face with the other as she spins to face me. The second she sees it’s me, though, she relaxes.

“Roman, you scared the shit out of me.” She purses her lips and shakes her head, but she has a smile on her face. “You skipping again?”

I lean my hip against the island as I drum my fingers on the counter. “I’m studying the ways of the world.”

“That sounds a lot more useful than what they teach here.” She lets out a laugh as she flicks her red hair over her shoulder.

Footsteps echo through the house, heading toward the kitchen, and Carmen’s cheeks get red as she glances over her shoulder. She seems worried, but I’m not sure of what. Me getting caught by Rick? She should know by now that I don’t give a shit. True, she doesn’t know what goes on behind closed doors, but she has to know that it sucks. Carmen and I go way back.

Still…I hate to get her in trouble with my asshole dad.

“I came to liberate Mac,” I hiss, backing toward the open door. “Tell him I’m outside.”

Carmen relaxes and rolls her eyes, waving her hand at me as she turns back to the counter. “Get out of here.”

Back out on the porch, I throw myself into the green wicker chair so I can wait for Mac. She’ll tell him I’m out here. Carmen works at the school, but she’s only nineteen. Just last year she had to listen to all this bullshit herself. She thinks it’s about as useful as I do.

Before the infection, Mac wouldn’t have given me the time of day—and vice versa. I was too busy skipping school and trying to piss off my dad, and Mac was too busy studying and getting ready for college. His name isn’t really Mac. It’s Chris or Jon or some equally boring bullshit. He was a huge computer nerd before the zombies. Got the nickname at school. Guess he doesn’t see the point in changing it now.

I pull out another cigarette but don’t light it. Instead, I close my eyes and flick the thing between my fingers while I wait. There’s a faint breeze, and combined with the shade, it’s almost cool where I’m sitting.

Only a couple minutes later, the door creaks. I crack one eye to find Mac grinning down at me. “Thank God you showed up.”

I knew he’d want to get the hell out of that place.

“You know I couldn’t leave you here,” I say, hopping to my feet.

The sound of someone laughing penetrates the French doors, and Mac shoots a worried look toward the kitchen.

Time to make a break for it.

I head for the stairs, grabbing his arm on my way by. “Let’s go.”

We take off, neither one of us saying anything else as we climb the six-foot fence. I go first, making it over without incident. When Mac throws his body over, something bangs into the wood, and he swears.

“Knew I should have skipped today,” Mac says, rubbing his elbow.

He’s thin and lanky, and a bit awkward, but he grows on you. Mac’s relaxed a lot since college has become something almost as mythical as unicorns and leprechauns. He even let his dark hair grow out. It looks suspiciously similar to mine, but I don’t mind a little hero worship. He’s fun to hang out with, fearless, and has a killer sense of humor.

“You should skip every day. Haven’t you learned that by now?” I flash him a smile, but he just shakes his head. He can’t fool me though, he knows I’m right. I chuckle and motion for him to follow me across the yard. “Come on, my bike’s parked down the street.”

Mac’s hair falls across his forehead and he swats it away. “What’s the plan?”

“Town?” I shrug as I pop the cigarette into my mouth and light up. I don’t have many left. Gonna have to do something about that.

Mac nods, and he doesn’t tense up the way he did when we first started going. We’re used to braving the zombies by this point.

We’re almost across the lawn when the front door to the town hall opens. I let out a growl and duck behind a huge azalea bush when Rick steps out, and Mac is right behind me. The new JO and his daughter follow Rick across the lawn. I can’t take my eyes off her. Damn. In this light, she’s even hotter than she was before.

Mac moves a few branches aside and leans closer. “Who’s that?”

“Judicial Officer.”

Mac raises his eyebrows suggestively. “His daughter’s hot.”

I smirk as I take a drag, blowing the smoke right in his face. He coughs, and the look he gives me makes me laugh. I’m sure it’s supposed to be tough, but it looks more like a five-year-old trying to stand up to a bully.

“Thought you were going after Carmen?” They’ve been flirting for a while now, but he’s too scared to make a move. He’s admitted to being a virgin, but I have a sneaking suspicion he’s never even kissed a girl. His eighteenth birthday is coming up fast. He needs to get moving.

“I am. But it’s always good to have a backup. Plus, she’s moving a little slow for me.” His tone is light, but his cheeks turn red. Sometimes, I forget what a nerd he was in high school.

Maybe I can help him out somehow. At this point, I’m afraid the guy’s gonna die a virgin. That would blow.

I take a hit off my cigarette and flick the ashes on the ground. “Good point.”

As soon as the car carrying Rick and the others is out of sight, I’m back on my feet. Mac hops up too, and we take off. My bike is parked just past the town hall, behind a group of palmetto trees where Rick wouldn’t see it. He was furious when I came home with the thing. Didn’t believe me when I told him I traded for it. That was a bad night. Just one in a long list of shitty interactions with Rick. Luckily, he let me off with a minor punishment because the bike didn’t run. I’ve always been good with mechanical things though, and it didn’t take me long to get it going. Rick still gives me his look of disapproval whenever he sees me on it. Or as I like to call it, his asshole look. Eyebrows pulled together over dark eyes, his lips bunched up. It isn’t an overprotective father thing. That isn’t him. With Rick, it’s all about control.

I hop on my bike, and Mac climbs on behind me. It isn’t the most comfortable situation for either one of us, but it’s a short ride. Just have to get to the west side of the community where it’s easier to hop the fence.

Mac leans back and holds on to the rear of the seat as I take off down the road. Houses fly by, and the humid air slaps me in the face, whipping through my hair. The faint taste of saltwater fills my mouth. The gated community is surrounded by marshlands on two sides with the ocean at the rear. As well-fortified as it is, it was the ideal place to set up camp when the outbreak hit. Just took a little bit of work to secure some of the more open areas and clear out the dead already roaming the grounds. Rick did a good job. I’ll give him that much.

When we reach the west side of the community, I pull my bike to the side of the road. Mac jumps off, and I kill the engine before pushing the bike through the grass to a group of azalea bushes where I know it will be well hidden. Not too far from where we stand, the community fence ends right where the marshlands pick up. We’re going to have to be careful when we climb over the fence. Not because of the zombies, although they’re always a risk too, but because of the gators.

Mac goes over first, spinning around the second his feet hit the ground, and I follow. Once we’re both over, we jog a few feet into the woods to the cooler we have hidden. It’s tucked under a bush and camouflaged by a thick layer of dirt. It’s where we stash our knives before climbing back over the fence. Weapons inside town have to be registered. Another one of Rick’s control issues.

“Anything to trade today?” Mac asks as he tucks a knife into his belt.

“Need some cigarettes,” I say as I start walking. “But mainly I just needed to get the hell outta there.”

He snorts as we head toward the road that leads into town, talking and joking as we go. We have almost two miles to walk, but it usually doesn’t take longer than forty minutes to get there.

“So you and Roz hang out last night?” Mac asks, trying to sound casual. He loves hearing all the filthy details.

“Yeah. Took a blanket down to the beach and fooled around,” I say, keeping it light. Roz gets super pissed when I give too many details, and she’s already going to be fuming about earlier. Just because I looked at another girl. “She’s starting to be a drag, though.”

I shake my head. Not sure what I’m going to do about Roz.

Mac opens his mouth to say something when the sound of moaning cuts him off. We stop dead in our tracks as we pull out our knives. My body tenses, and my eyes dart around, waiting for the zombie to reveal itself. It has to be close. We’re about a mile from town. Abandoned houses and woods line both sides of the street, so the bastard could be anywhere. Hiding behind a tree or a run-down home. The wind blows, and the faint scent of decay drifts toward us, making me grip my knife even tighter.

“Where is it?” Mac’s body is as tense as mine, but he isn’t scared. We’ve both killed hundreds of zombies over the past two years. One isn’t a big deal.

The dead guy steps out of the trees just as I shrug. His gray, rotting skin hangs loosely on his bones as he drags himself toward us. Every tear in his skin oozes black goo, and he’s so rotten at this point that I can’t even be positive that he is actually a he. It’s one of life’s great mysteries: why they’re able to get around the way they do. With as rotten as they are, I wouldn’t think they’d be able to move, let alone walk. Not after two years.

“Man these things are pathetic,” Mac mutters, walking forward and meeting the zombie at the edge of the road.

The thing reaches toward Mac, letting out a tortured moan. It’s a sound that used to fill me with dread. It used make my body tense and my heart pound. But all that stopped a while ago. When this thing started, I had no idea that two years would be enough time to adjust to zombies walking the earth. Somehow, though, it was.

Mac walks casually around the zombie, being sure to stay out of arm’s reach. The thing chomps and swings his arms toward Mac, but he’s too rotten to be much of a threat. Mac ducks behind the thing and gets ready to take aim. It’s the safest place to be, so we’ve gotten into the habit of getting behind the things to take them out. Up front, the bastard might be able to get his claw in you, and then you’re in trouble.

Mac jams his knife into the base of the zombie’s skull and up into his brain like it’s nothing, and the dead guy drops. Mac shakes his head as he pulls the knife back out. He plucks some Spanish moss off the ground and uses it to wipe the blade clean before tucking it away.

“They’re getting slower.”

I nod and turn back to the road. They are.

“They’re either starving or decaying,” I say when he falls in line next to me.

“You think they’ll start to die off?”

“Hell if I know,” I mutter. “Aren’t you better suited to answer a question like that? I skipped most of high school, even before all this shit.”

Mac’s shoulders bob up and then back down. “I was never much of a zombie fan. Computers, though… If they were cyborgs or robots, I’d have a theory.”

I snort as I shake my head. “Man, you were a nerd.”

Mac grins, not taking offense. He knows I don’t really think that. Maybe before, but now it’s different. That’s the only good thing about this whole zombie apocalypse: it taught me to see the world for what it really is.

“True,” Mac says. “But if all this hadn’t happened I’d be working for the NSA in a few years, and you’d be sitting in a jail cell somewhere upstate.”

“Guess I’m lucky that asshole decided to release this virus then.”

Mac smirks and looks at me out of the corner of his eye. “I could say the same for myself. Saved me from being a nerd for the rest of my life.”

“But not a virgin.” It’s a low blow, but he can take it.

He shoves me across the road, and I laugh, giving him a look of mock pain as I rub my arm.

“I’m working on it.” His face turns red, and he tries to cover up his embarrassment by saying, “I’ve been saving myself for the right person. Maybe that new girl is the one. You never know.”

I snort and reach back to pull out another cigarette but stop when I remember I only have a few left. “There are zombies walking the Earth, Mac. You get too picky, and you’re going to die a virgin.”

Mac swats his hair off his forehead and lets out a groan. “Man, that would suck.” He puts his hands together like he’s praying and lifts his head toward the blue sky. “Lord, please don’t let me die a virgin! If you grant me this one wish I promise I’ll go to church every Sunday—when they build them again.”

I scoff and shove him across the road. “He’s not a genie, you idiot.”

“He doesn’t grant wishes?” Mac’s face falls. “Damn. Gotta find me a magic lamp, then.”

“Or just grow a pair.”

We reach the outskirts of town, and I step off the road, heading down an overgrown driveway.

“I need to get some stuff to trade,” I say, not really having to explain. This is normal for us. “I’m almost outta cigarettes.”

“Hasn’t anyone ever told you those things cause cancer?” Mac says as he jogs to catch up.

“Cancer sounds better than the damn zombie virus.”

Chapter Three

Freedom

Roman and another boy duck behind a bush just as we step out of town hall. Guess he decided not to go to school after all.

After he left, Roz was blatantly hostile toward me, earning her a reprimand from the Regulator. Not really sure what ticked her off, but I couldn’t give less of a crap. Girls like her are almost as common as the walking dead.

We reach the car, and Mr. Smith climbs into the passenger seat, meaning I get the back. He apologizes, but I shrug it off. Not sitting next to my father is a relief.

“Sorry about my son,” Mr. Smith says once we’re all settled in the car. “Roman’s been difficult since his mother died.”

“Was it the virus?” My father’s voice is too formal. It gives away the fact that he doesn’t really care.

The Regulator shakes his head and frowns. It’s hard to tell for sure from where I’m sitting, but he looks genuinely sad. Guess he isn’t a total asshole. “Cancer. When Roman was ten. What about you?”

He doesn’t even bat an eye when he asks, and neither does my father. These days, people asking about the loved ones you’ve lost is normal. It’s become the conversation starter that replaced how about that weather?

“She was a doctor. When the virus hit, she was working non-stop. We still don’t know if she was taken by the virus or…”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, but he doesn’t have to. Or was eaten by a zombie is implied. My father doesn’t care, but just thinking about my mom and how awful it must have been for her makes my throat tighten. It was two years ago, but I’ll never get over it. It’s the not knowing that’s the hardest part.

The Regulator purses his lips. “I’m sorry.”

My father nods, but his shoulders twitch like he really wants to shrug. He probably does when I’m not around. “We were divorced, but I know the loss has been hard on Jules.”

Yeah, just like having to live with an asshole has been.

The men talk as we drive, but I tune most of it out. We pass a pool, which is filled with green, stagnant water, and Mr. Smith tells us that the clubhouse is now used for town meetings and trials. Apparently, it even has a few rooms that have been converted into jail cells. As the Judicial Officer, I guess my father will be spending a good portion of his time there.

After the clubhouse, we don’t pass anything but houses and open land, and I can’t stop thinking about what my dad said. About the Regulator turning people away. The houses here are huge. Stately. The kind that were once featured on the covers of magazines. They had to have been multi-million-dollar homes before all this started. And there’s plenty of open space here. They could add whole apartment complexes if they wanted to. Sure they’d need the supplies and the know-how, but that’s what Atlanta’s for. There’s a reason the government set up building crews: to make sure there’s enough living space inside the walls of the sanctioned settlements.

“We’re pretty full, so most of the homes are occupied by more than one family.” The Regulator points at a few houses as they fly by. “They’re big, so it’s usually not a problem. Of course, being a government official, you’ll get your own house.”

I keep my head down while I roll my eyes. My father will just love that. It’s hypocritical, criticizing the Regulator while accepting a house for just the two of us, but he’ll do it. And it’s dumb, too. No one is more important than anyone else these days. Not that I would try to tell my father—or Mr. Smith—that.

Dad shifts in his seat, and I raise my eyes just in time to catch him squaring his shoulders. “Well, that’s very generous of you.”

I knew it.

“This is my house,” Mr. Smith says, pointing out the window.

I sit up straighter when Roman’s face flashes in my mind. My curiosity doesn’t have a thing to do with Roman, though. Not at all. The pounding in my chest contradicts the thought.

“Turn into the next driveway,” the Regulator says. “We’re neighbors.”

My heart actually skips a beat. How pathetic.

Dad does as the Regulator says, and even though I was disgusted with the two men a few seconds earlier, I can’t stop myself from sitting forward as the car moves down the driveway. The house comes into view, and I almost smile. It’s even more beautiful than all the other houses we passed.

It’s two stories and white, with a porch that wraps around the first story. Everything about it screams Southern splendor, like something out of a Nicholas Sparks movie. There are large, live oak trees on both sides of the house with Spanish moss hanging from the branches, blowing in the breeze. Azalea bushes covered in purple flowers line the front porch. But the best thing about it is the water glistening in the distance. The ocean is practically in my backyard. It makes all my earlier disgust melt away. I’ve never lived near the ocean before, and as scary as this whole move has been, the beach almost makes it worthwhile.

The two men climb out, and I’m right behind them. Sucking in a mouthful of air. The salty wind stings my eyes and whips my hair into my face, making my heart pound with excitement. I’m ready to go for a swim or walk on the beach. Anything to get away from my father and be out in the open air for a bit.

“How big are these houses?” I ask, looking the thing over. It’s huge. Maybe I won’t have to see my dad very much.

Mr. Smith purses his lips. “Um…I’m not sure. I think ours is around 4,000 square feet. It was years ago that we bought it.”

He owned a house here? There goes my theory about him being a Chemistry teacher. There’s no way he could have afforded to live here on a teacher’s salary.

“What did you do for a living?” The words are out before I can stop myself, and even I can hear the disbelief in my tone. My father frowns, but curiosity flashes in his eyes.

“Family business,” the Regulator says elusively, waving his hand in the air. “Doesn’t matter now, it’s all gone.” He smiles, but his eyes harden.

My father doesn’t react, so I doubt he noticed the change in the Regulator’s demeanor. Not that I’m surprised. My observation skills did not come from him.

“Well, this is it.” Mr. Smith sticks his hands in his pockets and smiles like he single-handedly built the house. “Make yourself at home and I’ll see you in the office tomorrow morning, Jon.”

My father and Mr. Smith shake hands as I turn away and grab my bags. The Regulator yells his goodbyes, but I ignore him and head for the house. I want to get settled in and go for a walk. The feeling of being stuffed in the car with my father hasn’t faded, and I could really use some air.

The house is stuffy. Humidity and neglect hang in the air, and every breath tickles the back of my throat like I’m sucking in mouthfuls of dust. The former JO lived here, but it’s been several weeks since he died. The place has obviously been sealed tight since then.

“You going to find a room?” my father says from behind me, making me flinch.

He sighs, and it echoes through the house, filling the halls and rooms. Making the place seem small and suffocating. Stuffier than when I first walked in.

If Mom were still around, she’d tell me to give him a break. They divorced when I was four, but they stayed friends and she always stuck up for him. Emotionally stunted, that’s what she’d tried to tell me. He didn’t know how to show love because of how he was raised. To me it always just seemed like an excuse for him to be an ass.

I head toward the stairs without responding.

“We’re going to have to get an electrical crew from Atlanta out here soon,” my father mumbles as he heads for the garage. “They’re wasting too much fuel on running the generators.” Louder he says, “I’ll get the power on so you can take a shower.”

Thoughts of my mother still swim in my head, making my heart ache and allowing me to soften toward my father just a little.

“Thanks,” I call over my shoulder.

The word actually hurts coming out.

I claim a room at the back of the house. It’s huge and has an attached bathroom with a Jacuzzi, a walk-in closet like I’d never seen before, and a balcony that looks out over the water. The closet and dressers are empty—all the abandoned clothes were collected a long time ago and used as part of the rationing system—so I’m able to put my own things away. Living out of a suitcase is the worst. Even if I do only have a handful of things to my name now.

The South Carolina air is more humid than I’m used to, almost like living in a sauna. We left D.C. in the middle of the night, and it was chilly enough that I needed to wear a long-sleeve shirt. Here, though, the air is sticky despite it being late October. When does it get cold here?

I strip off my jeans and toss them aside, then throw open the French doors. Even though I’m not dressed, I step out onto the balcony. Salty air whips my hair back and caresses my skin, and my eyes close on their own. I exhale, feeling like I can breathe for the first time in…I’m not sure how long. Weeks? Months? Years? I honestly can’t remember.

Yes, the ocean is a huge perk to moving out in the middle of nowhere.

By the time I have the shower turned on, my father has gotten the generator going. In less than a minute, steam has filled the bathroom, and when I step under the water it’s warm and inviting against my skin. Even though I want to stay in forever, I kept it short. I’ve become the master of quick showers since the infection broke out. In the beginning it was because the water was so icy that I wanted to get in and out as fast as possible, but even after they got the power going in D.C. again, I kept it up. Preservation, maybe? Water use was never limited, but it always seemed like the thing to do. The government in D.C. never really disappeared completely, but things were still uncertain for a long time. I always felt better being conservative in the things I did after the initial outbreak.

By the time I’m dressed and headed downstairs, it’s after three. The windows on the first floor have all been opened, and a salty breeze is blowing through the house. I find my father on the back porch, reading a book.

“I’m going for a walk on the beach,” I say when I step outside, my voice firm. I don’t want him to think I’m asking for permission.

My father glances up from his book, and his eyebrows pull together. It makes my shoulders tense.

Mom.

I try to focus on her memory, but annoyance prickles through my body anyway, starting at my fingertips and working its way into my brain. Two years I’ve been living with this man, but I still can’t get used to his fumbling attempts at parenting. After all those years of indifference it just doesn’t feel genuine.

“I know this community is supposed to be secure, but I still don’t like the idea of you walking around by yourself when there are zombies out there.”

Even when he’s being totally rational I can’t help feeling like he’s just going through the motions.

I inhale slowly and focus on calming the fire that’s building inside me. Somehow, it works. “I’ll stay close.”

His frown deepens. He’s torn, and I know it. He’s trying to do the dad thing and keep me safe, but he also wants to make living with me easier.

I force my lips into a smile, and it’s so difficult that it feels like my mouth is doing a push-up. I have to strain every muscle in my face to make it happen. But being nice is the best way to get my way, and all my dad really wants is to go back to his comfortable life.

“I’ll be careful.”

He relaxes a little. “Keep your eyes and ears open. All the time.”

This time, I don’t have to strain when I smile because it isn’t directed at him. It comes from the freedom I just gained and the little bit of sunlight that has seeped into my future. Walks in D.C. were impossible, but not here. Here I can start to live again. Find where I fit into this new world.

I charge down the steps and into the backyard before he can change his mind. The second my feet hit the beach, I rip off my shoes and toss them aside, wiggling my toes in the sand. For the first time in two years, I’m able to pretend things are normal. Nothing ever felt normal in D.C. again. No matter how hard they worked to clear the city out, things still felt off. And it wasn’t just because I lost Mom and had to move in with my father.

I head down the beach, enjoying the warm sun on my skin and the cool breeze on my face and the way the sound of the waves lapping against the shore helps to drown everything else out. When I pass the small boardwalk that runs over the dunes to the Regulator’s house, I find myself craning my neck. The house is too far away to get a really good look at it, though. Plus, why do I care? Roman and I barely talked, and from what I could see, he’s pretty into Roz.

Maybe I’m just lonely.

The sun gets lower in the sky as I wander up and down the beach, stopping from time to time to look for shells. There aren’t many, though, and the few I do find are small and broken.

When I reach the wall that signifies the end of the community, I stop. It starts in the middle of what looks like a swamp and stretches about ten feet into the water. It was definitely constructed after the virus. The building materials are crude—although sturdy—and they don’t match the elegance of the rest of the community. Moans float over from the other side, and whenever the wind blows, the scent of rotting flesh is so strong it makes my stomach lurch. The hair on the back of my neck stands up.

The presence of the zombies brings me back to reality, making it impossible to ignore their existence any longer, so I decide to head back. The sun has already dipped below the horizon, leaving only a flash of orange and pink. Above me, the sky is dark and getting blacker by the minute.

My father has to be wondering where I am.

I haven’t even reached the Regulator’s house when the flickering flames of a bonfire come into a view. Around it, four teens sit. Laughing and talking. Enjoying life. It’s a strange sight after all this time.

I stop walking and suck my bottom lip into my mouth. Socializing has never been my thing, so I’m not sure what to do. It isn’t from the lack of desire, though. More from insecurity. But I’ve been alone for so long… Having friends would be nice.

One of the teens looks up, and a smile breaks out across her face as she waves me over. Before I even have a chance to think about it, my feet are moving toward the fire. The girl stands when I stop, still gnawing on my bottom lip like I’m trying to chew through it. Up close, her smile is friendly.

She’s pretty. Tall and a little overweight, but in all the right places, making her curvy. Her red hair shines in the firelight, and the freckles on her nose dance when she smiles. There’s a kindness in her blue eyes that makes my heart swell at the prospect of having more. It’s been so long since I had anyone to talk to.

“I’m Carmen,” she says. “You must be the new girl from D.C.”

I clear my throat, trying to find my voice. “Jules Carmichael.”

Carmen’s smile gets bigger, and she motions toward the campfire. “Come hang out with us.”

The three teens sitting by the fire nod and smile and don’t look the least bit upset to see me standing here, but still my stomach is full of butterflies when I take a seat on the sand.

A girl who can’t be more than sixteen waves from the opposite side of the fire. She’s a bit on the small side, thin in a way that can only look healthy on someone so young. Her hair is white blonde and cut to the chin, making her brown eyes look huge in her round face. She’s cute despite the sprinkling of acne on her cheeks.

“I’m Viki! It’s so nice to have someone new around here,” she says, raising herself up on her knees like she finds it impossible to sit still. “Seeing the same people every day for the past two years has been a total drag.”

The boy sitting next to Viki puts his hand over his heart and twists his face up into a pained expression. “I’m so hurt. Here I thought you were dating me because you really liked me, not just because you were short on options.”

Viki giggles and throws her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a kiss before turning back to me. “This is Clay.”

Clay bows gallantly when Viki releases him. He’s Asian and is probably a couple years older than Viki. He’s short for a guy, probably only an inch taller than me, but cute. In a subtle way.

“I’m Kyle,” the fourth person says, drawing my attention away from Clay and Viki’s flirting.

I almost gasp out loud. Almost. It’s the guy who stopped my father at the gate, and he is hot. Like Hollywood movie star hot. He’s tall and broad, and tanned and toned. His hair is bleached blond from the sun. His square jaw gives him a powerful look, but his blue eyes are just light enough to soften his features. He’s the kind of guy I lusted after—from afar—before the infection. And right now he’s smiling at me. Really smiling.

I return his smile, trying to control the fluttering in my heart and the way my skin tingles as his eyes rake over me.

Is he checking me out? No. That would be impossible. Guys do not check me out.

Before my imagination can go crazy, I force my brain to focus on something else. My eyes move over the others, and I take a couple deep, cleansing breaths. Everyone sitting here looks older than me except Viki. They can’t still be in high school, can they?

“You’re not all still in school, are you?” It would be nice to know someone when I go in tomorrow morning.

“Just me,” Viki says wistfully. “I’m a junior. Or would be if all this hadn’t happened. What about you?”

“Senior.” I can’t keep the bitterness out of my voice.

I should be getting ready for prom and filling out college applications. Trying to figure out what I want my major to be and dreaming about college guys and parties I’m going to attend. None of that will ever happen for me now, though. Or anyone else here, for that matter.

“Well, I finished last year,” Carmen says, tossing her red hair over her shoulder. “Thank God. I couldn’t stand going there every day. What a waste of time.”

“You still go there,” Clay teases.

Carmen swats at Clay, but he dives out of her reach.

When she turns to me, she shrugs. “I work there.”

I nod before looking expectantly at Clay, waiting for him to tell me what he does. He seems like the kind of kid who would have been voted class clown in high school. The one all the girls loved to joke around with and have as a friend but not date.

“I do stand-up at the bar on weekends,” Clay says, his expression totally serious.

My eyebrows shoot up and my mouth falls open, but he doesn’t blink.

“Clay,” Viki says in the same tone my mom used to have when she’d scold me for playing with my food as a kid.

A smile spreads across Clay’s face, and what can only be described as a giggle breaks out of his mouth. “I almost had you!” he says, shaking his head. “Really though, I work security at the main gate. I saw you come in this morning. I got to chop a walker’s head off.”

I blink, shocked at the casual tone in his voice. No one in D.C. was this laid-back about the existence of zombies. They’re dangerous and something we rarely saw inside the city, but definitely not something to joke about. Hearing Clay talk about killing one feels like listening to him relay a nightmare he had the night before. There’s nothing entertaining about it the way Clay seems to think there is.

No one seems to notice—or share—my shock. It isn’t any easy thing to let go of, though. I’ve spent the last two years hiding inside the walls of D.C., but these guys have practically lived next door to zombies this whole time. I guess they’re just used to it?

My scalp prickles, and I turn to find Kyle watching me.

“What about you, Kyle?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice even. His name is like silk on my tongue, and having his eyes on me sends my heart into a flutter.

“Security,” he says simply.

I wait for him to acknowledge that he also saw me at the gate today, but he doesn’t. And he doesn’t say anything else. Even though I’m glad he doesn’t brag about chopping a zombie’s head off, I still wish he’d keep talking. Only I don’t know how to get him to do it. I don’t know what to say to guys to keep them interested in me or get them to want to know me more. Even before the virus hit I wouldn’t have known, but nothing in the world really seems worth talking about now. There’s us—the survivors—and the dead—the family members we lost when the virus hit—and the walking dead. That’s it. That’s all we have left.

Footsteps bang against the boardwalk at my back, pulling my gaze from Kyle and distracting me from my depressing thoughts. The sound is too clear and quick to be a zombie, but my heart still stutters. The response is part of me now, like a nervous tic, and something I’ll probably have until the day I die.

When Roz comes charging down the stairs, I attempt to sink into the sand.

Roz stops a few feet away from the fire and lets out a big sigh. “Roman isn’t here?” she asks even though it’s obvious he isn’t.

“Haven’t seen him since this afternoon when he came to sneak Mac out of school,” Carmen replies.

Roz huffs before moving forward, stopping only a foot or so behind me. Keeping me safe from her glares for a few seconds longer. I don’t move, and I say a silent prayer that she’ll go away now that she knows Roman isn’t here.

When I glance toward Kyle, he’s staring at me. Still.

“I bet he went into town again,” Roz says.

Something about her tone is off. She’s annoyed or frustrated, I can’t tell for sure. Whatever it is, I’m so thrilled to be sitting here when she’s already in a bad mood. Her glares will probably be extra scorching. Like looking into the sun.

“You know Roman,” Kyle says lightly.

He’s still watching me, and the stupid butterflies in my stomach get more and more violent as the seconds tick by. Between Roz’s presence and Kyle’s gaze, I can’t help it when nausea turns my stomach inside out.

Roz finally plops down on the sand next to Carmen.

That’s when she notices me.

Her eyes narrow for a second before rolling so far back in her head that only the whites are visible. She even goes so far as to flip her nonexistent hair over her shoulder.

Carmen waves toward me. “This is—”

“I know who she is,” Roz says, cutting the other girl off. “Had the pleasure this afternoon.”

Carmen’s eyebrows shoot up, the other three squirm a little in the sand. I’m in the middle of desperately searching for something to say when the sound of my name breaks through the silence.

My father is calling for me.

Normally, I’d be annoyed, but at that moment I’m so grateful for his pretend parenting that I hop up without so much as an eye roll and wave to everyone sitting around the fire. “Nice to meet you all, I’m sure I’ll see you around!”

I run off down the beach toward my father’s voice without looking at anyone—even though a big part of me really wants to know if Kyle is still staring.

Chapter Four

Conflict

I raided the abandoned house where I store the stuff I’ve scavenged before Mac and I headed into town. Luckily, I was able to replenish my cigarette supply, as well as get two gallons of gas—which I left in the woods for safekeeping. Carrying it back sucked, but it’s my only option for fuel since Rick refuses to give me any of the gas he gets with our credits. He has more than enough for himself—with a couple extra gallons stored in the garage just in case we don’t get our monthly shipment from Atlanta—but he keeps a close eye on the stuff. The one time I’d risked taking a little, he found out. That was not a pleasant night.

Not that any time spent with Rick is all that pleasant.

The sky above us is coal black by the time Mac and I make it back to his house. It won’t be long before I’ll have to go home. Which is something I try to avoid. Sure, I can crash on the floor in Mac’s room if I really want to—I’ve done it before—but I can’t eat here. His mom doesn’t get enough credits to feed me too. I skipped lunch today, so of course my stomach feels like it’s trying to eat itself. Unless I want to starve, going home to face Rick is my only option. Which sucks.

Mac hops off when I pull to a stop, and I throw him a wicked smile as I raise my voice to be heard over my bike, “Hope your mom doesn’t kill you.”

Why he had the sudden need to feel like a man I’m not sure, but it kept us out longer than usual. Luckily, we didn’t see a single zombie on our way home. That’s how it’s been lately, though. It isn’t like the first year when we’d run into hordes of the dead. They’re more sporadic. Less predictable.

Mac shrugs but tugs on his sleeve like he’s trying to cover up the tattoo he just got. It doesn’t work. “I’m almost eighteen.”

“Remind your mom that.” I chuckle and roll my eyes.

Mac puffs out his chest and shoots me a comical grin. “I’m the man of the house. A little tattoo shouldn’t matter.”

“Right,” I snort. “I guess now I’ll be forced to go to school tomorrow, just to make sure you’re still alive.”

“I can handle my mom,” Mac calls over his shoulder as he heads to his front door.

I’m still chuckling to myself when I take off toward my own house. Sure he can.

The closer I get, the tighter my jaw becomes, and by the time I turn into the driveway, my teeth feel like they’re going to be ground to stubs. The house comes into view, and every muscle in my body goes rigid. There are lights on downstairs. Great.

By the time I park next to the garage—Rick doesn’t allow me to park inside—I’m so tense I find it difficult to stand. I take deep breaths as I cover my bike with a tarp, securing it with bungee cords to keep it safe from the salty air.

I pull out a cigarette and light up, then take a long pull. I need to be relaxed when I go in or Rick and I will get into it again for sure. I pissed him off earlier, and how much I’m going to have to pay is going to depend on how long he’s been home and how much he’s had to drink. Hopefully, he had a late night at the office, but there’s no way I’m going to be able to escape his wrath completely. The best thing I can do is try and keep my mouth shut so he doesn’t give it to me worse than he already plans to.

Easier said than done, though. I’ve never been one to keep my mouth shut.

I’m still not ready when the cigarette is gone, but the growling in my stomach tells me I can’t wait any longer. Rick is in the kitchen, and the second I step through the door, his eyes meet mine. I swear his frosty gaze almost freezes me.

Everyone in our little town loves Rick. He’s the Regulator who saved us all. Led the way when things first got crazy. Organized this, helped clear it out, got us in touch with Atlanta and D.C. He’s like a celebrity around here.

That Rick has never set foot in our house.

“You didn’t go to school,” he says, making me flinch. Just hearing his voice hurts me, like my body can remember all the pain his fists have inflicted on it.

I keep my head down as I walk to the pantry.

Just keep your mouth shut, Roman. Anything you say is going to make it worse. You know that.

Sometimes not responding works, sometimes it doesn’t.

It’s too soon to tell how it’s going to go tonight, though.

“You going to answer me?” His voice is hard and his words slightly slurred. Shit.

My back turns to stone, but I don’t turn to face him. “Was there a question?” The words sneak out against my better judgment. Typical. Sometimes I wonder if I’m a masochist and I just don’t know it. “Sounds to me like you were just stating the obvious.”

“Don’t push me, Roman.”

Don’t push him? Is he joking right now?

I know he’s not, but I almost laugh anyway. Over the years, I’ve tried a dozen different ways of reacting to Rick when he’s in a mood, and all of them seemed to push him. There’s nothing I can do that won’t push Rick, which is probably why most of the time I end up being a smart-ass.

I grab one of the prepackaged meals off the shelf. They’re Rick’s ration of choice even though he could get fresh food. He claims he wants to save it for the families with little kids, which just makes him more of a hero around here, but I’m pretty sure he only gets this shit to piss me off.

I’m fuming when I turn to face my father. “What are you going to do, Rick?”

I flash him a smile that probably tells him I’m begging to be hit, and Rick’s jaw twitches, letting me know it’s coming. I don’t even have time to brace myself before his right hook hits me in the stomach, sending all the air whooshing out of me. I literally fold in half, the meal falling from my hand as my whole body doubles over. When I hit the floor, the package I just dropped nearly pokes me in the eye.

Rick kicks me in the ribs while I’m still gasping for breath, which I should have expected but for some reason catches me totally off-guard. I wrap my arms around my body and heave, trying to get air or trying to force the pain out of me, I’m not sure which. Rick grunts, and I close my eyes, sucking in mouthfuls of oxygen while I wait for him to leave or kick me again.

He walks away.

I lay on the floor, counting as the pain inside me slowly begins to fade. It doesn’t take as long as it should, but not because I’m used to it. It’s that masochistic thing inside me. It has to be. If I weren’t someone who craved pain, I’d learn to keep my smart-ass comments to myself. I wouldn’t pick fights with Rick, or anyone else for that matter.

When the pain has finally faded and numbness has spread through me, I manage to drag my sorry ass up off the floor. My packaged meal ends up in my hands, somehow, but at first I’m not sure I still have an appetite. I take a couple cleansing breaths as I stumble out the back door, and my stomach lets out a growl, proving me wrong.

The light from the bonfire is visible the second I set foot on the beach, but I need a couple minutes to get my shit together before I head over. I pull out a cigarette, ignoring how shaky my hands are when I light it. The nicotine that fills my lungs is better than an old friend.

Things with Rick were never good, but the power that came with the apocalypse has made it worse. I think about fighting back from time to time, I’m almost bigger than him now, but something always stops me. Which is stupid. I could take him and I know it.

Just more proof that I’m masochistic.

By the time my cigarette is nothing but a nub, I’ve pushed Rick to the back of my mind. His bullying doesn’t stick with me the way it used to. It used to keep me up at night, give me nightmares. Make me afraid of my own shadow. Now, I can let it roll off my shoulders like a drop of water.

I toss my cigarette down and kick some sand over it before heading toward the fire, my almost forgotten meal tucked under my arm. My ribs ache and the tenderness in my stomach becomes more and more evident with each step I take, but it’s mild compared to other times. I have enough experience to know it will be little more than a memory by morning. With all the pain I’ve been through in my life, I’ve learned what will and won’t leave a scar behind.

“Roman!” Clay calls when I’m still a good ten feet away, flapping his arms like he’s afraid I might not notice them.

I wave him off as I scan the group. Maybe Jules wandered over… No such luck. Just the usual bunch—including Roz. Our eyes meet and I nod, but she doesn’t smile. She’s still pissed. Awesome. Exactly how I wanted to spend my night.

“What’s everyone up to?” Nursing my sore ribs but trying not to be obvious about it, I throw myself on the sand next to Roz. It’s better to pretend I don’t notice her mood and hope she gets over whatever crazy thoughts are going through her head.

“You just missed the new chick,” Clay says.

He’s a loudmouth who can never keep his trap shut, but he’s funny, so I put up with it. Getting him and Mac together—and a little drunk—is always a good way to kill some time.

“Oh Roman already met her. Didn’t you, Roman?” Roz glares at me over her glasses.

Real subtle.

I pretend not to notice her tone as I rip into my dinner, shrugging indifferently. My ribs ache from the movement, but it’s small and easy to ignore. I’ve been through worse.

“Hot, right?” Kyle says just as I take a bite of processed beef stew.

A chunk of meat slides down my throat only half chewed, and I start hacking. My eyes water, and I pat my chest, making my already-painful ribs throb, coughing like I’m on the verge of choking.

It’s partly an act, because Roz’s eyes are glued to me. But I’m also a little bit shocked by the fact that Kyle is actually addressing me.

We all went to the same school before the virus, but of course none of us were really friends. Kyle was quarterback of the football team and all the girls wanted him. He was a dick, of course. He’s loosened up a little since then—zombies eating your family will do that to a person—but for some reason he still doesn’t like me. I’m not sure what his problem is, but I also don’t care.

“Umm…” I let out a cough to buy myself some time.

How the hell am I supposed to respond to that? To be honest, Jules is hot. Roz’s eyes get more and more narrowed as the seconds tick by. She was pissed before, and I sure as hell don’t want to give her yet another reason to throw a tantrum. Damn Kyle.

“She was alright, I guess.” Even in my own ears it sounds like a lie.

Roz gets up in a huff and stomps off down the beach.

I look down at my uneaten dinner and then back over at Roz. I’m starving, but if I don’t go after her it’s over for sure. Shit.

“Hang on to that for me, will ya?” I toss my food to Clay as I climb to my feet.

I glare at Kyle before taking off after Roz. He’s smiling. He did that on purpose. Asshole.

“Roz! Wait up, dammit!” She doesn’t slow down, and I have to run to catch up. I grab her arm and spin her around.

She’s crying. Double shit.

“I saw the way you were looking at her.”

I clench my jaw as I jerk my head to the side to get the hair out of my eyes. Not that it helps. The wind blows it right back into my face.

Things have changed between Roz and me, and it doesn’t give me a warm fuzzy feeling. If she starts depending on me she’s going to end up getting hurt, because I don’t have a damn thing to give her or anyone else. Rick has made sure of that.

Still, Roz is a nice distraction…

I turn my face toward the dark sky and let out a deep breath, focusing on the stars when I say, “I don’t know what you think happened today, Roz, but nothing did.”

She doesn’t say anything, and I’m forced to pull my eyes away from the darkness hanging over us so I can look her in the eye. Her arms are crossed and her gaze hasn’t softened—she’s still pouting.

I suck in a deep breath while I consider my options. There are two: walk away or kiss her. Both sound good. Roz has gotten more and more clingy and it’s starting to get under my skin, but she’s also a nice distraction from how shitty my life is.

Thinking about not having anyone to sneak away with at night when Rick is pissing me off seals the deal. Plus, Roz isn’t nearly as annoying when we’re making out.

“You’re the one I want,” I say, grabbing her hips and pulling her against me.

Roz looks up, her eyes peering at me over the top of her glasses, but her body is still rigid. So I press my mouth to hers and run my tongue over her lips. Finally, she relaxes. She pulls me closer, and her tongue traces mine, making me forget my growling stomach. Bringing to mind a hunger of a completely different nature.

She kisses her way to my ear, biting it lightly before whispering, “Everyone is watching us.”

I smile and pull back so I can look her in the eye. “Does that turn you on?”

She throws her head back and laughs, and it reminds me of how things used to be between us. Before she started to need me. Things were a lot more fun back then.

Maybe option one would have been better…

My stomach growls.

I throw Roz one more quick kiss before turning back to the group. “I’m starving.”

She jogs to catch up, slipping her hand into mine. I’m not really the handholding kind of guy and it isn’t something we’ve ever done, but I let it happen. She’s placated for the moment, and that’s all that matters.

“You two kiss and make up?” Clay asks with a wink. Like he couldn’t see it.

I rip my dinner out of his hands. “We’re saving the making up part for later.”

“So where’s Mac?” Carmen asks, drawing my attention away from Clay’s cheesy grin.

She’s biting her lip, probably trying to keep her face unemotional, but it doesn’t work. I knew she liked him.

I shove a big bite of cold stew into my mouth and wiggle my eyebrows in her direction while I chew. Slowly. Carmen narrows her eyes, and I swallow dramatically, taking my time. Putting the fork back to my mouth like I’m not going to answer. She frowns and I can’t help it, a half-smile makes its way to my lips and I wink.

Carmen is the only one from our group I’d actually spoken to before the infection. We were never friends, but I was friends with her kid brother. James. He was a year younger than me, but we’d met at Saturday school. We got into a lot of trouble together.

Carmen was the older sister who glared at me when I came over to the house and accused me of being a bad influence on her baby brother. She was a senior at the time and heavier. A lot heavier. Insecure and unpopular. But the protective thing made me like her. Probably because I’d never had anyone to be protective of me. James didn’t know how lucky he was. Anyway, I had to work my ass off to charm Carmen, but by the time the infection hit she’d stopped being rude to me. We were actually together for the first few months. Carmen and me. Not James. The virus took him down so fast it made my head spin.

I swallow even though my mouth is empty. Two years is a long time, but not long enough to make me forget. Probably never will.

I ignore the lump that won’t quite go away and give Carmen a big grin. “Mac had to go home and face the music. He got a tattoo while we were in town.”

“Mac?” A smile turns up Carmen’s lips.

Roz starts rubbing my shoulders, and even though it feels good, it makes that annoyance creep up on me again. I ignore the urge to push her hands away and focus on Carmen. I want to help Mac out, but I don’t want to embarrass her.

“I think he’s trying to impress someone.” I turn my eyes on my dinner, keeping my face blank and my voice even.

Kyle snorts. “Who? You? I always knew he had a thing for you.”

Just like that, heat fills my body. I swear to God it feels like Speed Racer is making his way through my veins. My head snaps up, and my eyes narrow on Kyle. He sits up straighter and meets my gaze. He’s bigger than me, but I’d be willing to bet all my cigarettes I’ve been in more fights.

“Shut up, Kyle!” Viki’s voice is high and her eyes wide as they dart back and forth between Kyle and me.

Roz stops massaging my shoulders and Carmen frowns. But Clay—that little freak—has a huge grin on his face. I bet he would’ve been one of those kids in school standing off to the side yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!” while two guys beat the shit out of each other.

“You got something to say to me?” I spit at Kyle. My blood reaching boiling point as I get to my feet and take a step toward him.

Kyle gets up and cracks his knuckles. I swear to God, he actually cracks his knuckles. I have to choke back a laugh when he steps closer, but I don’t stop the smile that curls my lips.

Carmen jumps up. “Kyle, cut it out.”

Her eyes narrow when she glances back and forth between us. She focuses on me and bites down on her bottom lip, hard. I’m not sure if she’s worried about me getting hurt or about how badly I’m going to hurt Kyle.

She shouldn’t be worried about me.

I flash her a smile before taking another step toward Kyle and focus all my attention on him. “You sure you wanna do this? I’ll kick your ass.”

Kyle smiles and nods, not even batting an eye. He’s confident, but stupid. He thinks he has the advantage just because he’s bigger. He’s wrong. I can take a beating. Course, nobody knows that but me.

“You know Mac’s in love with you,” Kyle sneers, an evil smile lighting up his face.

I flinch. I can take him trashing me, I grew up with it, but Mac has never been anything other than nice to Kyle. Plus, everyone knows Mac’s into Carmen. Kyle is just being an ass.

“You know that’s not true.” My jaw clenches so tight it comes out like a hiss, the words pushing their way between my teeth.

Kyle just grins like he’s enjoying himself. Sadistic prick.

It makes me think of Rick, and inside me, the heat grows as everything turns a brilliant shade of red. I ball my hand into a fist and swing without warning, landing a punch on Kyle’s lower jaw. He grunts and lurches back. Pain courses through my knuckles and down my hand, but I ignore it and wait for Kyle to retaliate. He shakes his head slightly when he steps forward and rubs his jaw. His eyes harden as he moves even closer.

I see the punch coming from a mile away, but don’t even flinch. A fierce, white light clouds my vision when his knuckles make contact with my eye. I stagger back, but I don’t feel a thing. I will later, but right now the adrenaline coursing through my veins has blocked it out.

I blink twice to clear my vision before swinging again. This time, I hit him in the stomach. His hands go to his gut, and the second he’s distracted, I grab his shoulders and throw my knee up, right into his groin. Kyle falls to the ground with a groan, and Viki is immediately next to him. Clay stands on the other side of the fire with his hands clenched and a big smile on his face. Carmen just frowns.

Roz comes from out of nowhere and puts her hands on my shoulders. I shrug her off and head down the beach. My eye has started to throb—along with the injuries Rick gave me earlier, which I’d almost forgotten about them. I’m going to have a shiner tomorrow morning.

Shit.

I shake my head and let out a sigh. Why can’t I make it through a whole day without getting hurt in some way?

Footsteps pound against the sand at my back, and my shoulders tense. I can’t take Roz right now, but if I tell her to get lost, she’s going to be pissed all over again.

“Roman!” Carmen calls out.

Thank God.

I stop, waiting for her to catch up. Breathing heavily as my heart pounds like a bass drum at a rock concert. By the time Carmen stops next to me, my shoulders have relaxed a little. Not much, though.

“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” she says breathlessly. “Mac would have just laughed it off.”

I shrug and look out over the dark ocean, concentrating on the sound of the waves lapping up onto the beach. She’s right, but Mac shouldn’t have to.

“Roman.”

I look up because I know that’s what she needs from me—and I’m not a total asshole. Carmen shakes her head and frowns, disappointment in her eyes. It makes a smile creep across my face. Her expression reminds me of the look my mom used give me when I’d done something wrong.

“You know he likes you,” I blurt out before I have a chance to think better of it.

Mac is going to be pissed.

Unless it gets him laid, that is. Then he’ll worship the ground I walk on.

Carmen smiles, and the pink that spreads across her cheeks is just visible in the moonlight. “I know. I keep waiting for him to make a move. Kiss me or something…” She looks down.

I shove her playfully and wink when she tears her eyes away from the sand. “Guys like an aggressive girl.”

Carmen laughs.

My side is throbbing and my eye feels like it’s going to swell shut, so I turn away before she can say anything. Waving over my shoulder, I say, “I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”

“You’re actually going to be there?”

I nod in response, and it must be enough of an answer because a second later, her footsteps fade behind me as she heads back toward the bonfire. Hopefully, Kyle’s face will be black and blue tomorrow.

I walk past my house, not even glancing toward it, and continue down the beach without really knowing where I’m headed. I never go home until I’m sure Rick is out for the night. The less I see him, the better.

A light in the house next to ours catches my eye, and I find myself stopping. The balcony door on the second floor is open, and Jules is standing there. The wind blows her hair across her face as she leans against the railing in nothing but a little tank top and her underwear.

Even though my head screams at me to move on, I can’t. Especially not when a low aches starts in my stomach and works its way down.

Kyle was right. She is hot.

I’m leaning up against the wall outside school when I spot Mac walking down the street. I haven’t actually been inside the building—other than to rescue Mac yesterday—in a month, but I have two reasons for making an appearance today. Finding out how Mac’s mom reacted to his tattoo, and seeing the new girl. Even if I hadn’t seen her standing on that balcony last night, I would have been here. That just sealed the deal.

Mac stops when he sees me waiting for him and hangs his head in mock shame.

I laugh as I push myself off the wall. “That bad?”

“The worst.” He lifts his head, pausing for dramatic effect. “She told me she was disappointed in me!” I chuckle, and Mac gives me a big grin as he heads my way. “She didn’t even care. She would have freaked out a few years ago, but she said it doesn’t seem that important anymore.”

At least someone gets that times have changed.

Mac comes up next to me, and when I follow him to the front door, his eyebrows shoot up. “You going in?”

“Thought I’d get in a nap today. I haven’t been sleeping well.” I do my best to look casual.

“You mean you thought you’d check out the new girl.”

He has me pegged. “Just curious,” I say, pushing past him.

Mac snorts as he follows me inside.

We find Carmen standing in the foyer, helping one of the little kids tie her shoes. Mac straightens his shoulders and pulls the sleeve of his shirt up. He’s probably trying to look casual, but it doesn’t work.

“Morning, Mac,” Carmen says, smiling up at him. She shoots me a quick look before finishing up with the little girl in front of her. When she’s done, she saunters over to Mac and puts her hand on his arm. “I was wondering if you wanted to meet me at the beach tonight. Just you and me?”

Mac’s mouth drops open, and I chuckle quietly to myself. His lips move a little, but no words come out. After a few failed attempts at answering, he manages to nod.

“Perfect.” Carmen’s smile gets so big she looks like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland.

One of the little kids calls her, and she gives a little wave before hurrying over.

Mac’s face breaks out into a huge grin. “Must be the tattoo.”

“Sure, that’s what it is,” I say with a snort. “There’s nothing a chick can resist more than a nerd with an even nerdier tat.”

Mac frowns down at his arm. “It isn’t nerdy,” he mumbles.

“Whatever you want to tell yourself, my friend,” I say with a laugh. “I’ll give you some condoms after school.”

Mac narrows his eyes on me. “Did you do this?”

“I may have mentioned in front of Carmen that aggressive girls were a turn on. Is that so bad?”

Mac purses his lips, and it’s completely obvious that he’s trying to fight back a smile. “You’re a dick.”

He shoves me, and even though it makes every one of my bruises from the day before throb, I shove him back.

I open my mouth to say something else, but the words are cut off by the sound of the door opening behind us. I turn just as Jules walks in, and I can’t deny the tightening in my stomach or the fact that my pulse picks up a few notches when our eyes meet.

Damn. This girl is going to be the death of me.

Chapter Five

School

I’m so jittery when I walk through the door that I almost slam right into Roman. He’s standing just inside, laughing with another boy, and I skid to a stop less than a foot from them. They both turn, but for some reason I can’t quite explain, the only thing I can focus on is Roman. His eyes are so...captivating and serious.

“Juliana,” he says.

How does he know my real name?

Heat creeps across my face, which makes him smile, but he doesn’t say anything else. I shuffle nervously from foot to foot, waiting for one of the guys to say something. He just stands there, though. Looking cool and relaxed. Hot.

Wait. Hot? Why did that pop into my head? Roman is not my type. Not at all.

“Jules,” I finally manage to squeak out. That’s how it sounds. Like a tiny, insignificant animal making a noise.

“Jules.”

His voice is thick and smooth, and the sound of my name on his lips sends a shiver shooting down my spine. The corner of Roman’s mouth turns up, and his eyes trail down my body. Slowly. More heat moves through me, and once again I find myself squirming. The look he’s giving me is too intimate. Almost as like he’s been here before and is giving in to the memory.

The boy next to Roman clears his throat, and I focus my attention on him, eternally grateful for the distraction.

“You going to introduce us?” he asks with a teasing smile.

Roman returns his grin, and I get the impression I’m missing something. Like they’re laughing at an inside joke.

“This is Mac.” Roman tilts his head toward the other boy. “Jules is the daughter of the new JO from D.C.”

Mac bows in an exaggerated way, giving me a second to size him up. These two don’t seem to fit together at all. While I have Roman pegged as a juvenile offender, Mac seems more like a nerd—for lack of a better word. He’s tall and thin and carries himself with an exaggerated awkwardness. Like he knows his social status and has decided to embrace it. His hair is on the long side, like Roman’s, but it’s clear by the way he constantly flicks his head to the side that it’s new and he isn’t quite comfortable with it. Even the tattoo peeking out from under his sleeve screams nerd. It’s the Apple symbol. An odd choice, considering the company is now nonexistent and obsolete.

“All set for your first day of learning?” Mac asks in mock seriousness.

I smile despite my continued discomfort under his friend’s piercing gaze.

“Mac should really be teaching the class.” Roman’s voice is flat, almost bored.

I study him as he flicks his head, moving his hair out of his face. The gesture looks different than when Mac does it. It seems like an unconscious action, while Mac acts almost irritated by the hair being in his eyes.

Roman’s hair moves to the side, revealing an ugly bruise by his left eye, and without thinking, I let out a gasp.

“Where'd you get the black eye?” Mac asks.

Roman leans against the wall and crosses his arms over his chest. “Kyle and I had a disagreement last night.”

“Over what?” Mac snorts, but he doesn’t seem surprised. Odd. Kyle seemed nice to me…

Roman’s answer is a shrug.

He leans his head back and stares up at the ceiling like he’s avoiding Mac’s gaze. Like he doesn’t want the other boy to know why he and Kyle were fighting.

Mac lets out an exaggerated sighs as he shakes his head. “How many times have I told you to just let the whole team Edward thing go? You’re never going to change Kyle’s mind.”

Roman looks at Mac with a raised eyebrow, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“I mean, at the risk of getting punched in the face, I’m going to have to side with Kyle on this one. I’m team Jacob all the way. Edward was dullsville, but Jacob kicked some serious vampire ass.” Mac turns to me. “Don’t you think so, Jules?”

My mouth drops open and my cheeks grow warm at the sudden attention. Mac lifts his eyebrows while he waits for my response, and every inch of him looks totally serious. Like this is an issue that has torn families apart, not a silly thing from the past that never really mattered to begin with. At Mac’s side, Roman studies me with a little half-smile on his face.

I focus on the floor.

Yes, I’ve read the Twilight books. Even saw the movies. My mom and I always went together. But did I have an opinion on this…

“Um…” I gnaw on the inside of my cheek while I search for an answer, then tear my gaze away from the floor and say, “Edward in the books and Jacob in the movie?”

Both Mac and Roman smile, and fire spreads across my cheeks.

You are the biggest nerd in the world, Jules! I scold myself.

Mac was joking, but I’d answered him seriously anyway. Why couldn’t I have come up with something funny to say? Something like: Jacob, but only if he puts a bag over his head.

Mac doesn’t even bat an eye. “Roman is a huge Twilight fan. He’s read all the books and at least once a month he makes us all get together for a movie marathon. He even has a team Edward shirt that he sleeps in every night.”

I blink, trying to decide what to say to all that, but Mac doesn’t let up. He goes on and on about Roman’s obsession, and the more he talks, the more I find myself relaxing. Next thing I know, I’m laughing.

Roman, who is the butt of Mac’s joke, doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t look pissed off either. He just stands at his friend’s side with a smirk on his face and his arms crossed over his chest as Mac describes in detail Roman’s man crush on Edward Cullen.

Watching Roman stand quietly off to the side while Mac talks makes me understand him just a little bit more. He’s evolved. Things are different since the infection, and Roman has somehow figured out how to stay himself but fit it into this new life at the same time. Mac is part of that.

Carmen appears in the hall behind us and crosses her arms, putting on a mock frown. “Shouldn’t you guys be heading up to class?” She’s staring right at Mac.

Mac’s cheeks turn bright red and he tries to form a few words, but they don’t quite make it out of his mouth.

Roman laughs and slaps him on the back. “We’re going. Come on, Jules, we’ll take you up to the biggest waste of time you’re ever going to experience.”

Roman walks off without looking back, and Mac trails behind him. I smile at Carmen before running up the stairs after them.

Roman was right. School is a huge waste of time. It’s basically just Roman, Mac, Viki, and me sitting around, talking and pretending to read whenever the teacher comes back to check on us.

“Is this what we do every day?” I ask Viki.

She nods and shrugs at the same time, rolling her eyes. “Yeah. They have like, two teachers who go back and forth between the classes. It’s stupid.”

“How many classes are there?”

She purses her lips and looks up for a few seconds while she thinks. “There’s one class for kindergarten through third grade, and then another for like, fourth through sixth grade. I think. Then they have seventh, eighth, and ninth together. And then us. I think. Whatever, there are four.”

I have to fight back the smile that threatens to break across my face when Viki talks. It isn’t easy. She’s really nice and bubbly, but a total ditz. I have her pegged as the perky cheerleading type. Every time she gets up from her chair and bounces across the room, I find myself imagining pompoms in her hands.

Ms. Lloyd pops her head into the room, her eyes scanning the group like she’s counting to be sure no one has left. Since there are four of us, it seems a little like overkill. “Everyone working?”

We all nod, and Ms. Lloyd mimics it before hurrying off to teach the younger kids. I had the assignments she gave us at the beginning of class done in less than thirty minutes. I’m not sure if I’m done for the day, but I do know she is not qualified to teach high school students.

To me, Ms. Lloyd looks more like an old school librarian than a teacher. She has her brown hair pulled back in a bun—an actual, real-life bun. It would be completely out of place on her since she can’t be more than twenty-eight years old, except that she dresses like she’s in her forties. The denim skirt she’s wearing goes down to her ankles, and the pink, hideous cardigan looks like something straight out of a movie from the 1980s—complete with shoulder pads—and her glasses are way too big for her thin face.

My first thought when she walked into the room: cat lady. I find myself smiling as I picture the scene. Ms. Lloyd curled up on her couch on a Friday night, holding a glass of wine and a book while her fifty-two cats roam her one-bedroom apartment. Calling them her babies and making them little dresses in her free time.

“What’s so funny?” Roman asks, making me jump.

I turn to face him, and the second my eyes meet his, the butterflies take off, beating their wings against the walls of my stomach. I didn’t realize Roman was watching me.

I shrug as warmth creeps up my neck to my cheeks. “Just daydreaming.”

“About Cate?” He raises an eyebrow and glances toward the door Ms. Lloyd just disappeared through.

“Not like that.” I roll my eyes. Why are boys so gross?

He smirks and leans closer to me. “I’m not going to believe you unless you tell me what you were thinking.”

I sigh but can’t hold in my smile. There’s something about Roman that isn’t the least bit intimidating. Instead, I find being near him relaxing. Even with the butterflies attacking my insides.

“There’s this thing I like to do,” I begin.

“Now I’m really curious.” He tosses his head to the side to get his hair out of his face.

My cheeks are on fire, and even though his brown eyes are intense, there’s something warm and inviting about the look he’s giving me.

“Lately, when I meet someone new, I can’t help wondering what their lives were like before the infection. So, I turned it into a little game.” The scrape of chairs against the floor distract me from Roman’s gaze, and I turned to find Viki and Mac watching me as intently Roman is. “Um…so, I make up backstories for them based on what they look like or how they act.”

The butterflies’ wings flap at full speed, and to my horror, my armpits grow moist. They’re all watching so intently. What will they think? Maybe telling them isn’t such a good idea. What if they want to know my impression of them? What if they get mad?

“Sounds like fun,” Mac says.

Roman is still watching me intently. “What about Cate? How do you see her?”

I hesitate, worried that he might be friends with her and will think I’m a jerk. For some reason I can’t quite explain, I find myself blurting it out anyway. “Cat lady.”

Roman raises a pierced eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches.

“Cat lady?” Viki says, her face scrunching up as she tilts her head to the side.

Mac elbows her. “You know, crazy single chick with hundreds of cats.”

Viki still looks lost, so I smile and describe the image that went through my head while Ms. Lloyd was giving us our assignments.

A smile breaks out across Viki’s face as understanding dawns on her. She giggles and nods, her blonde bob bouncing with the movement. “That is so her! Now do me!”

I bite my lip and rub my palms on my pants. They are suddenly very moist. “I guessed cheerleader.”

Viki nods again, then points at Mac. “What about him?”

“Yeah,” Mac says with a wink. “Do me next.”

On the other side of me Roman chuckles, but I keep my gaze on Mac. My cheeks are already on fire, so the last thing I need to do right now is witness the insinuation in Roman’s eyes.

“Um…I guessed computer geek.”

Mac smiles and lifts his head high. “She got me.”

Not that it was hard.

“Now. Do. Me.” Roman says, his voice thick and heady. The sound of it sends a little thrill shooting through my body.

I lick my lips as I turn his way, my heart going crazy while the butterflies in my stomach try to burrow their way out. Despite how nervous I am, the words come out easily. “Juvenile delinquent.”

Roman grins and nods, but something flashes in his eyes that causes my breath catch in my throat. “What else?”

“What do you mean?” The words are quiet. A whisper in the silent room.

“Do you think that’s all there is to me?”

I shake my head and find myself remembering all the things I’ve thought about him since we met, which only causes my cheeks to grow warmer. “You have daddy issues, and you’re a smart-ass.” I pause and swallow. Should I keeping going?

Roman smiles. “Go on.”

He’s asking for it… “You’ve evolved. Figured out how the world works now and you fit into it perfectly.”

Mac laughs and leans over so he can smack Roman on the arm. “She’s got you all figured out.”

“What are daddy issues?” Viki asks.

“Never mind,” Roman says, uncrossing his arms and leaning closer to me. “You know all about us, so now it’s your turn to share.”

It feels like every one of the butterflies in my stomach drop dead at once. I shake my head and cross my arms, trying to protect myself. For the first time since I met him yesterday, Roman’s intense gaze makes me nervous. The thought of baring myself to him is scarier than anything I’ve ever faced.

“I don’t wanna.”

“It’s only fair,” Mac says.

Roman’s eyes burn into mine, and I squirm in my seat. What does he want to hear? I don’t want to tell them who I am. Mostly because I really don’t know and that makes me seem pathetic. I’m almost eighteen years old, and I don’t have a damn clue where I fit into this world.

“Just give us something small,” Viki says.

Roman is the only one who doesn’t beg, but he never takes his eyes off me. He looks…disappointed. Like he expected more out of me. I’m not sure what he expected, but I’d be willing to bet there isn’t a single thing about me that he’d find interesting.

“Fine,” I say when I can’t take him looking at me anymore. “I have daddy issues too, okay?”

Roman smiles and leans back again, looking satisfied. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever been in this room and actually learned something.”

“I still don’t know what daddy issues are, but I don’t care.” Viki lets out a huge sigh, and even though it’s slightly annoying, I’m thankful for the distraction. “What are we doing this weekend? We need to do something fun.”

“We could all go into town and get tattoos,” Mac says.

I tear my eyes away from Roman, who nearly had me hypnotized, just as Mac straightens his shoulders and pulls the sleeve of his shirt up to reveal the Apple tattoo.

“Where can you get tattoos?” As far as I know, this was the only settlement in the area that’s sanctioned by the government, and I can’t really see the Regulator allowing a tattoo parlor inside this fence. He seems too straight-laced for that.

“You have to go into town,” Roman says.

I roll my eyes, ready to throw a duh out there. “Where exactly do you think we are?”

“Not here. Hilton Head,” Mac says. “Part of the city has been blocked off and taken back. The people there have a trading post and some other shops set up. There’s a doctor who runs a small clinic for people living off the grid, and a mechanic. There’s also a tattoo parlor.”

A shiver runs up my spine, and I hold myself tighter. Why would anyone want to live outside the government-sanctioned settlements? It’s dangerous out there! Plus, how would someone even pay for a tattoo or piercing these days? There’s no money, not anymore. In a government-sanctioned settlement you’re assigned a job and you get rationed food and fuel, and you earn credits to buy other things you might need or want. If you live off the grid the way Mac’s describing, you’re on your own. Sure, I’ve heard rumors about people living that way—growing their own food and making their own clothes, or scavenging in abandoned homes and towns—but I didn’t think it was real. It sounds awful to me.

“How does that even work?” I ask, the tremor in my voice giving away how terrifying it sounds to me.

Mac shrugs like it’s obvious. “You bring things in that Hank, the tattoo artist, might need and trade him for his services.”

Roman pulls out a pack of cigarettes, and I lean forward, waiting to see if he’s going to light up right here in the middle of school. He doesn’t. He just holds it between his fingers, flicking it around.

“Seems like a stupid thing to trade for,” I say, imagining a scenario where I might want to exchange something useful for a piece of art on my body. No thanks. “Things are too tough to come by as it is. Plus, this Hank could provide a more useful service. Contribute to rebuilding society.” I just don’t get it.

Roman shrugs like it’s no big deal to him. It probably isn’t. “There isn’t a lot of entertainment these days, and this is the skill Hank had before the infection. He’s learned how to adapt.”

I blink and sit back.

Roman’s right, and what I just said isn’t really what I think. It’s how my father sees things. Just a few minutes ago I was admiring Roman for his ability to adapt, and then I went and criticized this other guy for doing the same thing. That doesn’t make sense. I’m not sure how I really feel about it, but I’m sure not going to rely on my father’s view of things to figure out where I fit into this new world.

“Well, I’m not going into town,” Viki says. “We need to figure out something else to do.”

“There’s nothing to do but hang out on the beach, so I guess that’s what we’re doing. It’s lunchtime. Let’s get the hell outta here.” Roman gets to his feet and stretches before popping his cigarette into his mouth.

The others stand up, so I do too. We’re only halfway through the day, and already I’m ready to get out of this room. But cutting class isn’t really me. Is it?

You don’t know who you are, a little voice in my head says. It’s right, but maybe living here will help me figure it out.

Chapter Six

Skipping

I light up the second I step outside.

It’s only eleven, but there’s no way I’ll make it to two. I’m gonna have to bail.

Mac steps onto the porch behind me. “You leaving?”

I take a long drag, sucking the smoke into my lungs and holding it in for a few seconds before blowing it back out. It floats into the air and gets caught by a cool breeze, moving out of sight. Just like any semblance of a normal life did two years ago.

“Can’t sit in there,” I say without even looking at him. “You coming?”

“Naw. Gonna hang out.”

I glance his way and raise my eyebrows. He’s looking at the ground, and his face is all scrunched up. He wants to ask me for a condom, I can tell. I take a few more puffs and wait, grinning at his discomfort.

Mac looks up and shrugs, and I chuckle. He isn’t going to ask. I reach into my back pocket, deciding to cut him a break. Poor guy needs it.

“This is all I got,” I say, tossing them to Mac.

The package hits the tips of his fingers and bounces off, landing on the porch just as Jules walks out. Her eyes flick down and get huge when she sees what they are, and Mac’s face turns bright red. I laugh my ass off as he scrambles to pick them up.

“Thanks a lot,” he mutters as he shoves them in his pocket and turns to go back inside.

“You don’t sound very thankful!” I yell after him, still laughing.

Jules frowns and tilts her head to the side. “Do you enjoy embarrassing him?”

I blow out a puff of smoke, watching her. She’s an interesting person. Very observant when it comes to others, but I have a feeling she pays more attention to the people around her than she does herself.

“He’ll forget all about it when Carmen’s straddling him tonight.”

Her eyes get even bigger, and she looks away. She shuffles her feet as she chews on her bottom lip. It’s kind of hot.

“You want someone else to bite that lip for a change?” The words pop out before I have a chance to think about it, and for a nanosecond, I regret it. She seems a little jumpy, and upsetting her isn’t my goal here.

Exactly what is your goal, Roman? Not a clue.

Surprisingly, Jules doesn’t seem embarrassed. If anything, the way she tilts her head to the side and studies me makes it seem like she’s actually gained a little confidence.

“I thought you were with Roz?”

I keep my face blank, but inside I’m cursing Roz. Why does she need to throw herself all over me? She knows how I feel about the relationship thing, and she said she was cool with that, but now she’s clinging to me… Pisses me off.

Jules doesn’t take her eyes off me, and the longer she stares the more I want to get to know her. There’s something about this girl that intrigues me. I couldn’t get her out of my mind last night after seeing her on the balcony, and listening to her describe everyone in class today… She has me hooked.

“We’re just hanging out,” I say, shrugging.

Jules narrows her eyes on my face. “She doesn’t seem to think so.”

I finish off my cigarette and toss it to the ground, snubbing it out with the toe of my shoe. “I never made her any promises.” It has to sound callous, but I won’t lie. Roz and I had an agreement. She’s the one going back on it.

Jules nods, and even better, she seems to understand. “How often do you go into the unsanctioned town?”

I give her a half-smile as I lean my hip against the railing. “Couple times a week. There isn’t a whole lot to do around here, and going to town offers some diversity.”

Can she really understand how trapped I feel here? Doubtful.

The people in town only have electricity on a semi-regular basis, and food is harder to come by. They don’t get rations from the government, and for most of them, hygiene isn’t a priority. But they have a kind freedom we don’t. A kind I’ve never had. Here, in Coastal Manor, the government in Atlanta dictates most of what happens. Rick determines the rest.

Jules’s gaze moves past me, back toward the French doors that lead into the kitchen. “Are you going back to school?”

“I can’t stomach being in there for too long.”

Her teeth sink deeper into her bottom lip, which is so distracting I find my head spinning. I should tell her to stop, both because I’m afraid she’s going to make it bleed and because it’s driving me nuts, but there’s a part of me that doesn’t want her to.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, moving her blue eyes over my face.

“Head down to the beach. Take a nap. Anything’s better than sitting in there.” Her eyes flicker to the ground and then back up to me, over and over again like she’s trying to work up the courage to say something. “Did you want to come?”

No way she’s going to say yes. She doesn’t seem like the school-skipping type.

“Would you mind?” she asks, hesitantly, a small smile lighting up her face.

A thrill goes through me, and right away I start thinking about her sitting on the back of my bike with her arms wrapped around my waist…

Shit. I have to get myself under control.

I flick my hair out of my eyes, trying to play it cool even though my heart is pounding. “Sure. Come on.”

I head down the stairs without looking back, and her footsteps running to catch up keeps pace with my heart. When we reach the fence I climb over first, then turn to see if Jules needs help. She makes it to the top on her own, and on impulse, I grab her hips to help her down. The curve of her waist against my palms feels unbelievable.

Jules jumps, and my hands are still on her when her feet hit the ground. She looks up, and a pink glow spreads across her cheeks when her eyes meet mine. “Thanks,” she says a little breathlessly.

“Sure thing.” I drop my hands to my side and keep walking. My palms are warm from touching her, and flexing my fingers into a fist doesn’t help erase the memory of the feeling.

This girl…

My hands are empty—something I can’t stand—so I take out another cigarette.

“You smoke a lot,” Jules says, falling into pace at my side.

The corner of my mouth turns up, and I watch her out of the corner of my eye. Her eyes are on me, but she doesn’t seem disgusted or judgmental. Just curious.

“Something to do.”

“Aren’t there enough ways to die these days?”

I laugh and turn my head to face her, lifting an eyebrow. “If you really think about it, there are actually fewer ways to get yourself killed now. No air travel, so you won’t get into a plane crash. Fewer people means fewer cars, so the odds of a car accident are pretty low. Also means that your chances of getting murdered are lower too. Way I see it, between zombies and smoking, I’m up at least one.”

Jules laughs as she shakes her head, and her light brown hair swishes across her shoulders. “I was right. You’ve evolved.” She pauses and once again sinks her teeth into her lip. Damn. She has got to stop doing that. “I’m sorry about earlier. All the stuff I said about you being a delinquent and having daddy issues. Calling you a smart-ass. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“Doesn’t matter. It was all true and I’m not one to bury my head in the sand.”

I don’t tell her that it’s actually a relief to hear someone say it out loud. People are too damn scared to tell the truth. She isn’t. I like that.

When we reach the azalea bushes, I duck behind them and push out my bike.

Jules mouth drops open. “I’ve never been on a motorcycle.”

“There’s a first time for everything…” I let my eyes trail to her lips when I say it, and just like before, her cheeks turn red. She looks away. I chuckle and throw my leg over the bike. “Hop on.”

Jules acts like she’s afraid the thing is going to bite her when she climbs on. I start the engine and her hands go to my shoulders, but she’s barely touching me. Is it because she doesn’t want to get too close? Too bad, because I want her close to me. I smile as I accelerate, and the bike jerks forward just enough to throw her off balance. Behind me, Jules lets out a little squeal and squeezes my shoulders tighter.

“You okay back there?” I ask, trying not to let my voice shake with laughter.

“Yes,” she says in a trembling voice.

“Why don’t you put your arms around my waist?”

She doesn’t answer, but she does wrap her arms around my waist. I accelerate again, this time moving off the grass and onto the street. Jules hugs me tighter when I speed up, pressing her breasts against my back.

Damn Roz.

I cruise down the street, enjoying the way the wind moves through my hair and the closeness of the girl behind me. The air is cooler than it was just a week ago. Maybe fall is finally coming. It’s hard to tell in South Carolina, though. Thanks to the humidity, it could be warm well into November.

Less than two minutes after I take off, I turn onto my street but drive past my house. When the road ends, I come to a stop right in front of a boardwalk that stretches out over the dunes and leads to the beach.

Jules hops down and takes a few steps toward the stairs. The wind whips across the dunes, and she closes her eyes, tilting her face up to allow the air to caress her skin. The wind lifts her blonde hair, wrapping it around her face and neck. I take a step toward her without thinking and reach out, sweeping my hand across her forehead so I can tuck her hair behind her ear.

The smile that lights up her face makes my heart stutter in a way I’ve never felt before. “I love it here, it’s so beautiful.”

Her words suck the lightness from my mood, and every muscle in my body tightens. My hand falls to my side, slapping against my thigh with a thud. “Yeah, it’s just swell.”

“What did I say wrong?” she asks, her own smile melting away.

“Nothing, forget it.” I move toward the boardwalk, hopping up the steps and heading for the beach.

Her footsteps pound across the wood, right on my heels.

She catches up to me just as I step onto the sand and grabs my arm. “Roman, I—” Lets out a deep sigh. “I get it. I mean, I think I do. Your dad is—”

Something about the way she’s looking at me causes all my walls to drop, and suddenly the truth is spilling out of me. “Rick’s an ass, okay? Everybody thinks he’s this great man. He did all this.” I put my arms up and motion around us in an exaggerated way. “They love him here, but he’s an ass.” There’s no other way to explain it to her. I’ve never told anybody about the beatings, not before the infection and not since. I press my lips together when my jaw clenches. “Just forget it.”

I turn away, feeling like a child who’s pouting for not getting his way. My feet sink into the sand, and the wind howls across the beach, whipping my hair around. I don’t stop until I’m standing in front of the old lifeguard stand. The wind is furious as I climb—a storm must be coming in. My eyes sting, and I blink a few times, trying to clear out the sand. That’s what it has to be from—the sand and the salt. I don’t cry.

Of course, the sand doesn’t explain the lump in my throat.

When I reach the top, I settle in before pulling out a cigarette. I try to light it with shaky hands, but the wind is too strong. Or maybe my hands are too shaky, I’m not sure. Either way, I won’t be smoking now. My fingers itch to stay busy, but I have nothing to do.

Jules climbs up and settles in next to me. I scoot over without a word.

“Living in D.C.…” she says, just audible over the waves and the wind. “It was like being in a horror movie. It was bad enough in the beginning when the zombies were new, but once they started shipping all the prisoners there it just got scarier. But this, living here—I can almost convince myself that life is normal again. That there are no zombies.”

She gives me a shy smile, and not for the first time, it goes straight to my chest. God, why am I so attracted to this girl? I barely know her and she sure as hell isn’t my type. But this is something I’ve never experienced. With Roz, I wanted nothing more than to get her clothes off. But not Jules. I do want her clothes off, but I also want to know what she’s thinking. I don’t give a damn what’s going through Roz’s head.

“I thought they’d cleaned D.C. out?” I don’t pay a lot of attention to current events, but I have read a few stories in the National Newspaper. The government is pretty adamant that all eight of the sanctioned settlements have been cleaned out. That they’re safe for survivors. According to Atlanta and the CDC, we’re on our way to wiping out all the zombies on the East Coast.

“They exaggerated.” Jules shakes her head, but she doesn’t look bitter or even upset about it. Strange, I’d be pissed. “They’ve done a good job, but it’s a big area and you just never knew what was around the corner.”

She shivers, but I’m not sure if it’s from the cool ocean air or the memory. Either way, I have the urge to put my arm around her.

That could be overstepping, though.

We’re both quiet for a moment, looking out over the water.

Jules looks my way a few times before saying, “That’s one of the reasons they decided to turn D.C. into a prison settlement. The capital had already been moved to Atlanta because of the CDC, and it was just too hard to keep tabs on an area as big as D.C.”

“And they don’t give a damn if the assholes they send there get bitten,” I say, shaking my head. The justice system is a twisted version of what it once was.

“Yeah.” Jules pushes her hair out of her face, her eyes on me.

Having her study me suddenly feels terrifying, so I occupy myself with one of the frayed holes in my jeans, plucking at the loose strings while I try to keep my hands busy. I’m itching for a cigarette. Especially with her looking at me like that.

“When they first got the walls up, I could go back and forth between home and school, but only using public transportation. Otherwise, I couldn’t go out on my own. I had to be with my father.” She swallows and glances away, out over the water. Her eyes move with the waves, sweeping back and forth. “Some of the kids I knew at school were allowed to go out in groups as long as they stuck to certain areas.”

“Your father didn’t let you go out with your friends?”

My fingers pick at the strings, but my eyes are on her face when it scrunches up.

She shakes her head. “I didn’t have any friends.”

“Did they all get killed from the virus?” It isn’t unheard of. All of mine did. Of course, I’ve made new friends. Evolved, as she put it. Not everyone has that ability, I guess.

“I never really had any…” She turns her eyes to her hands, flexing her fingers like she’s testing to see if they work. “I’ve always been pretty shy and…insecure. Making friends has never been easy for me.”

“You seem comfortable now.” I elbow her lightly, hoping to get her to loosen up the way she was back at school. Right now, she looks like she’s been bound in plastic wrap.

Jules slowly lifts her head until her eyes are holding mine, and when her shoulders go up, it’s barely noticeable. “I used to be overweight and shy. Everything scared me.”

I can’t stop my eyes from straying down over her. Especially when my brain is filled with the soft curves of her body, which I’ve already seen in all their glory. The image is like a tattoo on my brain.

Jules’s cheeks turn red and she looks back down to her hands, but there’s a little smile on her face. I do my best to replace the picture in my mind with something a little more appropriate—anything to erase the dirty thoughts going through my head. It just feels wrong with her sitting next to me, being vulnerable the way she is.

I clear my throat and focus on the other part of what she said. “You’re not scared anymore?”

“It seems stupid to be afraid to talk to people after the last two years.”

I chuckle as I brush the hair out of my face. “I guess you have a good point.”

Chapter Seven

Interrupted

Roman has me mesmerized, and sitting next to him on the lifeguard tower with the ocean in the background is surreal. I’m not sure what it is about him that intrigues me so much. He isn’t as good-looking as Kyle, and he can be moody and sullen, but I can’t stop thinking about him. And every word out of his mouth has me wanting more.

“What about you?” I ask. “You said you go into the unsanctioned town a lot, how does that work?”

The idea terrifies me. Living off the grid seems a lot like being an outlaw in an old Western movie.

The wind blows, bringing with it sand and the slight taste of salt that makes me want to rip my clothes off and dive into the waves. It whips Roman’s hair into his face, forcing him to constantly brush it aside. My fingers itch to do it for him, but I keep them folded in my lap.

Don’t go all gooey on this guy, Jules.

“There’s a good place on the west side of town where we can jump the fence. It’s a few miles from Coastal Manor, but the walk isn’t bad.”

My mouth pops open, and it takes me a few seconds to collect myself. “You walk there? Out where the zombies are?”

A grin stretches across Roman’s face while heat spreads across mine.

“It’s not a big deal,” he says. “They’re slower than they used to be. If we come across one we just kill it and move on.”

Now the idea of going into town is even more terrifying than before.

I look away so he can’t see how much the idea scares me. There’s no way I’m ever going into town.

“Roman!” His name drifts toward us, carried on the wind, and next to me Roman stiffens. I glance over my shoulder to find Roz headed our way. She doesn’t look happy.

“Shit,” Roman mutters.

He gives me an apologetic smile before climbing down, leaving me alone. He doesn’t even say goodbye or wave. Pain and disappointment—and a little bit of jealousy—twist through me as I watch him jog over to where Roz is standing. Which is dumb. I knew about them before I hopped on the back of Roman’s motorcycle. What did I think was going to happen?

He starts talking to Roz, but they’re too far away to make it possible for me to hear what they’re saying. After a few minutes, Roz spins on her heel and stomps off down the beach. My throat tightens when Roman runs after her.

I swallow and climb down. It’s stupid to be upset. Even if Roman tried to make the thing between them sound casual, Roz made it crystal clear that she was staking her claim.

They headed away from the houses, so I turn in the opposite direction and go down the beach. Toward home. I have no idea what time it is, but I doubt my father will be at the house yet.

Chapter Eight

Breaking Up

“I knew you were going to screw her!” Roz screams.

She shakes with rage and hurt and bitterness, which oddly doesn’t make me feel anything but irritated. I search deep inside myself for a little bit of sympathy, but there isn’t any.

“I’m not screwing her, Roz.” My voice is flat. No point in hiding how little I care.

I glance over my shoulder to find Jules still on the lifeguard tower. She’s watching us.

I want to get this thing with Roz over with. To end things and make her understand that all this jealousy is in her head. We were never really together—she’s the one who insisted on that in the beginning.

“This isn’t working,” I say when I turn back to face her.

Roz’s mouth scrunches up, and for a second, I think she’s going to scream. I brace myself, but she just turns away from me.

Shit. I jog after her, calling her name. When she doesn’t stop, I pick up the pace. I’m out of breath by the time I’ve caught up with her—damn cigarettes—and I grab her arm. Forcing her to stop and turn to face me.

“Let’s just talk about this.”

She shakes her head and wipes at her face with the palm of her hand. “This is it, then?”

“You’re the one who said I didn’t need to feel obligated.”

She looks away. “That was before.”

Of course. “So now I should?”

Roz clears her throat, and based on how stiff her neck is, I’d guess she has to force herself to look me in the eye. Her eyes are rimmed with red and her features have contorted with real, raw pain. Finally, the guilt I was searching for rears its ugly head, working its way through me until my gut feels like it’s caught in a vise. Pisses me off a little, though, because I don’t have anything to feel guilty about. I haven’t done anything wrong, but what’s more, leaving Roz now will save her pain down the road.

“I love you.” Tears stream down her cheeks, and her shoulders shake. It’s like something straight out of damn Lifetime movie.

“Shit,” I mutter—and feel like a total ass the second the word is out.

“Roman.” Roz puts her hands on my arms. She moves them up to my shoulders and to my face, then stands on her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine.

I pull back and step away. This was wrong. Even if I didn’t like Jules it would be.

“I don’t love you.”

It’s on my tongue to tell her that I don’t know what love actually is, but I bite down on the words like I’m chewing them up. Telling her that would mean explaining my life to her, which I don’t want to do.

Fresh tears spring to her eyes, and she tries to pull me close again. “Don’t leave me.”

“I’m an ass,” I say, shaking her off, “but I’m not that much of an ass.”

I search for something to say that might make her feel better, but there’s nothing. I’ve been honest about not wanting commitment this entire time, and she said she understood. Maybe it makes me a dick, but I refuse to try to soften the blow by telling her something that isn’t true.

She turns away and hurries back the way she came. Over the boardwalk to the road. I don’t try to stop her. I don’t want to.

When I spin back to the lifeguard tower, my heart plummets. It’s empty. Jules left. She probably saw Roz kiss me. Shit.

Chapter Nine

Confused

I’ve just reached the first house when I spot a figure in the distance. The sky has gotten increasingly grayer, and it’s now too dark to make out who it is. My heart skips a beat, and I stop in my tracks, suddenly too frightened to move.

It’s not a zombie. You’re not in D.C. anymore, Jules. This settlement is safe. It doesn’t stop my heart from pounding. I’m too used to looking over my shoulder to be calm.

I freeze in my tracks and clench my hands into fists like I’m preparing for a fight. I’m going to have to be ready, because my feet refuse to move. Every muscle in my body is tense, and I don’t relax until the person gets close enough to see.

It’s Kyle.

I let out a sigh that gets caught on the wind.

“Jules.” He waves and starts walking faster, almost running toward me.

“Hi Kyle.” My stomach twists into knots when he stops in front of me. Roman is so…interesting. But I can’t deny how incredibly hot Kyle is.

Plus, Roman is taken.

“You out here all by yourself?” His tone is lighter than a feather, and the wink he gives me sends heat rushing to my cheeks.

“I was with Roman, but Roz showed up.” I shrug like the pain in my chest isn’t real.

Kyle’s expression hardens, and it brings to mind the fight he and Roman had. When I take a step closer, I’m able to make out a bruise on his jaw. It isn’t nearly as bad as the one next to Roman’s eye, though.

“Watch out for that guy,” Kyle says. “He’s an ass.”

I have the urge to roll my eyes. The warning is so falsely ominous that it sounds like it’s straight out of one of those teen movies I used to love.

“Yeah, I heard you two had a fight. What was that all about?”

Kyle presses his lips together for a second before saying, “He didn’t tell you?” I shake my head, and he looks away. “He said some inappropriate things about you.” He grimaces before looking back at me. “Like I said, he’s an ass.”

A sharp pain shoots through me, radiating through every nerve ending and slamming into my heart. Roman said stuff about me? He was so sweet on the lifeguard tower. Why would he have done that?

I swallow and try to keep my voice even. “What did he say?”

Kyle frowns and once again looks away, almost as if the idea of telling me embarrasses him. “Just stuff. You know…sexual.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. He looks genuinely uncomfortable, and it helps to ease some of the hurt.

“Thanks,” I manage to get out.

He pulls his gaze away from the ground. His eyes meet mine, and he smiles, revealing a dimple in his right cheek and perfect, white teeth. It sends a little thrill of excitement shooting through me. Kyle is exactly like all the guys I crushed over in high school. Tall, athletic, unbelievably gorgeous. All those guys who’d had no idea I’d even existed. I’m more drawn to him because of those memories. Like he’s my second chance for something big that I missed out on.

Kyle takes a step toward me, reaching out to take my hand. I have the strange feeling that he’s going to kiss me, but I shrug it off. That would be crazy. We barely know each other. Still, he’s smiling down at me and his eyes move to my lips. He even leans forward.

Shouldn’t the fact that he reminds me so much of all those guys make me less interested in him?

The thought flashes through my mind, taking me totally by surprise. I should live out one of my fantasies if I can. Right? I survived the apocalypse; I deserve to splurge when I can.

I’ve never kissed a boy, though. Acknowledging it just to myself feels pathetic, but it’s true. I’m almost eighteen, and I’ve never been on a date or had a boyfriend. This is what I’ve been waiting for.

But something is off.

Kyle leans closer, and my heart skips a beat as the urge to run comes over me. Why? He’s so hot, exactly the type of boy I’ve always dreamed about kissing. Still, there’s something about it that just doesn’t feel right.

I take a step back and turn away from him, heading down the beach. “I just love living this close to the ocean,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.

Annoyance flashes in his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came and the smile is back. There’s something about it that seems so plastic, though.

Kyle jogs to catch up with me. “I guess I’ve taken it for granted all these years.”

“I don’t know how you could, it’s so beautiful.”

Kyle doesn’t respond, and I don’t look at him to figure out what he’s thinking.

We walk together in silence for a while. It isn’t as comfortable as it was with Roman, and it doesn’t take long before I find myself desperately wracking my brain for something to say. Or a way to get him to leave. Which is strange.

“What do you miss most about life before the infection?” It’s the first thing that pops into my mind, and it seems so cliché that I regret it as soon as it’s out.

A smile spreads across Kyle’s face, and there’s something about it that is different than all the other times he’s smiled. It’s more genuine. Like everything he’s said or done in my presence before now had been a carefully rehearsed play.

“Sports, high school, dating, movies, new television shows…I could go on for days.”

My heart sinks, and I look away so he won’t see the disappointment that is sure to be written all over my face. It’s all so superficial. Sure, I miss silly things like that from time to time. The fact that I’ll never go to the prom or get to travel to Europe sucks. But when I think back over the last two years, the things I miss the most are things like my mom and my grandparents. The simplicity of having a normal life. I hate thinking that if I ever do get married and have children one day, they’ll never know what it’s like to have a regular childhood. One that isn’t full of fear and struggle.

Maybe Kyle didn’t lose anyone close to him. It’s rare, but it happens.

“I miss my mom and grandparents.” I sneak a look at him, curious if I made him feel bad.

He just shrugs. “Yeah. My dad died a few weeks into the outbreak. That was rough.” He seems sad, but when he talks, his voice doesn’t have quite as much longing in it as it had when he talked about missing the other things.

Even though I’m usually really good at getting a read on people, I can’t quite figure Kyle out. There’s something about him that brings Roman’s dad to mind. They seem to be cast from the same mold.

We walk a bit further in silence. The wind blows, and I shiver when goose bumps rise up on my arms. The sun is getting low, and dark, menacing clouds fill the sky. It’s going to storm.

Out of nowhere, Kyle stops and turns to face me. I slow too, waiting for him to say something. His eyes dart to my face and then behind us, clouding over a bit.

Then the plastic smile is back, and he puts his arm around me, rubbing my shoulders. “Are you cold?”

The action is so unexpected that I don’t get a chance to stop him, and once his arm is around my shoulder, I’m glad. I am cold.

“Jules.” The sound of Roman’s voice makes me jump.

I glance behind me just as he comes to a stop a few feet away from Kyle and me. His eyes flicker from me to Kyle’s arm around my shoulder, then over the other boy. Roman’s face remains emotionless, but his eyes flash when they meet the Kyle’s.

Roman turns to me, and his expression softens. “You left.”

His brown eyes search mine, and the butterflies start flying around in my stomach again.

I move to push Kyle away but stop. What am I supposed to do here? I don’t like Kyle, I’m sure of that now. It doesn’t matter that he’s hot and the type of guy I always dreamed about before the zombies came—he isn’t for me. Not now, probably not ever.

Then there’s Roman. He’s nothing I ever thought I’d want for myself. A troublemaker and a smart-ass, a smoker with tattoos and hair that’s too long. And he isn’t what anyone would call traditionally good-looking. He’s muscular but lean, and his bottom teeth are a bit crooked. His ears stick out a little and his mouth is a bit too wide. But the more I look into those amazing brown eyes of his, the more I talk to him, the more certain I am that there’s something special about this boy. I want to know more.

Roman pushes his hair back, revealing his bruise, and my mind wanders back to what Kyle said. Did Roman make sexual comments about me? It doesn’t seem likely that he would have said something like that to Kyle. But why would he lie?

“I thought you and Roz wanted to be alone.” It sounds lame.

Roman shakes his head, but before he can talk, Kyle jumps in, “Yeah. Why don’t you run along and find your little fuck buddy?”

I cringe when jealousy shoots through me.

Why am I jealous? I don’t want to have sex with Roman. I just met him.

Kyle shoots Roman a smug smile, and I try to wiggle out from under his arm, but he holds on tighter.

Roman ignores him and jerks his head to the side, flipping his hair out of his eyes. He just stands there for a moment, staring at me, and I shuffle my feet. How does he always look so casual? I’m pretty sure I look awkward and out of place no matter what I do.

Roman’s eyes flick up toward the sky as he pulls a cigarette out of his pocket, but just like in school, he doesn’t light it. He just flips it back and forth between his fingers. “Gonna rain.”

I almost laugh, but I don’t know why.

Kyle snorts and loosens his grip on me. I manage to wiggle my way out, and I can’t help the sigh of relief that escapes my lips.

Roman’s mouth twitches, but he stays casual.

“Don’t know where Mac and Carmen are going to sneak off to now. Poor Mac’s never going to get laid.” He smiles to himself, and it’s infectious.

Kyle snorts and rolls his eyes. “I should have known Mac was a chubby chaser.”

It’s like Kyle has reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. My body tenses as white, hot anger courses through my veins. I’m hurt and embarrassed, and angry for Carmen. Who does Kyle think he is?

Roman takes a step toward Kyle before I can react, grabbing him by the shirt. “You son of a bitch.”

“You want me to kick your ass two nights in a row?” Kyle doesn’t bat an eye.

“I’m pretty sure you were the one lying in the sand last night when I walked away. I don’t have a problem putting you right back there if you don’t shut the hell up.” Roman’s eyes flick toward me, and my face grows warm.

He’s defending my honor—or something less corny.

“Roman, stop,” I say, putting my hand on his wrist.

Kyle smiles like he thinks I’m sticking up for him. “Yeah, Roman, stop.”

There’s so much mocking in his tone that I almost tell Roman to go ahead and beat the shit out of him. If anyone deserves it, it’s Kyle.

But I keep my mouth shut, and Roman releases the other boy. For a brief second, his eyes flicker over me. Then he turns and walks away.

“That’s right!” Kyle shouts after him. “Keeping going before I kick your ass!”

I go too, only I head in the opposite direction of Roman. Back to my house. It’s getting late, and my father is probably wondering where I am. I don’t want to be around Kyle, and as much as I’d love to run after Roman, it’s probably a better idea to play it cool and go home.

Kyle calls after me, but I just wave and take off running down the beach. He’ll get the point.

Chapter Ten

Rage

Every nerve ending in my body is on fire as I turn away from Kyle. He yells after me, but I keep moving. It took every ounce of self-control I possessed not to beat the shit out of him, and if I look back now, I’m not sure I’m going to be able to control myself. Kyle has no idea how lucky he is that Jules stepped in.

My body twitches as I head down the beach. Above me, the sky grows darker by the second. The wind howls, blowing over the water until it curls over itself, making dark waves that hit the shore with more violence than even I’ve seen. That’s saying a lot.

When I reach the lifeguard tower Jules and I were sitting on earlier, I stop and climb up. It’s going to rain, but I need to cool down.

My hand moves for a cigarette, but my fingers are curled so tightly that I have to pry them open before I can a pull one out. When I do, I find what’s left of a cigarette already in my palm. Crushed. The wind blows, picking up the flecks of tobacco and carrying them away in one big burst. Damn. Cigarettes are too hard to come by to waste them like that.

I pull a new one out and pop it in my mouth, holding it between my lips while I flick my thumb over my lighter. It sparks but doesn’t catch, so I try again. Thanks to the wind, it takes me three tries to get a flame. Finally, I manage to get the cigarette lit. I take a long drag while I slide my lighter back into my pocket, sucking the chemicals down into my lungs. Feeling the burn and allowing the familiar taste to soothe me. By the time I’ve exhaled, my body is lighter.

On the inside though, I’m still seething.

Kyle is a prick. I’ve always known that, but his comment was way over the line—even for him. I’m just not sure who I’m more pissed for. Mac, Carmen, or Jules. Maybe all three. None of them deserve to be treated that way.

I sit for what feels like hours, smoking as the waves roll farther and farther up the beach. When the first raindrop hits my arm, it’s so warm I barely feel it. A second follows, nailing me in the forehead, but I don’t move until a bolt of lightning cuts across the sky. Seems like a good time to make my exit.

I flick my cigarette into the wind and start to climb, but I only make it halfway before the clouds open up. Water pours over my body, soaking me in two seconds flat and blinding me as I try to make it the rest of the way down the ladder. The second my feet hit the wet sand I start jogging, but it’s so dark and the rain is so thick I can’t see more than two feet in front of me. Good thing I don’t need to. I know where I live.

I’m still a few houses away from home when I slow. Despite how dark it is, it’s early, and I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Rick will still be up. After my beating yesterday, I’m not really interested in another confrontation.

Too bad I don’t have anywhere else to go.

Chapter Eleven

The Fake Father

I’m still sitting in the backyard when it starts raining. Water that’s warmer than a hot bath pours over me, and even though I’m immediately soaked, I stay where I am. I close my eyes and lift my face toward the sky as rain runs down my head and over my body. There’s a part of me that feels like it’s washing my past away.

Before long it’s coming down so hard I’m practically inhaling water. I make a break for the house, hopping over puddles, my feet sinking into the soft earth. When I finally reach the porch, I stop to catch my breath, and within seconds there’s a puddle under my feet.

The rainwater is warm, but thanks to the wind, there’s a chill to the air. Goose bumps pop up on every inch of my skin, and I shiver. My clothes are glued to my body.

“Juliana.” My father’s voice makes me jump.

I let out a little squeal as I spin to face him. He stands with the door propped open, staring at me. I’m not sure what the expression on his face means, but it puts me on guard. We’re going to have a fight. I know it.

He holds the door open when I head his way. Just as I brush past him, his jaw clenches. I was right. An argument is inevitable. He’s pissed.

“Where have you been?” he asks, shutting the door behind him before following me inside.

“Out with some friends,” I say, not bothering to try and sound sorry. Maybe he was worried, but I doubt it. I’m not sure my father has ever felt much when it came to me.

He takes a deep breath and slowly blows it out like he’s trying to control his temper. I don’t blink. “I heard you left school after lunch, so I came home to make sure you were okay. I’ve been sitting here since then, waiting for you. I had no idea where you were or if you were okay.”

His jaw clenches for the second time, and all the tendons in his neck stand out. He’s really trying to stay in control, which should count for something. It doesn’t, though. Too little too late and all that.

I’m shivering and wet. Fighting is the last thing I want to do right now, but I’m not going to apologize and pretend like I care when I know he doesn’t.

“Sorry,” I mutter, and he relaxes a tiny bit. “I didn’t know you’d suddenly started caring.”

All his anger returns, simmering just below the surface. “Jules—”

“I’m cold and wet,” I say, cutting him off. “I’m going to change.” I turn on my heel, heading toward the stairs. We can’t fight if I don’t stay.

“I’m your father!” he calls after me.

I throw my head back and laugh. I didn’t know I had it in me, but all the anger I’ve suppressed has built up, and I suddenly can’t keep it inside any more. It was bound to come out one of these days.

I stop and turn to face him, meeting his angry glare with one of my own. “You could have fooled me. I’m an obligation to you! That’s all I’ve ever been.”

My father flinches. He takes a deep breath but doesn’t relax. Still, when he speaks, it’s softer. He’s more in control. “Who were you with?”

“The Regulator’s son.”

My father shakes his head, and his entire body seems to turn to stone. “That kid is trouble. I want you to stay away from him.”

I roll my eyes as I turn back to the stairs, feeling like I’m in one of those cheesy teen movies Hollywood used to love to make. My father telling me not to see Roman is so ridiculous and is so obviously bound to backfire. It’s like he knows absolutely nothing about parenting.

“Jules,” he calls after me. “I’m serious!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mutter, but it’s for my own benefit. He can’t hear me.

As I head up to my room, an amazing sense of satisfaction sweeps through me. I’ve never rebelled a day in my life. Never before the virus hit and not once in the two years since then. No matter how unhappy I’ve been with my father and his pretend parenting, I’ve always just taken it. Now though, it hits me: I don’t have to. Roman can help me get back at my father just a little bit.

I leave a puddle in my wake as I head through the house to my bedroom. The balcony door is wide open, and a cool breeze sweeps through my room, making me shiver, but I don’t shut it. The rain pounding against the Earth outside is loud and soothing. It helps block everything else out. All the hurt moving through me, seeping into my veins. After all these years, I was so sure I’d finally become numb to it all. Wrong again.

I strip and grab a fluffy towel from the bathroom so I can dry off. Once my hair isn’t dripping anymore, I pull on some dry clothes and I finally feel better. At least on the outside.

Inside, the ache is still there. From the idea that Roman may have said stuff about me last night, from the words Kyle had so carelessly thrown around on the beach, and from the uncomfortable feeling that he might have lied to me about Roman. From my father’s reminder of how absent he was during my childhood. More than anything though, I ache for my mom. If she were here, she’d know what to do about all of it.

I exhale, trying to push out all the anger and hurt as I cross the room to the balcony. The wind howls so hard that little droplets of water get blown in with each gust. I should shut it, but I don’t want to. I want to watch the storm moving in.

Chapter Twelve

Another Glimpse

The rain falls on me in sheets, making it almost impossible to see. That doesn’t stop me from searching the darkness for Jules’s house, though. Just like last night, I catch sight of the light shining from her window. This time, though, I allow myself to move forward. Crossing the boardwalk and dunes and heading into her backyard. When I’m closer, I find that her balcony door is open again. When there’s movement, I try to force myself to look away…

Come on Roman, you’re not a perv. Even I have to laugh. Who am I kidding?

Water drips into my eyes as I move closer to the house, and I put my hand up to shield the rain. Jules steps out, and my heart almost stops. She’s dressed, but just barely. Skimpy shorts and a tank top that leaves little to the imagination—almost as good as last night.

I stop in the middle of the yard and stare up at her as she leans against the doorframe. Her hair is wet. Did she get caught in the rain or just get out of the shower? Filthy images of her in the shower go through my mind, and I fight to push them away.

I cup my hands around my mouth and call her name, trying to raise my voice above the deafening storm. It’s raining too hard though, and the sound is lost as soon as it leaves my throat. I yell louder, and Jules straightens. She looks around like she’s searching the distance, so I take a few steps closer until I’m standing in the light.

When she sees me, a smile lights up her face. I smile back and wave, my eyes sweeping over the house in the process. There’s a lattice leading up to the second story roof. I bet I can climb it and get over to the balcony pretty easily.

Just thinking about being in the room with Jules right now sends a jolt of electricity shooting through my body. But I don’t move.

What the hell am I doing here? What if I did get up there? What then?

I sweep my wet hair out of my face and take a deep breath. Jules isn’t like Roz. I need to be careful here. She’s innocent. Going up there isn’t going to get me laid. For some reason though, I don’t care. All I want right now is to talk to Jules. Just be with her. Which is as confusing as hell.

Jules doesn’t wave me up, but she doesn’t go back inside. She just stares at me, and it makes my mind up for me. I’m going in.

Chapter Thirteen

Claimed

Roman is standing in the middle of my backyard. In the rain.

My heart speeds up, and I grip the railing in front of me. For a few seconds, he and I just stare at each other. The sudden urge to wave him up sweeps through me, taking me totally by surprise, and with it comes fear. Fear of the unknown and the uncertain. It’s so intense that my legs tremble with the desire to run.

What would happen if Roman came up here? What do I want to happen?

We could be friends.

Yes, that’s what I want. Someone I can talk to and lean on. Not just that, I want Roman to be that friend. If he comes up to my room, we could talk and I could get to know him more. Let him know me.

Sure that’s what you want, Jules.

There’s more to the desire, though, and I can’t deny it. An electricity that makes my skin sizzle shoots through me when I think about Roman. About him climbing into my room. About what could happen.

Below me, he ducks his head and steps into the shadows, and my heart sinks. I’m too late.

Between the black night and the rain, the darkness is so thick that at first I can’t find Roman. Then movement catches my eye, and I squint, trying to locate him through the pounding rain. There he is. Climbing the trellis.

I grip the railing harder as he scales the side of the house. Halfway up, his foot slips on the damp vines and he slides down a bit, making my already swiftly beating heart pound faster. But he somehow manages to regain his footing and pulls himself back up until he finally reaches the roof, where he collapses on the shingles.

I let out a sigh, but my fingers don’t ease their grip on the railing. Roman isn’t out of danger yet. Rain pours down the slope of the roof like a waterfall, pounding into him as he raises himself up on his hands and his knees. He starts to crawl, slowly making his way across the slick roof. Every inch brings him closer to the balcony, and me closer to having a heart attack. He keeps his body low, but even in the dim light, the shakiness of his limbs is visible.

When Roman finally reaches the balcony, I rush over to help him, stepping out from underneath the overhang and into the storm. The rain pounds on my head, plastering my hair to my face and making it impossible to see what I’m doing. I shove the wet strands back, gasping when water pours into my mouth. Then I thrust my hand out, waiting for Roman to grab it so I can pull him over. His hand wraps around mine and I pull, and then he’s tumbling over the railing in the most ungraceful way possible. Landing on his face.

I step back under the overhang and brush the wet hair out of my eyes, fighting back a giggle. Roman always looks so easygoing, but there’s nothing laid-back about the way he just plopped down on his face. He gets to his feet, seemingly unfazed, and stands in front of me as the rain pummels him. Roman runs his hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, and the corner of his mouth turns up. Just as casual as always. How does he manage it?

“Are you okay?” I ask, raising my voice over the pounding rain.

“Yeah. Luckily I fell on my head.”

I giggle for real this time but cover my mouth so I don’t sound like a donkey. “That sounds like something Mac would say.” He must be wearing off on Roman.

Roman’s smile morphs into a full-blown grin, and my pulse quickens. His brown eyes stray down my body, moving over me so slowly that it makes my already heated blood start to simmer. A shiver moves through me, but I’m clueless as to whether it’s from the chilly night air or Roman’s intense gaze.

His eyes move to my face, but only for a second before going back down. It happens again, moving up and down so fast that they remind me of a ping-pong ball. It’s like he can’t figure out where to look. I shuffle my feet, my face and skin growing warm under his gaze despite the cold night.

What does he keep looking at?

I glance down to find my white tank drenched and clinging to my body like it’s a second set of skin. Showing off every curve.

Heat like I’ve never felt before blooms in my cheeks, and I cross my arms over my chest. “Can I get you a towel?”

I need a towel.

Roman is so relaxed that he seems to lean against thin air. He doesn’t answer me, but thankfully he does tear his eyes away from the mess that is me. He glances down at his own soaking clothes before looking past me. Into my bedroom.

My heart soars and then drops to my stomach like one of those rides you used to find at amusement parks.

Dear God, what am I doing? This isn’t me!

“Is it okay that I’m here?” he asks, his eyes meeting mine once again.

The consideration takes me by surprise, making it impossible to answer for a few seconds. Thoughtfulness doesn’t really mesh with his façade of indifference.

“Yes.” Even though my heart is racing and my skin is hot and a very terrifying tremble has started in my legs, Roman being here is more than okay. I need this.

Roman steps out of the rain but not into my room. He runs his hand through his wet hair, wringing out as much of the excess water as he can. It falls around him, splashing against the balcony and leaving a puddle under his feet. He looks down at his shirt like it’s a puzzle he has to work out. I almost turn so I can get him a towel but freeze when he peels his soaking shirt from his body, lifting it over his head.

His body is lean, but firm and sculpted. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as he wrings his shirt out, drawing my eyes to the movement like a moth to a flame. I can’t look away. It’s like every inch of him is begging for attention. My attention. I’ve never felt the desire to touch another person as much as I do now. My fingers itch with the need to caress his bare skin, to move down his chest.

But we just met.

I ball my hands into fists at my side while Roman drapes his shirt across one of the wicker chairs on the balcony. His eyes meet mine, and he gives me a half-smile, his eyes twinkling. He’s caught me staring, and he enjoys it. It makes me blush more than ever before.

“I’ll get you that towel,” I mumble, turning away from him and hurrying to the bathroom.

Once I’m alone, I take a few deep breaths and work at slowing my pulse. It doesn’t help. Every time I almost get my body under control, I think about Roman being in the other room and my heart starts pounding even harder than before. Nervousness and excitement war against each other in my stomach, and I don’t have a clue what to do or how to act. I’ve never been alone with a boy, and Roman is so different from anyone I’ve ever met. Everything he does and says makes my insides flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. I don’t feel like myself around him, but like a better version of me. One who isn’t shy and insecure and terrified of the world around her.

I freeze in front of the mirror when my reflection catches my eye. My hair is soaked again, and water drips down my body to the floor until I’m standing in a puddle. My thin shirt is plastered to my chest. I should change, only there’s a small part of me that doesn’t want to. I liked the way it felt to have Roman’s eyes moving over my body. It was exhilarating.

But that isn’t me, and even though I’m not always sure who I really am, I know I don’t want to be that girl.

I rip my wet clothes off for the second time today and dry myself before grabbing something clean. Shorts and a shirt that aren’t quite as form-fitting. I don’t want to give Roman the wrong idea.

Back in the bedroom, I find Roman standing in the middle of the room. A small puddle has formed under his feet and is getting larger by the second. His pants are soaking wet, and it occurs to me that a towel isn’t going to help all that much.

He should take his pants off too.

Where the hell did that thought come from? I don’t have a clue, but at the moment, I’m eternally grateful Roman can’t read my mind.

“I brought you a towel,” I say, holding the fluffy thing out. Refusing to meet his gaze because my cheeks are still warm from thinking about Roman stripping down.

“Thanks.”

He takes the towel and dries off, working it through his hair and then down his chest. I finally meet his gaze, and he smirks like he knows how uncomfortable I am. My only consolation is that he doesn’t know why I’m uncomfortable. His eyes hold mine as he drops the towel to the floor and moves it around with his foot so he can mop up the puddle. My insides buzz as if live wires have replaced my veins and electricity is shooting through them.

Now that Roman is standing in the bright light of my room, I notice a series of bruises on his chest and stomach. They’re different shades and sizes, almost as if he got them several days apart. Some are so dark they look black, while others have faded to yellow. They run over his ribs to his left side and across his stomach. When he shifts, I even catch sight of a few on his lower back.

He sees me studying them and tilts his head like he’s waiting for me to ask, but I don’t. Thinking about where he could have gotten them makes me queasy.

I tear my gaze away from the bruises and focus on his tattoos. He has a half sleeve done in all black covering his right bicep. It’s an intricate knot that’s either tribal or Celtic, I’m not sure which. His other arm is adorned by a knot that is definitely of Celtic origin. It’s five inches long and beautifully done. A real work of art. Maybe Hank isn’t stupid for offering his services after all. He’s obviously very talented.

Without thinking, I reach out and run my fingers over the lines that form the knot, tracing them as they weave together on his skin. The tips of my fingers tingle from the contact.

“Did you get these in town?”

Roman’s face remains expressionless, his eyes following the trek my fingers make across his skin. “Hank’s a good artist.”

My pulse races so fast that I need a second to collect myself. I drop my hand to my side, hating the loss off his warmth.

“I may be able to get you a pair of dry shorts.”

“I don’t mind being wet.” Roman shrugs like being soaked to the bone is nothing but a minor inconvenience.

“But you can’t sit on the bed if your jeans are soaked through.”

A teasing smirk spreads across his face as he lifts his eyebrows. “Are you inviting me into your bed? If that’s the case, I accept.”

My heart almost stops, and my mouth falls open. Did I really just say that? My cheeks are hotter than ever, and the butterflies that live inside me have now woken up. They start beating their wings against the inside of my stomach so hard I’m sure they’re finally going to burst through and make their way to freedom.

“I’ll be right back,” I mumble and turn on my heel, hurrying out into the hall.

I ease the door shut behind me and stand there for a second, trying to catch my breath and calm my jittery nerves. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. My heart has to stop pounding so hard soon, right? After thirty seconds, it still hasn’t slowed. There’s nothing to be done. Roman, for whatever reason, has me in knots, and it’s crazy how much I like it.

Thankfully, the laundry room is upstairs and my father threw a load of clothes in this morning before work. There’s no way he’s gotten around to folding it yet—it usually takes him a few days. I’d bet credits that it’s still in the dryer.

I tiptoe across the hall to the laundry room, being as quiet as possible, and almost jump for joy when I find a ball of clean clothes in the dryer. The black shiny material of athletic shorts sticks out among the tangle of material, making my mission easy. The house is silent, but my heart is still pounding when I grab them and make a quick dash back across the hall.

I slip back into my room, locking the door behind me, and almost collapse when I turn to find Roman in nothing but a pair of boxers.

“Here,” I say, tossing him the shorts.

I turn away to give him privacy and so he doesn’t have a chance to see how shaken I am. My legs are as unsteady as a toddler’s. A mostly naked Roman was not exactly what I expected to find in my room.

“I’m decent. You can turn around now.” His voice shakes like he’s trying to hold in a laugh.

Even though his teasing should irritate me, it helps me relax. I even manage a smile as I turn to face him.

My father’s shorts hang low on his hips, but he’s dry. Which was kind of the point.

“Sorry they don’t fit better,” I say, then have the urge to smack myself on the forehead. Why am I apologizing for that?

“They probably fit me better than your shorts would.” Roman lets out a little laugh.

I laugh too, picturing him in a pair of my shorts. A pink pair, of course.

Roman glances toward my bed and gives me a little wink. “Now, about that bed.”

“I think you misunderstood me,” I say with a laugh. Every time he makes me smile I get more comfortable around him, and I want to keep it up. I don’t like being this nervous around Roman.

“Really?” He fakes outrages as he spins around and heads for the balcony. “Then I’m out of here.”

“Roman!” I’m giggling like a little girl when I grab his arm and pull him back.

He grins down at me like he thinks I’m the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “You know that’s not why I came up here, right?”

I focus on the wet towel still balled up on the floor when my face gets hot all over again. “I know.”

“Jules?” When I don’t meet his gaze, Roman tilts my face up so I’m looking him in the eye. His expression is so serious. “I’m sorry about what Kyle said earlier.”

The heat that spreads across my face this time isn’t welcome or sweet. It reminds me too much of who I was before all this. The person who always felt out of control and embarrassed. I hate that Roman thought of me when Kyle made the comment, but I can only blame myself. I shouldn’t have told Roman about it. I want him to see me for who I am now, not who I was back then.

I turn away and move over to the bed, plopping down like I don’t have the energy to stand anymore. “I just felt bad for Carmen.”

It’s a flat-out lie, and the look of sympathy on Roman’s face tells me he knows it.

“Kyle’s an ass.”

I let out a half-snort, half-laugh. “Funny, he said the same thing about you.”

Roman doesn’t blink.

He isn’t surprised. Interesting.

“Really?” he asks. “What else did he say?”

I pick at a string on my comforter. Should I tell him? By this point I’m pretty sure Kyle wasn’t telling the truth, but that doesn’t mean I won’t hear something that could ruin my good opinion of Roman.

“He told me why you two got into a fight,” I say elusively, hoping Roman will fill in the gaps so I don’t have to repeat what Kyle said.

I sneak a peek at him just in time to see something flash in his eyes, revealing a small crack in his casual exterior. His mouth scrunches up, and he looks like he’s going to spit. Then he lets out a little snort and walks over to sit next to me on the bed.

“I seriously doubt that,” he mutters, his eyes holding mine. “What did he tell you?”

I look back down at the string between my fingers, twisting it in time with the knots twisting in my stomach. “He said—He told me that you said something about me.”

Roman doesn’t say a word. I squirm and twist the string faster, my stomach tightening with each twirl. Finally, when I can’t take the silence any longer, I look up and meet his gaze. Trying to figure out what’s going through his mind. His eyebrows are pulled down and he’s studying me, but he’s so guarded that I don’t have a clue what he’s thinking.

“What exactly did I say about you?” he finally asks.

“He didn’t tell me exactly, just something sexual.”

Roman’s body relaxes, and he belts out a laugh. His hair has started to dry, and a few strands fall across his forehead when he shakes his head. He jerks his head to the side to move them away.

“Kyle’s a lying bastard.”

“So it’s not true?” The look on his face tells me it isn’t, but I want to hear him say it.

“He said something about Mac.”

Relief and admiration wash over me, and I smile. He was defending Mac. Can this guy get any better?

The corner of Roman’s mouth twitches, and he nudges me playfully. “I’ve never said anything sexual about you, although I can’t admit to never thinking it.”

I blush and look away. He’s trying to embarrass me, and it’s working.

We sit in silence for a few seconds, but it’s relaxing and nice. Roman is so close that every now and then our legs brush, making my skin tingle.

“So you and Kyle then?” he asks out of nowhere.

I’d totally forgotten that Kyle’s arm was around me when Roman found us earlier. It must have looked that way to him.

“No. I mean, Kyle’s hot but...” The words are out before I can stop them. I clamp my mouth shut and focus once again on the string. It’s a little ball now, so I start twisting it the other way. Unwinding it.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says with a chuckle. “You may be surprised to learn this, but I know I’m not very good-looking.”

I sneak a peek at him out of the corner of my eye. His face is twisted in mock hurt, and he shakes his head like it’s some kind of tragedy, forcing a smile out of me. When I finally tear my eyes away from the string, my gaze meets his, and his grin widens.

I roll my eyes, but my own smile hurts my cheeks. Roman is a goofball hidden in the body of a juvenile delinquent. “Have you known Kyle for a long time?”

“Oh, we go way back. All the way to kindergarten. He was the asshole in high school who picked on guys smaller than him and screwed girls before calling them sluts.”

My smile melts away, and I turn my eyes down once again. I knew there was something off about Kyle, so I shouldn’t be surprised. Still sucks to find out that someone is such a phenomenal asshole, though.

“Sorry if I’ve ruined your fantasy about him being some damn knight in shining armor,” Roman says, bitterness creeping into his voice. “That just isn’t him.”

I look up to find Roman watching me, once again expressionless. It’s like he put on a mask. “I’m not interested in Kyle.”

“So you’re saying there’s a chance?” His mouth turns up into a half-smile, but the mask is still there.

My heart skips like a little girl playing jump rope, and my mouth goes dry. “A chance for what?”

“A chance for me,” he says, and the mask slips away. Sincerity and hope swim in his eyes.

The butterflies in my stomach take off, only this time the feeling is pleasant. A soft flutter that is warm and inviting. I love how straightforward Roman is with me. Playing games seems stupid with things the way they are.

“You’re all I’ve been able to think about,” I say, giving him a shaky smile.

Roman returns it, but the grin he gives me isn’t unsure. It’s an adorable smile that’s full of confidence. It makes his brown eyes sparkle and my insides quiver.

Then he leans forward, and I suck in a deep breath. This is it. Roman is going to kiss me.

He runs his tongue over his bottom lip and moves closer just as an image of Roz flashes through my mind. I jerk back when Roman’s lips are less than two inches from mine. He frowns but doesn’t move, and when my eyes sweep over his bare chest, I almost give in. He’s so close that his body heat has begun to seep inside me, warming my blood. But there’s Roz…

I can’t be that person.

“What about Roz?” I suck my bottom lip into my mouth while I wait for his answer.

Roman leans back on his elbows and looks up at the ceiling, just as casual as ever. “I ended things with Roz.”

“Because of me?” A flutter shoots through me, followed by a twinge of guilt. Roz might be a gigantic bitch, but I can’t help feeling sorry for her.

“You. And me.” He purses his lips, his eyes still focused on the ceiling like he’s choosing his words very carefully. “I don’t want you to think less of me—or Roz—but I want you to know that we were never actually together.”

“But you two…” The words don’t come out, but he has to know what I’m asking. Plus, I already know the answer. I’d seen it written all over her face…then there were the condoms he gave Mac.

Roman shifts so he’s facing me, and the expression of concern on his face almost makes me smile. “Is that a problem for you?”

So far, Roman has been nothing but honest with me, so I don’t believe he lied to Roz. If anything, she was probably lying to herself. My only real worry is what his expectations are for me. I’m not Roz, and I have no intention of turning into her.

“I’m not going to give you the same thing,” I say with a sinking sensation in my stomach. Why do I have the feeling Roman is about to walk out the door and never talk to me again?

The corner of his mouth twitches, but his expression doesn’t change. He doesn’t seem surprised or even disappointed. “I didn’t expect you to.”

Disappointment twists in my stomach, along with another, more familiar feeling: rejection. “You mean you don’t want to have sex with me?”

“That isn’t what I meant.” The words come out like a growl, sending a shiver down my spine. “I meant that I want something more from you.”

My breath catches in my throat, almost making it impossible to answer. “What?”

“You. All of you.”

This time when he leans in, I don’t stop him.

Roman grips the back of my neck and pulls me forward until I’m less than an inch from him. It isn’t gentle. It’s urgent. As if the outcome of our lives depends on this moment, on the two of us being together right now. His mouth crushes into mine, and I’m instantly lightheaded. It’s like an out-of-body experience when his hot lips begin to move. His tongue brushes my bottom lip, and I open without thinking, moving closer, bringing my hands to his firm chest as Roman’s tongue sweeps across mine, exploring my mouth.

Tentatively, I wrap my arms around him. Pressing my body closer to his as he moves his free hand down my side, lifting my shirt. His fingertips brush against my bare skin, moving over the curve of my waist to my back, making me tremble. Then his lips leave mine, and he kisses his way down my chin and my neck to the base of my throat. My eyes roll back, and I sigh, totally powerless in his arms.

He kisses his way back up to my mouth, his teeth nipping at my bottom lip just once before pulling away, a half-smile on his lips. “I’ve been dying to do that.”

My cheeks burn, but I can’t look away from him. He has me now, and he knows it. Good or bad, I’m his. Forever.

“Why’d you stop?” I ask, flushing at the breathless way the words come out.

Roman smiles as he rolls away from me. “How many guys have you kissed?”

I sit up straight. Why is he asking me that? Did I do something wrong?

“Why? Was I bad at it?”

He laughs, and my cheeks burst into flames, but the humor disappears like he can sense how freaked out I am. Roman grabs my hand and gives it a squeeze. “No, Jules, that wasn’t what I meant. That was...amazing. Believe me, I didn’t want to stop.”

My shoulders relax, and I let out a sigh. Thank God. “Why did you then?”

“I don’t want to push you. I get the impression this may be new to you.”

He’s being considerate. A gentleman! I could kiss him again.

“What about you?” I ask, wanting the focus off me.

He raises his eyebrows, and they disappear under his almost dry hair. “What about me?”

“You know.” I look down at my hands. “How many…”

“How many girls have I kissed?”

That isn’t what I’m asking, and he knows it.

I glance up to find him smiling, but his eyes are full of concern. “There’s something you need to know about me. I’ve made it my mission to do everything I could to make Rick’s life hell. That meant getting in trouble any way I could.”

“So a lot?”

He sighs and shakes his head, and I’m dying to know what he’s thinking, but I’m too afraid to ask.

“No, not a lot. I was only sixteen when the infection hit and there hasn’t been a lot of variety since then. Do you need to know?” The silence stretches out between us until Roman finally scoots over and puts his hand on top of mine. “It’s okay, Jules.”

I force my eyes to meet his, but there’s nothing in his expression that makes me think he’s upset I asked. He doesn’t look embarrassed, just a little worried. Otherwise, he’s as relaxed as always.

Roman’s eyes move down to my lips, and he lets out a tortured sigh. “Will you stop chewing on your lip? It’s driving me crazy.”

My body tingles under his gaze, so I keep chewing on it.

Roman looks away. “So what’s the deal with your dad?”

“What do you mean?” I have a lot to say about my father, but I’m not exactly sure which part Roman is referring to.

He leans back on the bed, rolling onto his side and propping his head up with his hand so he’s looking at me. “It’s not like I spend a lot of time talking to Rick or anything, but I’ve overheard a few conversations. Rick isn’t thrilled to have him here. Apparently, he had a pretty big reputation. Even before all this zombie bullshit.”

I lie down on my back and stare up at the ceiling. Where do I begin with my father? “When they decided to turn D.C. into a prison and started relocating people to the Maryland settlement, my father requested a transfer. They sent him here, hoping he could get your dad to cooperate. The council and Regulator in Atlanta have been trying to work with him, but apparently he doesn’t want to follow the rules. They’re hoping my dad can get Rick to adjust. If not, they’ll send someone in.”

Roman’s eyebrows shoot up. “They’ll take Rick’s position by force if they have to?”

I nod, my gaze holding his for a second before moving down over his bruises. “They will.”

When I look back, I find him staring at the ceiling. “What did your dad do before the outbreak?”

It isn’t what I expected him to ask. It’s more than obvious that he hates his father, so I thought he’d want to know more about when Atlanta might step in. It’s strange that he isn’t asking more questions.

“He worked for the Pentagon before the infection,” I say instead of asking Roman what he’s thinking. “I’m not sure what he did, though. Top-secret stuff that he won’t even talk about now.”

Roman turns his face toward me, and my heart skips about ten beats. Having Roman in my bed is like a dream. A good one.

“Why doesn’t he talk about it?” he asks.

“He wants to prove he’s trustworthy. That way if all this stuff gets sorted out while he’s still alive, he can go back to his job.”

Roman rolls his eyes. “He seriously thinks this is all going to get worked out and life will just go back to normal?”

“I don’t know if he really believes that, but he wants to. He’s always put his career first, and I just don’t think he knows what else to do with himself.”

“So those are your daddy issues. A nonexistent father.”

My eyes trail down over the bruises on his body once again. I want to know what his daddy issues are, but I also don’t. Plus, I’d hate to overstep some kind of line with him. When my eyes finally move back to his, I find him watching me. I get the odd feeling that he wants me to ask.

“What are yours?” I whisper.

Roman’s expression doesn’t change even though his entire body tenses. “Rick is an ass.”

“It only took me about two minutes to figure that out. He does a good job of pretending, though.”

I have to stop myself from chewing on my bottom lip. I don’t want to distract him. I want to understand Roman better.

“He’s a hero around here.” Roman’s voice is tight and thick. He swallows, and for the first time, I detect a small crack in his armor. “No one knows the real Rick.”

“Except you.” I know what’s coming. Even if he wasn’t covered in bruises, I would. It’s written all over his face and in every line of his body.

“He’s a monster. Worse than any of the zombies walking around out there. At least they don’t know what they’re doing. And if they did, they’d probably have some remorse. But Rick— He has no remorse.”

Roman swallows and rolls onto his back. He stares up at the ceiling with his jaw tight and his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He’s breathing so heavily I’m afraid he’s going to hyperventilate.

Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.

I sit up so I can scoot closer to him. When he won’t meet my gaze, I brush the hair off his forehead. He flinches, but I run my hand through his hair anyway. Over and over again. Gently. The way my mom did when I was young and sick or hurting. Seconds pass, and then a minute, and slowly Roman begins to relax.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

He shakes his head and finally turns to face me. His eyes are nothing but pain and sadness. Every inch of me aches for him.

I want to take his pain away, so I do the only thing I can think of. I lean down and press my lips against his. His arms circle me, and his mouth moves against mine. He sits up and flips me over so I’m on my back and he’s leaning over me. His hand moves down my side, caressing my curves, but just like before he stops at my waist. His fingers make small circles on my bare skin, sending shivers of heat through me.

I put my hands on the back of his head and pull him closer to me, running my fingers through his hair as the urgency inside me builds. I’ve never dreamt that I could want another person like this after just meeting them, and it isn’t even about sex with Roman. I understand him, more than I’ve ever understood another person, and he has a pull on me I’ve never felt before.

Roman’s hand moves away from my waist and down my hip, over the curve of my butt to the back of my knee. He pulls my leg over his hip as his lips move down my neck. This time, he hooks his finger in the neckline of my shirt, pulling it down so his lips can move lower. Over my chest to the top of my breasts, caressing them but not venturing lower.

Then his mouth is back on mine, and we’re kissing until my lips are swollen and sore. The world around us fades away, and for the first time in two years, I’m not focused on every horrible thing that’s happened. It’s just Roman and me, and the future looks brighter than I ever thought possible.

When he finally pulls away, my clothes are a tangled mess around my body and my skin is moist. I can hardly catch my breath, and every inch of me is screaming for more. For him.

I could stay in his arms forever.

Roman takes a deep breath and rolls over onto his back. “I gave all my condoms to Mac.”

My stomach twists into knots. Am I upset or relieved by that bit of information?

“Oh.”

Roman is breathing just as heavily as I am when he turns to face me. “Not to imply that I planned on using them. I just…I wanted to let you know. We should stop.”

I smile, shocked by how utterly calm I am. The mention of sex should freak me out more than it does, but I’m content.

Roman pulls me over to him, and I rest my head on his bare chest. He wraps his arms around me. The beating of his heart pounds against my ear, faster than a freight train, as his fingers slide through my hair.

“My mom was diagnosed with breast cancer when I was nine,” Roman says, making me freeze. “She went fast. Rick didn’t take it well. The sicker she got, the more he drank, and the more he drank, the meaner he got. Then she was gone, and it was just the two of us. He’d lock me in my room when I was bad, sometimes for an entire day. Or more.” He pauses, and I focus on his heart, beating in perfect synchronization with mine. When he starts talking again, his voice is different. Hard and bitter. “That was nothing compared to the beatings.”

I hold my breath and wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. Not that he needs to. I’d already guessed it.

I lift my head so I can look him in the eye. “Does he still hit you?”

Roman turns away. “He hits me now and then, but he hasn’t really beat the shit out of me in over a year. That last time…it was bad.”

“Roman,” I whisper, hoping he’ll turn to face me. He doesn’t. “You should tell someone.”

He snorts. “No one will care. Rick’s in charge and they all worship him. I’m the black sheep who makes his life a living hell. That’s all I’ve ever been. Soon it won’t matter, anyway. I’m just biding my time until I can leave.”

“Where are you going?” I ask as panic gnaws at my insides. Why does the idea of him leaving hurt so much? We just met.

“Away. I’ve been out, scavenging the area for supplies. I have a stash in an abandoned house just outside town. Once I have enough to trade, I’m going to get the supplies I need and leave. I don’t care where I go. Anywhere but here.”

It feels like he’s reached inside my chest and squeezed my heart. I swallow and lay my head back down before he notices how devastated I am. I have no right to feel this way or to ask him to stay, but the pain inside me is something I can’t ignore.

Roman’s hand brushes against my head. “Hey, are you okay?”

I nod, but I can’t talk. The urge to wrap my arms around him is so strong I almost can’t hold back.

He continues to brush his fingers against the top of my head as we lie together in silence. His body relaxes after a while, and then mine does too. My mind starts to drift, and my eyelids grow heavy. Being with Roman makes me feel warm and cozy. I don’t want him to leave.

“Stay with me tonight,” I whisper. “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

He kisses the top of my head and whispers, “I’ll stay with you forever if you let me.”

When I open my eyes, the room is so bright it makes me squint. I squeeze them shut and roll over, shivering at the feel of the chilly sheets against my skin. Last night’s storm must have really cooled things off. If Roman hadn’t been with me, I probably would have been cold all night long.

My eyes fly open and I’m almost blinded, but my heart is pounding too hard to care. Roman. Where’s Roman? Next to me, the bed is empty and so is the room. His clothes are gone.

Was he ever really here to begin with?

A blush sweeps over my body when I run my finger over my lips, remembering his kisses. Yes, he was here. I couldn’t have dreamt that.

So where did he go?

My heart sinks to the floor as disgust rolls through me in waves. He used me. How could I have been so stupid? It isn’t like he lied to me either. He told me plain as day who he is, I just refused to acknowledge it. I convinced myself that I’m somehow better than Roz. That I’m special. Right.

I lay in bed, stewing in my own stupidity for a few minutes before another thought pops into my head. Roman didn’t try to have sex with me. He didn’t even take my clothes off—and in that moment, I probably would have let him. The sun outside is really bright, meaning it has to be late morning already. Maybe he didn’t run off and abandon me. Maybe he just went home so he didn’t get caught in my bed.

He let me sleep in.

Of course! That has to be what happened.

I roll out of bed and hurry to the bathroom, anxious to get dressed so I can find Roman and prove he isn’t the asshole Kyle claims he is. A pink piece of paper next to the sink catches my eye, and I pick it up. It’s a flyer for some horse show that had happened over two years ago, but in the margin a short note has been scrawled in masculine script.

Jules-
Headed out just before the sun came up. I didn't want you to get in trouble. You can find me on the beach when you’re done getting your beauty sleep—not that you need it.

Roman

I smile and almost do the classic teenage girl squeal of delight.

He isn’t an asshole.

I’m ready for the day and hurrying down the stairs in record time. My father sits at the kitchen table drinking coffee, and I flash him what may be the most sincere smile I’ve ever given him.

“Any plans for today?” he asks, barely looking up from the National Newspaper. The headline screams at me from the front page: Democracy on its way. First election to be held next year.

I bite back a snarky comment about running away with Roman as I grab myself some breakfast. To go. Best to ignore him and hold on to my good mood.

I’m halfway to the door when my father sighs. “Juliana, I know you’re excited about being able to go outside and not having to look over your shoulder all the time, but it’s still dangerous. I’m not going to make you stay in the house all the time, but I want to know where you are and that you’re safe.”

After everything that happened when the virus first broke out, I have a difficult time believing that he really cares. Plus, this sounds like something straight out of a parenting book he picked up. How to Keep Your Kids Safe During the Zombie Apocalypse. Right. No one will ever be able to accuse my father of letting any real emotions sneak out, that’s for sure.

“I’ll probably just be on the beach with some of the other kids from school. It’s no big deal.” I try to keep it casual by copying Roman’s tone.

My father nods, but his jaw clenches. “Not the Regulator’s son. Got it? He has a reputation. His own father seems scared of him.”

My back is to my father when it stiffens, and my hand tightens around the cereal bar in my hand, making the wrapper crinkle. I shove it in my pocket for later.

The only thing he’s scared of is Roman revealing who he really is.

“I’m serious.” Dad’s tone is even more stern than it was a few seconds ago. “He had a record before all this.”

Geeze, how about you take another peek at that parenting book. Don’t you know telling your child something is off-limits will only make it more appealing?

Then again, I have a feeling Roman would be appealing no matter what my father said.

“Well I can’t help it if he’s there,” I say, rolling my eyes. “There are probably only six kids my age here.” I try to hold back on the sarcasm, but a little bit of it seeps out anyway. Oh well.

“I don’t want you alone with him.” Somehow, my father manages to make his tone sound parental and not like a government official giving orders. I guess there’s a first time for everything.

Ignoring him, I swipe a banana off the counter. I peel it and take a bite, wondering what Roman’s father has been telling people. What has my dad so worried? I already know Roman had a record before the infection—he’d told me as much himself—but he hasn’t given me any real details. Do I even want to know?

I’m not sure, but at the moment all I want is to get away from my father.

I scarf my banana down and toss the peel into the trash before heading to the door.

“Juliana,” my father calls just as I walk past him. There’s something about his tone that makes me stop. He hesitates before saying, “Be careful, even inside the fence. The Regulator wants to make it look perfect here, but it isn’t. It doesn’t happen often, but zombies have managed to get in from time to time. He has it taken care of and keeps it quiet. Says it’s for peace of mind.” His jaw tightens like it does when he disapproves of a decision someone is making.

I narrow my eyes and study him before saying, “It sounds like things aren’t going well with the Regulator.”

“Let’s just say that we don’t exactly see eye to eye on what’s best for the town,” he says. “If he doesn’t pull his head out of his ass soon, though, Atlanta will do it for him. They’re fed up.”

I can read between the lines. The Regulator's an ass.

At least we agree on something.

“Well I’m going to head out.” I’ve had more than enough father/daughter time for today.

He nods as he turns back to his paper, barely batting an eye now that he’s done his duty and warned me to be careful.

I turn on my heel and head toward the door. Ah, there’s the father I’ve grown to despise.

Outside, the sky is clear blue with just a few puffy, gray clouds in the distance, and the bright sun shines down on the earth like it can’t wait to suck all the moisture from the earth. I dart across the backyard, avoiding the puddles and muddy patches as best as I can. The bright sunshine is deceptive, because there’s a slight chill to the air. Goose bumps pop up on my arms and legs when a cool breeze sweeps across the yard. It’s like the storm moved in and sucked all the humidity from South Carolina. Maybe fall is finally here.

I run across the boardwalk spanning the dunes but have only made it halfway when I spot Roman and Mac lounging on the stairs. A nervous tingle starts in my stomach and I slow to a walk.

Roman leans against the rail while he smokes a cigarette, and the sight of him actually makes me laugh. I swore I’d never date a guy who smoked, but in the face of the apocalypse, it doesn’t seem like a very big deal anymore. Funny—or terrifying—how things change.

He turns when I stop behind him, and the corner of his mouth quirks up.

Mac looks my way too, squinting under the bright sun. He uses his hand to shade his face, and I catch a glimpse of mischief twinkling in his eyes as he grins up at me. “You look like you slept well.” When he winks, my cheeks burst into flames.

Roman rams the heel of his shoe into Mac’s chest, sending him tumbling off the stairs and onto the wet sand. He springs back to his feet, throwing wet sand up all around him in the process. It flies through the sky and lands on Roman and me, leaving little droplets of sand sprinkled on my arms and legs. I brush them off while Mac does the same, my cheeks aching from the grin that’s spread across my face. It’s a beautiful ache that brings back memories of days gone by.

Roman is still smoking. Smoking and watching me so intently that it wakes the butterflies who have made their home in my stomach, causing them to once again fight against my insides in a desperate attempt to escape. My cheeks burn when images of last night flood my mind, and I finally have to look away.

I’m squirming when I turn to face Mac. “So what are the plans for today?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says with a grin, “but I have to be honest, I’m taken. I know it breaks your heart, but my hands are tied.” He puts his wrists together to illustrate his point.

“So Carmen tied you up last night?” Roman smirks, and I giggle. “A bit kinky for your first time, but whatever turns you on.”

Mac puts his finger to his lips. “Shhh. You’re making Jules jealous. You know how she’s wanted me since the moment we met.”

Roman watches Mac with the same amused expression he had yesterday during the other boy’s Twilight tangent. The corner of his mouth just barely quirked up and his eyes sparkling.

That expression gives him away. He isn’t a delinquent or a battered child. He’s Roman. Relaxed. Sweet. Caring. He’s everything.

His gaze meets mine, and he blows out a puff of smoke. Winking at me. Burning me alive. My skin is hot with his gaze.

Mac clears his throat. “Well…I’m thinking that I might be interrupting something.” He whistles and looks toward the sky, twiddling his thumbs behind his back as he turns and walks away, heading down the beach. “I think I’ll just go find someone else to spend the day with…”

The corner of Roman’s mouth turns up even more. “Yeah. Go find Carmen so you can rock her world again.”

Mac raises his arm over his head and gives Roman the finger. But when Mac glances over his shoulder, he’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What about you?” Roman asks, tossing his cigarette onto the wet sand as he gets to his feet.

I raise an eyebrow and fight back a grin. “Are you asking if you can rock my world?”

“I will if you’ll let me.” A teasing light flashes in his eyes.

My stomach turns inside out and upside down and tosses the butterflies around. They beat their wings and grow teeth so they can chew on my insides.

“One day…” How in the world did I manage to get those words out? All I really want to say is hell yes!

“Can I get that in writing?”

I laugh and bite my lip. Intentionally. I never realized I did it so often until Roman pointed it out, but since then, I’ve had the urge to do it every time I’m with him.

He narrows his eyes on my mouth. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

I can’t stop smiling, but I’m sure if I don’t stop soon my face is going to break in two. It would be worth it though, because I’m not sure I’ve ever felt happiness like this…ever.

Roman grabs my arm and pulls me against him without giving me any warning. All the air leaves my lungs just before he covers my mouth with his. He tastes like tobacco and salt, smells like smoke and soap, leather and the outdoors. Fresh and worn at the same time. Like nothing I’ve ever known before. My legs wobble like they’re two pieces of cooked spaghetti. How the hell did they get here? I have no idea, but I do know if I don’t hold on to Roman I’m going to fall, so I wrap my arms around his neck. My chest is pressed firmly against his, our hearts pounding in perfect synchronization as his lips move over mine. I say a silent prayer of thanks for those strings of pasta that have for some reason replaced my legs.

Roman stops kissing me too soon. I could stay in his arms forever and be happy. On the beach with the cool air blowing across my face and seagulls flying above us.

“Let me take you into town,” he says, holding my gaze. His arms still wrapped around me. “I know you’re scared, but you can trust me. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

I shiver against my will. I don’t want to be scared, and I do trust Roman. We’ve only just met, but for some reason, I feel like I’ve known him my entire life. Like I was born knowing him.

“Will there be zombies?”

His fingers trace little circles on my back. Around and around and around. My skin tingles and heats up, threatening to engulf us both. I don’t want to go into town. I want to take him back to my room and throw him on my bed and…

“It’s okay. I told you, they’re so much slower than they used to be. There’s nothing to be worried about.”

…take his clothes off…

“I don’t know, Roman.”

…but I do know. I know exactly what I want. Why can’t I just say the words?

“There’s something I need to do, so I have to go into town. You don’t have to come with me, but I’d like it if you did.”

“Weren’t you just there yesterday?” What could he possibly get in a town unsanctioned by the government? We’re given everything we need.

“A birthday present for Mac.”

A smile floods my insides and breaks through, lighting up my face. Roman will make me happy. Finally.

“I’ll go with you.”

He smiles. It’s crooked and cute and the most endearing gesture I’ve ever seen a person make. “You’re sure? I don’t want you do something that will make you uncomfortable.”

Do I detect a double meaning to those words? “It won’t. If I say I want to do something, it means I do.”

There’s definitely a double meaning to mine.

Chapter Fourteen

Over the Fence

I’ve never gone into town with anyone other than Mac, but I’m taking Jules.

Does it mean something?

It feels like it does. Not just to me, but to her. She trusts me, and I love that about her, which says more about the two of us together than anything that happened last night.

She follows me over the fence without hesitating, but the second her feet touch the ground, her eyes dart around like she’s afraid someone—or something—is going to jump her. She’s visibly shaking.

Am I an ass for encouraging her to come with me? Maybe I’m being selfish. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“There really isn’t anything to worry about,” I say, kneeling next to the cooler Mac and I have hidden. “I didn’t lie about that, but we carry these as a precaution.” I pull a couple knives out and hand her one.

Her eyes get bigger than ever, but she nods like she understands. She wraps shaky fingers around the handle, and the sudden urge to take her away from here comes over me. Not because I think she’s going to hurt herself, but because I want her to be somewhere safe. Jules shouldn’t have to live in a world where zombies want to eat her. She should be happy and have a future.

Does a safe place actually exist anymore? I doubt it. If I were being honest, I’d admit that it probably never existed in the first place. It sure hasn’t for me.

I clear my throat and look away from Jules so I can get my shit together.

What is going on with me? I ditch Roz for a girl I just met, and now I’m having delusions about running away with her. I wonder if I’m going insane.

“R-Roman?”

My head snaps up at the shakiness in Jules’s voice. I scan the area, looking for trouble. A zombie or an undocumented survivor. Something dangerous. But there’s nothing in the forest other than Jules and me.

I stand up and turn to face her. “You okay?”

“There’s really nothing to be scared of?” She’s looking at me with wide eyes.

I pull her against me. Maybe we shouldn’t do this.

“No,” I say reassuringly. “Trust me. The knives aren’t really even necessary if we come across one. We could easily outrun them now. They’re slow. Decaying. Barely a threat.”

When she nods, her head rubs against my chest. I pull her closer, trying to push aside all the filthy thoughts that fill my mind when her breasts press harder against me. It’s almost impossible with her this close to me. I can feel every curve, every breath she lets out. We need to get moving, but I can’t stop myself from tilting her face up and crushing my lips against hers.

She kisses me back, moving her mouth against mine, tracing her tongue over mine. Whispering my name against my lips. Making me regret every second I ever wasted on another girl.

My heart is pounding like a stampede of buffalo when I pull away. We need to get moving. Plus, I don’t want to lose control.

“We should go.”

Jules gives a smile that’s sweet and innocent and is like an arrow to my heart. It makes me want to protect her and love her and beat the shit out of anyone who hurts her.

We start walking. Through the woods and toward the road. Her warm hand in mine as we talk about things we miss and things we still want to do. I tell her what I remember about my mom. How different life was with her, about the cookies she baked and how the smell of roses always reminds me of her smile.

When we reach the road, Jules stops and looks around like she’s seeing the world for the first time. “It’s so quiet. It just doesn’t feel real. How far to town?”

“About two miles. It sounds longer than it is.”

She squeezes my hand as we start moving again. I’ve never actually held hands with a girl like this before. Holding hands screams relationship, and that was never really my thing. But Jules’s hand in mine feels right. Safe.

“What exactly are you getting for Mac?” She’s more relaxed then she was when we first crossed over, but her eyes still dart around at every sound. I’m not sure if she’s worried or just taking in her surroundings, though.

I grin when I think about Mac. I can’t help it. He makes me laugh and makes this whole shitty life a little less shitty. Before the virus, I never would have thought we could be friends. Not like this. But if it hadn’t been for him, the last two years in Coastal Manor would have been like hell.

“Not gonna tell.” I wink and let go of her hand so I can get a cigarette. When I put it between my lips, Jules frowns, and I freeze. “Is it okay that I smoke?” It’s a damn miracle that I care, but I do.

She tilts her head to the side and studies me. Really studies me. Her eyes search mine, sweeping over my face and hair and down to my arms. She just looks at me. Like she can see inside.

“I never thought it would be okay—smoking is so…gross.” She wrinkles her nose, and I have the sudden urge to toss the damn cigarette on the ground. “But I think I’ve decided to be rebellious. You know, piss my dad off. I think that will make it easier.”

An ache moves through my chest, and I lower the cigarette. Is that all I am?

Her eyes twinkle, and I almost laugh. She’s joking. Okay, maybe half-joking. She does have daddy issues, after all.

I pop the cigarette between my lips and give her a half-smile as I light up. “I know a few other things you could do to piss your dad off.” She laughs, and I wink. “I wasn’t joking.”

“Oh, I know.” Jules smiles again. It’s big and beautiful and brighter than the damn sun, and that’s it for me. I’m a goner.

The house comes into view, and I clear my throat, trying to dislodge the lump that’s formed there. It feels like I swallowed a tennis ball. Of course, I haven’t seen a tennis ball in over two years, so that can’t be right.

“We need to duck in here,” I say, titling my head toward the house as I take a drag.

Jules shoots me a questioning look, but she doesn’t say anything. She’s just along for the ride, which is awesome, because I have a strong feeling it’s going to be a wild one.

Chapter Fifteen

Town

I’m genuinely curious to check out the abandoned house Roman leads me toward. I’m not sure why he wants to go in there, but it’s intriguing. Visiting a place that only a few years ago probably housed a happy family. A family that died along with the majority of the world when the virus hit.

I study it as we cross the yard. It needs some work, but it’s in pretty good shape considering the neglect of the past two years. There are a couple broken windows, and some of the shutters have fallen off and blown who knows where. The porch is sagging just a little, and the house itself is in desperate need of a paint job, but otherwise it doesn’t look dangerous or unstable.

Roman stops outside the house long enough for me to get a good look at the place while he finishes his cigarette. I smile when his eyes meet mine, and the smirk he gives me makes my insides flutter. I really don’t love the smoking, but I’ve decided to take him the way he is. Damaged, hurt, vulnerable, and tough. Because that’s Roman. If smoking is part of the package, I’m okay with it.

He drops the cigarette on the ground and snubs it out before taking my hand. “Come on.” Then he leads me inside.

The house is empty. I mean empty. No furniture or lamps, no curtains. Not even a picture on the wall. Roman takes me through the kitchen, where most of the cabinets are wide open and just as bare as the walls. The place has been stripped clean.

“Where did everything go?” I ask, looking around.

“Scavengers. Didn’t the empty houses and apartments get looted in D.C.?”

“A little in the beginning,” I say, shaking my head. “Mostly for food and weapons. Once the government pulled itself together, they put a stop to all that. Empty houses inside the walls were locked up until they were assigned to new occupants.”

Roman leans back against one of the empty cabinets. “Well, it’s not like that in the unsanctioned areas. Places like this were cleaned out pretty fast. There are still some homes or neighborhoods with goods to scavenge, but they’re farther away from the settlements. That’s where I find my stuff. It’s usually an overnight trip.”

My eyes get so wide it feels like they’re going to pop out of their sockets. “You stay out overnight? What does your father say?”

“Rick doesn’t give a shit whether or not I’m home as long as I don’t bring trouble back into town.”

Of course. I knew that.

I glance around the kitchen. “What do they do with it all?”

“Trade it. Take it to the unsanctioned towns and exchange it for food or other goods they may need.”

“But everything’s gone,” I say, pointing to the walls as if Roman hasn’t noticed how bare they are. “Pictures?”

He flips his head to the side when his hair falls over his forehead and then gives me a half-smile that almost stops my heart. How can such a little gesture affect me so much?

“You’d be surprised at the stuff people can use these days. The wood frames get used for firewood, and there are people in town who recycle the glass. We have to reuse everything.” He pushes himself away from the cabinets and turns toward the back of the house. “Probably won’t be long before they start ripping the house apart to use for wood. Everything in this area that is easily transported is pretty much gone by this point.”

I hurry after him.

It makes sense, I just hadn’t thought about it until now. Plus, I’m not used to needing anything. In D.C., everything was handed to me. What would it be like to live out there? To not have the government provide for me? A part of me is terrified by the prospect, but another part feels lightheaded by the idea.

Roman stops in what I’m assuming used to be a pantry and leans down so he can, for some strange reason, pry up one of the floorboards.

“There’s a crawlspace down here,” he says. “I found it by accident about a year ago. It’s the perfect place for me to stash my stuff.”

He pulls boards away, and a hole appears in the floor. It’s around two feet by two feet, but deep. How deep, I’m not sure. It’s too dark to tell.

Roman reaches in and pulls out a flashlight. When he flips it on, he points it to the hole, illuminating the dark space and allowing me to get a better look. It’s filled almost to the brim with boxes and plastic bins. So much stuff.

What in the world does Roman plan to do with all this?

“Why do you have this stuff stashed here?” I ask, looking up at him in amazement.

Roman sits back, and uncertainty clouds his vision. “I told you I’ve been collecting stuff to trade. So I can leave.”

Time freezes.

That’s right. I’d forgotten.

“Where will you go?” The words are so quiet that they’re almost a whisper.

He shakes his head and pats the floor next to him. I sit at his side, my eyes moving from him to the supplies he’s gathered. It’s a lot. Meaning he probably doesn’t have much time left.

“Away. I don’t have any interest in living near Rick, and life in an unsanctioned area sounds good.” He pauses before taking my hand in his, moving his thumb over mine in little circles while his eyes hold my gaze.

“Why an unsanctioned town?” It doesn’t make sense to me. There are other government-sanctioned settlements he could go to. Not a lot, but enough. If he moved to one of them, he’d still be away from Rick, but he’d also be safe.

Roman’s eyes narrow on my face. “Do you trust them?”

“The government?” I ask even though I know that’s what he’s talking about.

Roman nods.

“I—” I press my lips together so I can figure out what to say. “I’m not sure.”

“I know that the rationing system is necessary, but there’s something about how things are being run that rubs me the wrong way. Judicial officers and Regulators. It may seem like a simple change, but it bugs me, the way they’ve altered the titles of every person in charge. They’ve wiped our old system clean, and I can’t help wondering exactly who is in charge.”

“It’s temporary,” I say. “They’re going to establish a democracy, it’s just going to take time. I saw the headline on the National Newspaper this morning. They say the election is going to be next year.”

Roman lifts his eyebrows. “They said the same thing last year.”

He’s right.

“The people who were left in D.C. rallied together,” I say, remembering those early months after the dead came back. “But it wasn’t until they got in touch with Atlanta that a new governing system was set up. No one really high up was left to tell people what to do, and I think everyone was still in shock. When Atlanta handed them a solution, they just grabbed it.”

“That’s why I want to go to an unsanctioned town,” Roman says, his finger still making circles on my hand. “I don’t trust the people in charge, and living off the grid isn’t as scary as you think it is. These people are organized and the town is safe. They have to work hard, but isn’t that better than being told what to do for the rest of our lives?”

I hate the thought of him going away, but he has a point. My dad worked high up, so I know for a fact that not everything reported in the National Newspaper is accurate. I’ve been telling myself that they’re just trying to keep people from worrying, but I can’t help wondering if there’s more to it.

Plus, secretly, I’d always wanted to run away from D.C. From my father.

“When are you going?” My voice shakes, but it isn’t from fear. I’m suddenly…excited. Almost hopeful.

Roman flicks his hair out of his face, his eyes moving from me to the crawl space. “Soon. I’d be able to leave now if I didn’t get Mac this going-away present. I’ll have to do another big raid if I want enough goods to trade for supplies.”

I look down at our entwined fingers, loving the warmth of his skin against mine.

“Will you go with me?”

The words send a thrill shooting through me, and for a second I can’t breathe. Is he serious? We just met, and it seems like such a big step. When I look up, his brown eyes meet mine. There’s hope in his expression. He’s serious. He wants me with him. My mouth goes dry like it’s full of cotton, and my heart pounds.

“I don’t know,” I mumble, looking away. Trying to hide the fear surging through me.

Roman tilts my face up so I’m looking him in the eye. “Think about it.”

My head nods on its own.

Roman releases my chin, and his hand slips from mine. He turns back to the hole. “I’m going to have to give up something big if I want to get Mac a bike.”

A smile creeps across my face. Roman is so adorable sometimes.

“You’re going to get Mac a motorcycle for his birthday?”

He pulls a shoebox out of the hole, and when he turns to face me, he’s smiling. “Damn, it was going to be a surprise.”

“What could you possibly have that someone would be willing to trade a motorcycle for?”

He taps the shoebox and grins like he’s holding a treasure chest. It’s one of those big boxes that a pair of work boots would have come in, and when he takes the lid off, I almost gasp. It’s filled with batteries. All different sizes, and all still in their original packaging. Batteries are nearly impossible to come by these days.

“Where did you get these?”

Roman puts the lid back on and hands me the box before turning to recover the hole. The box is heavy, the weight intensified by its precious contents. These are worth more than any treasure chest.

“Been collecting them,” he says, getting to his feet before holding his hand out so he can help me up. Once I’m on my feet, Roman takes the box from me. “There’s a guy in town who has a couple old bikes. They’re not really in demand these days. For some strange reason, people prefer to be in enclosed spaces when traveling.” He winks.

“I wonder why,” I say, laughing.

Roman shrugs and heads out of the house, my hand in his as he pulls me with him. It makes me feel safe and secure.

“Something about zombies,” he says.

I’m still grinning when we step outside. The wooden porch sags beneath my feet, feeling a little less than sturdy, but that isn’t what makes my heart almost stop. My smile melts away and my feet stop moving, and within seconds I’m shaking like a leaf.

There are three zombies in the yard. Three of them. I haven’t come this close to one since the first few months of the outbreak, and now there are three.

Roman steps in front of me and shoves the shoebox into my hands as pulls he his knife out, all in one fluid movement. “It’s okay.”

It doesn’t feel okay. It feels the complete opposite of okay.

Roman steps off the porch, and one of the zombies spots him right away. The thing groans and moves toward him, chomping his mouth. Gray skin stretches across his face, and the deep gashes that cut across the decaying flesh ooze with black goo. Thankfully, the other two creatures are facing the other way and haven’t caught wind of us yet.

Roman doesn’t seem afraid in the slightest as he walks toward the dead man. His knife is held firmly in his hand, but he’s steady. Sure of himself as he walks in a big arc around the zombie. He was right. They are slow. But it’s still terrifying, and I’m still shaking, gripping the box of batteries so hard the cardboard bows under the pressure. Just as Roman reaches the back of the first zombie, the other two notice him and head his way. My heart jumps to my throat and I reach out like I’m trying to stop them, but no sound comes out when I move my lips.

I try again, and this time his name comes out like a strangled cry. “Roman!”

He smiles like all of this is nothing, then drives his knife into the back of the first zombie’s skull. The thing drops to the ground, and Roman spins to face the others. He charges the second one, a sad-looking woman whose nightgown is stained and tattered, her gray skin barely clinging to her bones. Roman dodges her arms and loops around her back, then jabs his knife into her skull just like he did with the first one.

Two down, but my heart is still pounding wildly.

The third one is so tall that Roman’s head only goes up to the zombie’s shoulders. Next to him, Roman looks like a child. Even worse than his size is the fact that he seems to be faster than the other two. Less decomposed, even, like he’s just recently died.

Roman circles him, but the zombie spins too. His hands reach out to grab Roman, but Roman ducks out of the way. His face tenses, and his eyes dart over to me. I watch, frozen in terror from my place on the porch as Roman tries to get behind the zombie again. He could stab him in a different location, but with as tall as the decaying man is, it wouldn’t be safe. Only no matter how many times Roman tries to get behind the corpse, it doesn’t work. The thing is too fast and too hungry. Determined.

“I’m gonna need your help,” Roman calls out to me.

I almost pee my pants. “What do you need?” Did I actually say the words out loud, or had I only thought them? I’m not sure.

“I need you to draw him your way so I can get behind him. He’s not giving up.”

I take a deep breath and then force myself to step off the porch. My legs are shaking.

The zombie’s gaze stays focused on Roman.

“You need to make some noise or something,” he calls out to me.

Just then the zombie’s hand grabs him, his fingers closing around Roman’s wrist. The creature’s mouth opens, and he pulls Roman’s arm forward, toward his open mouth.

A scream rips its way out of me, and the monster looks up, momentarily distracted. The decaying basketball player doesn’t let go of Roman’s arm, but he does turn to face me. I can’t be sure, but it almost seems like his eyes narrow, and he definitely tilts his head to the side. As if he’s trying to size me up.

I can’t move. I clutch the box of batteries tightly to my chest as the zombie closes his mouth and studies me. There’s something in his milky eyes that’s so familiar. So human. So—

Roman jams the knife into the zombie’s skull, and the light leaves the dead man’s eyes. The rotten hand falls away from Roman’s wrist, and the thing drops to the ground. Dead. This time for good.

“Did you see that?” I whisper.

Roman rushes toward me, pulling me close. “Are you okay? I’m so sorry. That guy was so much more aggressive than any we’ve seen in a long time. He must have been newer.”

His concern snaps me out of it, and I pull back, grabbing his arm. “No, are you okay?” My heart pounds just thinking about how close he came, but he looks okay. “No scratches,” I mutter, studying his wrist. We all know a person can turn just from a scratch…

This was too close. Too scary. Maybe I shouldn’t have left the safety of the fence.

“Hey,” Roman says, forcing me to look up. “I’m okay.”

I nod even though the bigger question remains: what did I just see in that zombie’s eyes?

“Did you see the way he looked at me?” I ask, my gaze moving to the dead man on the ground.

“Like you were lunch?” The humor in Roman’s voice draws my attention to his face, where a little grin has pulled up one side of his mouth. He’s looking at me like he thinks I’m nuts.

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “It was like he was studying me. Trying to figure me out. He was so fresh. So new…”

Roman’s smile fades. “What are you saying?”

“Just…” I swallow. “What if the virus mutating has changed the zombies? What if the person is still in there? Trapped? I mean, we know people who are infected with the mutated strain turn before their heart stops beating, but we’ve always just assumed that the human part of them is gone by then. But what if it isn’t?”

“You mean conscious of what’s going on, but unable to control it?” Roman’s mouth pulls down even more.

I nod, unable to say a word as the horrible thought settles in on me.

“No.” Roman shakes his head. “No way. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

He grabs my hand before he starts walking, pulling me away from the abandoned house and back toward the road. Almost like he can’t stomach the idea of talking about it.

I can’t blame him for that.

When the unsanctioned settlement comes into view, I stop walking.

I had no idea it was going to be like this.

Circling the town is a wall that has to be ten feet high and is made out of every material imaginable. Cement blocks, wooden boards, and sheets of metal. There are even whole sections that look like the outside wall of a house. It’s impressive and looks even more secure than the fence surrounding Coastal Manor. This will definitely keep the zombies out.

The road we’re on leads to a wooden door large enough for cars to drive through, and on each side is a lookout tower where armed men sit, guarding the area. I’m not sure what I expected, but it wasn’t anything like this.

“Do the zombies ever get in?” I ask Roman when he pulls me forward.

He waves to the men on lookout, who turn and yell to someone below them. “Not for a long time. It’s been over a year. They have a better record than Coastal Manor, if you can believe it.”

I do, but only because Roman said it.

The heavy door groans as it swings open, making my heart jump. Who knew I’d be this excited to see how these people lived? Not me, that’s for sure. It probably has a lot to do with the things Roman has said, but there’s more to it too. I’m a planner and I always have been, so the idea of living in uncertainty is scary. But it must not be that bad if people choose to do it. Even more, they’re happy. At least according to Roman.

Time to find out if that’s true.

My hand is in Roman’s as we step through the gate, right onto Main Street. Or what used to be Main Street, anyway. Now it’s like something out of a movie. The businesses have been converted into homes, and other makeshift wood shelters have been constructed on the sidewalks—booths where goods can be traded. There are people everywhere. So many more than I’ve ever imagined could be surviving in an unsanctioned area. Old and young, men and women and children. Dozens of children.

Just like Roman said, they aren’t as clean as the people in Coastal Manor. Their clothes are streaked with dirt and covered in holes. Some even have dirt smeared on their faces. The people here look tired, like the last two years are etched in every line of their faces. It’s been hard, and they’ve struggled. Lost almost everything.

But they’ve survived and they’re rebuilding. Even more than that, they’ve thrived, and they’re happy to have done it. Happy to have made it through on their own and to be living here. The kids smile as they run through the streets while the adults stand in groups, talking and joking loudly. They’re worn out, but they’ve managed to forge a new life for themselves. Managed to figure out a way to survive. On their own. They don’t need the government.

No wonder my father is opposed to the unsanctioned settlements. He believes in government. In order. In control.

He craves it.

I turn to find Roman watching me closely. Studying me as I study them.

He grins and pokes me in the side with his elbow as we walk down the street together. “What do you think?”

“This is amazing.” And it is. It really and truly is.

Roman’s smile grows bigger, and the exhale he lets out is so loud it gives off the impression that he’s been holding his breath for hours. “They’re so free. Almost makes you jealous.”

Only he doesn’t sound like someone who is almost jealous. He sounds green with envy. It seeps from his pores as we walk and hangs over us like a thick cloud. An ominous reminder that Roman is not happy in Coastal Manor.

It’s a little hard for me to swallow. It gets stuck in my throat, and the weight of it feels like it’s going to choke me.

People wave as we walk by, and it hits me that not only do they know Roman but they also welcome him. He belongs here in a way that would never be possible in Coastal Manor. Even if his father wasn’t the Regulator and even if their relationship wasn’t so volatile, Roman would never fit in there. He needs something a bit more…wild.

When we pass a group of girls around our age, they flash Roman smiles so dazzling that I find it impossible to notice how threadbare their clothes are. A couple of them throw me dirty looks. A side effect of being with Roman, I guess.

“This is the life you want?” I ask, pointing to three girls, who are giggling and whispering to one another. “You want to live here?”

The corner of Roman’s mouth lifts just a little, and he tilts his head toward the girls. “Naw. Not here. Somewhere further away.”

“You should keep that to yourself. Seems like you’ll break a couple hearts if you admit that.”

He winks. “You jealous?”

Yes. “No.”

Roman slings his free arm around my shoulder as he leads me toward a store, laughing. “Come on. I’ll introduce you to Hank.”

The building we walk into was a tattoo parlor before the virus, and part of it still is. But the other half looks like a trading post of some kind. Dozens of shelves are lined up against the wall, full of items that range from pots and pans to shoes and iPads. What anyone would need with an iPad these days, though, is beyond me. But there they are. Stacks of them.

“Roman! You bring someone else for me ink?” a burly man that I can only assume is Hank yells from across the room.

He’s sitting on a threadbare couch with his arms crossed over his chest and a big smile on his face. He looks like a tattoo artist, or maybe even a trucker or the leader of a motorcycle gang. His arms are covered in brightly colored pictures, and he’s wearing a black leather vest. His jeans are dirty and holey—although that isn’t anything unusual—and his shaggy brown hair goes down to his shoulders.

“This is Jules,” Roman says. “But she doesn’t want a tattoo.” He shoots me a quick look, lifting an eyebrow. “At least I don’t think so.”

I take a step back and shake my head, which makes Roman laugh.

He turns back to Hank, his shoulders still shaking. “Came to talk to Steve about that bike.”

“I’ll get him,” Hank says as gets to his feet. “But he told you bro, he ain’t gonna let go of it unless you bring something big in. I know you’re good at finding things, but I don’t think even you are that good.”

Roman smiles and holds the box out. “We’ll see.”

Hank narrows his eyes on the box before heading into the back of the store. His footsteps get quieter and further away like he’s climbing a set of stairs. Maybe people live up there.

“You think he’ll trade you for the batteries?” I ask when we’re alone.

Roman leans his hip against a display case, his eyes twinkling. “He’ll trade. Steve has a dirty little secret he doesn’t want people to know. But I found out.”

“What’s the secret?”

Roman leans close to me, and his lips brush against my ear. A shiver shoots down my spine. “He has an old Game Boy and he’s seriously addicted to Tetris.”

I have no idea what a Game Boy is. “What’s that?”

Roman’s lips brush my cheek and then move down my jaw and over to my lips. The kiss is soft. Like a feather brushing against my skin.

“An old handheld video game. Before the Nintendo DS or PSP.” His lips brush against mine when he talks, and I shiver again. “It uses batteries.” He kisses his way back across my jaw. “So he can play it without electricity.”

I swallow and try to ignore the inferno in my veins. My face is hot, and my skin crackles and pops under Roman’s lips. I find myself putting my hands on his stomach and reaching up under his shirt to feel his hard body. Roman lets out a little groan, and his mouth covers mine again, this time teasing it open with his tongue.

Footsteps pound against the floor, and a booming voice breaks through the quiet room, saying, “You better have something good, Roman.”

Roman pulls away, and I turn just as a Hispanic man who easily weighs three hundred pounds saunters into the room.

“You lost more weight,” Roman says just as I think, Looks like the zombie apocalypse hasn’t affected his diet.

I raise an eyebrow involuntarily, and Steve seems to notice. He chuckles as he comes toward us, the floorboards creaking under his feet. His long hair is braided down his back, and he can’t be older than twenty-eight. Young to be so heavy. Then again, this was once America. Before the virus, citizens of this country tried their damnedest to gorge themselves to death on processed and fast foods. Health experts were sure our diet would be the thing that would take us out. Not zombies. Nobody ever suspected zombies.

That would have been insane.

“Oh, I have something for you,” Roman says, plopping the box down on the counter a little too hard. The batteries bang against the glass, and I cringe, waiting for it to crack and split apart. It doesn’t.

Steve crosses his arms as his eyebrows shoot up. He has a smirk on his face that tells me he doesn’t think Roman can pull it off. It disappears the second the lid comes off the box, and Steve’s mouth falls open. Behind him, Hank lets out a loud chuckle.

“Where’d you get those, man?” Steve asks, sounding like a little kid.

Roman pulls the box back when Steve tries to touch the batteries. “Been collecting them.”

“You been holding out on me?” Steve asks, sounding almost hurt.

Hank laughs again, and I realize that even I’m smiling. Roman must have been right about Steve’s habit.

“Just holding on to them until I really needed something big from you,” Roman says. He playfully smacks Steve on his fleshy forearm. “I never woulda traded them to anyone else. Don’t worry.”

“You better not,” Steve mumbles.

Roman raises an eyebrow as he unconsciously flicks his hair out of his face. “So we got a deal?”

“Don’t know what you need a bike for anyways.” Steve puckers his lips. “You already got one.”

“It’s for Mac. He turns eighteen next week,” Roman says as he slides the box across the counter.

Steve picks it up like it’s the Holy Grail. His eyes wide and full of wonder.

Professional gamer, I think.

That was Steve before the virus. He probably lived in his parent’s basement. Played video games and ate pizza all day. Or maybe he did it for a living. Sat in a big room surrounded by people with white lab coats and clipboards, testing new video games for flaws.

Too bad the Game Boy thingy is the only video game he can get his hands on anymore.

“Bike’s out back,” Steve says, barely looking away from the box as he tosses a set of keys through the air.

Roman catches them, grinning. “Thanks, man.”

Steve is too busy staring at the box to say anything.

“We’ll see you later,” Roman calls over his shoulder as he leads me toward the back door.

“How are we getting the bike inside the fence? Are you just going to drive it through the front gate?” I ask when we head out of the building.

“I’m going to hide it for now. I’ll get with Clay, figure out when he’s working the fence and Kyle isn’t. I can’t trust that prick to keep his mouth shut.”

“Makes sense,” I say.

The motorcycle is very similar to the one Roman has, only a little older and with a lot more dents and rust. I’m not even sure at first that it’s going to start, but I climb on behind Roman anyway. I hold my breath and wrap my arms around his waist, not hesitating like I did last time, and exhale with relief when the engine turns over.

The bike rumbles beneath me as Roman shoots a look over his shoulder. “Ready?”

I nod and squeeze him tighter when he takes off.

We move through town slowly, dodging people on the street who barely bat an eye. They’re all too busy going about their own business to care what we’re doing, which is probably another reason Roman likes the idea of an unsanctioned area. I can’t really blame him for that, though. It has to be pretty awful living in Rick’s shadow.

Roman slows to a stop when we reach the gate, but it doesn’t take more than three minutes for the doors to open. When they do, he shoots through so fast I squeal. My fingers grip his shirt and his body shakes as he chuckles at my expense. If I weren’t afraid I’d fall off, I’d smack him for laughing at me right now.

He drives faster than the speed limit once was on this street, and by the time he slows to make a turn, I’m holding on for dear life. It’s a good thing too, because right in front of us, just around a bend in the road, six zombies stand in the middle of the road.

They aren’t bunched close together, which means when Roman swerves around the first zombie, he finds himself heading right for another one. I squeeze my eyes closed when the creature reaches out for us, but when I’m jerked to the left, find it impossible to keep them shut. I open my eyes to find a zombie right next to me, and the air I fill my lungs with is so foul and wretched that it causes my stomach to lurch.

“Hang on!” Roman calls as he swerves yet again.

There are still two zombies in front of us, with the other four heading after the motorcycle. With the way things are now, we’re goners if we wipe out.

Roman accelerates past the next zombie, and then picks up even more speed as he flies by the last one. I look over my shoulder to find a trail of dust in our wake, and the six zombies shambling down the street after us. They’re so slow that even if we did wreck and were injured we’d be able to outrun them now, but that doesn’t mean my heart isn’t going wild.

What the hell had I been thinking? I should have stayed inside the fence where I belonged.

Roman doesn’t slow again for at least another ten minutes, and by the time he does, I’ve finally managed to calm down and give the whole thing some real thought. We weren’t in any real danger. Sure, the zombies were close, but they were so slow that they couldn’t get close enough to sink their teeth into us. Roman knew what he was doing.

When Roman pulls to the side of the road, he looks back at me like he isn’t sure if I’m going to hit him or burst into tears. “You okay?”

I nod and slide off even though I’m not sure if this is where he intended to stash the bike. I just know I need to stretch my legs. After the intensity of our encounter, all my muscles feel tight.

“I’m fine. I was scared, but once we got away I realized it wasn’t as close as I’d thought it was at the time.”

Roman’s eyebrows shoot up. “You sure?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a deep sigh as he climbs off the bike as well. “Good. I was afraid that would be the end of it, and I have to tell you, I really didn’t want that to happen.”

He pushes the bike into the trees, and I watch him from the road as he covers it with leaves and branches. When he’s satisfied, he turns to face me as he pulls out a cigarette. His hands are shaking just a little, but I know him well enough by now to know that he isn’t scared of the zombies.

“Why are you shaking?”

He chuckles as he blows out a mouthful of smoke. “Honestly? I’m not sure. But I think it has something to do with the fact that I thought for sure you were never going to talk to me again after that.”

When he stops in front of me, I take his hand in mine. “It would take a lot more than a few zombies to keep me away from you at this point. You have to realize that.”

“Really?” Roman tilts his head to the side. “We just met. How do you know for sure?”

“I just do. Don’t you?”

He lets out a deep sigh and slings his arm over my shoulder. “Yes. There’s never been anything in my life that I was sure of until now.”

We head back toward Coastal Manor. Roman smokes, while I find myself enjoying the walk. Thanks to the storm the humidity is down, and the breeze that moves across the road is cool and refreshing. It’s so nice being out in nature that I can’t even be afraid. This is so much better than D.C. Better than the city and living inside a wall I’m not allowed to leave. It makes the idea of living in an unsanctioned town almost desirable. Roman was right: there’s so much potential for freedom out here. Even among the dead.

“So where do you think you’ll run off to?” I ask after about fifteen minutes of walking in silence.

“Not sure. I’ve heard good things about the Charleston area. It would be far enough away that Rick wouldn’t be able to find me but close enough that we—I can get there in less than a day. Going too far would be dangerous, but up north could work too. Winter freezes these things.”

He doesn’t acknowledge the slip, and neither do I, but my heart does skip a beat. We. I like the sound of that.

“Close to the ocean would be nice.”

He tilts his head to the side, and his brown eyes study mine. “Is that what you would like?”

I swallow, barely able to talk. The butterflies are awake, and I’m pretty sure a few have managed to escape and are now lodged in my throat.

“I do like being close to the ocean.”

“I’ll go wherever you’ll be happy.” His eyes are so intense that they burn into me.

“Except Coastal Manor.” My words are like throwing a bucket of water on a fire. They smother everything that was happening between us, but I feel like I need to state the obvious. “Rick could be kicked off his pedestal any day now, and once that happens things might not be that bad. We could be wrong about this government. A year from now, we could have a new president and democracy could be back. It’s possible.”

Roman stops walking and tosses his cigarette to the ground. We stand face to face in the middle of the road, and he just stares at me. His eyes keeping me prisoner as I wait for him to talk. My entire body is heavy with the weight of his gaze.

“Is that what you want?” he finally whispers. “You want me to stay here and live a respectable life? Is that how you see our future?”

Our future? I don’t know how I see our future. A week ago, I didn’t even know Roman existed. So how did I see my future? A respectable life. Yes, that’s what I’d imagined.

But is staying in a sanctioned settlement the only way to achieve that?

I hesitate, but Roman nods, urging me to speak. I have to get it out. “I always thought I’d get married one day. Have a husband and a house and kids. That hope didn’t change with the apocalypse.”

“We can still get married. Still have kids. Do you need to live in a government-sanctioned settlement for that?”

My heart stops beating. “You want to marry me?”

The corner of Roman’s mouth twitches. He flicks the hair out of his eyes and reaches up to caress my face, running his fingers down my cheek to my jaw. My heart starts beating again, only now it’s so fast and loud that it pounds in my ears.

It’s all I can hear until Roman says, “Yes.”

That one word smashes all my expectations for my future. They shatter and break apart, fracturing into a million pieces that float around in my head. Then the pieces fuse back together, creating a different picture. This one is so much better and brighter. Because it is Roman. Everything is Roman.

I smile a smile that is so big my cheeks hurt and I’m certain that I look like a lovesick puppy dog. A walking cliché of teenage giddiness. But I don’t give a crap. Roman pulls me close and kisses me, and I melt into him, getting so wrapped up in his embrace that everything around us fades away.

When a truck pulls to a stop next to us, I jerk back. Where the hell did it come from?

Roman’s body tenses, and he steps in front of me. “Shit.”

Bandits. It’s the first thing that comes to my mind, but when the passenger door swings open and someone steps out, my blood turns to ice. Mr. Smith. Maybe bandits would have been better.

“Roman,” the Regulator says as he walks toward us. His voice is hard and his eyes dark. They flit toward me, and a small, ugly smile curls up his lips. “I thought we discussed this.”

Roman’s mask of nonchalance returns. It’s been missing all day, and he’s been so relaxed that I almost forgot that stony look of his.

He pulls a cigarette out and sticks it between his lips, holding his father’s gaze as he lights it. He inhales slowly, filling his lungs. When he exhales, smoke floats toward his father’s face, surrounding him.

“We discussed it.”

The Regulator’s body becomes so rigid that he seems to grow an inch taller. The smile disappears. “Get in the truck.”

“We can walk from here,” Roman says.

I scoot closer to Roman, unsure of what to do. Should I stand back and let Roman take care of it or stick up for him?

Mr. Smith glances my way. “I don’t think your father would like the idea of you being out here.”

My father is going to be pissed.

Roman’s cool exterior cracks a little when he glances my way.

The Regulator must notice, because he smiles again. “I’m done here. You know the rules, Roman, and you’ve broken them for the last time. All citizens leaving town must sign out. I’m afraid I’m going to have to arrest the two of you.” He shakes his head and frowns in mock-disappointment, but the rage in his eyes gives him away. “Get in the truck or I’ll be forced to cuff you.”

Roman gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Don’t worry.”

I’m not worried, not about me, anyway. True, I’m not really looking forward to seeing my father, especially since he’d specifically told me not to go anywhere alone with Roman. I don’t know what my dad will do when he finds out, but whatever Roman is about to face has me more worried. Who cares about a little fight with my dad when Roman’s abusive father stands in front of us, glaring at his son with barely concealed rage?

Chapter Sixteen

Arrested

We ride back to Coastal Manor in the cab with Rick while the other men sit in the truck bed. I smoke, despite Rick’s glare of disapproval.

“Your mother would be disappointed in you.” His eyes glint as a small smile curls up his lips.

It’s the only thing he can say that still hurts me, and he knows it.

The air leaves my lungs, and for a couple seconds I can’t breathe. I turn to face the window and swallow, trying to keep the hurt and anger from bursting out of me. I wish he had waited until we were alone to say it. The fact that Jules is here makes the hurt more intense.

He probably knew that, though.

“What are you doing out here anyway?” I ask when I’ve finally pulled myself together. My voice sounds too thick. Strained.

Jules squeezes my hand, and the pain inside me eases just a little.

“Our government rations never came yesterday.”

I keep my face blank because I can feel Rick’s gaze on me. When I turn to face him, his eyes search mine. He raises an eyebrow as he waits for me to give something away. I take a long pull on my cigarette and shrug. My lungs still hurt, so it takes a lot of effort, but it helps keep my expression blank. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of getting any information from me.

A truck disappearing isn’t uncommon. Bandits. Undocumented people. Zombie attacks. There are a lot of things that can go wrong in this world. But I have a pretty good idea where to find our stolen goods. I saw a couple government boxes when I was talking to Hank and Steve, and Rick isn’t dumb.

“Bummer,” I say, giving my best impression of a disinterested teenager.

“Yes,” Rick says. He finally tears his eyes off me and focuses on the road again. “It is a bummer. We lost a good amount of food, fuel, and antibiotics. Stuff we depend on. But most importantly, we lost our first shipment of the AJ201 vaccine. The CDC finally started distributing it. Who knows how long it will take to get replacement vials.”

“They’ve finally released the vaccine?” Jules asks, speaking for the first time since Rick found us on the side of the road.

Her face is bright and full of interest, and even though it’s irrational, the fact that she wants to talk to Rick seems like a betrayal.

She doesn’t want to talk to Rick. She’s just interested in the vaccine. It doesn’t make me feel any better. I need to know that she’s on my side.

“They have,” Rick says. “Thanks to some random guy who would be totally worthless if it hadn’t been for his blood. The way I hear it, he was bitten on the way to Atlanta and barely alive when they brought him in. He didn’t turn, though, and apparently it wasn’t his first bite.”

“Did he live?” Jules asks, leaning forward.

Rick doesn’t even look her way. “They kept him alive long enough to draw his blood. Other than that, I don’t know.” His voice is as cold as his heart. “Doesn’t really matter. We got the vaccine. Would have gotten it sooner if the virus hadn’t mutated.”

His callous words make even me uneasy, and I’m used to the prick.

Jules shakes her head like she can’t understand how anyone can be so cold and unfeeling, but it doesn’t stop her from asking, “How does it work?”

“Administering it before a bite doesn’t do anything. You have to wait until after the victim has been bitten. If it’s given in time, it stops the virus from killing the victim, which stops them from turning. No more zombies. They went through quite a few trials and serums before they found one that worked.”

Jules bites down on her lip, and a jolt goes through my body. How can that affect me so much with Rick here? She’s like a drug to me. My body craves her closeness.

When we stop in front of the town hall, Jules’s father is standing outside. Rick grins.

The JO’s eyes narrow when we get out of the truck. “What’s going on?”

“Went out to search the area for our missing delivery and found these two outside the fence.” Rick jerks his head toward Jules and me. “Kissing.”

Jules stares at the ground, and I have to clench my fists to keep from punching Rick in the face. Of course he has to throw that last part in. He knows exactly how pissed off the father of a teenage girl is going to be when he finds out that she’s been fooling around with a delinquent like me. I’m not exactly the type of guy someone brings home to mom—or dad, in this case.

Jon’s jaw clenches. “Juliana?”

She keeps her eyes on the ground. All the rebellion she talked about earlier has disappeared, and she suddenly looks—scared. I’ve never gotten the impression that she’s afraid of him, so I don’t really understand what’s going on. Have I been missing something?

“They broke the rules.” Rick puffs his chest out like he’s trying to make himself look bigger. He’s leading up to something. I can see it in his eyes. They gleam in a way that is usually reserved for my torture. “It’s your daughter’s first offense, so I think she should be let off with just a warning, but Roman’s pushed me too many times.”

We’re drawing quite a crowd now. It’s Saturday—trading day—and the street is full. People have stopped what they’re doing and gathered around, watching us like we’re putting on some performance.

Jon purses his lips like he’s trying to suppress a smile. “What would you suggest? A couple of days in lock-up?”

Rick’s luck just keeps getting better.

I take a cigarette out and light up before I lose the privilege.

Rick glares my way. It’s probably the first time he’s been openly hostile to me in public. Of course, the great people of Coastal Manor will forgive him. It isn’t his fault he has such a rotten son.

“Three sounds fair to me.”

“No!” Jules cries, finally looking up from the ground. “That’s not fair!”

“He broke the rules, Juliana. You’re lucky Mr. Smith is willing to let you off with just a warning.” Jules opens her mouth to argue, but her dad cuts her off. “End of discussion.”

Her eyes fill with tears, and when she turns to face me, her expression is twisted with pain.

What can I do to make her feel better while also pissing off the two adults standing in front of us?

I pluck the cigarette out of my mouth and lean toward her. “Don’t worry about me. Being with you was worth three days in lock-up.”

Then I pull her toward me and hungrily attack her lips with mine, kissing her until the JO finally steps forward and pries me off his daughter.

It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done. How the hell am I going to spend three days in lock-up after kissing her like that? They’re gonna be the longest three days of my life.

Chapter Seventeen

Disappointed

My father is already furious that I left the town, and the fact that I was with Roman makes it a million times worse. But that kiss! That is the icing on the cake for him. It tips him over the edge and sends him into a fury that lasts into the night. I’ve never seen him so angry. It’s torture, but ultimately worth it. Just thinking about that goodbye kiss from Roman nearly singes every hair on my head.

Dad grounds me for a week, which means that even after Roman gets out, I won’t be able to see him except at school.

What an asshole.

I stay locked in my bedroom all day Sunday so my father and I don’t have to fight, but when Monday morning rolls around, I’m more than ready to escape. My father, wanting to make sure there’s no way to wiggle out of my punishment, takes me to school and picks me up when it’s over. Instead of going home, though, he makes me stay at the town hall with him—where I’m subjected to hours of evil looks from Roz—before we finally go home for dinner.

Tuesday is the same but better, because I can be comforted by the knowledge that Roman will be released sometime today and then I can see him.

Wednesday morning, I’m practically skipping when I come down the stairs. I can’t wait to get to school.

“I know Roman got out last night, but don’t get any big ideas,” my father says as he drives me to school. “I’m still picking you up after school, and you will still be sitting at the town hall with me. Do I make myself clear?” He narrows his eyes and puts on the same fatherly expression he’s worn all week.

When did he learn to be a parent? It’s a strange feeling, but for some reason it actually makes me respect him a little. Also a strange feeling.

Doesn’t mean I’m going to stop seeing Roman.

“I don’t want you seeing that boy anymore,” he says when I don’t respond.

I look away. Is his sudden change in attitude just a power trip, or is it possible that he actually cares about me after all this time?

Roman is standing just inside the door when I walk into school, leaning against the wall. Talking to Mac. He looks exactly the way he did the first time I saw him in the town hall. Laid-back, maybe even a little bored.

Until his eyes meet mine.

His mouth curls up into a smile, and it’s like a bolt of lightning shooting through my body.

Mac lets out an exaggerated sigh. “And now I’ve lost you. Whatever happened to bros before hos?”

“Like you’d ditch Carmen for me.” Roman doesn’t look away from me.

Mac opens his mouth to say something but closes it when Roman pushes himself off the wall and walks toward me.

“Hi,” I whisper, unable to find my voice.

He closes the distance between us in one step, but it feels like he’s moving in slow motion. My heart flutters and the world around us fades away, and then there’s nothing but Roman and me. His touch is light, his fingers running from my shoulder and down my arm to my hand. I can’t breathe, and my skin tingles as an electric current goes through my body.

He laces his fingers through mine and smiles. “I missed you.”

Those three simple words floor me. My mouth goes dry, and I can’t talk. All I can do is smile like a fool.

Mac clears his throat. “Umm… This is awkward.”

Roman looks as casual as ever, but I’m positive I look like a blubbering idiot. “I guess we should go up to class,” he says. “Maybe learn something.”

I laugh and finally find my voice, but it’s still shaky. Just like my legs are. “We started studying the Civil War yesterday.” It’s all I can think to say—like he cares.

Mac snorts as the three of us head toward the stairs. “A waste of time. If they really wanted to teach us something, they’d find an old copy of Dawn of the Dead, or better yet, we could watch The Walking Dead. That would teach us some survival skills at least.”

I laugh, but Mac has a point. If it weren’t for this country’s obsession with zombies, more people would have been wiped out. When all hell broke loose and the dead came back, it ended up saving a lot of lives.

When we get upstairs, Roman pulls me into a small room across the hall instead of our regular classroom. He shuts the door behind us, and his hand runs down the side of my face. It’s dark, but the intensity in his brown eyes is brighter than the sun.

“Your dad came to see me when I was locked up.”

“Did he?” My voice goes flat as all the joy is sucked from our reunion.

“He gave me the whole ‘stay away from my daughter’ speech, and Jules” —Roman pauses and takes my hand—. “I think you need to give him a break. I know things have been rough, but he cares about you.”

My stomach tightens. I don’t want to be annoyed with Roman, but I am. Even worse, I feel betrayed.

I pull my hand out of his, but he stops me when I try to leave.

“Hey, I’m on your side. I just don’t want you leaving here without working things out with your dad. I don’t want you to regret anything.” He places a hand on my cheek, and his touch is so gentle it takes my breath away. “We can never come back, you know.”

I relax under his tender touch. “I don’t know yet… If I’m going to leave, I mean.”

He pulls me close, and I rest my head on his chest, closing my eyes. Feeling like I’m home.

“I know. Take your time. I’ll wait until you’re ready.” He says it like he’s certain that I’ll decide to go.

He’s right, of course. As scary as it is out there, it’s so much more appealing than staying here where Rick and my dad call all the shots.

Roman’s fingers grip my chin, tilting my face up toward his, and before I’ve had a chance to open my eyes, his lips are on mine. Warmth spreads through my body, and my heart does a somersault.

How can I need someone so much after knowing them for such a short time?

His lips grow more insistent, and he pushes my back against the wall. I gasp as his teeth nip at my bottom lip.

“We should go to class,” he whispers against my mouth.

I nod but kiss him again. I don’t want to leave.

He groans and grips me tighter against him. I close my eyes and pray that the world will go away and leave us alone for just a little bit.

The door swings open, slamming into Roman’s back. He curses when he crushes me against the wall. Then the light flips on, and we both turn to find Ms. Lloyd frowning at us.

“I don’t think your father would be very happy to hear about this.” Her mouth turns down, but more than anything, she looks jealous.

“Sorry, Cate,” Roman says with a smile.

She doesn’t return it. “Go to class.”

Roman is still grinning when he grabs my hand and pulls me from the room.

“How do you know her?” I whisper when we’re safely in the hall and she’s out of earshot.

“She was my babysitter,” Roman says. “Her parents lived across the street from my grandparents, right here in Coastal Manor.”

I cringe. Gross. It sounds like a Lifetime movie.

“I think she has a thing for you.”

He lets out a loud laugh. “No, she’s just lonely. Her parents didn’t make it and she’s all by herself now. She just needs friends.”

I’m not convinced.

Mac raises an eyebrow when we walk in, and my cheeks burn with shame. I look away, but when my eyes meet Viki’s, my face gets even hotter.

She giggles. “You guys get caught making out?”

I force out a smile, but it doesn’t feel genuine. She doesn’t seem to mind, though.

Class is as pointless as usual. We read and do the work assigned to us. We talk when Ms. Lloyd isn’t in the room. It drags on and on, and the longer I sit in the room, the more useless life in this town seems. At least in the unsanctioned areas people have adapted. Here they’re still clinging to the past.

By the end of the day I’m dying to escape, but it’s only Wednesday. I’m grounded for the rest of the week, which means I still have a few days of imprisonment to get through. Roman and I hang back while the others file out. I don’t want to say goodbye, but I know my father will be downstairs waiting to escort me to town hall.

“Come over tonight,” I say, playing with the hem of his t-shirt.

Roman flicks his hair out of his face and frowns. “I don’t know, Jules. I don’t want to get you in more trouble.”

“It’ll be okay if you come over after he goes to sleep. He’s a deep sleeper.”

He kisses my forehead and whispers, “I’ll try.”

Roman stays upstairs while I go down, and just like I thought, my father is waiting for me. His arms are crossed, and he has a bored expression on his face. It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

“I need to get back to work.”

Roman is wrong.

I look away, because my eyes sting with tears that threaten to spill over. Roman’s words had actually given me a little bit of hope that my father might actually care about me. How stupid.

Chapter Eighteen

Honorable

The lights in Jules room come on, and a second later, the balcony doors open. She drags a blanket out and wraps it around her shoulders before curling up in one of the wicker chairs with a book. Waiting for me.

I lean back and smoke, watching her while I wait for the lights that are on downstairs to go out. More content to be in the yard with her in front of me than I’ve ever been in my own house.

It’s probably close to an hour later when the lights finally go out downstairs. By then, Jules has fallen asleep, and even though I’m itching to climb up there and sweep her into my arms, I wait. I want to be sure her father is actually out for the night. He was pretty adamant that I stay away from his house, and I don’t want to get thrown back in lock-up. Not because it was all that bad—it was actually ridiculously similar to life in Coastal Manor—but because it kept me from seeing Jules.

Jon’s visit had been a surprise. He wasn’t as angry as I expected. More concerned than anything, like he genuinely thinks I’m going to corrupt his daughter. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I will corrupt her. It’s possible I’m fooling myself by thinking I’m more than what Rick says I am. A loser, pathetic—those are his favorite terms of endearment for me.

My stomach clenches, and I take a long drag from my cigarette. It’s hard not to let his words affect me. I’ve tried to ignore them. Built so many walls I’m surprised anyone can get in at this point. But no matter how fortified they are, Rick always manages to find a weak spot. He’s like some damn explosives expert. Always ready to blow my perfectly constructed walls to bits.

I’m too hyped up to sit still, so I toss my cigarette to the ground and head for the house. Climbing the trellis is a hell of a lot easier with no rain to knock me down, and when I get to the roof, I do my best to stay quiet. Jules is out cold, and I don’t want to scare her. Thankfully, I manage to make it over the railing without falling on my ass or waking her up.

I kneel at her side and brush the hair out of her face. My heart aches just looking at her, but I can’t even wrap my head around why. It’s like being close to her hurts as much as being away from her does, but we just met. After the misery of the last eight years, I don’t think I really believed I’d be able to find someone who could love me for who I am. The concept doesn’t feel real.

She makes a noise and starts to stretch, so I whisper, “Jules.”

Her eyes flicker open, and she blinks a couple times before a smile spreads across her face. “You came.”

I nod, but before I can say anything, she sits up and kisses me.

A surge of desire shoots through me, and I pull her closer, cupping the back of her neck as her chest presses against mine. Her mouth is so hot, her body so needy as she clings to me. I have to fight to maintain control. She pushes me right to the edge, and I know it wouldn’t take much to make it impossible to hold on. I grab the back of her shirt and tighten my fist around it, balling it up so I have something to cling to.

I want to explore every inch of her. To lay her down and worship her body with mine. But she isn’t like any of the other girls I’ve been with. I have to wait. To give her time.

Only she isn’t making it easy for me. Not with the way her hands move up under my shirt and over my skin. She rakes her nails across my back, and a groan breaks its way out of me. I almost let go of her shirt. Almost pull it over her head.

But I hold tight. I ignore the waves of heat moving through my body and the burst of need that almost sets me on fire as the tips of her fingers brush low on my abdomen. I want to be strong for her. To be a better person for her.

“Roman,” she whispers as I kiss my way down her neck. “Come inside with me.”

I lift her, moving my mouth back to hers as she wraps her legs around my waist. Then I stumble into her bedroom, and we fall onto the bed. She pulls my shirt off, and I kiss every inch of exposed flesh on her body before lifting her shirt just a little so I can kiss her stomach. I trace my tongue across her skin, and when she moans I almost die.

Jules moves her hands to the hem of her shirt and tries to lift it, but I stop her. It’s the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do.

“Jules.” I can’t let it happen. Can’t be that person. “Wait.”

She’s out of breath, out of control. “What?”

I love her. I know it, but it’s too fast. It’s all too fast. “We just met. This isn’t right.”

I stand up and run my hand through my hair. I need to put distance between us.

“What if I leave?” I say, not looking at her. “I can’t—” I have a hard time explaining how I feel. I want to be honorable. How crazy is that? “If you decide not to come with me, I don’t want to be this thing you regret. I want you to think this through.”

Jules sits up and lets out a deep sigh. “I won’t regret it.”

“You say that now, but I want to be sure. I can’t do that to you, Jules. I can’t have you look at me the way Roz does.”

It’s the wrong thing to say but the right thing to say. I hate that I have to say it.

She flinches and looks away, but it seems to have done the trick. “You’re right. If I don’t go with you…”

“I don’t want you to regret me.”

She gives me a weak smile, then pats the bed next to her. “I won’t regret you. Ever. But you’re right, I do need to think it through a little more.”

Those are the best and worst words she could ever say to me.

Chapter Nineteen

The Decision

I hate that Roman stopped things, but I love it at the same time. There’s so much more to him than he lets on. He is so noble.

Roman plays with my hair as we lie next to each other on my bed. It’s so relaxing. All the stress of being with my father all week melts away, and all the barriers I’ve put up start to crumble.

“Tell me about your mom,” he says out of nowhere.

My stomach doesn’t tighten the way it usually does when people ask about her. I don’t need to guard myself from Roman.

“She was my best friend. I was so young when my parents divorced, but she never remarried. She rarely even dated. It was always just the two of us, but she never acted like it bothered her.” I smile at the memory. Thinking about the good times is nice. Watching chick flicks with her and gossiping about hot guys. It didn’t matter that none of them would ever give me the time of day, I was just happy to talk to her about it.

“What happened to her?” he asks hesitantly, and I give his hand a squeeze to let him know it’s okay.

“She was working when the virus was released. She was a profiler for the FBI.” I smile despite the tightness in my throat. “She gave me my observation skills. We liked to people watch when we were out, and we always made up stories about the people around us. It was fun.

“She was trying to help track down the terrorist before he released the virus. There were threats before the virus was released. They never told the general public, and she shouldn’t have told me, but she wanted me to be prepared.” I swallow back the tears. My father never would have told me anything so top secret, but she knew she could trust me. And she wanted me to survive. “I think she knew they weren’t going to be able to find the guy and that something big was coming.”

“Did they know the virus would do this?”

“No. They knew it was engineered to kill fast, but that’s all. Once it was out there and people started to die, they burned the bodies as fast as they could to try and contain it. If they learned about the zombies before communication went down, they kept it quiet.

“When the virus was released in New York she was there. Right at ground zero, trying to do her job. I don’t know for sure what happened to her, but she called the day before we lost communication with New York. Told me that the virus wouldn’t be contained and that I should stay inside as long as possible. Told me she loved me. We got cut off halfway through, and I never heard from her again. After that, I stayed in the apartment like she told me to. Locked the doors and kept to myself. Prayed she’d show up or call me somehow, and that nobody else would come knocking on my door. She never called. No one did.” Not even my father.

Roman kisses my shoulder, and I close my eyes. I hate the tears that roll down my cheeks. I try to tell myself they’re for my mom and not because my father’s actions can still hurt me. I will not cry for him. I never have been a good liar.

“I was locked in our apartment for three weeks by myself before I ran out of food. By then there was no news. No electricity or running water. I could see part of the city burning from my window, and there were so many gunshots. It seemed like every hour. I could see bodies lying in the street from my window. I didn’t want to leave, but I was out of options. I had to get help, and my father was the only person in the city I could think to look for.”

Roman sits up and turns my face toward his. His brown eyes are so big. “You had to go out by yourself?”

I nod, and my bottom lip quivers. “He lived about seven miles from us. I packed a bag with one change of clothes and took a butcher knife out of the kitchen. That’s it.” It’s the moment I’ve regretted for the past two years. “I didn’t take a picture of my mom. It was months before we could get back to the apartment, and by then the building had burned to the ground.”

Roman leans his forehead against mine, and I shut my eyes. Allowing his nearness to soothe the pain inside me.

“How did you do it?” he whispers.

“I went at night and moved slowly. I stayed in the shadows. I don’t think anyone ever saw me.” I have to stop and take a deep breath before I go on. The memories of that night haunt me. “I saw a lot though. Too much.”

Roman doesn’t ask for any details, and I’m so grateful. He pulls me close and kisses me again. It helps me forget. Helps my insides stop hurting and helps wash my brain clean of the horrible memories of that night.

The rest of the week goes pretty much the same way. School with Roman, work with my father, Roman sneaking into my room at night after my father goes to bed. I reveal more of myself every day and learn more about the boy who has stolen my heart.

“My mom was always so present in our house,” Roman says. “More than Rick. He was never abusive before my mom died, but he was never really there. He loved my mom. Worshiped her, but he’d never really wanted me. She wanted kids, not him. Something he is always sure to remind me of when he’s beating the shit out of me.”

It’s dark, and I’m once again wrapped in Roman’s arms. I hadn’t asked about his mom. I hadn’t wanted to force him to confide in me. But I’m so glad he decided to bring it up.

“Rick tolerated me. That was all. And then she got sick.”

I listen to him talk about his mom’s death, about the abuse. He shares so much more than he ever has, and all I want to do is comfort him. But there’s nothing I can ever do to erase his past.

He stays with me, wrapping me in his warmth as we sleep, making me feel warm and loved and whole for the first time in two years. I fall deeper and deeper under his spell. Every second I’m not with him I crave him, ache for him, and miss him with an intensity I hadn’t known existed. I can’t let him leave me.

Friday morning when I once again wake up to an empty bed, the ache that goes through my body is almost more than I can bear. That’s what finally makes up my mind. I will leave with Roman. We’ll go away and start a life somewhere else, someplace where we can be free and not trapped. Coastal Manor is too smothering. It’s better than D.C. was, but I still feel trapped, and I know the only way I’ll ever be feel free again is if I’m with Roman.

I’m so excited to tell Roman that I get to school early, beating almost everyone else. Viki shows up shortly after me and stands in the lobby, talking my ear off. I don’t hear a thing she says. Little kids trail past us, heading off to their own classes while I tap my toe on the floor. Waiting.

Roman doesn’t come though, and neither does Mac.

“It’s Mac’s birthday,” Viki says, startling me out of my despair.

I’d forgotten. Of course Roman won’t be here today. Why didn’t he tell me?

Kyle is in town hall after school, training for a government position. My father is practically gushing over his enthusiasm, and I can’t help thinking about all my past achievements that have gone unacknowledged by my father. The thought makes my insides ache.

“So,” Kyle says when my father ducks out of the room and we’re left alone. “Did you wise up and dump that asshole?”

I glare at him. “No. Why would I do that?”

“What do you see in that guy?” Kyle says, frowning. “He put your life at risk. People don’t have any business leaving town like that. The rules are set up to keep us safe.”

“It’s fine if that’s how you want to live, but we should be able to choose. It’s unfair of the government to tell us they’ll help us if we live in this town but ignore people who live just a few miles from here.”

Kyle snorts. “They’re not living, they’re barely surviving!”

I narrow my eyes at him. “Have you even been there? They’ve accomplished a lot, and they’ve done it themselves. They’re survivors. How would the people here make it if the government suddenly fell apart? They wouldn’t last a week.”

Kyle shakes his head and walks away, grumbling to himself.

“Where’s Kyle?” my father asks when he comes back.

I shrug.

He purses his lips, and I know exactly what’s going through his head even before he says, “That’s the kind of boy you should be with.”

“Kyle’s an ass,” I snap. “I will never be with someone like that, so you might as well just forget it.”

To my utter shock, he lowers himself into the chair next to me. His face is softer. It’s weird. “Juliana, I know you’re infatuated with Roman, but he’s not right for you. He’s trouble. He was before the outbreak and he hasn’t changed. Did you know that he was arrested three times? That he did four months in juvenile detention?”

Heat floods my body, and I glare at my father. “I know he got into a lot of trouble. He hasn’t lied to me. I can’t say the same about his dad.”

My father’s eyes narrow. “What do you mean?”

I shake my head, wishing I could tell him everything but knowing it would be betraying Roman’s trust. I can’t do that to him. “Forget it.”

My father’s eyes cloud over, and his expression hardens once again. He opens his mouth to say something but is cut off when Mr. Smith walks in.

“Jon. We need to talk about this missing shipment and get a few things settled.” The Regulator’s eyes flick to me and harden, but otherwise his expression doesn’t change. The careful exterior he’s created for himself doesn’t crack. “Meet me in my office in ten minutes?”

My father nods, but his lips are pursed again. He’s frowning when the Regulator walks out the door. “That man…”

As much as I want to maintain my air of indifference, I can’t help my curiosity. “Has he agreed to change the way he does things? I mean, you’ve told him he’s going to get replaced if he doesn’t comply. Right?”

“He seems to think he’s above the law of the land.” He sighs as he gets to his feet. “Talk about control issues.”

“Tell me about it,” I mutter before I can stop myself.

My father raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t say anything. He stares at me thoughtfully for a few seconds before turning to leave. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Jules.”

I crack one eye and look around the room groggily. I can’t quite focus on my surroundings.

“What time is it?” I ask mid-yawn.

Roman sits next to me on the bed and brushes the hair off my forehead. I blink. Something is different. His cheeks are flushed and his eyes bloodshot.

“Um…” He rubs the back of his neck and blinks a few times. “It’s a little after one.”

I bolt upright and throw the covers aside. “You’ve been drinking.”

“Mac’s birthday.” He gives me a half-smile.

“I know, Viki told me. Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t be at school?”

“I told you last night.”

“I think I’d remember that.”

The corner of his mouth twitches. “You must have been asleep. It was after things had settled down…”

He wiggles his eyebrows, and my cheeks flush as I remember last night. His mouth on mine, his body pressed against me…how close we came. My insides burn and my body heats up, and suddenly I don’t feel like talking anymore.

“You’ll have to make it up to me…” I say, sucking my bottom lip into my mouth.

The tiny smile disappears, and Roman’s eyes flash as he grabs me and presses his lips to mine. It feels like the sun explodes and ignites our bodies, and I’m dangerously close to burning alive. And I will love it.

Roman’s hands burn a path across my skin, and I quiver under his touch. I could live a thousand lives and never feel this way again. Hours, days, weeks pass, and time loses all meaning, but in the midst of it all, I somehow come to my senses.

All day I’ve wanted to talk to Roman.

I pull back, panting. “Roman.”

He scoots away so fast it makes my head spin. “I’m sorry. Are we moving too fast?”

I almost laugh. Too slow is more like it. “No, it’s not that. I just—I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to leave with you.”

“Really?” He tries to flick the hair out of his face, but it’s sweaty and matted to his forehead, so I brush it aside for him.

When I nod, his brown eyes sparkle. My heart pounds so hard I’m certain this will finally be the end of me. I can’t find words, can’t do anything but stare at him.

Roman leans forward and kisses me on the forehead. His lips linger, and I close my eyes, breathing him in. He smells like tobacco and the woods, with a hint of the ocean. My heart swells and aches and pounds harder than a thousand earthquakes. He moves his lips down my face, over my cheek and chin, down my neck. The ache spreads through my body again. Every inch of me craves Roman. He’s right here but still not close enough.

His mouth moves back up my chin and over to my ear, and his lips brush tenderly against my skin as he whispers, “I love you.”

I shiver and die, then explode into a million pieces. My life will never be the same.

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Twenty

Caught

I wake with Jules’s body tangled around mine, and it’s the most amazing experience of my life. But I’m hot and sweaty. The South Carolina humidity has snuck up on us again, and it suddenly feels more like August than October. I thought for sure we’d seen the last of the hot days until spring. Guess I was wrong.

I’ve never stayed with Jules until morning before, but I don’t move. She’s still asleep, and I don’t want to wake her. Not yet. Her face is smooth, and none of the worry usually lining her mouth is present. I imagine this is how she would look if her mom hadn’t died and if there were no zombies.

Of course, if that had happened, we wouldn’t have met.

My heart thumps as I study her peaceful face. I hadn’t meant to tell her I love her, not yet. Only, it had felt so right, and I didn’t lie. I do love her. With every fiber and inch of myself, inside and out.

I brush her hair away from her face, unable to move. I could wake her with a kiss…but pushing my luck may not be the best idea. I barely had the self-control to stop last night, and having her warm skin against mine first thing in the morning is making me slightly dizzy. I’m not sure I’ll be able to do it again.

The doorknob jiggles and I look up, but I can’t move. The door starts to open, and my heart pounds harder than a bass drum. I need to move. To hide or run or something! But I don’t have a the chance to move an inch before the door is open and Jules’s father is standing in the doorway.

“Shit,” I mutter, still unable to move.

Jules stirs next to me, but she doesn’t wake. Jon’s eyes get huge, then darken as they move from me to his daughter. His whole body is so rigid when he heads toward me that the only thing I can think about is Rick. My stomach drops, and I scramble to untangle myself, but the sheets are wrapped around me so tightly that I end up falling on my ass next to the bed.

Jules bolts upright. Her eyes move to me, sprawled out on the floor, then to her dad, who is still charging my way. She’s out of the bed in a second, putting herself between her father and me. But he pushes her aside, so hard she slams into the bed. When her body bounces against the mattress, it snaps me out of it.

I’m on my feet when her father reaches me. My shoulders are straight and my head is high. He’s breathing so heavily that his shoulders heave. His face is bright red.

“Get your hands off my daughter!” His teeth are clenched so tightly that it comes out muffled.

“I’m not touching your daughter,” I say, unable to hold in a smirk. Sometimes, being a smart-ass is my only defense.

His head jerks to the side like he’s so angry it’s created a nervous tic. When his hand lashes out, I flinch and wait for a punch that I know is coming, but instead his hand wraps around my forearm. His fingers tighten, digging into my flesh, and I have to fight back the urge to hit him. He yanks me forward, toward the door, and I don’t even fight it. It’s not like I don’t deserve to be dragged out of here on my ass.

We’ve only made it two steps before Jules is at her father’s side, pulling on his arm. “Let go of him. He didn’t do anything. Nothing happened!”

Jon stops moving and turns to face his daughter, his fingers still digging into my arm. “Nothing happened? He was in my teenage daughter’s bed!”

His whole body shakes, but I can’t take my eyes off Jules.

A mask of calm loathing comes over her face, transforming her right before my eyes. “You can’t pick and choose when you’re going to be my father. You ignore me most of the time and then swoop in with rules whenever you want! That’s not how it works.”

Jon’s eyes brush over her, but he doesn’t show any sign of understanding. He doesn’t even acknowledge that she’s spoken before he turns to look at me. “This is breaking and entering.”

Jules clenches her jaw. “You can’t use your position like that.”

“Watch me.”

He jerks me forward, pulling me out of the room. I’m not wearing anything but a pair of shorts, but he doesn’t seem to care and I don’t bother fighting him. Not when he drags me down the stairs and into the garage. Not when he twists my hands behind my back and the cold metal of handcuffs is slapped against my wrists. It’s not the first time.

“Roman!”

Jules runs into the garage just as her father forcefully shoves me into the backseat of his car. I flash her a smile, but it’s strained and there’s no way it will help relax her. I don’t give a shit about the fake arrest or that Rick will find out or the beating that’s sure to come. I don’t even care that I’m probably facing a few more days in a cell. I only care that Jules is crying.

“Don’t leave this house,” her father says through clenched teeth.

Then he climbs into the driver’s seat and slams the door. He backs out of the garage and down the driveway as Jules runs after us. I twist in my seat only to find her standing in the driveway, her face streaked in tears.

Her father doesn’t speak to me, but glaring at me in the rearview mirror apparently isn’t above him. When he drives past the clubhouse that doubles as a jail, dread builds in my stomach. The closer we get to the town hall, the more painful the pain gets. Not only is everyone in town going to see me get dragged into town hall wearing handcuffs, but Rick is going to have a say in my punishment. Perfect.

When my eyes meet Jon’s, the glare he shoots at me is so intense I’m surprised I don’t burst into flames. “Don’t think your father can get you out of this. Regulator or not, the Judicial Officer has the power when it comes to legal matters these days.”

I look away when my gut twists. “He wouldn’t even if he could. He’s not exactly the warm, fuzzy type.”

“Maybe if he’d had a different son.”

“Fuck you,” I spit, still staring out the window.

Giving him attitude isn’t going to win me any points, but I don’t give a shit. This guy has no idea who I am or what I’ve been through. He only knows Rick’s version of events.

It may be Saturday, but I’m not surprised that Rick’s car is parked in front of the town hall when we pull onto the street. I knew it would be.

Jon hits the brakes so hard I lurch forward and my face slams into the back of his seat. I’m still dazed when the back door opens and he pulls me out. There are people all over the place. Shopping. Hanging out. Trading. They all seem to stop at once and turn our way, gaping at me as Jon drags me toward the building in nothing but a pair of shorts. My scalp prickles even though I tell myself not to let it get to me. I spot Carmen and Mac standing by a booth of clothing, staring at me just like everyone else. Mac shakes his head. He can probably guess what happened based on my lack of clothing and my escort. Plus, Mac knows me too well.

The front door opens before we’re even halfway up the stairs, and Roz steps out. Why the hell would Roz be here on a Saturday? If I had to guess, I’d say it was because karma wanted to kick me in the balls just one more time.

“Get the Regulator,” Jules’s dad says as we walk past her.

Roz stands there long enough to shoot me an evil glare before turning to run up the stairs.

Jon shoves me into a chair, but I’ve barely had time to adjust to a more comfortable position before Roz is back. Rick is right behind her.

A smug smile crosses my father’s face. “What did he do now?”

“Breaking and entering,” Jon says, then glances my way. “Possibly rape.”

My stomach tightens, and even though I want to argue, I clamp my teeth together to keep my mouth shut. He won’t be able to make it stick, but just hearing him say it makes me want to kick him in the balls. He knows it isn’t true.

“Rape?” Rick’s eyebrows go up. He knows it’s a load of bullshit, but it won’t save me.

“Found him in my daughter’s bed this morning. I haven’t had a chance to talk to her yet, but she was pretty hysterical when I left.” Jon doesn’t even look at me this time. He’s really pushing it, and I don’t have a damn clue how he thinks he’s going to pull this bullshit charge off. No way is Jules going to back him up.

Rick frowns, but I don’t miss the satisfaction flashing in his eyes. “Well, you’re Judicial Officer, what would the normal sentence be for these charges?”

“He’s going to spend the weekend in lockup until I can get the details sorted out. If he’s done what I think he’s done, we’ll get him shipped off to D.C. later in the week.”

I stare at the floor while the two men discuss my sentence and the possible rape of the JO’s daughter. There’s so little emotion surrounding the whole thing that anyone listening might think they were robots. Rape is one of the few charges that can’t be handled by the sanctioned settlements, so if by some miracle Jon actually manages to charge me, I’ll be on my way to D.C. for sentencing. These days, justice is quick and punishments are severe.

Which means I could be looking at the death sentence.

When they finish talking about me like I’m not even sitting in front of them, Rick heads back to his office without saying a damn word to me. The whole thing probably sounds like a great solution to him. Send me off to D.C., where I get a quick trial followed by banishment or the death sentence. I’ll be out of his hair, and he can live out the rest of his life as the hero Regulator of Coastal Manor.

What an ass.

Chapter Twenty-One

Settled

My hands are shaking so hard it takes me three tries to get my bra hooked. Or maybe it’s because I’m trying to put my shoes on at the same time. I could even blame it on the tears clouding my vision. I don’t know and I don’t care. All I know is that I need to get dressed so I can get out of here. So I can find Roman.

I blink the tears back for what feels like the millionth time, but they don’t stop coming, and the hysteria creeping on up on me feels like it’s going to choke me. It’s going to be okay, though. I know it. My father is essentially a reasonable man. Once he calms down, he’ll see that he can’t lock Roman up just because he doesn’t want us dating. Roman hasn’t done anything wrong.

But I can’t stop crying. My breaths are coming out as hiccups by the time I have a shirt on and am hurrying down the hall. I can barely see.

Get it together, Jules!

I don’t have car, so the second I get outside, I start jogging. I’ve never been a runner, but the adrenaline and fear keep me going. Down the street and out onto the main road. People drive by and stare—probably because I’m sobbing—but no one stops to help or ask if I’m okay. Not that I care.

I’ve made it halfway through town when a car passing me slows and turns my way. I jump back, thinking it’s going to hit me, but when it pulls up alongside me the passenger window rolls down, revealing Mac.

“Do you need a ride?” Carmen asks from the driver seat, leaning over Mac so she can get closer to me.

I wipe my tear-stained face. “Yes! My dad took Roman and I need to find him, but I have no idea where—”

“He took Roman to the clubhouse,” Mac says. It’s the first time I’ve been around him since we met that he isn’t smiling. It makes him look older.

Carmen points behind her. “Hop in the back.”

I scurry to open the back door, sucking in a deep breath as I try to get my emotions under control. I’ve always been quick to cry. When I’m mad or frustrated or even happy, I can’t stop the tears from sneaking up on me. It’s one of those things that is utterly impossible for me to keep in check.

Once I’m in, Carmen does a U-turn in the middle of the road, then heads back the way she came.

We sit in silence for less than thirty seconds before she glances back at me. “Your dad’s accusing him of rape.”

“Rape?” My voice shakes and my stomach turns inside out. I can’t wrap my mind around the word. It’s ridiculous, and my father knows it. I never dreamed he’d stoop this low.

Mac snorts and shakes his head. “Roman may be a delinquent, but he’s not a rapist. Everyone knows that.”

“But he’ll be branded one anyway.” Carmen looks back at me again, raising an eyebrow. “You know that’s why he’s doing this, right? Just to give Roman the reputation. There’s no way to make it stick, but with the way the judicial system is now, Roman only needs one more strike against him and he’s out.”

Bile rises in my throat, but I swallow it down. She’s right. “Roman didn’t rape me. We didn’t even have sex.”

When Mac glances back at me, there’s a look of genuine surprise on his face. I guess I’m the first girl Roman ever spent the night with but didn’t screw. Not that I’m really all that surprised.

“Never thought he did,” Carmen says. “I’ve known Roman for a long time, he’s a good guy. I’d be dead if it wasn’t for him…” Her voice catches in her throat, and when her eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror, they’re shimmering with tears.

I didn’t know Roman and Carmen knew each other before. I’d assumed they were like everyone else here. None of them seem to have any real history before this. They went to the same school and maybe even passed each other in the halls, but that’s it.

“He didn’t tell me that,” I whisper.

Carmen nods and gives a little sniff. “Roman was friends with my younger brother. Since his dad is a total ass, he spent a lot of time at our house. Anyway, he didn’t go home after the virus hit. My parents died, then James. For a while it was just Roman and me. He didn’t have any intention of ever looking for his dad, but then the dead came back and things got bad. Eventually we had to find a safer place, so we made our way here. Roman’s father had already set this place up.” She shakes her head like the memories are too much for her. “I owe Roman my life.”

Carmen turns into the clubhouse parking lot and pulls into a spot, and we all climb out. My eyes meet hers, and I almost reach out to hug her. She looks as worried as I feel.

There’s a desk set up just inside the door, and an older woman sits behind it. Men and women wearing silver badges on their shirts walk around the building, carrying weapons and joking around like the whole world hasn’t gone insane. I spot Kyle on the other side of the building and turn away so he doesn’t know I saw him. He’s the last person I want to talk to right now. Okay, maybe not the last. My dad and the Regulator top that list.

The woman at the desk looks up when we walk in, but she doesn’t smile. She’s short and plump, and has salt-and-pepper hair that’s cut to her chin. Her bangs are so long that her eyelashes brush against them when she blinks.

She looks us over briefly, her eyes settling on Carmen. Still, though, she doesn’t smile. “Hello, Carmen. How are you today?”

Carmen smiles, but her body is tense and straight. “Hi, Jean. We came in to check on Roman.”

Jean purses her lips as she gives Carmen a stern look before turning to give Mac and me the same disapproving glare. “You need to stay away from that boy, he’s trouble. How he came from the Regulator I’ll never know, but it’s just too bad. The heartache Roman has caused that wonderful man…” She shakes her head and makes a little tsk, tsk sound.

My throat tightens as the tears I had finally managed to get under control spring to my eyes all over again. It’s so unjust. This woman judging Roman. All the stuff he’s been through and put up with at the hands of the man who is supposed to protect him!

More than anything, I want to lash out. To spill the beans and lay it all out for this judgmental woman. I want her to feel bad for the things she’s said and for standing behind a monster. Only I can’t, for two reasons. One, I know that deep down it would take more than a couple words from me to make this woman understand. Two, Roman wouldn’t want me to do it. So I do the right thing and clamp my mouth shut, keeping the words inside.

“This has all been a misunderstanding, Jean,” Carmen says, her voice much too calm, considering the situation.

I glance her way out of the corner of my eye and notice how tense her body is. Her hands are clenched at her sides, and it looks like her temper is just barely in check at the moment. Silently, I wish she’d lose her cool and tell this woman exactly how it is.

“He’s been accused of breaking and entering at the new Judicial Officer’s house” —Jean leans forward and lowers her voice to just barely a whisper— “and rape.”

Carmen points a shaky finger at me, and this time her voice is hard and slightly deadly. “This is the Judicial Officer’s daughter.”

Jean’s eyes get big and wide, and she gets halfway to her feet, her face drawn tight with concern. “Oh you poor thing! Are you okay?”

I flinch away from her. She may be trying to comfort me, but I don’t want it because it’s for all the wrong reasons. “Roman didn’t do anything wrong.” I almost throw in how my father knows it but decide against it.

Jean frowns, and her blue eyes narrow on my face, burning into me. Judging me. “But he was in your room?”

Mac makes a tiny sound in the back of his throat, and Jean’s eyes snap his way. She frowns even more and then looks us all over like we’re a group of prostitutes masquerading as everyday citizens. I want to tell her to mind her own business. That things are different now than they were a hundred years ago when she was a teenager, but I keep my mouth shut. It’s impossible not to squirm under the woman’s disapproving gaze, though.

“Can we see him?” Mac asks.

“No.” Jean’s eyes turn back to me. “Mr. Carmichael’s getting the paperwork ready so he can file formal charges.”

What? There’s no way I can keep my mouth shut now!

“Roman didn’t do anything,” I say, stepping closer to Jean’s desk. My voice shaking more with each word, echoing through the building. “I let him in my room and I asked him to stay with me!”

Everyone in the place stops what they’re doing and turns my way. I bite the inside of my cheek as my face heats up, trying to keep it together so I can get Roman out of this ridiculous mess.

“I want to talk to my father,” I say as firmly as I can manage. It comes out sounding like I’m begging.

Jean raises her eyebrows and points to a couch behind me. “Take a seat. I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Carmen and Mac follow me to the couch, and the three of us sit down in silence. Most people have gone back to whatever they were doing before my outburst, but Kyle is still staring at me. His face is red, which makes no sense. It must have more to do with Roman than me, because all Kyle and I have is that one walk on the beach and I never encouraged him.

I turn so my body is facing Carmen. “Jean seems…”

“She’s a judgmental bitch,” Carmen says, “and the town gossip, so even if you hadn’t screamed it out everyone would have known.”

Great.

“So you may as well just go ahead and have sex with Roman,” Mac says, winking, “because everyone’s going to think you have anyway.”

I almost laugh. Almost. Mac’s humor helps lessen the tension in my body, but I’m not quite ready to joke around. Not when I don’t know what’s going to happen to Roman.

“Roman helped get you laid, so now you think you’re going to help him?” Carmen says it so casually that my mouth falls open.

Mac, on the other hand, turns bright red. He shrugs it off though, saying, “Give a penny, take a penny.”

Carmen snorts.

Jean comes back a few seconds later, and my father is right behind her.

“I thought I asked you to stay at home,” he says, his tone colder than usual.

I guess he can stomach me when I’m his invisible teenage daughter, but now that he realizes I might actually be a human being, he doesn’t know what to do with me.

“I want to see Roman. He didn’t do anything wrong,” I say, getting to my feet. “I let Roman in, and I asked him to stay. Me.”

My father’s jaw tightens, and I flinch away as the crazy thought that he’s going to hit me slams into me.

“He’s eighteen,” he says, his voice completely monotone. “He was in the bed of a minor. Whether he broke in or not, he had no right.”

Heat sweeps over me, and this time it has nothing to do with embarrassment. “Are you going to throw everyone in jail who has sex? What century is this?”

“Mac’s only seventeen and I’m eighteen,” Carmen says from behind me. “You going to arrest me too?”

My father flinches, and Jean shoots Carmen a look that screams slut.

“If his parents file charges.”

Mac laughs. “Man, my mom was so cool about it. All this end-of-the-world bullshit has really changed her perspective on life.”

“You have to let Roman go,” I say, ignoring the other two even though I know they’re trying to help me. This is between my dad and me. There has to be a way to get through to him.

“You can go now. I’ll give my daughter a ride home,” my father says, ignoring me as he addresses Mac and Carmen.

“What about Roman?” Carmen asks.

“He’ll have to spend the weekend in jail. I’ll talk to the Regulator.” My father grabs my arm and pulls me with him as he heads down the hall.

“He doesn’t have any clothes,” I call over my shoulder to Mac.

He nods just before my father drags me around the corner.

He doesn’t let go of me until we’re in an empty office. His hand falls away as he turns to shut the door. My heart starts pounding like crazy, but there are so many emotions surging through me right now that I have a difficult time narrowing them down.

When my father turns to face me, the frown on his face is sad. Not angry. “Juliana, I’m your father. You have to stop treating me like this.” Despite the gloom in his eyes, his voice comes out flat and emotionless.

My blood boils as my body shakes, and I suddenly feel like the world is closing in on me. I’m not just angry about Roman anymore, this is about everything in my life. Everything that happened before the virus and since, and most of all, I’m angry that I can still let my father’s indifference hurt me like this.

“You’ve never been there for me!” I shout so loud that my throat aches and my windpipe threatens to close. “You were gone through my entire childhood. You’d still be gone if I hadn’t come to find you!”

My father looks away, and I can actually see him withdrawing, pulling into himself. Emotionally unavailable, that’s what my mom always said. She was right.

“Forget it,” I mutter.

I run my hand across my face to wipe away the tears. It was stupid to waste them on him. Again.

“Jules…” His voice cracks but he still doesn’t look at me, and I have a sinking suspicion that he never will.

“Just drop the charges. Roman isn’t a bad guy, not like you think.” I pause, weighing my options. What can I say without betraying Roman? Would hinting at the abuse be wrong? I’m not sure, but don’t feel like I can hide it anymore. Not completely. “You’ve worked with the Regulator, so you have to know he’s not as wonderful as he seems.”

My father nods, and I relax a little. He still can’t look at me, but at least he’s listening.

He clears his throat. “I get it. I’ll drop the charges.”

“Thanks,” I say even though the words burn my lips on the way out. With everything he’s done, he doesn’t deserve my thanks. He doesn’t deserve anything from me.

He nods before turning away. “I’ll get him released.”

My stomach knots, and my legs give out. Thankfully, there’s a chair right behind me. It cushions my fall. The tears come next. I put my face in my hands as I inhale, working to control myself. I have to get away from him. From here.

At least one good thing has come from all this. Now I can leave and not feel the least bit guilty. My father won’t miss me. He’ll probably even be relieved.

Chapter Twenty-Two

Visited

I’m on my bunk with my eyes closed when the door to my cell opens. I don’t bother looking. It’s either Rick or someone bringing me clothes. There has to be at least one person in this place who has an ounce of pity.

The door shuts and feet shuffle across the floor, but I stay where I am. When someone clears their throat, I finally crack one eye. Heat floods me when my eyes meet Jon Carmichael’s, but I work to keep my emotions hidden. Why the hell this asshole is here to see me, I don’t know, but the last thing I want is for him to think he can intimidate me.

“Can I help you?” I don’t even bother opening the other eye.

“Sit up.” His voice is too loud for the tiny room. It startles him, makes him jump, and I have to fight back the urge to laugh. He’s scared of his own voice.

I drag myself up until I’m leaning against the wall with my legs propped up on the bed and crossed at the ankle. The same condescending, laid-back smile that I reserve for Rick gets shot his way, only amplified. When he came to see me the first time, I’d felt a little bit of respect for Jules’s dad, but all that’s gone now. He used his position to accuse me of rape, knowing what it could mean for me. Fuck him. I’m tired of people trying to exert their power over me. I’ve put up with it for too long with Rick, and I won’t take it from anyone else. Not anymore.

He bites down on his lower lip, and I squirm just a little. For the first time, I can see a little bit of Jules in him.

“I’ve come to release you.”

I tilt my head to the side, working to regain some of the composure I lost when he started biting his lip. “Is that right? Couldn’t get the lie to stick?”

He clears his throat and focuses on his feet. “I shouldn’t have done that. Finding you in bed with my daughter clouded my judgment.” He lifts his head so he can narrow his eyes on me. “Maybe you’ll understand where I’m coming from one day.”

I want to laugh, but the truth is, I think he might be right. Only, his attitude doesn’t exactly mesh with Jules’ opinion of him. She’s so sure he doesn’t care. If that’s true, why the hell would he have done something so extreme?

We stare at one another for a few seconds in silence. It isn’t comfortable, not with each of us trying to feel the other out, but I want to give him the chance say whatever he came here to say. I am, after all, going to take his daughter away, so it only seems fair. Not that he knows that. Still, it will give me the chance to walk away with a clear conscience. To know that I gave him the opportunity to call me a dick if that’s what he wants to do.

But he doesn’t. He just steps away from the door and motions toward it. “You’re free to go.”

I flick my hair out of my face as I get to my feet, studying him. “Let me ask you a question.”

He nods.

“Jules thinks you don’t care about her. I think differently. I know what it’s like to have a father who doesn’t care, and you don’t seem that way to me.”

He looks down at the floor again. “Is there a question in all that?”

“Yeah. Do you care?”

His head snaps up, and his eyes narrow on me. They’re moist, and his mouth trembles just a bit. “I didn’t have the best childhood. Love wasn’t something I was ever shown, not until I met Juliana’s mother. I didn’t know how to do it.” He swallows and looks away. “I thought I would mess it all up.”

Now I understand.

I wait for him to say more, but he doesn’t. He won’t look at me, and I get the feeling he’s waiting for me to leave. That he needs some time alone. I have the urge to tell him I understand, that I know what it feels like to just want someone to show you some love, but I doubt he’d want to hear it. Not from me, anyway.

So I walk to the door. Just before I step through the door, I say, “You should tell her that.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Free

My father promised he’d let Roman go, but it’s taking too long.

I pace the lobby where he told me to wait, tortured by the tick of the wall clock and Jean’s judgmental gaze. She frowns every time I venture a look her way, and it makes me so nervous that I find it impossible to sit still.

When Roman finally walks out, I almost faint.

Trembles shake my body and like a toddler, I start crying. My chest tightens and so does my throat, making it impossible to say a thing as I throw my arms around him and bury my face in his chest.

“Shhh,” he whispers as he rubs my back. “It’s okay.”

His warm lips brush against my temple, and just like that all my nervous energy melts away. It seeps out of my pores and onto the floor and is replaced by utter relaxation.

“I’m so glad you’re okay.”

He pulls back so he can look down at me, a little smirk on his face. “What did you think was going to happen? Did you really think they’d be able to send me off to D.C. with no proof?”

I wipe the tears from my cheeks when it hits me that everyone in the place is watching us. Roman is practically naked, and they know we spent the night together—they even think we had sex. The reality of the situation makes my cheeks burn.

Roman’s eyes narrow on my face, and he frowns. “You okay?”

“I never really intended for all of this to be so public. Everyone knows our business. Or they think they do, anyway.”

Roman puts his arm around my shoulders and steers me toward the door. He’s so confident and free, completely unconcerned with the eyes that follow us across the room. Unworried that he’s nearly naked.

“They don’t know a damn thing,” he whispers. “They only think they do.”

I press myself closer to him.

He’s right. They can make up their own stories about what happened, about Roman corrupting me or taking advantage of me. But none of that matters because it isn’t the truth.

We step outside, and another truth forces me to stop in my tracks. “We don’t have a way to get home and you’re barefoot.”

I cover my mouth when a laugh shakes my body. Why I find the situation so funny I can’t say for sure, but no matter how hard I press my palm against my lips, I can’t keep it inside.

“You want to hear something even worse?” Roman’s eyes twinkle. “I left all my cigarettes in your room.”

I somehow manage to swallow down the rest of my tears as I raise myself up on the tips of my toes and press my lips against his.

“I’d tell you two to get a room, but I heard you already have one,” Clay says, coming out of the building behind us.

Even though heat spreads through me, I shake it off. It’s time to embrace my choices and be more like Roman. I have nothing to be ashamed of. The opposite, really. For the first time since my mom died I’m happy, and I’m not going to let women like Jean make me feel bad about it. No matter what.

“You come out here so you can see what a real man looks like?” Roman asks Clay.

The other boy makes a sweeping gesture down his body. “Why would I do that when I can just look in the mirror?”

Roman smirks, and I manage a smile despite the knots in my stomach.

“I came to see if you needed a ride home,” Clay says, his tone different. Less playful.

“Thanks, man. I thought we might have to hitchhike.”

Clay snorts as he heads toward the parking lot. “You try hitchhiking like that and people are going to think you’re a male prostitute.”

Roman laughs and throws his arm over my shoulder, taking me with him as he follows Clay. The other boy leads us across the parking lot to an old, blue Civic. It’s pretty banged up, but at this point I’d be willing to ride a horse home if it meant putting all this nonsense behind us.

Roman opens the back door for me, and I slide in while he climbs into the passenger seat. The guys talk as we drive through town, and I use the opportunity to think. It’s time to decide what my next step is. I want to leave, and soon. After the conversation with my dad—or lack of—I can’t wait to get out of here. But when?

Roman looks back, shooting me a questioning look, but I shake my head. We have time to talk about it.

Clay pulls into Roman’s driveway first, and when he stops, Roman climbs out. “Thanks for the ride, man.”

“Glad to help.” Clay keeps his hands on the wheel. “Gonna see you again?”

Roman shuts the car door without answering and then moves to open mine.

“Maybe one day, man.”

In the front seat, Clay nods like he gets it. Probably does. Even though most of the people in this settlement have turned a blind eye to what the Regulator is really like, Roman’s friends can’t be totally ignorant. Not living in such close quarters like they have been these past two years.

Roman’s eyes focus on me. “I need to get some clothes.”

“Okay.”

My stomach knots when I climb out. This is different from the butterflies. More painful. I’ve never been inside his house, and the thought makes me nauseated. Seeing where he and his father live, where there has been so much pain and abuse. If I go in there, I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep my stomach from emptying itself all over the floor.

We stand in the driveway as Clay drives away, giving us a little wave. Roman pulls me against him and I lay my face on his chest, squeezing my eyes closed. I’m shivering, and even though the sky is overcast and the air has a slight chill to it, the tremors aren’t from the weather.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Take me away. I don’t want to be here anymore. Not with your dad and his anger or my father and his indifference. I just want to go away and start over.”

Roman pulls back and lifts my chin so he can look me in the eye. “When?”

“Now. Today. I don’t want to live in this prison anymore.”

Chapter Twenty-Four

Prison

Prison. She understands how I feel. How I’ve always felt about my life. It’s almost too good to be true.

I press my lips to hers, and a jolt of electricity shoots through my body when our mouths meet. A groan works its way out of me as I pull her closer, twisting my hands in the hem of her shirt and holding on for dear life. I want to erase all the barriers between us. To take her up to my room and throw her down and rip her clothes off.

In my room.

In Rick’s house.

That’s all it takes for my lungs to deflate. I pull away, gasping as my hands claw at my chest and I struggle to make my lungs work. I can’t focus on anything but the lack of air in my body.

“Roman?”

Her voice is so soft. Full of concern. I can’t speak. Every part of my chest is tight. Painful.

I squeeze my eyes shut and work at blocking out the memories. The beatings, the screaming, the pain. The loneliness.

Alone.

I can’t go back to being alone.

“Roman, are you okay?”

I nod, but I can’t make my eyes open and I still can’t breathe. I’m paralyzed. Trapped in a box of pain that Rick created.

I want to kill him.

A gentle hand touches my cheek. I wince and pull back like it’s a poisonous snake, not a loving caress. I don’t want her comfort. I don’t deserve her love. Isn’t that what Rick has been telling me for years? That nobody could love me?

A sudden understanding hits me. Jules’s father.

It takes a few seconds for my lungs to start to work again, and when they do, I open my eyes and find Jules staring at me. Her face contorted in pain. There are worry lines by her mouth.

She’s too young for worry lines.

“I’m sorry,” I manage to get out. It hurts to talk. Hurts my head, my throat, my heart.

She steps closer, touching my shoulder hesitantly. “What is it?”

I swallow and look away. At the house. “I can’t take you in there.”

She doesn’t respond, so I’m forced to look at her again. I don’t want to. I don’t want to associate her with this place of torture. But I have to know what she’s thinking.

Understanding swims in her eyes. “I don’t want to go in there.”

“I’ll be right back.” I try to smile, but when my lips move, the skin on my face threatens to crack.

She settles down onto a rock as I turn to leave.

I just need to get dressed and grab a few changes of clothes. Then we’ll figure out what to do. She wants to leave today, which is fine with me. But can I do that to her? Is it right to take her away before she’s had the chance to talk to her father?

It doesn’t seem fair.

I hurry inside, my heart pounding even though I know Rick isn’t here. Every sound makes my pulse quicken as I shoves things into a bag. Have to make it quick. Jules is waiting.

It takes me less than five minutes to throw some things in a bag, and then I’m hurrying back outside. To Jules.

She’s still on the rock. I have my bag and everything I could need from the house, but she and I need to talk. I have to do the right thing. Have to be a better person for her. She deserves that much.

I grab her hand and pull her to her feet. “Let’s go for a walk.”

“Aren’t we leaving? I need to get a few things from my house.”

“Let’s go for a walk first,” I say, leading her toward the beach.

The wind blows, bringing with it the salty taste of ocean water. Above us the clouds are dark and ominous—a storm is on its way. Bad timing, but it isn’t going to stop me from getting the hell out of here.

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Beginning of the End

Pain coats every inch of Roman as he leads me toward the beach. He has a bag slung over his shoulder, and the sight of it makes me ache with the need to get my own things together. I’m ready to go, but Roman wants to talk first. The mask of indifference is gone, and the playful smile has disappeared. For the first time, all the walls are down at once. Even though I don’t know why, it fills me with fear.

Am I seeing the real Roman for the first time? I thought I knew him. Thought I understood him. But the Roman in front of me is someone completely new.

He pauses five feet from where the surf breaks against the sand and turns to face me. “I don’t think we should leave yet.”

My heart sinks into a sea of despair. He doesn’t want me anymore?

“Why? What did I do?”

His eyes search mine, and a half-smile lights up his face. Now he looks like the Roman I know. “You didn’t do anything.”

He puts his hand on my cheek, and I lean into it. My heart surfaces from the pool it was drowning in, gasping for air before sprouting wings and flying off.

“It’s about your father. Jules, he does care about you. I think you should take the time to say a real goodbye to him.”

I don’t want my father to ruin this moment. He’s ruined so many other moments in my life. Dance recitals he missed and birthdays he forgot. Holidays where he didn’t even bother to call me. So many ruined moments.

“I’m done with him.” My voice is harder than I expect it to be. “You can’t understand, Roman. You weren’t there. That night I traveled seven miles across D.C. to find him even though I thought he was dead. He hadn’t called me. Hadn’t come to check on me. I didn’t have anywhere else to go, though, so I risked it.” I take a deep breath. “He was there in his apartment. Totally fine. All he could say in his defense was that he assumed my mom was with me. The truth is, I can’t believe that he cares about me. Not after what happened.”

“I understand.” Roman nods as he runs his hand down the side of my cheek. “Just promise that you’ll leave him a note.”

A gust of wind whips his hair into his face, and I look up. The sky above us is dark. Ominous. If we’re going to get out of here, we need to do it soon or we’re going to get caught in a storm.

“I promise,” I say. “When do we leave?”

Roman pulls me against him. “How soon can you pack?”

Everything I want to take with me is packed, but I still have to write a note to my dad. What do I say to him? I can make it sweet and flowery, a goodbye from a loving daughter. A lie. Or I can put my real feelings into it. Tell him how much he’s hurt me. How all I ever wanted was just a little bit of attention. Just a little bit of love.

Will it hurt him? Do I want it to?

“A storm’s coming. If we don’t leave soon, we’ll probably get stuck in it.”

I nod, but I can’t look up. “I don’t know what to say.”

“I can’t tell you what to do,” Roman says. “I know what he did was awful, but I also know that he loves you. He just doesn’t know how to show it.”

I still don’t believe it. “He told you that?” I ask, looking up at Roman.

His eyes hold mine as he nods.

My father lied. It’s the only possible explanation.

Not wanting to waste any more time on him, I turn back to the paper.

Dad-

I know you won’t understand, but I love Roman and

I want to be with him. I want to be with someone who
loves me.

-Jules

I stop with my pen poised over the paper. I’m sure you’ll be relieved is what I want to add. Better not, though.

I turn to find Roman frowning down at the paper. Why is he suddenly on my father’s side, anyway? Maybe he’s just worried that I’ll have regrets. I won’t, but everyone is entitled to his opinion.

I set the note on my bed and give Roman a big smile. “Let’s go.”

We step outside to a sky even more overtaken by dark clouds.

“We only have to make it to the house tonight,” Roman says, climbing on his bike. “Tomorrow we’ll take my stash into town so we can trade for the things we need. We can spend the night there and then head out in the morning if the storm’s passed.”

I climb onto the bike and wrap my arms around Roman. Riding in the rain doesn’t sound appealing, but neither does waiting. Now is the right time. I can feel it deep inside me. This is the right thing and Roman is the right person. A new beginning.

Roman races through the settlement as the clouds above us darken, becoming more and more threatening with each passing second. When we slow at the gate, the uncertainty of our situation hits me for the first time. Will they even let us leave? What if the Regulator gave them instructions not to let us out?

The wind howls around us, blowing the trees until their branches slam together. At the gate, the guards rush toward the gate, and I squeeze Roman tighter. Thankfully, the wait is short, and it takes less than a minute for the gate to swing open.

Roman revs the engine, and then we shoot forward, flying through the gate and leaving the settlement of Coastal Manor behind. This time when I tighten my arms around Roman’s waist, it’s out of excitement, not fear.

We’re on our way.

What feels like seconds later, the sky above us opens up. Water falls on us in buckets, and in the blink of an eye, my clothes are soaked and my hair has matted itself to my face. I can’t see a thing. I squeeze my eyes shut and press my face against Roman’s back, praying that he will somehow be able to see where we’re going through the thick blanket of rain pouring down on us.

By the time the motorcycle slows, I’m shivering. My hands clutch Roman as he pulls to a stop, but it only takes me a second to scramble off. The house is right in front of us, barely visible through the thick sheet of rain falling from the dark sky. I slosh through the puddles while behind me Roman struggles with his bike. The door creaks when I shove it open, but the sound is barely audible over the pounding of the rain on the roof. It echoes through the empty house while I shiver in the entryway, waiting for Roman. A puddle has collected under my feet, and my body has become one giant goose bump.

Roman pushes his motorcycle through the door and parks it in the hall before hurrying to my side. “You okay?”

My teeth chatter, and I cross my arms over my chest as I nod. Roman rubs my arms. If I could see myself, I wouldn’t be surprised if my skin was blue.

“We need to get out of these wet clothes,” he says. “I have a few sleeping bags stashed in the crawlspace. I’ll be right back.”

He runs off and I want to follow him, but I can’t get the two blocks of ice that are attached to my legs to cooperate.

Roman is only gone for a minute at the most, and when he reappears he has a sleeping bag tucked under his arm and a hatchet in his hand. “Come in here. I’ll get a fire started.”

A fire.

At the moment, it’s the most luxurious thing I can think of.

He spreads the sleeping bag out on the floor before heading over to a built-in bookshelf. I stand awkwardly in the middle of the room with my arms crossed over my chest, shivering while he hacks away at the shelves.

Roman glances my way as he tosses wood toward the fireplace. “Get out of those clothes.” He tilts his head toward the sleeping bag before turning back to the shelf.

I don’t even hesitate. This is no time to be modest.

My wet clothes come off so fast you’d think I was doing it for money. I toss them in a pile before slipping into the warmth of the sleeping bag. It’s soft and lined with fleece, and right away my limbs begin to thaw.

Roman has a fire started in no time—it’s actually a pretty impressive process to watch. Manly. Sexy.

Then he pulls his wet shirt over his head.

There’s only one sleeping bag.

A jolt goes through me when Roman undoes his pants. He’s stripping, and I’m practically naked.

He and I will be in here together…

My body comes alive, and my heart pounds a million miles a minute. And those butterflies! Those stupid butterflies have swarmed. There must be a million of them now, beating their wings as they rip my insides apart.

Roman doesn’t turn toward me until he’s down to his boxers, and when he does, his expression is serious. So beautifully, amazingly serious. “Is this okay?”

He smiles when I nod.

It is so much more than okay.

I scoot over, giving Roman room to crawl in next to me. His body presses against mine, hot and firm. My hands snake their way up his stomach to his chest as I gaze into his eyes. The house is dark, and his brown eyes shimmer down on me. They penetrate mine, diving into my soul and claiming me as his.

He smells like the outdoors, and I breathe him in like he’s my very own cigarette. As if the smell of him will soothe me in a way that nothing else ever has.

My hands stay on his chest, but his move. His fingers slide across my thigh and over my hip, down the curve of my waist and back up. They brush their way over my body to my neck and chin, leaving a trail of fire behind that burns like lava.

I close my eyes as his hand strokes my cheek. His lips forge a trail along my jaw, and I sigh when every fiber in my body relaxes. Roman’s warm breath tickles my skin as his lips tease me. They kiss every inch of my face except my lips, and the feel of them on my skin is warm and soft and sensual.

The yearning builds until it threatens to crush us both. It’s so powerful that by the time his lips finally touch mine, deep and insistent, I’m certain that I’m going to explode. And I nearly do.

Then every inch of me is covered in Roman. I’m on fire. Burning alive. Only it doesn’t hurt. It’s magical and so unreal that I can’t believe it’s actually happening. Wasn’t I shivering just a few minutes ago? How did I catch on fire?

Roman’s hands move up my back and slip the strap of my bra aside so his lips can caress my shoulder. Then his fingers slide down to my thigh, and my skin prickles and sizzles as the need inside me builds. He is everywhere but where I want him to be. But I can’t say the words, so I just kiss him back and pray that he never stops.

He pulls me closer to him like he’s afraid I’ll cease to exist. My hands run up his back, and I swear he trembles under my touch. His shoulders are like marble under my fingers. Hard and unbreakable—like they can carry the weight of the world.

My skin is sticky with sweat when Roman finally pulls back. He’s gasping for breath, almost like he’d just run a marathon, and I am too. The air in the room is thick and humid. And charged.

He brushes a few strands of moist hair off my forehead as he smiles down at me, and all I can think about is how soft his lips are. How good they taste. How I could feast on them forever.

“Are you okay?” he whispers.

“I’ve never been more okay in my life.”

His mouth twitches, and I shiver.

“Are you still cold?”

I shake my head. How can I tell him that there’s a good chance I will burst into flames at any moment? If I didn’t know better, I’d think the fire had leapt from the fireplace and scorched our sleeping bag.

Roman settles back, and my heart pounds as my body screams at me to say something, to do something. I want Roman. So much.

“I don’t want to stop.” My voice almost gets lost in the crackling of the fire.

Roman raises an eyebrow. He seems so…uncertain. “I don’t want to push you, Jules. I want you to be sure.”

“I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.” I hold my breath as I wait for him to respond. Unease fills my stomach. What if he tells me he doesn’t want me after all?

He swallows, and his gaze becomes more intense than I’ve ever seen it.

This time when he kisses me, our lips become one. Fused together by the fire that burns inside me. Roman wraps me in his touch, his hands knowing no boundaries as they move in ways I’ve never imagined possible. He whispers my name, tells me how amazing I am. Caresses me with words while simultaneously caressing me with his body.

Just when I think I can’t take anymore he whispers, “I love you.”

I become a part of Roman, and I know that after today, neither one of us will ever be alone again.

I surface from my dream world slowly, only slightly aware of the shivers moving through me. The room is bright when I crack one eye, but my brain is fuzzy. Where is that chill coming from? Squeezing my eyes shut, I work to unclog my brain. Another shiver shakes my body, and it hits me. Sometime during the night our sleeping bag came unzipped and my leg is hanging out.

This time when I open my eyes, I focus on Roman’s peaceful face. A smile touches my lips, and a shiver moves up my spine as the memory of last night sweeps over me. I want to relive every second of it and never—

Something moist brushes my calf, and the hair on my arms stands on end. The stink of rot slams into me, and I bolt upright, my heart pounding in my ears and the room swirling around me so fast that it makes me dizzy. The putrid face of a zombie comes into view just in time for me to watch his teeth sink into my leg. Pain blasts through my body, and a scream rips its way out of me. Waves of agony course through my leg, but the real torture comes when my heart explodes.

Roman is up before I can make another noise. His eyes wide. He grabs for the knife he had so carefully placed by his head and lurches at the zombie. Together they collapse on the ground, Roman on top and the zombie beneath him. My body is frozen, and I can’t tear my eyes away from the struggle. My leg throbs, and when Roman grunts, my heart screams in response. He and the zombie seem to move in slow motion, the struggle dragging on and on until I’m sure this zombie will be the end of us both. Then, in a move so fast it makes my head spin, Roman flips the mass of rotten flesh over and slams the blade of his knife into its brain.

The zombie goes slack, and Roman rolls off him. He turns to face me, and every inch of his body is contorted with pain. Roman crawls across the floor, panting. Tears streaming down his cheeks. His hands shake when he touches the bite, and I wince. It burns. Just like the crack in my heart does.

“Jules.” His voice shakes, cracks, and then breaks into a million pieces.

When he can’t get anything else out, my sobs fill the silence.

Roman pulls me into his arms, and I try to make myself as small as possible. Try to sink into him. Try to be absorbed by his touch. It’s too late, though. A gorge has opened up between us. One that can never be repaired.

Roman kisses the tears on my cheeks and brushes the matted hair from my face, but neither one of us speaks. I try desperately to get my mouth to form words, but nothing will come out. It doesn’t matter. What is there to say? Everything that comes to mind just seems like it will make everything infinitely, enormously worse.

Roman pulls back suddenly, and his eyes are wide with misguided hope. “The cure!”

The idea of crushing his hope hurts more than the bite, but it has to be done. “The shipment was hijacked, Roman.”

He shakes his head and gets to his feet.

I stay where I am. Trying to fight off the growing panic as he dashes around the room. He pulls his own clothes on before tossing me my own, but I still don’t move. I just hold them in my lap. If only we could go back in time. I’d give anything to move the clock backward and relive last night. Even if I can’t change this moment, being able to experience it all one more time would ease my pain.

“We have to get to town!” Roman says when he sees me still sitting on the floor.

I shake my head as I slowly climb to my feet. My leg throbs, and a burning sensation that has started at the bite is now moving slowly upward. Is it the virus working its way through my body? How long until the lethargy starts? Will I know it’s coming?

Maybe I should just end things now.

“What’s the point? What will they have in town that will help us?”

Roman rushes toward me. His hair is in his eyes, and for once he doesn’t bother flicking it out of his face. He grips my arms so hard that I wince, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s too lost in his foolish hope. “They hijacked the shipment, Jules. I saw the boxes in Hank’s shop.”

Hope, that foolish feeling, flashes through me against my will. I can’t embrace it, though. Not yet.

“That was over a week ago,” I say as calmly as I can. Wanting to get through to him. “Would they still have it?

Roman’s mouth turns down, but only a second later he shakes his head and grabs my clothes out of my hands. “They had to have kept some. It would be stupid to get rid of it all.”

He helps me get dressed, apologizing whenever I wince or gasp as the fabric rubs against the bite. Jeans are torture, so Roman gently cuts away the leg. Even when it’s exposed to the cool air, the bite sizzles and aches.

I can’t look at it. I don’t want to see my fate.

Roman is ready to go as soon as my shoes are on, but I have to stop him. He isn’t thinking this through. He isn’t rational. “Roman, they’ll never let me in town.”

He shoves a hand through his hair as he exhales. “You’re right. You’ll have to wait here.”

“No! Roman, you have to take me back to Coastal Manor,” I plead. “I don’t want to be here alone. What if you don’t make it back? What if I’m sitting here by myself, waiting for you? I d-don’t w-want to t-turn. I can’t w-w-walk around l-like t-that.” I can barely get out the last sentence, but I need him to understand that it has to end before things get too far. That I need him to end it before I become trapped inside a monster.

Roman’s face crumples. His shoulders sag, and he squeezes his eyes shut like he’s trying to block out the truth. “That won’t happen. I’ll be right back.”

“No,” I say as firmly as I can muster. “Take me back.”

His eyes are still closed. “They’ll lock you up.”

“I know.”

Roman finally looks up, and when his gaze meets mine, it feels like I’ve been bitten all over again. “I can’t lose you.”

“Then you need to move fast,” I say, trying to sound like I believe there is hope even though there is none.

This is the end for me.

Chapter Twenty-Six

The Fight

I can’t breathe. This isn’t how it ends. I won’t allow it.

And I won’t allow Jules to be taken in by Rick.

“No. Rick’s a liar. He won’t wait until you turn—he’ll kill you.” My voice shakes so much that I’m not really sure it’s mine. It doesn’t sound like me.

Jules’s cheeks are stained with tears and her body trembling under my hands, but otherwise she’s calm. So much more in control than I am. “It’s okay. My father won’t let him. I’ll be fine.”

When my gaze moves to her leg, my heart swells so fast that it threatens to explode. Why couldn’t it have been me?

I inhale slowly while every possible scenario goes through my head. It takes less than two seconds, thinking about going to town to find the cure and what might happen, as well as mulling over how our reception will be if we return to Coastal Manor. There are a million possibilities, but one thing rings true: Jon Carmichael is the JO, and he won’t let Rick kill Jules. If he keeps an eye on his daughter, it will give me time to find the cure and save her.

“Okay.” This time, my voice comes out even. Almost lifeless.

I need to get Jules to safety, and then I can go for the vaccine.

She gives me a smile, her bottom lip quivering, and I grab at my chest when pain moves through me. I want to die. Inside, my heart is slowly breaking into a million pieces. Tears spring to my eyes, but I choke them back, forcing the pain down. I have to be strong. I’m the only hope Jules has right now.

“Let’s go. We don’t have a lot of time.”

How long it takes to turn varies from person to person, and has a lot to do with where the bite is located. The closer to the brain, the faster a person succumbs. That’s one thing that didn’t change when the virus mutated. What did change, though, is the fact that the victim turns before their heart actually stops beating, which typically takes twenty-four to forty-eight hours.

Since Jules’s bite is on her leg it gives me a little leeway, but not much. With as far away from her brain as it is, I’m guessing the transition time will take around forty hours.

Not much time, and we’ve wasted precious minutes crying. I should have fought sooner. Should have gotten her back to Coastal Manor faster.

The ride back will take ten minutes.

I drive faster than I ever have as behind me, Jules clings to my body. Her arms shake and her nails dig into my stomach. How can ten minutes drag so much? Jules is in pain. She’s running out of time. I have to get her back.

When the gate comes into view, I slow and almost smile. Almost. Luck is on our side. Clay is at the gate.

“What are you two doing back?” he calls when I stop. He steps closer so he can see us through the gate. “The JO is pissed. He’s been on a rampage since he found your note last night. You better—”

“Open the gate! She’s been bitten.” I want to jump off the bike and climb the fence so I can pound Clay in his stupid face. But Jules is holding me too tightly. She’s shaking.

I glanced over my shoulder to find her eyes closed and her face scrunched up. She sinks her teeth into her bottom lip, but not in the sexy way that makes me want to rip her clothes off. It’s like she’s trying not to scream.

“Roman, man, you know I can’t let you in. Your dad would—”

“This is the Judicial Officer’s daughter.” I turn my eyes on Clay. “He’ll make an exception or he’ll have to face the music.”

Clay curses and shakes his head, but he only hesitates for a second before unlocking the gate.

The second it’s open, I accelerate and speed down the street toward town hall. I can only hope that Jules’s father is in his office and not Rick. The last thing I have time for right now is a confrontation.

The streets are deserted, but there are two cars parked in front of town hall. One belongs to Rick, but the other is the JO’s. I drive into the front yard and practically jump off the bike, pulling Jules with me. She opens her eyes, and they swim with pain as she looks around, almost like she has no idea where we are. Has the lethargy set in already? It shouldn’t have. Not yet. The bite is so far from her brain.

“Can you walk?” I ask, hoping to bring her back to the present.

“I-I think so.”

She limps when she takes a step, so I put my arm around her waist for support. Her steps are unsteady, and there’s a clamminess about her skin that wasn’t there before. It’s so cool to the touch that it terrifies me. It’s like she’s dead already.

I manage to get her up the steps, but when I reach for the door, my hand shakes. Panic has started to set in. Shit. I can’t let it control me. I have to pull myself together and focus on my next move. I can’t afford to waste any more time.

Rick is in the foyer when I open the door.

He sneers my way, almost like he’s an animal. “Thought you two hit the road. Better climb back on that bike and get the hell out of here. I told you that if you ever left you shouldn’t bother coming back.”

I clench my fist so tight that it’s nearly impossible to help Jules into a chair.

“Where’s her dad?” I say, turning back to my own father, blocking Jules from view. I need her dad down here before Rick finds out what’s going on.

He leans against the wall like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Shit. It’s uncanny how much I look like him when he does that. The resemblance disappears the second Rick’s lips curl into a vicious smile, and I have the sudden, almost uncontrollable urge to beat the look off his face. I’ve seen that smile so many times that it haunt my dreams.

“In his office. He doesn’t want to see her, trust—”

“Mr. Carmichael!” I yell.

Rick’s arms fall to his side, and just like that, he’s off the wall and moving toward me, his eyes narrowed like he’s on the hunt. I scoot closer to Jules, keeping her out of his line of sight. I have his attention now.

“Back off,” I say through clenched teeth. “This has nothing to do with you.”

Rick clenches his jaw and tries to step around me, but I square my shoulders and block him. Our chests touch as we square off. Raised to my full height, the truth hits me hard: I’m taller than he is now. Bigger, even. Rick isn’t a young guy, he was almost forty when I was born, and the apocalypse has taken a toll on him. He’s turned into an old man prematurely.

I can take him, and if it comes down to it, I will.

Jules’s dad appears at the top of the steps, and I almost let out a sigh of relief. Just because I can beat the shit out of Rick doesn’t mean I have time to do. Not right now.

“You have a lot of nerve!” Jon charges down the stairs, and I finally step aside, allowing him a good look at his daughter. “After I let you off yesterday—” His mouth drops open for a split second before he manages to recover. “What happened?”

There it is, written in every line of his face as his eyes sweep over Jules crumpled frame. He cares about her. I knew he did.

“She was bitten.” The words come out as a whisper, and my limbs suddenly feel flimsy and useless.

The bite on Jules’s leg is bright red and shiny. Lines of red spread out from the wound under her skin as the infection flows through her veins, being carried to other parts of her body. Its main goal: her brain. Once there, it will erase everything she is and everything she could ever be. She will cease to exist, and then she’ll turn into a monster and die.

“Why’d you bring her here?” Rick yells. “You know the rules. You get bitten and you are on your own.”

“Shut up!” I growl, my eyes focused on Jon as he kneels in front of his daughter.

He looks utterly lost.

I kneel beside him and put my hand on his arm, ignoring it when he flinches. “I’m going for the vaccine. I know a place close by where they may have some. If not, I’ll head to Atlanta. I’m not giving up.”

“There isn’t time,” he mutters. “You’ll never make it before she turns, and even if you do they won’t let you in the city.”

“I have to try.”

He tears his eyes away from Jules so he can focus on me, and the pain swimming in his vision clouds everything else around us. “There isn’t a lot of time.”

“I know,” I say. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Jon turns his eyes back to Jules, and his mouth scrunches up like he’s thinking. “Maybe we can slow it down. The CDC has had some luck with slowing the spread of the infection by dropping the victim’s body temperature. It will buy us time, but it won’t stop it. Not completely.”

“We have to get her out of here!” Rick roars behind us.

I flinch, but before I can turn to face Rick, Jules’s father pulls himself to his feet. “The law says that we have to wait.”

“What’s the point?” Rick snarls. “We don’t have the vaccine and he’ll never get it in time. You should want to end it now. Save yourself the pain of seeing her turn!”

“The law was set in place for a reason.” The strong, steady government official returns, making Jon’s voice deep. Firm. “People can be immune to the bite.”

I scoop Jules into my arms so I can carry her to the back of the house. To the room. It’s never been used. It’s all for show. Before now, if someone got bitten, Rick took care of it himself. A bullet to the head is the quickest way to solve the problem, at least according to my father.

Jules winces when my arm brushes against the bite, and I whisper my apologies. Behind me, Jon and my father follow, but my focus is on Jules. Her eyes hold mine, clear and present but swimming with pain. Maybe she’ll be immune. Maybe all the worry will be for nothing.

“How do you feel?” I whisper.

“Tired.” She squeezes her eyes shut, opening them only a second later. “I’m not immune. I can feel the virus moving through me. It’s…It’s like everything is underwater. Moving in slow motion.”

The image of Jules as a zombie flashes through my mind, and my insides constrict. Maybe Rick is right. Maybe it would be better to end things. Letting her turn would be wrong when I know she doesn’t want that.

I can’t though. I’m much too selfish to let her go without a fight.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Alone

My body trembles and my teeth chatter no matter what I do. I’m so cold that it hurts. I shift, and the icy water sloshes out of the tub, slapping against the bathroom floor. Probably making a puddle. Not that I care. I squeeze my eyes shut and work to block out the pain and the shivering, hoping to absorb the silence and soothe the ache in my body. My leg throbs, and the icy water only makes it worse. Around me, the room is silent except for the rhythmic dripping that comes from the sink.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

Thanks to the cold water I’m lying in, my heart rate has slowed until it beats in perfect synchronization with the sound, filling my ears. It’s so cathartic that I’m almost able to block out the pain and memories assaulting my senses. Almost.

But too much has happened, and no matter how hard I try, it’s impossible for me block it out forever. Eventually, the memories take over and everything comes crashing back. My life before all this. Before Mom died, before I met Roman. Before I fell in love.

Roman.

Despair shoots through me, squeezing my insides. My lungs tighten until it’s difficult to breathe. It’s even more intense than the pain pulsating through my leg. The tears I’d managed to stave off earlier fall from my eyes, burning hot trails across my cold skin. They aren’t for me. I can handle the thought of everything ending. But I can’t handle thinking about what Roman is going through. How he’ll blame himself. How much he will hurt when I’m finally gone.

I gasp, filling my lungs with air in hopes of relieving the pain. When it doesn’t work, I try to curl into myself, but there’s no escaping the cold prison I find myself in. The icy water hurts, and every shiver that shakes my body intensifies the pain, but it’s working. I can tell because the fuzziness in my brain hasn’t gotten worse. Not that that’s a good thing.

Roman’s voice echoes through my head, and even though I know he isn’t here, my eyes fly open. Nothing, though. I’m alone. Even more so than I was before we came to Coastal Manor.

Angry voices penetrate the door. Roman. His father. Other voices too quiet to make out. I strain my ears, trying to pick up a word or two. But it’s useless.

There is one voice I don’t hear, though. One voice that should be here but isn’t. My father. He was here when they filled the bathtub with water and ice. So stoic and quiet. He barely even looked at me. As usual.

Will he be sorry? Will he be angry? Will he want to see me? The questions come too fast.

Do I want to see him?

The doorknob jiggles, and my entire body tenses as I wait for it to open. My stomach churns, and I’m suddenly afraid that I’m going to be sick. Then the door swings open, and a burst of light breaks through the darkness. I lift a trembling arm, hoping to shield my eyes from the sudden assault. A light flips on and blinds me even more. The door shuts. Footsteps. Hands on my head. So gentle.

“Jules.”

Roman. My lips tremble too much to allow the words to come out.

I lower my arm and squint up into his face. He’s broken. Every muscle in his body is slack like all the strength has been sucked from him. Where are the strong shoulders I admired just a short time ago? The ones capable of carrying the weight of the world on them…

I rest my hand on his cheek, marveling at how blue my skin looks next to his. He leans into it, closing his eyes. His cheek is warm and wet with tears. Roman. Is. Crying.

“Shhh,” I whisper. “It will be okay.” I’m lying. It will never be okay.

He opens his eyes, and under my hand, his jaw tightens. Just like that, his entire body straightens as if all his muscles have snapped to attention in one quick movement.

“I’m going to town.”

My calf throbs at his words.

“Are you sure they have it?” It’s barely a whisper—as small as the hope inside me.

He runs his hand through his too-long hair. “If they don’t, I’ll go to Atlanta.”

My heart aches even more than it already did. It’s too far. Too dangerous. He won’t make it. “I don’t want you to die for me.”

Roman glances toward my leg. It’s underwater though, covered in goose bumps like the rest of my body. Which is fine with me. I don’t want to look at it. Don’t want to see the two perfectly shaped half-moons on my leg. Red. Angry. Already swollen with infection. How can something so small be the end of me?

“I won’t let you die. Not if I can do something to stop it.” Roman’s words are fierce. Determined. Angry. He’s so angry.

I grab his chin with my icy fingers and turn his face toward mine. “Don’t leave me. I want you here with me until it’s over.” I try to hold back the sobs, but I can’t. I’m not strong enough. “I d-don’t want t-to die a-alone.” Can he even understand the words?

Roman pulls his face out of my hand and leans forward, pressing his hot lips against my head. I want him to hold me, but I’m covered in ice and soaking wet, so instead I rest my face in the crook of his neck. His skin is like fire against mine.

“I can’t give up.” His words are muffled, but the desperation in his voice is as loud as an explosion. “No one has ever loved me like this. How can I live without you?”

His words reach inside me and squeeze my heart, and for a brief moment, I can’t breathe or talk or even cry. All I can do is focus on the pain inside me and pray that my heart doesn’t explode. That it doesn’t rip out of my chest the way it feels like it’s going to. How can I deny him this? How can I let him give up? I won’t. If the situation were reversed, I would rather die than give up on him.

I suck in a deep breath and pull back, lifting my gaze to his one last time. His brown eyes are pools of sadness. So deep and desolate that I’m afraid I might drown in them.

“Promise me,” I croak. “Promise that you’ll make it back to say goodbye.”

“I’ll be back before you turn. I. Will. Save. You.”

I don’t believe him, but I nod anyway.

Then he’s out the door. No kiss goodbye. Just a little squeeze of my hand and a promise that he’ll make it back in time.

And then I am alone. Left with nothing but memories. Memories and pain.

The throbbing in my leg worsens. I imagine the virus moving through me. Going from the bite and up my leg, traveling in my blood until it reaches my heart. Gathering there and building with a force so charged with electricity that when it finally pumps out, it moves like lightening to the tips of my fingers.

And then it will go up. Higher and higher. Invading everything. Taking over who I am and replacing it with a monster.

Will I still be here?

Will I be trapped?

Should I end it now?

Will Roman make it?

Too many questions…

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Desperate

My whole body shakes, and deep inside my chest, my heart aches. There’s a crack in it. A fissure that grows with each passing second and throbs with the pain of the split. Pulsating, threatening to explode at any moment and destroy me.

There isn’t much time.

I have to get the vaccine.

I have to save Jules.

Jules’s father is still standing in the foyer when I step out. His shoulders are slumped and he’s completely motionless as he stares at the floor, almost like he can’t figure out what he’s supposed to do next. He looks the way I feel: lost.

He lifts his head when I approach, and the expression in his eyes is like a spear in my heart. There is no accusation, only pain. I didn’t think I could feel worse than I already did.

I want him to hit me. To scream at me or call me names and blame me for murdering his daughter. Any of it would make sense. I am responsible. If I’d just left her alone, she would be okay. If I had acknowledged to myself that she is too good for me, that I don’t deserve her love, she wouldn’t be dying. But I am selfish and greedy and human, and I wanted her all for myself, so I took her. I claimed her as mine even though I had no right to.

He doesn’t attack me or yell at me, though. He just melts. Collapses against the wall with his hand to his chest like he might be having a heart attack. I step forward with my hand out, but when his eyes meet mine, I stop. He isn’t having a heart attack. He’s just trying to hold his damaged heart together. Same as me.

“I’m going for the vaccine.” I don’t sound like me. I sound like someone smaller, younger. Someone less in control. Where did I go?

He nods, but his eyes don’t focus on me and I’m not sure if he really understands.

“I’ll go to Atlanta if I have to.”

“But you know where to get it here?” There’s hope in his voice. It’s tiny and shaky, but it’s there.

“Maybe.”

He pulls himself up—it seems to take a lot of effort—and grabs my shirt in his hands. He shakes me slightly, but he isn’t trying to hurt me. “This is my fault. I pushed her away. All these years, all she wanted was for me to be there and I couldn’t do it.” His eyes grow moist, and I have to blink away the tears in my own eyes. “Promise me you’ll save her.”

“I’ll do it or die trying.”

He lets go of my shirt and takes a step back. “I always thought I had more time.”

When he doesn’t move, I walk around him. I can’t stand here and watch him fall apart. There isn’t time.

Plus, the longer I stand here, the more likely I am to do the same thing.

“Stop right there!” Rick calls before I’ve made it all the way to the door. The bastard.

I turn to face my father, clenching my fists tightly so I don’t hit him. The last thing I need right now is to get my ass thrown back in jail. “What?”

“You leave and that’s it.” His eyes flash like he knows he’s giving me an impossible scenario and enjoys doing it. “I won’t let you back in.”

My jaw tightens, and I step forward, putting less than an inch between us. “I won’t let her die. Not when there’s a vaccine.”

“You won’t make it, and I’m not risking the town for your little girlfriend,” he spits at me.

My eyes go to Jules’s father. He’s leaning against the wall again, and he looks like he’s been punched in the gut.

“You’re a prick,” I fire back.

I have to leave. I can’t let him draw me into another one of our arguments.

“I mean it, Roman.”

I turn away without saying anything. My insides are boiling, shaking, trying to break free. If I stand here even a second longer, I am going to beat the shit out of him. For the past, for the present, for Jules. For myself.

But there’s no time for all of that.

So I run. I run out the front door and across the lawn, back to my bike, lying on its side in the middle of the front yard. I’m running so fast that I almost don’t notice Mac standing there next to his own bike.

I’m out of breath when I stop, and all I can do is raise an eyebrow at him.

“I’m going with you,” he says. “To help.”

I shake my head and walk past him. “Can’t let you. It’s too dangerous.”

“Roman, I’m going.”

His voice is so serious that I have to turn to face him. I half expect someone else to be standing there. I’ve never heard Mac sound like this. He’s always joking around. The look of determination on Mac’s face tells me that his mind is already made up. Damn. I hate the idea of him risking his life like this.

“You sure?”

He climbs on his bike. “Where to?”

“Hopefully, we’ll just have to go into town. You know who took that shipment.”

He swears under his breath. We both know who’s been hijacking our supply trucks. It’s just a damn shame it had to happen now.

“You think he’ll give it to us?”

I try to ignore the tension building inside me as I climb on my bike. “He better.”

I keep what I’m thinking to myself: if he doesn’t give it to us, I’ll kill him. Not sure if Mac can handle that little piece of truth right now.

We take off, me in front and Mac at my back, and by the time the gate comes into view, Clay is already working to get it open. I barely have to slow, and once it’s open I accelerate, flying past Clay and the other guards so fast they’re nothing but a blur. Mac pulls up beside me once we’re on the open road, and side by side we head toward the house Jules and I slept in last night. The place where my nightmare started.

Mac stays outside with the bike while I run inside. It takes everything in me not to look at the zombie that ripped into Jules, but I can’t stop my stomach from turning in on itself from the stench of death that now fills the place. I should drag the bastard outside, but I don’t have the time.

I rip the floorboards up so fast that one splinters in half, but I just toss it aside. The hole is dark, but I don’t need the light to find what I’m looking for. I move two boxes so I can get to the one underneath, and when I have it, I rip the lid off. The guns are heavy in my hands when I load them. Knives are good for taking out zombies—they’re quick and quiet, and they don’t attract other zombies or run out of ammo—but guns are better for dealing with humans.

Outside, I practically have to shove the gun in Mac’s hand.

“What the hell, man?” He looks up at me with eyes that have grown twice their size.

I look away. “I’m going to do what it takes.”

Mac nods twice but then shakes his head. I’m not sure if that’s disagreement or disbelief, but I don’t wait around to discuss it. I shove my gun in my waistband before pulling my shirt over it. Then I’m back on my bike and heading down the road, only looking back once to make sure Mac is behind me.

When the gate comes into view, I slow to a stop. Mac comes up beside me, and as jumpy as he is, I start to worry that they aren’t going to let us inside. I hold my breath, but it only takes a second for the guards to call down to the men on the ground. When the gates swing open, all they do is wave us inside. Thankfully, we’re regular visitors or they would have frisked us.

Mac and I fly through, driving faster than we should as we head down the main street. People wave, but for once I don’t return the gesture. My body is so tense that my hands feel like they are welded to the handlebars.

We pull to a stop in front of Hank’s and climb off our bikes. There’s a slight bulge at Mac’s waist from the gun, and at my waist my own gun is hot and heavy against my skin. Hank and I go way back, and the idea of doing this makes my stomach uneasy, but not as much as the knowledge that without the vaccine, Jules will soon be a flesh-eating monster.

“You ready for this?” I ask Mac as I glance around, checking to make sure the coast is clear. It’s early still, so the streets are fairly empty. Good.

Mac nods so hard his hair falls over his eyes. “Yup.”

I shove the door open with so much force that it slams against a display case. A man who’s in the middle of a trade jumps back, his eyes so big they seem to take up half his face. He looks at us, then back at Hank, and the next time he turns to face us he’s on the run. Whatever he had to trade is pressed to his chest as he hurries past Mac and me.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hank growls.

I shove the door shut and pull out my gun in one quick move, pointing it right at Hank’s hairy face. Conversation isn’t something we have time for.

Hank’s face turns bright red, and behind me, Mac swears. I’m pretty sure he pulls his own gun out, though, because Hank’s eyes dart past me and darken.

“You gonna pull a gun on me in my own damn place?”

“We need to talk, and I need you to understand how serious I am up front.” My voice comes out harder than I expect it to, and I almost flinch. It sounds too much like Rick.

I’ve always been good at causing trouble, but I’ve never hurt another living person. Never thought I could. Not after Rick. But now, standing in front off Hank, the certainty that I will pull this trigger if I have to hangs over me.

“Coulda just told me you needed help.” Hank crosses his massive arms over his chest, and his tattoos flex along with his muscles. Not even a millimeter of skin is visible.

“I had a hunch that you wouldn’t have admitted to hijacking the supply truck unless you were threatened.” Hank’s back stiffens, and his right eyebrow shoots up. That got his attention.

“You and daddy make up?” He grins, showing every one of his yellow teeth. They probably weren’t in good shape before the zombies, but two years of living off the grid has almost finished them off.

“Screw you,” I spit. “That’s not what this is about. I need the vaccine. Now.”

Hank uncrosses his arms, and his eyes go over me before moving to Mac. “You don’t look like you been bit.”

“It’s Jules.” I can barely get the words out, and my voice shakes for the first time since I stepped in here. My hand doesn’t, though.

“Shit,” Hank mutters. “Sorry, bro, but there ain’t nothin’ I can do. We traded that shit out soon as we got it.”

I don’t believe him. “You had to have kept some for the people in town.”

“Nope. Guys who go on the runs each took one, the rest we got rid of. That shit’s too valuable to hoard, and a one-way ticket to D.C. if we get caught with it.”

Behind me, Mac swears, and I lower my gun.

Hank’s telling the truth. I suspected as much before we came, but I had to try.

Mac lowers his gun and comes up to stand next to me, shooting Hank a nervous look. “This okay?”

The burly man eyes me with what looks like amusement in his eyes, and I half expect him to pat me on the back and tell me how proud he is of me.

“Hank’s not going to hold a grudge,” I say.

“I am gonna ask you to get the hell out though,” Hank says, pointing to the door. “The two of you are bad for business. Especially with them guns.”

I tuck my weapon in the waistband of my pants and pull my shirt over it. “See you around, Hank.”

Mac follows me outside while Hank throws a barrage of colorful words at our backs. We stop in the street, and I take a few deep breaths to calm myself down. I’m about thirty seconds from ripping my hair out.

Hold it together, man. Just hold it together. I’m not sure if I can.

“What now?” Mac asks.

I shove my hand through my hair and look around. The sun is still low, so we have most of the day ahead of us. We’re almost three hundred miles from Atlanta, but even in the daylight, getting there is going to be difficult. Most of the road signs have been damaged or removed over the last two years, and it isn’t like I can just run into a gas station and buy an atlas.

What I wouldn’t do for a working GPS right now.

“We need to get back by tomorrow evening to give her the best chance,” Mac says quietly.

It feels like my heart actually stops beating. “I know.”

“What do you want to do, man?”

I stare at my feet. “I have to go to Atlanta.”

“Shit. Roman... Man, you know I’ll do it if you want, but you’ve got to know how insane that sounds. It’s not like it was before. Six hundred miles in one day? Might as well be six thousand.”

I keep my head down. “I know.” I can’t look at him. Can’t let him witness me falling to pieces.

Mac grabs my arm. “Look at me, man.” It takes more energy than it should to lift my head. Mac’s eyes narrow on my face, and he frowns. “We’ll be driving through some seriously dangerous shit. Zombies are the least of our concerns. Then we have to get them to let us into the city. They’ve got that place locked up tighter than Fort Knox!”

“I can’t sit back and do nothing. Mac…” Pleading with him makes me feel like a kid, but I have to go, and it would be easier to have him there to watch my back.

Mac’s face goes slack. “Okay. I get it.”

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Infection

I wake when the door opens and sit up so fast that water sloshes out of the tub. It’s warmed some, but not enough to keep the shivers away.

“Juliana.” My father’s voice is strained.

I look up to find him standing over me, holding a bucket. More ice. I should have known he wouldn’t come in just to check on me. He’s doing his duty. Keeping me alive until Roman gets back with the vaccine, same as he would for anyone else. That’s all.

Something about his expression causes a little voice whisper in my ear, You’re wrong. Look at him. My father’s expression is hollow, and he looks ten years older than he did yesterday. How could he have aged so much in just one day? It can’t be because of me. Can it?

“You left.” His words are like a knife. Sharp and swift, slicing me in two.

Despite the water I’m lying in, my mouth has gone dry and my lips have begun to crack. They ache when I open them. “I’m sorry…”

I want to tell him that I had to leave. That I love Roman and I would rather die than not be with him. But I can’t get any more words out.

He looks away. “Juliana, I—” He swallows. “I just wish you could follow the rules. If you could’ve done what you were told, things would be different.”

Maybe he’s right. Maybe I’m in the wrong. But it’s too late to change anything now. There’s nothing I can do to change the past.

I move, lowering myself back into the icy water, and my leg screams in protest. It feels like it has been dipped in acid. All I want is for someone to take away the pain.

My father dumps his bucket of ice into the tub, and within seconds, shivers have begun to work their way through my body. My teeth chatter as every hair on my body stands up. When I lift my hand, I find that the tips of my fingers are as wrinkled as prunes. How long can I stay like this? Teetering on the edge of hypothermia?

“Jules.”

I turn toward my father’s voice. I’d forgotten he was here. His face is pale. He looks sick. Is he sick? Am I sick?

The thoughts in my head seem to have slowed down and become jumbled together. Is it from the cold, or the infection?

I close my eyes.

The sound of running water startles me and I want to open them, but I can’t. They are fused shut.

My body is weightless.

I am floating away.

Something warm touches my forehead, then each of my cheeks. It brings me back to earth, and I open my eyes to find my father’s face again.

I think I might be dying.

Heat moves over my cheeks, and it hits me. He’s wiping my face with a warm washcloth.

No. That can’t be. I have to be imagining it. He’s never done that before.

“I remember when you were little. You were maybe one or two, so young you couldn’t talk yet. You had a fever and your mom was away on a business trip, so it was just me. I was terrified. I didn’t know what to do, but she told me to just keep you comfortable. I sat up all night holding you, wiping your face with a damp washcloth.”

It sounds like my father talking, but the story doesn’t fit. He’s never been that gentle with me. At least not that I can remember.

But my brain is so fuzzy…

“I was so afraid that I would screw up things up that I chose to stay away,” he says, his voice shaking. “Now look what I did. I drove you away.”

I blink when his face shimmers. Tears? No. That can’t be right.

“Dad…” The voice that comes out of my body is rough and scratchy. Terrifying. “I’m so sorry.”

He starts to sob.

I must be dreaming.

I close my eyes. It’s too draining to keep them open, and this isn’t real.

I drift and float into the sky.

I search for Roman.

That’s all I want now.

“Roman…”

Chapter Thirty

On the Road

I can’t focus on anything but Jules as Mac and I speed down the highway. The temperature has taken a nosedive, and the air is so bitter it’s like a slap against my face. My nose is a cube of ice and my fingers have almost gone numb. If only I’d thought to bring gloves.

Thankfully the highway we’re on is regularly used for transporting goods between Atlanta and Coastal Manor. The cars that at one time clogged the road have been moved off to the side, making our way clear. The trip is still a risky one, though. For starters, Mac and I don’t have permission to travel. If we run into a government patrol, we could get arrested and hauled off to D.C. Then there are smugglers and bandits, people living off the grid. If they think we’re a promising raid, they won’t hesitate to attack.

There are also zombies to worry about. Then again, that’s just a normal part of life these days.

Above us the sky is dotted with dark clouds, and the air is thick with moisture. A storm would slow us down. Maybe even force us to stop. Mac isn’t used to riding in the rain, and I wouldn’t want to put his life at risk. Not even to save Jules.

Please, God, don’t let it rain.

I’m jolted out of my thoughts when Mac slows in front of me. He pulls his bike off the road, and I follow just as he hops off, pointing further down the highway. In the distance something glitters, and a rumble greets us when both our engines have been cut off. Trucks.

“The woods,” I say, pushing my bike toward the thick line of trees bordering the road.

Mac is right with me, and at our backs, the roar of engines grows louder. They’re big. Probably a convoy from Atlanta, but possibly a patrol.

The second we’re within the safety of the trees, we hit the deck. I pull my knife and my gun out, one in each hand while my ears and nostrils take a survey of the surrounding area. At our backs the forest is silent other than the clink of the branches above us, but that doesn’t mean one of the dead isn’t lurking in here somewhere. I inhale slowly, taking my time, but all I’m greeted with is the earthy scent of dirt and dead leaves.

At my side, Mac tenses when the trucks come into view. It’s a patrol for sure. Metal bars have been welded over the windows for added protection, and on the roof a gunner sits, prepared for any trouble that might come their way. The back of the truck is open but nearly filled to the brim with men, women, and children. All of them chained to the side of the truck and ready for transport back to D.C.

“Bastards,” I hiss.

“Kids?” Mac shakes his head. “Why the hell are they arresting kids?”

“They’re off the grid. Doesn’t matter if they’re kids or not.” I want to spit. I knew the government was shady, but this is more than even I could imagine.

“Shit,” Mac mutters.

I just nod.

The truck barrels past our hiding place, but we stay where we are until it’s faded into the distance. By the time we’ve pushed our bikes back onto the road, it’s nothing but a memory.

“We’re going to have to stop for gas,” I say when I glance down at my fuel gauge. There has to be an unsanctioned town around here somewhere.

Mac hops on his bike. “Lead the way.”

I nod and rev my engine once before taking off.

Only about twenty miles later, a hand-painted sign comes into view and I pull over. We’re in luck. Less than a mile away is an unsanctioned town. It might be a very good thing if they let us trade for fuel, but it also might be a very dangerous thing. Walking into a town you aren’t familiar with can get you killed.

“What’s the plan?” Mac asks.

I run my hand through my hair. “We could spend hours searching for fuel on our own and never find it. We don’t have the time.”

“Shit.” Mac sighs even as he nods. “I don’t like it.”

“You can wait outside town.”

“I’m not letting you go in alone. Let’s get this done.”

The town is set up in a neighborhood. A wall made of bricks, metal desks, cars and other discarded items surrounded the place, held together by cement. The door that leads inside is so small not even a motorcycle can fit through, which means Mac and I are going to have to risk leaving our bikes outside. Not something I’m thrilled about, but we’re pretty much out of options.

The men guarding the fence raise their guns as we slow to a stop, and I lift my hands above my head the second I’m off my bike. My gun is stuck in the waistband of my pants, so I pull my shirt up to make it visible. I have to let them know I’m not here to make trouble, but that I am willing and able to defend myself.

“State your business,” a man calls

“Just need some fuel.”

“You’ll need to hand over any weapons if you come in.”

I glance over at Mac, and together we nod. We keep our hands up and wait for what feels like hours. My heart pounds harder with each passing second. When the doors creaks open Mac and I step inside, where five heavily armed men wait. One rushes forward and rips my gun out of my waistband before patting me down, removing the knife I have strapped to my leg. He does the same with Mac while the other four guys just stand there. Guns pointed at us as they wait. The mood is so tense that it makes the muscles in my body tighten.

The second we’re disarmed, though, the men relax and lower their guns.

A man whose head is sprinkled with white-gray hair steps forward, smiling. He holds his hand out like we’re long-awaited guests. “Jake Austen,” he says. “What can we do for you boys?”

Jake’s clothes are worn, but he’s clean and put together. Behind him, the street is clogged with people, but only a few are looking our way. They don’t seem too worried about our arrival.

I clear my throat and force out a smile, but it has to be too tense to seem very friendly. I probably look insane. “Need fuel. We’re headed to Atlanta.”

The man’s smile disappears. “Seems like a pretty foolish endeavor. They don’t let strangers in the city. You should know that.”

“Don’t have a choice. I need the vaccine.”

The man tenses, and his eyes narrow until they are nothing but slits. Behind him, the men lift their guns, but Jake puts his hand up to stop them. He puckers his lips as his eyes go over me, then Mac.

“You don’t look hurt.”

“We’re not,” Mac says in a shaky voice.

“It’s my girlfriend. We live in a sanctioned settlement just outside Hilton Head. She got bit but our government rations were hijacked—along with the vaccine. We just need to make it to Atlanta.”

“We got fuel, but I still think you’re wasting your time.” Jake shakes his head like he thinks we’re nuts. “You got something to trade?”

I focus on the men standing behind Jake as I slowly reach for my pack. The men tense as I slip it off my shoulder and pull the zipper down, but relax when I pull out two packs of cigarettes.

Jake’s eyes light up. “Real cigarettes? Seems like a strange thing for a fellow from a sanctioned settlement to have.”

“I do a lot of trading in the local town.”

He nods as he rubs his chin. “I know a guy who’ll be interested in ‘em. You got anything else? Them cigarettes will only get you a couple gallons at the most.”

I hold my bag out to him. It’s stuffed full of prepackaged meals, batteries that I’d saved for myself, cigarette lighters, and even a few boxes of matches. Some of my most precious finds. I’ll trade it all if it will save Jules.

Jake peeks inside before letting out a low whistle. “Come on. We’ll get you hooked up,” he says as he turns and heads off.

We follow him through town, and I’m more than aware that each step we take is a second that’s being stolen from Jules’s chance at survival. Jake leads us into an old bakery that now has beds pushed up against the walls. In the back, we find a man and woman who are hunkered over a table that’s littered with little white pills. What they are, I don’t know. Nor do I care. I just want to get this over with and get moving.

“We got a trade for you,” Jake says, tossing the cigarettes on the table. I stand behind him with Mac, both of us shuffling our feet while Jake digs through the bag. He pulls out the matches and the batteries before handing my pack back to me. “Need gas.”

The man at the table watches as Jake puts the other items down next to the cigarettes, never once looking my way. The woman, though, stares right at me. Her big, blue eyes so wide and clear that it’s obvious she isn’t the one taking those pills.

“Cigarettes.” The man stands, pushing the chair away from the table before heading farther into the old bakery.

Mac lifts an eyebrow and glances my way, but I just shrug. Hopefully, he’s going to get us gas, because we don’t have time to play charades.

“It’s fine,” Jake says, not looking back at us.

Is he even talking to Mac and me?

The woman’s blue eyes are still on me when the man comes back out, a gas can in his sweaty hand. “Gas.”

Jake takes it from the man with a slight nod. “Pleasure doing business with you, Victor.”

That’s all it takes.

Then we’re back on the street and headed toward the door, and my heart is pounding as I go back to counting the seconds that get lost on the wind. Jake doesn’t give me the gas can, but I don’t care. Nothing about the situation raises a red flag.

When we reach the gate, the three of us step out with a fourth man behind us. I stand back while Jake pours gas in the tank.

“You got any idea how you’re gonna get into the city?” He doesn’t look up.

I shake my head. I just want him to shut the hell up. Hearing how impossible this is going to be is not what I need right now. I have enough to worry about.

“You want my advice?” I don’t say anything, and he finally looks up. “Well, I’m gonna give it to you anyways. Don’t go to the front gate. They won’t let you in and you run the risk of gettin’ yourself shot or hauled off to D.C. I hear there’s a weak spot on the other side of the city. Wait ‘til after dark and try to get in by yourself.”

“Where?” Mac asks.

He must take this guy more seriously than I do.

Jake screws the cap on my gas tank before moving on to the other. “Look for a big warehouse. Brown, metal walls. Rusted. Used to be some kind of metalwork place. I hear there’s still a faded sign. Climb the wall there.”

He finishes gassing up the bike, and Mac hurries over to secure the cap. The fourth man who came out with us hands over our weapons, and I give them both a curt nod. I should be grateful for his advice, but I can’t be anything but scared out of my mind right now.

Mac and I hop on, and I clutch the handlebars tight as I rev the engine.

“Feel free to stop for gas on the way back if you need it,” Jake yells over the roar. “And good luck.”

I only nod once before taking off.

Chapter Thirty-One

Pain

Where are you, Roman?

I’m in agony. Swimming in a sea of pain, surrounded by water that burns like acid. It licks at my skin, and I want desperately to peel it off. But I can’t get my fingers to cooperate. They are clenched into tight fists that I can’t pry open. I’m shaking, shivering, burning, and freezing. I’ve died a thousand times but keep coming back so I can die again, and each death is a thousand times more painful than the last.

The pain courses through my blood, starting at the bite and rushing up through every centimeter of my body.

I just wanted it to end.

End it for me, Roman, I silently beg.

But he never comes.

My heart aches more than every other part of my body. I need to see him again before it’s over. Just one more time. I need him to hold me, to ease away the pain.

He isn’t going to make it back in time.

Was it all worth this? I thought it was before the agony became so intense. But now, I can barely focus on anything but the pain. I can’t remember the good stuff.

I know I love Roman. I know we spent a beautiful night together. But I can’t remember it. I can’t remember anything but the pain.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Hell

Outside, the sun has moved so low that it’s barely peeking over the horizon, and in the distance, the walls of Atlanta loom. They’re bigger than I expected. More intimidating. But they are nothing compared to the wall of zombies standing between us. There must be hundreds of them—maybe thousands.

What if one of them was Jules? What if she was trapped inside one of those rotting corpses?

“Do you think the zombies are conscious of what they’re doing?” I ask Mac as I turn away from the window.

He leans against the wall and snorts, lighting another cigarette. His second one since we left Coastal Manor. I’ve corrupted him.

“No way, man. The original ones died before they came back, and the hearts in the newer ones eventually stop beating. The person they were before that died.” He shakes his head. “Wouldn’t that suck though?”

I close my eyes. “What if this is hell? What if things on Earth had gotten so bad that God decided to just pick up the whole damn underworld and put it here to punish us?”

Mac snorts, and I open my eyes just in time to watch him blow out a big puff of smoke. “That’s bullshit. There’s no God. Isn’t the last two years proof of that?”

“You don’t believe in God?”

Do I?

“Nope, and I sure as hell don’t believe in hell.” Mac smiles at his own joke before turning to look at me. “Do you? You don’t seem like the religious type.”

I shrug. I don’t know what I believe, except that without Jules, I will die.

The room we’re in is empty, just like every other room in the abandoned house. Meaning there’s nowhere for me collapse if my legs give out.

I have to get it together.

Mac hauls himself off the floor and heads over to the window, peeking out at the wall. “We gonna climb that?”

“I’ll do whatever it takes.”

It’s the truth, but that doesn’t mean I love the idea of putting Mac’s life at risk. He should stay in the house. Dragging him through that horde isn’t fair. He doesn’t have to die for my cause.

“I think it would be easier to get through the horde if I went alone.”

Mac tosses the cigarette to the floor. “No way, man. I know what you’re getting at, but I’m not staying here. I’m all in. I told you that before we left.”

I stub the still-smoking cigarette out with the toe of my shoe before turning back to study the wall. It’s made mostly of empty semi-trailers, stretching around the city for miles, with the CDC in the very center. But a few sections of the wall are old buildings, and one happens to be right in front of us. It’s brown and rusted, and it has a faded sign on the roof that says Miller Metalworks. Jake was right about the weak spot.

“We’ll go in an hour, then. I wish I could talk you out of it.”

Mac plops down on the floor. “I’m gonna catch some sleep.”

I let him, but I don’t even bother trying to do the same. Sleep is impossible. Especially now that we are so close.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Losing

The haze of pain begins to clear, and my father comes back. Or maybe this is the first time he’s come in the room. I’m still not sure what’s real and what was a dream.

This time, there is no warm washcloth. Water runs down my body and drops to the tile floor when he pulls me out of the tub. He wraps my body in a towel that’s so thick it reminds me of the simple luxuries of the past. His hands move up and down my arms, warming them as I shiver and my teeth rattle together. Then he carries me to the cot, where he tucks a blanket around me. My body begins to thaw.

My dad sinks down, his eyes focused on the floor and his face damp. Has he been crying? That doesn’t seem right.

I don’t know how long I’ve been here, but I know there can’t be much time left.

The end must be getting close.

“Dad…” My voice is barely a whisper.

He crawls across the room to the cot. He isn’t wearing a suit. It looks…off.

“You’re back. Is there anything I can do for you, honey?” He takes my hand. It’s so gentle.

Where did this person come from? He’s never called me honey before. Never been this caring.

I swallow and try to focus. What was I going to say? My throat is so dry, and I’m…hungry

“How long…”

He winces. “It’s about midnight. The cold helped slow the process down, but I couldn’t keep you in there any longer. You were lethargic. Just lying there. I was afraid you’d drown.”

That’s why he said I was back. After the bite comes lethargy, then the person returns. It’s the trick, of course. In the beginning, we thought it meant they had beaten the virus.

Then they turn.

I close my eyes and try to fight back the tears. Roman is running out of time.

“Jules.” My father’s voice shakes. I’ve never heard him like this. So filled with raw emotion and pain.

I force my eyes to open.

He reaches out with his free hand so he can brush the wet hair out of my face.

I like this man.

I try to keep my eyes open, to stay awake, but they’re heavy. I close my eyes and work hard to focus my thoughts. When I go, I want Roman’s face to be the last thing I think about.

I try to remember. Try to find him.

It’s lost, though. Everything is lost.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Atlanta

My entire body is tense when Mac and I slip outside. The sky is dark and the moon high. It’s probably after midnight. In front of us, the crowd of zombies blocking our way is unbelievably thick. For the first time since we left Coastal Manor, I really start to worry that we aren’t going to make it.

But I can’t give up.

“We need a diversion,” I whisper.

Mac and I huddle behind a rusted-out car just one street away from the wall. I can see it. Even in the darkness it’s obvious we’re in the right spot. Next to the old warehouse, there’s a perfect place to climb. It will be so easy.

If only we can get past the dozens upon dozens of zombies blocking us.

“What do you suggest?” Mac asks. “You want me to run off down the street waving my arms and screaming like a maniac?”

“That sounds like a good way to get yourself killed.”

Mac flicks his hair out of his eyes. “I wasn’t joking. I know it sounds insane, but I can do it. I’ll draw them away from the wall and then circle around. Lay low in the house until you get back. It may be the only option we have.”

“You’re nuts!” I hiss. “I’m not letting you do that.”

“Look how slow these things are, Roman. I can outrun them. No problem.”

I focus on the zombies as they lumber across the open space separating us from the wall, and it only takes a minute for me to acknowledge that Mac is right. Still, the idea seems like suicide. There has to be a better way. Mac has sacrificed too much already.

“We can think of another way.”

Mac jumps up and does a few quick stretches. “There isn’t one. Get ready.”

I’m on my feet and reaching for him when he takes off running, shooting me a smile as he charges toward the zombies. My stomach jumps to my throat, but I don’t move. Not even when Mac lets out a whistle and he takes off into the night, drawing the dead after him.

“Shit,” I mutter as I duck back down behind the car.

He’s barely visible through the broken passenger window as he darts between groups of zombies, taunting them and calling them names—like only Mac would do—before taking off. And they follow. Most are so slow that they aren’t a threat, but even the fast ones obviously won’t be able to catch up. It makes the nausea in my stomach lessen just a little.

“Stupid bastard,” I mutter as I stand up and take off for the wall.

I keep low to the ground, my knife in my hand just in case one of the dead still hanging around gets too close. There aren’t many zombies left, though, and the few that are don’t seem to notice me. They’re focused on Mac, who is so far away now that I can’t even see him. But I can still hear him—screaming insults at zombies as he runs through the darkness.

I can’t help smiling. Only Mac…

I make it to the wall with no trouble and stash my knife before I start climbing. The wall in this section isn’t made of semi-trailers. It’s made of old cars that have been smashed and stacked on top of each other, giving me dozens of kinks in the metal that form ideal foot and handholds. In less than two minutes, I find myself climbing up over the last car.

The second I haul myself up, I hit the deck. The inside of the city is lit up like the Fourth of July. There are spotlights on the walls and in the streets, and lookout towers with armed men who I know would shoot me on sight. Getting into Atlanta requires government permission, and I don’t have it. The CDC is too important to risk.

I scoot across the bed of an old pickup truck so I can get a better look at the city. My pulse is going crazy, and beads of sweat have formed on my back despite the chilly air. I can’t climb down the other side unless I want to get killed, but there has to be a way to get in.

I lift myself up so I’m on my hands and knees and peek over the edge. It’s a long way down, and below me, guards walk the perimeter. Not an option. I look over my shoulder, but the wall stretches out until it fades into the darkness, only to be lit up again when it intersects with a spotlight and guard tower. Can’t go that way. I turn back, and my eyes take a moment to adjust after looking into the bright light. That’s when I see my answer. The pickup is only one car away from the old warehouse, where a small rectangular window hangs open like it’s waiting for me. Inside, the warehouse is dark, meaning I’ll be taking a risk, but it looks like it may be my only shot.

I do a quick scan of the area and then take off when I decide the coast is clear.

I keep my body low as I crawl out of the truck bed and onto the dented hood of the sedan. The car is the only thing separating me from my goal, and thankfully the entire thing has been smashed so that the roof is almost level with the hood and trunk. Getting across should be the easiest thing I’ve done since leaving Coastal Manor.

I slide across, gasping when the rusty roof pokes into my stomach. It isn’t as smooth as it looks. The flattened roof is sharp in places, forcing me to take it slow so I don’t get sliced across the stomach. Under my weight, the car groans, but it doesn’t move. I scramble forward a little more. Below me, someone yells, and I suck in a breath as I freeze. Waiting to find out if I’ve been caught. Nothing happens, and after a few seconds, I venture a look at the ground. Two guards are interrogating a woman.

I don’t move again until the guards have dragged the woman away, and my eyes are still on the ground when I once again scoot forward. Sharp pain slices through my arm, and I clamp my mouth shut to stop from crying out. I glance down to find the jagged edge of the rear window covered in my blood and a four-inch gash on the inside of my forearm.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper as blood seeps from the wound.

I use my knife to cut a big strip out of the hem of my shirt and then wrap it around my arm to stop the bleeding. Hot waves of pain shoot up my arm when the fabric makes contact with the cut. The world spins, and I squeeze my eyes shut. It hurts like a bitch, throbbing with the beat of my heart, but I have to tie it off.

Holding one end of the shirt between my teeth, I make a loop and pull the fabric tight. The fabric between my teeth helps stifle my grunt when my arm screams in protest. My hands shake and blood pounds in my ears, and for a few seconds, I keep my eyes closed and concentrate on taking slow, even breaths.

I have to keep moving.

When I open my eyes, the window is so close that I can almost reach out and touch it. I ignore the pain as I pull myself the rest of the way across the car, scanning the area every now and then to make sure no one is around.

When I’m sure no one is around to see me, I reach out and grab the edge of the window, then propel myself across. My stomach slams into the ledge, and I dig my fingers into the metal when my body starts to slide back. My arms shake, and the cut throbs as blood soaks through my inadequate bandage. My teeth dig into my lip as I strain to get myself up, using every inch of energy I have. The cut on my arm screams louder with each passing second, but I ignore it and pull myself inside. My head, then my torso, and finally my legs.

I land on a metal beam not even as thick as my body. My heart races as I grip the metal, trying to steady myself. My legs dangle over the edge, but I hold on for dear life. If it wasn’t for this damn cut it wouldn’t be such a big deal, but I’m finding it difficult to ignore the pain coursing up and down my arm.

I have to work through it.

I close my eyes, dig my fingers in, and propel my legs upward, throwing them onto the beam and wrapping my body around it until I’m secure.

With my eyes still closed, I rest my face on the cool metal. I’m panting and my body is shaking and the throbbing in my arm has only increased, but I’m alive. I made it.

At least so far.

When my body has relaxed, I sit up and focus on my surroundings. There are metal beams every few feet, running perpendicular to the wall I just came through. Below me, the building is full of crates, some of which are stacked so high that they’re only a few feet below the beams. One pile two beams over catches my eye. If I can get to that beam, I can lower myself onto the crates.

I glance behind me and find a thin ridge along the wall. It’s barely wide enough for me to walk across, but it’s possible. And probably my only option.

With shaky hands, I grab the window ledge and pull myself up until I’m standing. I wobble but put my arms out to steady myself. Then I test the ledge by putting my feet on it sideways. They barely fit, but there’s room if I shuffle across.

It’s only a few feet.

I swallow and move forward, pressing my body as close to the wall as possible and clinging to it for leverage. My heart is beating a million miles a minute. I scoot, moving an inch at a time. I make it to the first beam and consider taking a second to relax on the wider piece of metal, but there isn’t really time. Even after I get out of here, I have to figure out a way to get the vaccine.

I push on, moving faster as I cover the last few feet. As soon as I make it to the next beam, I lower myself to my stomach and let out a sigh of relief. My arms wrap around the cool metal like I’m hugging it for dear life. I still have to pull myself out a few feet until I’m over the stack of crates, but it looks like the most dangerous part is over.

I slide down the beam on my stomach, and it only takes a few seconds for me to reach the crates. I was right. They’re eight feet below me at the most. Not too far to drop. My legs go over first, with my arms still clinging to the beam, and it takes me a second to adjust my body. Once again, my injured arm begs for me to stop, but all I do is dig my fingers deeper into the metal and lower myself down. Once I’m sure I’m exactly where I want to be, all I have to do is let go

I drop onto the wooden crate with a thump that echoes through the warehouse.

I crouch, pausing a second to see if the noise has alerted anyone to my presence. Silence surrounds me, so I scurry to the edge of the crate. They’re almost like stairs, staggered next to each other in varying heights that slowly descend. Jumping from one to the other is a piece of cake, and when my feet finally touch the ground inside Atlanta, I’m so relieved I almost laugh.

Too bad the hardest part is still to come.

The best way to look like I belong is to act like it, so I walk right out the front door. My hands are shoved in my pockets and my head is low, but I keep my walk casual. Even though it’s late, there are a few people milling around in the streets, but no one glances my way as I hurry deeper into the city.

Next goal: find someone on the black market.

It’s the only way to get the vaccine, but it’s late and the streets in this part of the city are mostly empty. I have to find the entertainment district. That’s where they’ll be. Luckily, it’s the perfect time of night to find the kind of people I’m looking for.

The streets around me are silent and the buildings dark, but I keep going, turning corners until I find an area that is still buzzing with activity. Businesses line both sides of the street. Bars, strip clubs, pool halls—there are some things that even a zombie apocalypse can’t change.

I pass a few bars, shrugging off a few women who beg for my attention until I reach the end of the street and a trashy-looking strip club catches my eye. There’s something about it that sets off my radar.

A guy in his thirties stands out front, handing out flyers and trying to coax people inside. He’s dressed nicer than anyone else around, but it’s subtle. His clothes are a bit worn, but they aren’t dirty, and his shoes look almost brand new. He’s clean, too.

My palms begin to sweat when I catch his eye. He nods my way, and the certainty that he’s the guy I’m looking for grows. I pause and take a quick look around before heading over. If there’s a code, I don’t know what it is, so I figure the best way to go about is to just come out and ask.

He’s watching me as I walk toward him, and the closer I get, the more his eyes narrow. They are practically covered by his shaggy, blond hair, but I can still see the suspicious look in them.

He holds a flyer out. “Half-price night.”

I keep my hands at my sides and my voice low. “You know where I can find things?”

His right eyebrow shoots up. He stares at me for a few seconds while I hold my breath, waiting for him to size me up. I must have a trustworthy face, because only a few seconds later, he puts the flyer back on top of the stack before pulling one off the bottom.

“Come here after three. Ask for Mike.”

I take the paper and turn away.

Two doors down, I duck inside a noisy bar and find an empty table. It’s dark and smoky inside. The perfect place to sit if I want to be ignored. A waitress comes over to take my order, but since I’m not from Atlanta I don’t have any credits. Thankfully, she’s willing to take four cigarettes in exchange for a beer. I’m pretty sure she just ripped me off, but I’m too jittery to even care.

I take a big gulp of the beer but hardly taste it. It should be a treat since Rick doesn’t allow alcohol inside Coastal Manor—other than the stash he has in our house, that is—but it doesn’t relax me the way I thought it would.

Instead, I smoke.

When I’m sure no one is paying attention, I open the paper. It’s a flyer just like the first one the guy tried to give me, only this one has an address scrawled across the bottom. That’s it.

I have over an hour to wait.

I exchange my last two cigarettes for directions and make it to the apartment building just after three, very aware of how close to my deadline I’m getting. As long as this guy can help me get the vaccine in a decent amount of time, I’ll be okay. Assuming the stuff I have left in my pack is sufficient for the trade.

The building is silent when I head inside, which isn’t a surprise since it’s the middle of the night. I take another glance at the apartment number as the elevator goes up, moving so slowly that it feels like it’s never going to get there. By the time the door opens on the third floor, I’m tapping my foot so fast you’d think I drank five cups of coffee.

The third floor needs some new light bulbs. It’s so dark I have trouble seeing the numbers on the doors, and one of the few working bulbs flickers constantly, making it twice as challenging. I move swiftly, blinking with the flashing light as I scan the doors.

I’m halfway down the hall when two guys step out of an apartment in front of me, and I freeze. One is only a year or so older than I am. Asian. Missing his left arm. The other guy is older, but no more than twenty-five. His dirty blond hair is a little on the long side, and his gray eyes snap with intelligence and a little bit of danger when they meet mine. Like a barely concealed storm rages inside him.

“You lookin’ for somebody?” the older guy says, his gray eyes boring through me.

Should I tell them? I step back, but they just close the gap. Shit. I’m kind of backed into a corner here.

“Mike,” I say as moisture collects in my pits. My fingers itch to grab my knife, but I hold off and wait.

They trade a look that I can’t read in the darkness of the hall, and a second later, the Asian guy opens the door they just stepped out of. “Someone here for Mike,” he says to whoever’s inside.

I move forward, squirming under the intense gray eyes of the other guy.

“You ain’t from here.”

“No,” I say, not looking at him. “I live in a different building.”

“Not what I meant.”

I just nod.

When I reach the door, the Asian guy steps aside. A woman in her late twenties stands in the doorway, wearing nothing but a pair of skimpy shorts and a tank top so small it leaves little to the imagination. And she’s centerfold hot. Seriously, Hugh Heffner would have signed this chick in an instant.

She raises an eyebrow and crosses her arms over her chest. Glaring at me. “What now?”

“I’m looking for Mike,” I say even though the Asian guy already covered it.

The blonde flips her hair over her shoulder as her glare moves past me to the two guys still standing in the hall. “I guess sleep is something only the lucky get.”

“Not our fault,” the Asian guy says, grinning. I guess he’s immune to her glare.

She just rolls her eyes as she steps aside, motioning for me to enter.

I do, but nearly pull my knife when the two men step in behind me.

Shit. This can’t be good.

The guys don’t say a word, and even though I’m sweating like crazy under the gray eyes of the older one, I keep my knife where it is. For now.

“Mike!” the woman yells as she throws herself down on the couch.

She continues to glare, and between her expression and the silent presence of the two men behind me, I can’t stand still. I shuffle my feet, my only comfort the cool metal of my gun against my hip and the knife in my back pocket.

Mike comes into the living room wearing nothing but a pair of plaid pajama pants. His blond hair is wet like he just got out of the shower, and he lets out a little yawn. When he sees the two guys standing there his eyebrows shoot up, but apparently I don’t surprise him, because he just nods.

“What’s up, man?” he says, acting like we’re old friends. “So how’d you find me? I’ve never seen you at the club before. I don’t get new guys too often.”

I glance back to find a pair of gray eyes on me.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m not from Atlanta. I took a wild guess.”

His eyebrows move higher. “Nice guess.”

He sounds like he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying, and when the guy with the gray eyes takes a step forward, I start sweating even more. If they think I’m working for the government, I’m toast.

“You stick out like a sore thumb.” I point at the scuffed, holey shoes of the two dudes standing next to me. “Nobody has shoes that nice these days. You need to work on that.”

Mike laughs and the woman scowls, and my fingers twitch. If only I had a cigarette.

“Don’t matter,” Mike says, dropping onto the couch next to his girl. “Half of the guards are my customers.”

Looks like I had found the right guy.

The guy with the gray eyes steps forward. “What you lookin’ for?”

Behind him, the Asian guy doesn’t move. He has a little smirk on his face that for some reason reminds me of Mac. Shit. I have to get moving. Have to get him and then get to Coastal Manor. Have to get to Jules.

Sweat runs down my back.

“Good question,” Mike says. “What brings you all the way to Atlanta? Pot, guns, cigarettes, gas?”

I swipe my hand across my forehead when more moisture builds there. Damn. Why the hell is it so hot in here?

Here goes nothing. “I need the vaccine.”

Gray-eyes swears, and the Asian guy’s smile disappears. On the couch, the woman tenses, while Mike presses his lips together.

“That’s a pretty big request,” Mike says after a few seconds of tense silence.

He doesn’t say it’s impossible, so I take that as a good sign. Maybe if I play on his ego it will save us some time. “So you can’t get it?”

Mike tilts his head to the side, and I don’t miss it when he glances toward the two guys behind me. “Didn’t say that. It’s just a pretty big thing to ask someone you’ve just met. You must be pretty desperate.”

I want to laugh. “I’ve got less than fourteen hours to get back to Hilton Head so my girlfriend doesn’t turn into a damn zombie. Yeah, I’m pretty desperate.”

Mike’s expression softens, and behind me, someone swears. When I turn and meet the eyes of the guy behind me, I have to blink three times. That can’t be sympathy, can it?

“What can you give me for it?” Mike says, sitting forward.

I pull off my pack and toss it to him. There isn’t much left, but I’ll give him a kidney if he wants it.

The other two guys head over, and together they sift through my stuff. Guess they have something to do with the black market too. No wonder they stuck around.

My stomach lurches when Mike frowns, only growing queasier when the Asian guy shakes his head. Shit. If I don’t have anything to trade, that means I’m going to have to do something drastic. Four people against just me. Not great odds, but if I grab the girlfriend I can probably make it happen.

I take a step closer to the couch, putting less distance between myself and the blonde.

“Not much,” Mike mumbles. “Lighters and matches and batteries are all useful things, but not that hard to come by in the city.” He looks up, and I can see it in his eyes before he says it. “It isn’t enough.”

I squeeze my eyes closed and cover my face with my hands. There are two options: take the girlfriend hostage or give up. Both of them make me feel like I’m going to hurl.

Not that I have a choice.

The three men are still digging through my stuff when I pull my hands away from my face, so none of them notice when I slip my hand behind my back. The gun is out before I have a chance to talk myself out of it, and then I’m moving. Grabbing the woman, pulling her up, putting her body between me and danger while I press the barrel against her head.

“What the hell!” she screeches right in my ear.

“I’ll shoot her if you don’t give it to me.”

Three pairs of eyes snap my way, and I poise my finger over the trigger so they know I mean it.

Mike lets out a sigh and tosses my bag on the table. “You could have just told me you had a gun. I’ll trade you for the gun.” His voice is perfectly calm.

That isn’t how I expected him to respond.

My gaze flies back and forth between the three men while I try to figure out what just happened. In front of me, the woman’s body is totally relaxed.

She isn’t afraid.

And neither is anyone else.

“What did you say?”

“The gun,” Mike says.

“Ain’t allowed to have weapons in the city,” the gray-eyed dude says.

He heads my way and I tense, but for some reason I can’t move. When he pulls the blonde woman out of my grasp, I let it happen. She flops back on the couch and huffs like me holding a gun to her head was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

Mike pats her leg. “The gun is worth ten vials of that shit.”

“I only need one.” I lower my gun.

Maybe I’m being naïve. Maybe they’re just saying it so I’ll hand the gun over and they can kill me. But I’m out of options when I hold the gun out to him.

“Keep it to yourself and take a seat.” Mike waves his hand toward the couch as he gets up. “We have a couple things to discuss.”

I sit in an armchair as far away from Mike’s girlfriend as possible. The gun in my lap. My hands shake, and I clench them into fists so she can’t see. I can’t believe I’d been willing to shoot her, but I was. I would have done it without blinking an eye.

Mike heads into the other room with the other two guys, the three of them talking in hushed tones. Even though they should be ready to beat the shit out of me, no one seems that pissed off. I guess desperation is something they understand.

“Sorry about your girlfriend.” I lift my head to find the blonde woman watching me, but she isn’t glaring anymore. “You want something to drink? It’s going to be an hour or two.”

I shake my head as I try to find my voice. “Thanks, anyway.”

She shrugs, and we go back to sitting in silence.

Mike comes back, dressed and wearing his shiny shoes, and he and the other two guys head out, none of them saying a word to me. I settle into the chair, feeling…odd. Like everything is moving in slow motion or I’m stuck in a dream. I’m sweating and having a tough time keeping my eyes open. Maybe I should get some sleep.

I’ve just started to doze off when the front door opens and Mike steps in. He’s alone and frowning.

I sit up straight. “You couldn’t get it.”

He puts his hands up. “Don’t start shooting. We can get it, but it’s going to be awhile. The CDC doesn’t open until seven. But don’t worry. You came to the right place. Axl has a contact on the inside.”

Axl? Must be one of the guys who was here before. The one with gray eyes, probably. He looks like an Axl.

“So I’ll have it soon? I’m cutting it close as it is.” Really close. I do the math, and the hope I’ve been holding onto starts to seep out of my body. Shit. “There’s nothing you can do to get it sooner?”

“Sorry man,” Mike says, and I believe him. “I wish there was.”

I rest my elbows on my knees and put my face in my hands. This is it. This is the end. No more Jules.

No more me.

The weight of it threatens to crush me.

“You got a place to stay?” Mike’s girlfriend asks.

I shake my head, but I don’t look up. I’m not sure I can even move.

“What’s your name?”

The softness in her voice makes me lift my head. “Roman.”

“I’m Becca. Why don’t you lay down and get some sleep?” She gets to her feet and motions toward the couch. “I’ll get you a blanket.”

I want to argue, but I can’t. I can barely keep my head up.

I sprawl out on the couch and stare at the ceiling. Becca drapes a blanket over me, but I barely notice it. Then she’s gone. I have no idea where Mike went or even if he knows his girlfriend told me I could sleep here, and I can’t find the energy to care.

I close my eyes and think about Jules and Mac. Hopefully they’re both okay. My body gets heavier, and I start to drift off.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Gone

I’m starting to disappear.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Prisoners

The aroma of coffee pulls me back to reality, and when I open my eyes, the speckled white ceiling that greets me is as foreign as the idea of a zombie virus was three years ago. Where the hell am I?

My head is pounding, so it takes a few seconds to gather my thoughts. When it hits me, I have a hard time breathing. Atlanta.

I sit up so fast that my head spins. I grip it between my hands and squeeze my scalp. Every inch of my body aches, from my muscles to the cut on my arm. Shit. The cut. I’d forgotten all about it.

I pull the bandage aside and wince when the cut starts to throb. The red skin surrounding it is visible even through the mass of dried blood covering the wound.

“You’re awake,” Becca says from the kitchen

I slip the filthy bandage back over the cut as I stand. My legs wobble and the pounding in my head increases, but I power through and head for the kitchen. Becca is already pouring me a cup of coffee, but Mike is nowhere to be seen.

“What time is it?” I ask, shaking my head. I’m having a tough time clearing the cobwebs from my brain. “Where’s your boyfriend?”

“It’s only six.” She slides the mug across the counter toward me. “Mike is always off doing something that he can’t talk about.”

My stomach twists. Shit. It’s already been twenty-four hours since Jules was bitten, meaning I may be too late. We’re going to have to haul ass back.

The pain in my stomach intensifies until I almost double over. If we somehow manage to get through this—which I’m becoming less and less certain of—I’m going to have one killer ulcer.

And Mac. Damn. I hope he’s okay.

“So what’s it like out there?” Becca’s green eyes sparkle with interest.

“Like hell on earth.”

She frowns as her eyes narrow. “It can’t be that bad. It’s only been two years and the government never really collapsed. They keep saying they’re working it out.”

I flick my hair out of my face and shrug. “There are times when I think it’s not that bad. When I think we’ll pull through and things will get better. Then there are times when I think it would have been better if the virus had wiped us all out during those first few months. Then it could be over and maybe a more responsible, civilized species could take over.”

She looks away from me. Did I upset her? I don’t really care, except I don’t want her to get pissed off and throw me out or anything.

When she looks back, her eyes are a little red. “How’d you get into the city?”

“Climbed. There’s a weak spot at the back. Someone told me about it. Of course, getting to the wall was a little dicey. A friend of mine had to lead the zombies away to give me a good chance.”

Her eyes get bigger as I talk. “So the city is really surrounded?”

Does she not believe me? Why the hell would I lie? “Climb the wall and see for yourself.”

“It’s just—I wondered if the people who used to live out there are still hanging around. When Mike and I first got here, we hid out in an old house and there was this woman. She had been older, probably in her sixties before she died, and I’d see her wandering the streets almost every day. A couple times, I even caught her sitting on the porch swing. It was hard to tell because she was decayed, but there was a picture on the wall inside the house, and I was pretty sure it was her. That she had lived there before the outbreak and she remembered. If that’s the case, then maybe my own parents are still hanging around their house. Just waiting for me to come back.”

For some reason, I feel like laughing. “If they were, would you want to see them? Say you go home and your zombie mom and dad are sitting on the front porch. Would you want to see what they look like after two years? It wouldn’t be pretty.”

“That’s what Mike says. I just—I keep thinking… What if? What if we could reverse all this and bring these people back?” She wipes a tear from the corner of her eye. “If they remember, they can come back.”

The coffee in my stomach threatens to come back up, and I jump to my feet. It’s just too horrible to even think about.

“If you thought for even a second that was true, why didn’t you put that old lady out of her misery?”

“The CDC could find a way to fix them!” she says, her eyes flashing like she’s on the verge of hysteria. “You don’t know.”

“Becca—” I lower my voice, working to sound sympathetic. “They’re too far gone. They died. Even if a part of them is still in there, they can’t be brought back.”

She sniffs and looks away. “You don’t know that for sure.”

She’s right, I don’t know anything for sure, but I’ve seen those things up close too many times. They could never be human again. It’s too insane.

Just as insane as the idea that people are trapped inside the bodies of these monsters. Prisoners.

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Silence

I can no longer speak.

My father comes back and gets me out of the water once again. I see him. Know he’s here. But I can’t form any real words.

When I’m lying on the cot, he stands over me. Shaking. The longer he stands there, the more his shoulders droop. After a while he starts pacing. I follow his progress with my eyes, but my vision isn’t as clear as it once was. I’m at the end of the line.

Please, Roman. Please.

When my father finally stops pacing, he turns to face me. Even with my limited vision, the defeat in his eyes is shockingly clear. “I’m sorry,” he whispers. He doesn’t step closer to me. “I’ve wanted to say it for two years. I’m sorry for not coming to get you when the virus was released. I was busy at work. The world was falling apart and my days were filled with meeting after meeting…and I kept telling myself you were better off. Your mother was with you. I never thought I was equipped to be a father. It was too chaotic. Order. That’s what I need to cope with the world. Structure.” He swallows like the words are difficult to get out. “I never imagined that your mother…” His voice breaks, and tears streams down his cheeks. “I’m so sorry I abandoned you like that.”

My brain processes his words slowly. They’re difficult to take in. I know they’re important, but I can’t quite focus on their meaning.

When he’s done talking, he kisses my forehead. He whispers that he loves me, and then he’s gone. Out the door. Shutting it behind him. He won’t be coming back.

I can’t blame him.

I’m not me anymore.

Jules is gone. I’m trapped inside my body where I will remain until someone can put me out of my misery.

Roman has failed.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Escape

I can’t sit still. I’m shaking and sweating. My cigarettes are gone and there’s nothing else to distract me. I pace the living room while the sun gets higher.

It’s nine o’clock by the time Mike walks through the front door, and I almost attack him. “Tell me you have it!”

He shakes his head, and my fingers twitch. They itch for my gun. Has he been playing with me this whole time? Can he even get the vaccine?

Have I missed my opportunity to say goodbye to Jules?

“Calm down, we’ll get it. We have to meet my guy.”

My stomach is a knotted ball of pain. I rub the back of my neck, digging my fingers in like I’m trying to peel the skin away. I want to be anyone but me right now. I can’t live with the pain anymore.

“When?”

“Now. Come on.”

Mike walks out, and I follow him without thinking. What do I have to lose at that point? Everything is already lost. Jules is running out of time. Soon she’ll cease to exist.

Then I won’t exist either.

Atlanta is busy during the day. The streets are so full of people that I have to be careful not to lose Mike. Twice he dips out of sight and I find myself searching the crowds until he comes back to find me. Am I’m thinking clearly? My brain is groggy. Slow.

Maybe I’m infected too. Maybe I’ll turn into a monster too, and then Jules and I can live together…

“This way!”

Mike turns down an alley, and I jog to catch up on shaky legs. It’s less crowded than the main road, and when I look up, the CDC is looming in front of us. We’re headed toward the center of Atlanta.

My heart pounds a bit faster, and I want to tell it to calm the hell down. I’ve been clinging to hope to get me through, but hope is starting to seem pointless. I’m just going through the motions now.

Mike stops at the end of the alley and sits on an overturned plastic bucket. He crosses his legs and pulls out a cigarette, lounging back like he’s just going to hang out for a while. I want to shoot him in the balls.

“What are you doing?” My voice is as shaky as I am. I need to get my shit together.

This isn’t over yet, you can still save her. I try to convince myself, but even in my own head it sounds like a stupid man clinging to desperation.

“He’ll be here in a few minutes. Look, I know this is a big thing to ask of you right now, but do you think you can relax? Try to look casual. If someone sees you standing around like that, they’re going to get suspicious. I’m good with the guards, but they’ll still throw your ass in jail for carrying a weapon.”

Casual? Isn’t that my thing? Isn’t that how I always look?

How do I look now?

The muscles in my body are wound so tight they’re like a rubber band wrapped around a newspaper. Any minute it’s going to snap, and then the paper is going to come unrolled and all I’ll be is a limp pile of paper. Useless.

I catch my reflection in an old, dusty window. I look like one of the dead with the way my hair is plastered to my head and the dirt streaked across my face. My clothes are torn, and blood has dried on my arm from that damn cut. How have I blocked out the pain?

I move the cloth aside and get a good another look at it. It’s bright red around the edges now. Shiny and throbbing. Hot to the touch. Infected. No wonder things are starting to feel surreal. I’m probably running a fever.

“Shit. What happened?” Mike gets up and tosses his cigarette to the ground.

“Cut it climbing over the wall.” I can’t tear my eyes away from the red flesh surrounding the injury. It’s on fire. I can’t believe I didn’t notice the pain before.

The ache inside me must have overshadowed the pain from the cut.

Mike shakes his head as he examines it. “You can’t mess around with shit like that these days. That dude super-charged all the bugs out there when he released the virus. A cut like that will get you killed. You’re gonna need some antibiotics.”

I nod and feel like I am floating away.

“I’m serious man—you will die.”

“I’m dead already,” I mumble.

“Shit.”

Mike shakes his head.

What did I say?

“Shit,” he says again.

“Mike!”

We both turned to find three guys headed our way. The two guys from before and a new one. The new guy is tall. Lanky and thin. Kind of odd-looking.

“Thank God,” Mike says, once again shaking his head. “You got it?”

“We do,” the guy with the gray eyes says.

He’s watching me, and in my slightly delirious state, his eyes seem ready to open up and rain down on me. I half expect lightning bolts to shoot out of them.

“He needs antibiotics,” Mike is saying.

“That’s bad.” The new guy, the tall one, leans over me so he can look at my arm. “I can get it, but it’s going to take me about fifteen minutes.”

“We’ll wait. He needs it, man. He’s not gonna make it if we don’t.”

What the hell is Mike talking about? I can’t wait fifteen minutes. I have to leave.

“Since when do you give a shit if people live or die?” The guy with the gray eyes asks. “Thought all you cared ‘bout was makin’ money—or credits or whatever the hell the government’s usin’.”

“Call me a sucker. Can you get it?”

The tall guys sighs, and he’s already backing away. “Yeah, man, I’ll be back.”

He heads off by himself, but the other two guys stay. I focus on the Asian guy because the gray eyes of the other dude are freaking me out. Then my gaze moves to the stump that used to be his arm, and I jerk back. What the hell happened here?

“Bastard’s delirious,” someone says.

Did I get the cure?

I turn to face Mike. “What’s going on? Give me the stuff!” My head is pounding.

“Sit down.” Hands push me onto the overturned bucket Mike was just sitting on. “The doc’ll be right back. He ran to get you some antibiotics.”

I shake my head.

“The new shit the CDC created will take care of this.” Mike’s face pops up in front of me. “One injection and you’ll be good. They developed it after the virus. It didn’t help with that infection, but it will work on this one. Fifteen minutes.”

Mike’s hands are on my shoulders like he’s trying to keep me down, and even though I’m ready to bolt, I can’t move. My head is pounding too damn much. The world spins, and a drop of sweat runs down my forehead and into my eye. I’m shivering. When the hell did this start?

“I don’t have fifteen minutes!” My voice cracks, and I try to stand. The bucket falls over, sending me to the ground. I put my face in my hands and close my eyes.

I have to get going…Jules…Mac…

“You won’t make it back like this.”

Whoever said it is right, and I hate myself for my weakness.

The sound of voices brings me back to reality, and I lift my head. The tall guy is back. Has it been fifteen minutes already?

“What the hell took you so long?” Mike snaps.

“Security.” He kneels in front of me. “Even the ER has guards.”

The tall guy jerks my sleeve up and tells me to hold still, and I wince when something pricks my arm. When I look over, I find the guy injecting a yellow liquid into my body.

Did he just inject me with poison?

“You’ll be fine,” he says when he stands. “Give it about an hour to kick in.”

“I can’t wait an hour.” I try to stand, but the guy with gray eyes pushes me down.

Mike holds up a glass syringe that’s filled with bright, green liquid. “The vaccine.”

When he presses it into my hand, I wrap my fingers around it. It feels like it weighs a hundred pounds even though it fits in the palm of my hand. I open my fingers. The green liquid reminds me of the primordial ooze that mutated the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles.

“Truck’s headin’ out soon,” the guy with the gray eyes says. What did Mike call him? Oh yeah, Axl.

“Can he even walk?” the Asian guy asks.

Wish I knew his name so I didn’t have to keep thinking of him as the Asian guy.

“He can walk.” Mike grabs my arm and pulls me up. “We have to go, but you need to take it easy or you’ll never make it.”

My head is spinning, and my feet trip over each other when I hurry to keep up with the three men. “Where are we going?”

“We have to get you out of the city,” Mike tells me. “It’s not like you can climb the wall in your condition, which means we’ll have to smuggle you out.”

“Parv’s on duty now,” Axl says, turning to face the Asian guy. “Al, you gotta get to her soon as possible. Let her know what’s goin’ on an’ make sure she don’t flag that truck.”

Al nods once. “I’m on it.”

He jogs off, pushing his way through the crowd.

“What’s the plan?” I ask, my head suddenly feeling a little clearer. Can that antibiotic really have worked so quickly?

“I know a guy,” Mike says, pulling me faster.

Of course he does.

Mike is alone when pushes his way through the crowd and heads over to where I’m leaning against the wall, waiting for him. “It’s all set.”

Just like I thought, my head has begun to clear, and my thoughts are actually coherent. That antibiotic is a miracle drug.

Why the hell hasn’t the CDC shared it with the other settlements?

“I want details,” I say, pulling my backpack up higher. It’s emptier than it was when I left home, but feels a million times heavier because of it what it holds: the vaccine.

“Come on.” Mike jerks his head as he starts walking. “I got a friend who runs supplies into other towns. He’s leaving in ten minutes. Axl’s got a friend who works the gate, and he let her in on the plan. She’ll check the truck and she’ll give the all-clear so you can get out of the city. All you have to do is sit in the passenger seat and keep your mouth shut.”

A sudden wave of gratitude comes over me. My brain was too foggy to comprehend it all before, but now that I’m thinking a little more clearly I understand how much Mike has actually done for me. Why was this guy helping me anyway?

“What’s in this for you?” I ask.

“Oh yeah.” Mike stops walking. “Give me the damn gun.”

I actually manage a smile as I hand it over. “That’s not what I meant.”

Mike shoves it under his shirt, his eyes scanning the area to make sure no one is looking. “I know what you meant. Can’t a guy just be decent?”

I shrug as I reach for a cigarette but drop my hand when it hits me that I’m out. “You would think.”

“Look, I love Becca. If I were in your shoes… Well, let’s just say that I hope someone would give me a fighting chance.”

Makes sense. “Well, thank you.”

“Just don’t send any of your friends my way in the future.”

I nod again, but know it won’t matter. I’ve probably already failed, which means I won’t be alive long enough to tell this story.

“Thanks for all your help.”

Mike starts walking. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Calm down,” Hector mutters for the hundredth time.

I’m trying, but it isn’t working. I can’t stop my foot from tapping on the floor of the truck as we wait in a line of vehicles at the city exit. The minutes are ticking by. Back home, Jules is dying, and I’m sitting at a damn checkpoint.

My heart is about to break through my ribcage. I rub the back of my neck and count the trucks in front of us. Two now. We’re almost out, and then I’ll have to somehow get around to the back of the city and find the house Mac is hiding in.

Hopefully, he’s okay. It’s been close to eleven hours since I left him. Anything could’ve happened.

“Can you take me to the back of the wall? I don’t have a lot left to give you, but you can have the rest of my stuff.”

He shakes his head. “Mike took care of it.”

I nod and find myself marveling at how clear my head suddenly is. The pounding headache is almost gone now, my arm doesn’t throb anymore, and the skin around the cut isn’t quite as red.

I’m damn lucky I ran into Mike. I wouldn’t have made it out of the city without him.

“Okay, we’re up,” Hector says. “You have to stop looking so nervous for at least a few minutes. Okay?”

I plant my feet firmly on the ground and grip my hands into tight fists as I work hard at relaxing the muscles in my face. I pretend Rick is in front of me and I want to piss him off, letting some of my old indifference seep back in.

The driver’s side door opens, and a few seconds later an Indian woman sticks her head in. She’s small and young, but her expression is fierce. The red bandana on her head is pulled tight, keeping her hair out of her face and giving me a good look at her eyes. They look like they’ve been ripped out of the head of someone years older than she is.

“Hector,” she says calmly, her gaze moving to me for a split second.

“Parvarti.” Hector nods once, and I hold my breath.

It only takes thirty seconds for her to climb down. The door shuts, and outside, someone shouts. Then, in front of us, the gates start to open. Hector puts the truck in gear, and I hold my breath. All around us, guards in riot gear rush forward, firing at zombies who try to get in as Hector pulls the truck out of the city.

By the time the gates are closed behind us, the bones in my hands ache.

“Alright man, you can relax now.”

I unclench my fists and wiggle my fingers to get the blood flowing. A second longer and they would have turned black.

We don’t talk as Hector drives through the zombie-infested streets. He runs right over them, and I find myself flinching. I’ve never looked at them as people before, but after my conversation with Becca, that’s all I can see. Sick people. People who are missed by their loved ones. People who may be trapped inside the body of a monster.

I take a look in the side view mirror and find a woman whose leg has been crushed by the truck trying to pull herself after us. A lump forms in my throat, and I have a hard time swallowing.

I focus on my surroundings.

I can’t think about all that. I have to find Mac. We have to get to Jules.

Time is running out.

I recognize the part of the wall that I climbed over as soon as I see it. In the light of day, it hits me just how lucky I am to have only one small cut. The cars I climbed are nothing more than rusted piles of metal. Sharp and jagged edges stick out everywhere, and glass from broken windows protrudes from the cars. I could have been seriously injured.

“Stop here. This is where I get out.”

Hector puts on the brakes and looks around. He raises an eyebrow. “You want me to let you out here? Do you have a death wish?”

He’s right. There are just as many zombies here now as there were last night. It’s like every single one that Mac lured away has come back. It makes me think about what Becca said. Maybe they are hanging out here because they’re familiar with the area…

“My friend is a street over waiting for me, but you won’t be able to get there by car. We barely got down the street on our bikes.” I try to keep my voice even, but it shakes. I’m not scared for me. Just for Jules.

“If you say so, man. You’re gonna have to be ready to run when you open that door.”

I pull my knife and sling my pack over my shoulder. The zombies have noticed us and are beginning to converge on the car. If I don’t get out soon, we’re going to have to drive up a little further to distract them.

“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help.” I offer Hector my hand.

He grips it firmly in his. “Good luck.”

I clench my jaw as I prepare to open the door. I’m going to need luck. “Thanks.”

Before I have a chance to think about it, I push the door open and hop out. The smell hits me like a punch in the face. It’s always overwhelming this close to them. I take a deep breath through my mouth and hold it as I move forward, dodging their outstretched hands. One gets too close, and I slam my blade into his head before ducking under the arms of another. The next one that gets near me gets a knife to the head as well. Before today, I never thought twice about these bodies being actual human beings, but as I jerk my blade out of the zombie’s head, it’s all I can think about.

The zombies aren’t half as fast as I am, and I maneuver easily through the masses as I take off across the street and head down an alley. I just have to pray that I don’t run into a big group of them close together.

Two zombies are hanging out in the alley and more coming in behind me. I slash at the first one and take off the bottom half of his jaw. He barely reacts to the damage, and I have to duck under his hands as they reach out for me. The next one seems disoriented, and I’m able to sink the blade of my knife into his skull easily.

When I step out of the alley, the house is right in front of me and the street is surprisingly clear. There are a few zombies walking around aimlessly, but they aren’t close enough to me to do any real damage.

Once again, luck is on my side.

I charge up the steps to the front porch, but when I try the doorknob, it doesn’t budge. Mac must have barricaded it, which was a good sign. It means he at least made it back to the house after his insane run through the streets.

I bang on the door while looking over my shoulder. A mass of zombies has now flooded out of the alley only fifteen feet behind me. I don’t have a lot of time.

“Mac!” I scream as I bang harder.

The horde gets closer, and I hit the door until my hand aches. My heart beats even harder, and I’m gasping for air. Where the hell is Mac?

The zombies cross the street. They’re moving slowly, but I’m right in their sights. They reach the front yard and head through the overgrown grass. I start kicking the door. I’m about to be trapped.

A ceramic pot catches my eye, and I sweep it off the porch. The long-dead plant falls to the ground as I head for the window. This is my only chance. Hopefully I can get inside and get my bike out the back before the zombies tear their way in.

I’ve only taken one step toward the window when the door bursts open. Mac waves frantically, and I rush past him. Slamming the door behind me the second I’m inside.

“Are you okay? Where have you been?” Mac’s eyes are heavy with sleep, but there’s an edge to his voice.

“I’m fine. I got the vaccine.” I grab his arm and pull him through the house. “We don’t have much time! There’s a big group behind me. They’ll rip this house to shreds!”

We push the bikes toward the back door just as the pounding starts.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Starving

My stomach growls with a hunger I’ve never felt before. It’s overwhelming. Threatening to consume me.

When did I eat last? It wasn’t that long ago, but for some reason my stomach rumbles nonstop. They’re different than the usual hunger pains. The need isn’t just concentrated in my stomach, it’s also deep in my bones and it feels like more of an ache.

Roman.

If only I were able to tell him goodbye. The pang in my chest is the only thing more intense than the hunger. It’s like I’m being ripped in two.

The end is so close now. Will I still be here? Will I be trapped? Will they kill me before I hurt anyone?

I can’t think about it anymore, so I close my eyes.

Chapter Forty

Sacrifice

It takes the bastards about a minute to break through the front door. I don’t see it, but the sound of the wood splintering as they rip through is unmistakable. Mac is outside when it happens, but I’m still trying to get my damn bike through the door.

“No gun!” I yell as I push harder.

Mac pulls out his own gun and shoots into the kitchen. Right over my head. The whiz of the bullet rings in my ears as it flies past my head, and my heart stutters.

I push my bike harder and manage to make it out unscathed, which is a miracle, considering Mac’s crappy aim.

“Let’s get the hell out of this city!” Mac screams over his shoulder as he jumps on his bike and takes off.

I follow him without even looking behind me. I have no desire to see just how close I came to death.

We weave our way through the streets the same way we came in, and we’re fortunate enough that we only have to dodge the occasional zombie—most seem to have congregated around the walls.

Less than fifteen minutes outside the city, Mac pulls to the side of the road. I’m sure he wants to find out what took so long, but I don’t really have the desire to rehash it now. We need to move.

“We don’t have time to stop,” I call over the roar of my engine. “Less than five hours now! That’s all I’ve got, Mac.”

He reaches over and turns my bike off. The muscles in my neck twitch, and I clench my hand into a tight fist without thinking about it.

I can’t hit Mac. He’s risked so much for me.

“You’re not going to make it.”

I flinch, and my hand goes slack. His words are like a punch in the gut. No, worse than that. The pain inside is more intense than any punch I’d ever received.

“We can still get there in time.”

Mac shakes his head. “We don’t have enough fuel. We’ll have to stop for gas. It won’t work.”

Why was he torturing me like this? “Mac—”

“That’s why you’re going to take the gas out of my bike and leave me here.”

I blink, but I don’t know how to respond. Won’t leaving him be the same as killing him? Wouldn’t it be kinder to just put a bullet in his head? Make it quick and painless.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He pulls off his backpack and produces the hose we brought for siphoning gas.

I’m like a statue. Torn. I want to stop him, but I don’t. The decision is like choosing between Mac and Jules—and I don’t want to make that decision. I love Jules. More than I’ve ever loved another person since my mom died. But Mac was my first real friend. I’ve never known anyone else who would risk their life to help me the way he has. And now he wants to sacrifice himself?

I should stop him.

“You can’t do this,” I finally manage to get out. It sounds half-hearted.

Mac doesn’t look up. “I’ll be fine. I’ll head into this neighborhood and either find gas or find stuff to trade for it.”

My throat tightens. I need to stop him. There has to be another way. “I would never ask you to do this. It’s not fair of me to ask you to sacrifice yourself for Jules.”

Mac snorts as he puts the cap back on my gas tank. Is he done already?

“In case no one ever told you, life isn’t fair. Plus, you didn’t ask me to do this.”

“Mac I—”

“Stop it, Roman. It’s done.”

My eyes sting, but I don’t even try to blink away the tears. I don’t give a shit. I hop off my bike and pull Mac in for a hug. Not one of those bullshit, two-pats-on-the-back man hugs. A real hug.

Mac hugs me back, and I hate how final it all feels.

He pulls back and clears his throat. “Um… I want you to take my gun too.”

This is too far. “Mac, seriously? Do you have a death wish or what?”

“I’m better with the knife. The gun would just be a waste on me. But it’s cool. I’m not a virgin anymore, so I’m okay dying.” He smiles as he forces the gun in my hand.

I don’t want to laugh. It isn’t funny. But I can’t help the smile that creeps up. He has that effect on me.

I pull my own backpack off and remove the syringe Mike gave me before shoving the whole thing at him. “Take this. There’s not a lot left, but use it to trade or whatever.”

I need to go, but I can’t bring myself to leave.

Mac’s smile disappears, and he’s suddenly more serious than I’ve ever seen him. It’s unnerving. “Get going. Don’t waste time worrying about me. I’ll be fine.”

Mac is still standing on the side of the road when I drive away, and I’m pretty sure I’m the biggest asshole in the world. I should have argued more. I should have thought of another way.

More than ever before, I know that I can’t fail. I have to save Jules if I want to make Mac’s sacrifice worth it. It has to work out.

But as I speed down the deserted highway, the knowledge that things don’t always work out is hard to shake. Things didn’t work out for our country when the virus was released. They didn’t work out for my mom when she was diagnosed with cancer. They didn’t work out for me when I was left alone with my dad. And they sure as hell didn’t work out for Jules and me when we finally found each other…

Mac’s words ring in my ears, and it’s impossible to push them away. He’s right. Life isn’t fair.

The ride back is agonizingly long, yet quick at the same time. I relive every moment of the past few weeks as I drive. Flipping through every memory and every moment with Jules.

When the gates of Coastal Manor come into view, I have to accept that I may be too late. Jules may be gone, and if she is, I won’t be able to go on. My world will collapse and my body will be useless because the person that lives inside this shell will cease to exist.

I’m forced to slow as I get closer to the gate, which wastes precious seconds. Seconds I don’t have. Seconds I’ll never get back.

“Open the gate!” I yell as soon as I’m close enough. I don’t want to have to come to a complete stop, but there’s nothing else I can do. The gate doesn’t open. I’m out of breath. I jump off the bike and stumble forward. “Open it! I have the vaccine!”

Kyle stands on the other side. Smug asshole. “Your father gave me explicit instructions not to let you in.”

The blood flowing through my veins threatens to reach a boiling point. “Open it,” I say through clenched teeth.

Kyle gives me a wicked smile as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Can’t.”

I bang my fists against the gate and howl with rage. The blood pounds in my ears and I can barely catch my breath. I have to make it to her. To at least give it a shot. Otherwise, all this was for nothing. Almost dying, leaving Mac behind, not being able to tell Jules goodbye. All a waste.

I pull out my gun and point it at Kyle. “Open it or I’ll shoot you.”

Kyle’s smile only grows more sadistic, making my temperature rise higher. “Go ahead, kill me. There’s no one else to open the gate.”

My finger twitches, and the corner of my mouth turns up. “You’re right.”

Alarm flashes in Kyle’s eyes, and he moves his hand toward his gun.

It’s too late.

I pull the trigger.

The bullet hits him in the knee, and the scream he lets out makes every hair on my body stand up. He falls to the ground, grabbing his leg as blood pours from the wound.

“Now open it,” I say calmly.

Kyle glares at me, and he doesn’t move.

“The next time I pull the trigger, I’ll aim for your dick.”

Kyle turns about three shades whiter. “O-okay. Don’t do it, man. I’ll get it open.” He tries to get to his feet, but what little color was left in his face disappears.

His eyes start to roll back in his head, and I fire a second time.

The bullet hits the ground right next to Kyle’s foot, and he yelps. He starts to cry. Sob. Blubber like a baby as he pulls himself across the ground. Tears spill down his cheeks. It’d be funny if I wasn’t so terrified right now.

“S-s-stop. I’m doing it.”

Kyle makes it to the gate and pulls himself up. Beads of sweat break out across his forehead, and his hands shake. I keep the gun on him as he gets the gate unlocked. Backing up. Moving toward my bike. He grips the gate so hard his knuckles turn white as he pushes it open. He’s shaking and his face is covered in tears and snot, and he leaves a trail of blood in his wake.

I shove the gun back into the waistband of my pants and jump on my bike, flying through the gate as soon as it’s wide enough. I barely miss hitting Kyle.

My heart’s pounding. I can’t be too late. I can’t.

Town hall comes into view, and I turn my bike sharply to the right, driving up over the curb and through the front yard. I’m going too fast and can feel the bike tipping under me. I skid across the grass, and a crushing pain courses through my body as my leg gets trapped under the heavy vehicle.

My whole left side aches and my cheek is on fire. I touch the side of my face, and it comes back covered in blood. My head swims, and my eyes start to close against my will. Darkness threatens to take over, but I force myself to stay conscious.

“No!” Adrenaline surges through every vein in my body, and my eyes snap open. I use every ounce of energy left inside me to shove the bike away.

When I’m free, I start moving. I crawl through the yard on my hands and knees and force my muscles to start working again. Somehow, I manage to get to my feet. My left ankle screams, but I ignore it and run for the house, scrambling up the stairs to the porch and shoving the front door open.

“Jules.” I can barely catch my breath. Every inch of my body hurts, but there isn’t a single thought in my head that isn’t focused on getting to Jules. I drag myself toward the room. Dread floods my body, and I start to shake before I even have the door open.

My hand is slippery with sweat and blood when I turn the knob and push the door open. I step inside, shutting the door behind me.

Jules is sitting on the floor with her back to me, staring at the floor. She lifts her head and turns it slowly. My heart thumps harder. I’m too late. I know it. Her blonde hair hangs down, covering most of her face, but even in the dark room, the sickly gray tint to her skin is visible. Her hands claw at her legs. There’s blood under her fingernails and scratches on her arms like she’s clawed at them until they bled.

She tries to get up, but I stop her. Pushing her down with shaky hands as I put my fingers against her neck and hold my breath. Praying.

Dear God, please let there be a pulse.

If her heart is still beating, there’s a chance.

I wait, keeping my fingers against her icy skin as I hold my breath.

Nothing happens.

Tremors move through my body, and even though I want to scream and break something, all I can do is pull out the syringe. I’m too late, but that doesn’t stop me from inserting the needle in her neck and pushing the plunger. The green liquid disappears, and my hand drops to my side. The syringe falls to the ground and shatters on the tile floor.

I stumble back and Jules finally turns her head my way, and just like that, my universe crumbles.

Her eyes are milky white. Her mouth slowly opens as a tortured moan radiates from her vocal cords. My legs give out, and I drop to the ground. My chest tightens, and I claw at the place on my body where my heart used to be.

Jules—or what used to be Jules—moves toward me, but I can’t do a thing. More importantly, I don’t want to. I’m numb as I stare into her face, searching for some semblance of the girl that changed my world. But there’s nothing.

Her hand touches my knee, and I flinch, but not from fear or repulsion. From actual, physical pain. It’s like every bone in my body shatters at that moment and I am rendered completely incapacitated.

A sob breaks out of me. “Jules.”

She pauses and tilts her head. Her milky eyes study me, and for a brief second, I think there is recognition in her eyes. Does she remember me? Is Jules really and truly gone? Or is she trapped in there?

The look is gone in an instant, and the creature that has taken over her body is back. She drags herself closer, and I reach for my gun with shaky hands. She wouldn’t want to be like this. She would want me to end it. But I can barely move, and everything feels like it’s in slow motion. I lift the gun and press it to her forehead. My hand shakes, and the image of Jules’s tortured face blurs as tears fill my eyes.

Pull the trigger. Put her out of her misery. She didn’t want to live like this.

I can’t.

The gun falls to the floor, and the sound of it hitting the tile shatters the silence and radiates through my body. Jules moves closer. Her hands wrap around my arms, and she leans forward, opening her mouth.

This is it. This is the end. And I welcome it.

“I love you,” I whisper.

Chapter Forty-One

Torture

Overwhelming, mind controlling, all-consuming hunger.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Everything is muddled and confused. I’m swimming in a sea of urges that I don’t know how to control. But I am still here. A part of me still understands what’s happening—just a little.

There’s me.

There’s a room.

And there’s the need to eat that has almost completely taken over my body.

Something pierces my neck, but no pain accompanies it. It’s startling, but nothing compared to the overwhelming hunger.

I turn, and he is there.

Something about his face makes me freeze, almost sparking a memory.

I know this face…

Hunger creeps back up on me, and the memory is gone faster than a shooting star. The hunger radiates through my body and fills every inch of me until it bursts out of me in the form of a moan. The sound startles the part of me that is still conscious, the part locked away in my brain, but my body doesn’t react.

I have to feed.

The person in front of me collapses on the floor, and my stomach rumbles. Yes.

I force my limbs to move. They are slower than I’m used to. My body doesn’t respond to me the way I want it to. It’s sluggish. Gradual. Nothing feels right.

But I can’t quite grasp the memory of what it used to feel like…

This person—this boy—raises something that seems oddly familiar. He points it at me, and a spark goes off in my head but is gone in the blink of an eye. Whatever this thing is, it is nothing compared to my need to eat. I work harder at pulling myself forward. The boy drops the thing, and when it hits the floor the sound echoes through the room, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the hunger pounding in my ears.

My hands are on him now. The heat from his skin radiates under palms. It’s inviting.

Blood courses through his veins, practically screaming at me from under his pale skin. It’s louder than the hunger. So much louder… But not as demanding.

This hunger is so, so demanding.

I close my eyes and give in to the hunger, to the desires. I give in to this new person that I’ve become, only vaguely aware that I was ever anything different. This new me is so easy to please…

All it wants is to eat.

Then something changes, and the desire subsides a little. The hunger is still there—always there, always surging through my veins—but it’s less intense. Everything is hazy. I can’t quite remember what I was doing. Was there something I wanted to do?

Oh yes—feed.

Roman.

An image of his face flashes across my vision, and a jolt shoots through my body, breaking through the haze. I chew slowly and try to focus. Why was I so hungry? I can't remember, but I do know that for some reason it’s less intense now. Fading more with each passing second.

I chew for a few seconds longer, giving my mind some time to clear. An overwhelming coppery taste fills my mouth, and I cringe.

When did they bring me dinner?

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, trying to get my brain to focus.

The room.

That’s where I was. I was waiting for Roman. But he came. Didn’t he? I think he came back, but I can’t quite bring the memory to the forefront of my mind.

Something warm and slimy squishes between my fingers, but I keep my eyes shut and try to work on remembering. Roman told me goodbye. My father came to see me. I was so cold, and then sick. Then there was the pain.

But there’s something else. It’s a cloudy, disconnected memory. But it’s there.

Roman! He came back. He must have brought the vaccine?

Relief floods my body, melts away when more memories slam into me.

Yes, Roman was here.

I was so hungry…

I squeeze my eyes shut even tighter as my stomach rolls. Too afraid to face reality as I sort through the images. My stomach twists harder as things slowly come into focus. Bile rises in my throat so fast it nearly chokes me. I bend over, my eyes still closed as I heave and empty the contents of my stomach, but I still can’t open my eyes.

This can’t be real.

Roman was here. He came back to save me…but it was too late. He thought it was too late. He gave me the vaccine, told me he loved me.

Then there was hunger and screaming, followed by…satisfaction.

I gag on the memory, and my eyes fly open. Red. Everywhere is red. The door, the floor, the walls, my clothes. I look down and scream in agony and disgust. My hands and arms are coated up to my elbows, and something warm is clutched tightly in my fists. Lying on the floor in front of me is a body.

It’s so mangled.

Did I do this? Did I rip this human to pieces?

I drop the contents of my hands, too disgusted to see what it is, and desperately try to wipe my hands on my pants. It’s no use, though. Everything inch of me is coated in blood.

An ache spreads through my chest. I can’t tear my eyes away from the body, but the longer I look at it, the more raw my insides become. I have to know.

My hands shake as I reach for the body, and my mind screams for me to stop. I don’t want to know what I’ve done—but I need to. I grip the mangled shoulder and roll the body toward me, but for a brief second I can’t look at it. How can I face the world if it’s Roman? How could I live knowing I did this?

When I finally allow my gaze to move to his face, everything ceases to exist. My heart, my soul, my mind. It all crumbles in an instant, forming a ball and shattering in an explosion of agony that tears me to pieces. It’s all gone. There is nothing left but an eternal emptiness and agony so deep I’m certain it’s going to destroy the world for good.

And then I let out a sound that no human has ever made before. A howl of unbearable suffering and crushing despair rips through my being and destroys the very fabric of time. My heart implodes, and there’s nothing I can do but stare into the lifeless brown eyes in front of me.

I collapse as sobs replace breathing.

I don’t know how long I stay like that, but eventually the tears dry up and nothing is left but the foul stench of the room. My throat is as dry as the desert, and the blood of the only person in the world I would have died for surrounds me.

I can’t make myself get up. My body refuses to work. I’m a bag of bones with no purpose. All I can do is lie on the floor and stare into nothingness as the memories of the last few weeks play through my mind. It makes the crushing weight of despair so much more intense, but I can’t stop thinking about it.

Slowly, my eyes focus on something that’s half hidden under Roman’s body. Something silver and metallic. A gun. I force my body up and pull myself forward. I keep my eyes focused on the gun, refusing to look at Roman again.

My body screams for salvation, and I get it the instant my fingers wrap around the gun. Not a tremor moves through me, and there isn’t an ounce of fear. There’s nothing but relief as I press the barrel to my temple. My eyes fill with tears, and the empty cavity where my heart once beat throbs. My death will be far less painful than the one Roman faced. I wipe the tears from my face and focus my thoughts on Roman. I can’t bear the idea of living without him. This is for him.

Only my hands don’t obey.

This death would be too easy on me. I deserve to suffer.

The gun falls from my hand as I drag myself to my feet. Under me, my legs wobble, but I force myself forward. My hands are slippery with Roman’s blood as I turn the doorknob, and once again I have to swallow back the bile that rises in my throat.

The door squeaks when I push it open.

Goodbye, Roman.

I focus on memories of our time together, hoping to banish this memory of him from my mind. The thought of his once-smiling face makes me stronger. More determined.

My legs are heavy when I shuffle down the hall. Almost like I’m recovering from an illness and haven’t gotten all my strength back yet. Which I guess is true. It will make this more convincing.

There is no one in the lobby. No voices come from any of the rooms, and most of the lights are off. The sun is up outside, but it’s still low on the horizon. It will be setting soon.

Hopefully not everyone has gone home for the day.

I open the front door and relax at the sight of people down the street. They’re gathered outside the clinic. They have guns.

They don’t see me as I cross the lawn, heading in their direction. I’m walking too slowly. My movements are erratic, like the zombie I was just a short time ago. It’s fitting. That’s all I am now. An empty shell of pain…

I just want the pain to end.

Roman’s father is in the group, and the pieces of my heart fuse back together just enough to ache for the memory of Roman. The Regulator is frowning, and around him the other men are shouting. Angry.

I walk faster. Every step hurts. It isn’t physical, and it isn’t from the virus. It’s a dull ache that starts at my shattered heart and spreads through my body, crushing my bones as it moves its way through me.

Soon I will be as useless as I feel.

Clay spots me first. His face goes white, and his mouth drops open as I cross the street and walk slowly toward them. But he doesn’t warn the others. Maybe he’s in shock, maybe he’s not sure if I’ve turned. It won’t matter. They won’t take the risk.

A few of the other men look up, and I almost smile when they point their guns at me.

It will be over soon. The pain and emptiness will be gone.

The Regulator finally sees me and takes a step forward with his gun raised. His face is so cold. How could this man have helped give life to Roman?

Chaos breaks out. People start yelling, but I have no idea who is saying what. I don’t care—I just want the pain to go away.

“She turned!”

“Roman didn’t make it in time!”

“Whose blood is on her?”

“Kill her before she attacks us!”

I keep moving.

Clay’s eyes narrow on me.

He knows…

Why won’t they just end it?

Roman’s dad takes another step toward me, and satisfaction surges through me.

“I love you, Roman,” I whisper as I close my eyes.

“Stop! She’s not infected!” Clay yells.

A crack echoes through the air, followed by a white-hot pain cutting through my skull and—

Epilogue

Home

I stink. Five days on the road without a bath will do that.

When the gates of Coastal Manor come into view, I almost give into the urge to cry. I didn’t really think I’d ever make it back when I said goodbye to Roman. What are the odds? A computer nerd like me driving three hundred miles across zombie-invested America? It’s laughable, alright.

Damn. I can’t wait to see Roman. He’s one of the only people I’d ever be willing to die for. Most people wouldn’t get it. Roman can be an ass and he likes to give off the tough-guy vibe—but I know better.

He’s the only real friend I’ve ever had…go figure.

I slow as I approach the gate, wiggling my ass against the seat. I can’t wait to get off this damn bike. My rear is going to be numb for a least a week, and I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten about a million bugs over the past few days. Not to mention the fact that I smell like ass.

Three guys run to the gate and pull their guns on me when I stop.

“What the hell?” This is new.

I scan the group and blink when my eyes land on Clay. He looks fifteen years older than the last time I saw him. What the hell happened while I was gone?

“Put the guns down!” Clay calls.

No one moves for a second, and Clay’s eyes dart toward the others. I don’t really know the other two. They’re older and have been working the gate since the town was first established. But Clay and I are friends.

“You infected?” Clay finally asks.

“No!” I throw my hands in the air. “I’m dirty as hell and tired as shit and all I want to do is go home, take a shower, screw Carmen, and sleep for about three years! What the hell is going on?”

Something flashes in Clay’s eyes, and for the first time, my sleep-deprived brain acknowledges that something really bad went down here. I open my mouth to ask but slam it shut before the words come out. My stomach knots, and I’m pretty sure if I’d eaten anything other than bugs the last couple of days, it would be splattered all over the road right now.

“We gotta let him in,” Clay says.

One of the other men—I think his name is Chip or Mick or Dick or some shit like that—shakes his head. “Regulator isn’t going to be happy.”

“After what happened, I don’t think the Regulator has a lot of say right now. Not until Atlanta is done with their investigation,” Clay says.

My stomach lurches again. This isn’t good.

Chip or Mick or Dick finally turns to open the gate. The third guy hasn’t said shit—I have no idea what his name is—and he hasn’t lowered his gun.

“I’m not infected. Just tired.” My voice is flat.

The exhaustion has started to take over. I’ve barely slept the last few days. Maybe six hours total, all scattered. I need to get some real sleep so I can think straight, because right now all I can think is that Roman didn’t make it and Jules must have gone on a killing spree…

I hope to God that isn’t true.

The gate swings open and I push my bike through. I’m pretty sure if I get back on it my ass is going to fall off. Chip/Mick/Dick shoots a walker, and the gunshot startles me so bad that I almost pee my pants. I need to get some sleep.

My eyes meet Clay’s, and I know the truth before I ask. I ask anyway. I can’t stand the suspense any longer. “He didn’t make it, did he?”

Clay shakes his head and looks down. “Yes and no. She’d already turned, but it must have just happened. He injected her, and somehow, with the way this virus mutated, she came back. But before she did, she killed him. Roman’s dad shot her in the head when she came out of the building. They thought she was a zombie…she was covered in blood. I tried to stop him—”

I put my hand up. I can’t hear any more…

I start my bike and hop on before anyone can stop me. I need to be alone.

My throat tightens as I ride toward my house, and I have to blink back tears so I can see where I’m going. I want to see my mom so she knows I’m okay. I want to see Carmen so I can cry on her shoulder. Maybe it isn’t the manly thing to do, but when your best friend gets eaten by his girlfriend, you’re entitled to one good cry.

The houses whirl by, and my bitterness grows and threatens to smash me and all the houses and probably even the entire state of South Carolina.

I never understood Roman’s desire to leave. Yeah, I knew it was about his dad. We’d never straight-out talked about it, but I’m smart enough to read between the lines. But an unsanctioned town just sounded insane to me. But now…I get it.

This wasn’t Roman’s fault. It wasn’t Jules’ fault, it wasn’t the fault of the hijackers or the zombies or the government. It was the Regulator’s fault. If he’d been even half the father he should have been, this never would have happened. Roman wouldn’t have had to leave, and Jules wouldn’t have been bitten.

For the first time since I moved to Coastal Manor, I want to escape. I can’t stay here. Not anymore.

Note from the Author

There’s a fifty percent chance that you are cursing me right now. I knew this ending would make a lot of people furious before I published Alone, but I chose to go ahead with it because I like the way it ends. It isn’t happy or fair, but it’s real. Things don’t always end happily ever after, especially not in a zombie apocalypse. Plus, if you read my Dedication and Foreword, you’ll know that I got the idea for this book from a dream my husband had, and this is how it ended. If you’re pissed at me, just know you aren’t the only one. Even my best friend was so angry at how this novel ended that she refused to finish it.

Before you leave a horrible review based solely on your emotions, STOP and read this next part.

Since I was aware that some readers might enjoy an alternate ending that isn’t full of blood and gore, but instead wraps everything up in a neat little package, I have included an alternate happily ever after ending for anyone who might be considering putting a hit out on me right now. Hopefully, the next two chapters will help ease your feelings of anger.

Kate L. Mary

Alternate Ending

Overwhelming, mind controlling, all-consuming hunger.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Feed.

Everything is muddled and confused. I’m swimming in a sea of urges that I don’t know how to control. But I am still here. A part of me still understands what’s happening—just a little.

There’s me.

There’s a room.

And there’s the need to eat that has almost completely taken over my body.

Something pierces my neck, but no pain accompanies it. It’s startling, but nothing compared to the overwhelming hunger.

I turn, and he is there.

Something about his face makes me freeze, almost sparking a memory.

I know this face…

Hunger creeps back up on me, and the memory is gone faster than a shooting star. The hunger radiates through my body and fills every inch of me until it bursts out of me in the form of a moan. The sound startles the part of me that is still conscious, the part locked away in my brain, but my body doesn’t react.

I have to feed.

The person in front of me collapses on the floor, and my stomach rumbles. Yes.

I force my limbs to move. They are slower than I’m used to. My body doesn’t respond to me the way I want it to. It’s sluggish. Gradual. Nothing feels right.

But I can’t quite grasp the memory of what it used to feel like…

This person—this boy—raises something that seems oddly familiar. He points it at me, and a spark goes off in my head but is gone in the blink of an eye. Whatever this thing is, it is nothing compared to my need to eat. I work harder at pulling myself forward. The boy drops the thing, and when it hits the floor the sound echoes through the room, but it isn’t loud enough to drown out the hunger pounding in my ears.

My hands are on him now. The heat from his skin radiates under palms. It’s inviting.

Blood courses through his veins, practically screaming at me from under his pale skin. It’s louder than the hunger. So much louder… But not as demanding.

This hunger is so, so demanding.

I want to give in.

Stop!

I close my eyes when a voice screams in my head, but it takes a second to realize that it’s me. The me still buried inside this body, struggling to fight off the hunger. Struggling to cling to reality.

“Jules.”

My eyes fly open. In front of me, the boy is crying. No. Not the boy…Roman. Roman is crying? Why? What’s going on?

Hunger roars in my ears.

I need to feed.

The boy shifts, and my senses explode. He’s so warm. So inviting. The blood pumping through his veins calls to me.

I pull myself closer to him, and this time my body cooperates. The sluggishness that had coated my body a few seconds ago seems to have eased, and the cloudiness in my brain has started to clear. With the clarity, the hunger has begun to fade…

Light glints off the tears on Roman’s cheeks. I’m right here, though. Right in front of him. Why is he upset? What could have happened?

I open my mouth to ask him, but the words float away and instead a moan breaks out of my chest. Roman lifts his head, and when his gaze lands on me, the grief and pain and repulsion in his eyes speaks volumes.

He thinks I’ve turned. He thinks he was too late.

For the second time, I open my mouth to tell him I’m okay, but again nothing happens. I turn away, frustrated, and my gaze lands on something. The thing he’d had in his hand not too long ago. A gun.

My heart, which was labored and slow not too long ago, begins to thump faster. With it, my body starts to warm and heat moves to my cheeks. The clouds lift, and Jules tries to claw her way to the surface.

I sit back. Blink.

Memories of the past few days and weeks return, slowly at first, and then so fast my head threatens to explode. Meeting Roman, falling in love, deciding to leave, getting bitten. Being here.

I remember my father. His tears. How it felt like my insides were on fire. My teeth were chattering and my limbs ached and the bite on my leg throbbed like it had a life of its own. I remember begging for Roman to come save me. I wanted to die.

I remember the little prick in my neck.

He made it. Roman got to Atlanta and back, and he brought the vaccine. He did it in time. He saved my life.

Only he doesn’t know it.

I lift my head and find his eyes on me. The confusion in his expression hasn’t chased away the pain just yet, but it’s obvious he knows something is happening now. With each passing second, I start to feel more like myself. More coherent and human.

I close my eyes and suck in a deep breath, savoring the feeling of my lungs filling with air.

When I open my eyes, I say, “Roman.”

The word croaks its way out of me, but it isn’t a moan. Roman’s mouth drops open, and he blinks. Like me, he seems to be trying to find his voice.

I swallow and try again. “Roman. I’m—”

“Jules.” He pushes off the wall and crawls toward me. “I thought you were dead.”

I shake my head to clear the last little bit of confusion from my brain. “I almost was.”

Roman’s shoulders shake, but this time the tears that fall down his cheek are accompanied by a sigh of relief so big it nearly fills the room. He takes my face between his hands and stares at me. His eyes boring into mine until it feels like he can see into my soul.

“I thought I failed.” He kisses my cheek, and it hits me that tears have begun to fall from my eyes as well. “I hated myself for failing. I wanted to die. I was ready to.”

“No,” I say, pulling myself closer to him.

The heat of his body is warm and inviting, but it causes a shiver to run down my spine at the thought of what almost happened here. It was so close. I was so close to tearing Roman apart.

I push the thought away and press my lips to his, squeezing my eyes shut. Trying to block out the memories of the last two days. The memory of the pain and anguish is so vivid in my mind that it’s nearly impossible, but with it comes the realization that my dad was actually here. He cares about me, and he is sorry for the past.

I pull back. “We have to tell my dad that I’m okay. He must think I’m dead by now.”

Roman clears his throat as he swipes his hand across his face. When he stands, he pulls me with him, but even when we’re both up he doesn’t let go of my hand. He holds it like he may never let me go. I’m okay with that.

“I didn’t see him in the building when I got back, but he could be in his office.”

He pulls the door open, and I let out a deep sigh. I never really thought I’d walk out of this room again.

The town hall is more silent then a graveyard. Our footsteps echo through the building as we move, but every room we pass is empty. Outside, the sun is low, but with as disoriented as I am, I’m not sure if it’s morning or night. I don’t care, though. All I care about is finding my dad and starting my life with Roman.

“No one is here,” Roman says after we’ve checked every room.

“He must have gone home.”

A pang shoots through me when I think about him abandoning me again, but it’s quickly chased away by the memory of how torn up he was. He doesn’t know another way to deal with his pain. I can’t really blame him for not wanting to watch his daughter turn into a zombie.

“We’ll go to him.”

Roman moves to the front door, pulling me with him.

When we step outside I suck in a mouthful of fresh air, and a smile breaks out of me. It’s evening, and the sun has almost dipped below the horizon. The sky above us is orange and pink, and not a single cloud is visible. Birds sing and a soft breeze blows, making branches clink against each other. I absorb every sound and sight, cataloging them away as all the things I want to hold on to. This moment with Roman is one of the best of my life.

“What the hell are you doing?”

We both turn toward the sound of the angry voice, and for the first time, I notice the group of men on the lawn. Their faces are like masks of anger as they charge toward us, with Roman’s father leading the way. The Regulator doesn’t even try to control his rage, and my heart hammers a foreboding rhythm when his fingers flex around the gun in his hand.

“You don’t have permission to let her out!” His voice booms through the silence. “And after what you did at the gate, you might as well get your ass back in there. I’m shipping you off to D.C. first thing in the morning.”

“She’s fine,” Roman says. “I got the vaccine in time.”

“She won’t be fine until she has a bullet in her brain,” the Regulator growls.

Roman drops my hand and charges across the lawn, closing the distance between himself and his father in less than fifteen seconds. Roman’s fist makes contact with his dad’s nose before the Regulator has even had a chance to react. Blood spurts out of the Mr. Smith’s nostrils, and he covers his face with his hands as he drops to the ground. Roman doesn’t stop there, though. He kicks his dad in the stomach, then reaches down and grabs his shirt.

“I should have done this a long time ago.” Roman’s shoulders heave. “I won’t let you use me like a punching bag anymore, and you sure as hell don’t have a say in my life. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if you don’t have a say in much of anything after Atlanta finds out what you’ve done here. The Judicial Officer’s daughter?” Roman shakes his head. “You should have played it a little smarter if you wanted to keep your job.”

He shoves his father down and backs away. The men who were with the Regulator haven’t moved. It’s like they don’t know how to react. If I were anyone else, they’d probably do Rick’s bidding and put me down, but Roman has made an excellent point: I am the JO’s daughter, and Atlanta sent him here to whip this settlement into shape.

“Juliana?” I turn to find my dad standing next to his car, his eyes wide as they move over me.

In the middle of the altercation, I didn’t even hear my dad drive up. But here he his, stumbling toward me. His expression is one of disbelief, but it can’t conceal the rings under his eyes or how disheveled his clothes are. The man who is always immaculate looks like he’s been living on the streets.

“Dad.”

I run toward him, and just like a movie, we meet in the middle of the lawn. He throws his arms around me and sobs, his entire body shaking. Then his legs give out and he drags me to the ground, but he doesn’t stop crying.

“I thought you were gone. I was coming back to put you out of your misery. How did this happen? I can’t believe it.”

“Roman saved me.” I pull back so I can look my father in the eye. “He promised he would, and he did.”

The boy in question stops next to us, and my father reaches up so he can grab Roman’s hand. “Thank you.”

Roman nods, too choked up to talk, and I wipe my own tears from my cheeks as I reach up to hold his other hand. After the hours and hours of agony I went through, I didn’t think anything could make me feel whole again, but I was wrong. Roman has. When he met me I didn’t know who I was or where I fit into this crazy world, but now, sitting in front of my dad with the boy I love next to me, I know I’m in the right place. Coastal Manor is my home, and I have a strong suspicion that Roman will agree with me about that.

Alternate Epilogue

I stink. Five days on the road without a bath will do that.

When the gates of Coastal Manor come into view, I almost give into the urge to cry. I didn’t really think I’d ever make it back when I said goodbye to Roman. What are the odds? A computer nerd like me driving three hundred miles across zombie-invested America? It’s laughable, alright.

Damn. I can’t wait to see Roman. He’s one of the only people I’d ever be willing to die for. Most people wouldn’t get it. Roman can be an ass. And he likes to give off the tough-guy vibe—but I know better.

He’s the only real friend I’ve ever had…go figure.

I slow as I approach the gate, wiggling my ass against the seat. I can’t wait to get off this damn bike—my rear is going to be numb for a least a week, and I’m pretty sure I’ve eaten about a million bugs over the past few days. Not to mention the fact that I smell like ass.

Three guys approach the gate, one of whom is Clay.

He grins and waves when he sees me. “Damn. We thought you were gone for good.”

“A few thousand zombies can’t take me down,” I say, but the smile on my face quivers as the same question I’ve been asking myself for the past five days goes through my head. “Did he make it?”

I hold my breath, half expecting Clay’s smile to disappear.

It doesn’t, though. If anything, it gets bigger. “You really think Roman would let his girl down?”

Tension that had been building in my body, growing heavier and heavier with each passing day, melts away faster than an ice cube in the hot sun. Roman did it. I shouldn’t have doubted him, but I did. Even he can’t control the zombies and this dumb-ass government. Shit. He’s a damn miracle worker.

One of the other guys—Chip or Mick or Dick or something like that—opens the gate, and I pull through. My ass hurts like hell, but I suddenly don’t care. Right now all I want to do is get home, take a shower, screw Carmen, then go over and give Roman a hug—again.

“The shit hit the fan, though!” Clay calls when I stop next to him, raising his voice over the roar of my engine.

“What happened?”

“Atlanta is sending a new Regulator in.”

“Roman’s dad is getting replaced?”

“Not just replaced, they’re sending his ass to D.C. Charges of child abuse and tampering with the cure. He’s been shooting people in the head when they get bitten instead of waiting to see if they’re immune. Atlanta is pissed.”

“Shit.” I’m not surprised, but at the same time, I am. The asshole deserves it, but people don’t usually get what they deserve. Especially not in this world.

“I know you’re beat, but I think Roman and Jules are at the town hall right now. You might want to swing by. Let him know you made it. He’s been going insane.”

I rev my engine as I nod. “I will. See you later, man.”

Clay nods right before I take off, shooting through town. The houses whirl by, and my excitement grows until my chest threatens to burst. It all worked out. Every second it took me to get home was worth it.

I turn the corner, and a smile breaks out across my face when the town hall comes into view. Roman and Jules are standing in the front yard. I pull right up on the lawn, barely taking the time to stop before I jump off my bike.

Something that resembles a victory shout breaks out of me when Roman looks my way. “We did it!”

“Son of a bitch.” Roman is grinning when he throws his arms around me. “I thought you were dead.” He pulls back, and his face is twisted in mock disgust. “Maybe you are. You sure as hell smell like it.”

“You travel across zombie-invested country for five days and see how you smell.”

I pat his back and turn to Jules. Not a single thing about her looks like she almost turned into a zombie. She has some scratches on her arms, and I’m sure the bite on her leg is still healing, but other than that her skin is pink and her eyes are full of life. She looks like a person, not a flesh-eating monster. It’s amazing.

“Pretty amazing vaccine,” I say.

“You have no idea.” Jules hugs me before I can warn her how disgusting I am.

“Clay told me about your dad,” I say when I turn to face Roman. “He’s out? Does that mean you’re going to stick around?”

Roman slings his arm around Jules’ shoulders. “For now. I still have some serious concerns about this government, but my time in Atlanta showed me there are some good people left in his world. Maybe we can pull it together, maybe not. Either way, I’m willing to give it a try now that Rick isn’t going to be the one calling the shots.”

This day keeps getting better and better. “Good. Because I think we should have a celebration.” I unzip my pack and pull out a bottle of Jack Daniels. “Found this yesterday and thought you might appreciate it.”

Roman laughs. “You know me too well.”

“Not that celebrating doesn’t sound amazing,” Jules says, “But I think you should head home. Your mom has been worried sick, and Carmen’s about to lose her mind. They might appreciate seeing you.”

I toss the bottle to Roman, who catches it in midair, then turn back to my bike. “Tomorrow, then.”

“Tomorrow,” Roman says.

I wave when I take off. My smile is so big that I eat even more bugs as I head toward home, but this time I don’t give a damn. This whole happily-ever-after ending sure as hell wasn’t what I expected, but I’m damn glad it happened. After everything we’ve been through the last two years, it’s about time we had some good luck.

Playlist:

Kate Voegele- Lift Me Up

Landon Pigg- Falling in Love at a Coffee Shop

Christina Perri- Arms

Phillip Phillips- Home

Paramore- The Only Exception

Train- Imagine

Over the Rhine- Latter Days

Lana Del Rey- Born to Die

Landon Pigg- The Way it Ends

Acknowledgements

If you read the note from me at the beginning of this novel, you know I wrote this book several years ago. Revising a novel you fumbled through writing the first time around is, in a lot of ways, more difficult than writing the novel correctly the first time. It took several passes to whip this story into to shape, and the credit for its improved condition doesn’t just go to me. The help I’ve gotten from beta readers, critique partners, editors, and my agent over the last couple years has a lot to do with it, and each of these people are owed a huge debt of gratitude for bringing this novel to where it is today. Without their help, my writing wouldn’t have improved the way it has, and this book would read more like a high school student’s blundering attempt at a novel than the polished work (I hope) it is. It will never be perfect, because none of us are, but it is, at the very least, a great deal better than it was back then.

First, as always, a very big thanks goes to my original critique partner, Lisa Terry. Even though we don’t work together as much as we used to, without her tough love I would not have figured out how to make the best of my words. I went through failed attempts at establishing partnerships with other writers quite a few times before I found Lisa, and even though it was a very frustrating process, I’m so glad it worked out the way it did. Thank you, as always, for not being afraid to rip my manuscript apart. My feelings aren’t nearly as important to me as putting a solid novel out is.

Thank you, also, to the many other authors who have read, critiqued, and loved my work enough to give me pointers. Diana Gardin, my bestie writer-friend, who is always there to lend support. I am very grateful that you were willing to read Alone even though zombies scare you to death. My other amazing author friends who are part of our NAC group: Amanda, Ara, Jamie, Jessica, Laura, Marie, Marnee, Meredith, Tegan, Sophia, and Annika. It’s nice to have a supportive group of authors to turn to when you’re feeling stressed, and I’m glad you’re always there to listen to me whine, lend support, or cheer me on.

Thanks, as always, to Emily Teng. She was my first editor, back during my failed attempt to get published through a small press, and I’m glad she has decided to do freelance so we can continue to work together.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to Sarah McVay, Carey Monroe, and Laura Johnsen. Sarah was the only reader of this story in its original form. Even though it was rough back then, she read it all the way through. She gave me pointers and an honest opinion, which I’m thankful for. And Laura and Carey did me the huge favor of reading through the manuscript and help me find typos. Hopefully, between their efforts, my editor, and me, we managed to find them all.

And last, but not least, a huge thank you to my husband, who originally gave me the idea for this book. He had a dream and as we discussed it, we realized that it would be a fantastic idea for a book. I’m so grateful not only for the ideas he’s shared, but for his support when it comes time for me to edit, rush to make deadlines, and spend hours on social media trying to market my books. I love you so much!

About the Author

Kate L. Mary is an award-winning author of New Adult and Young Adult fiction ranging from Post-Apocalyptic tales of the undead, to Speculative Fiction and Contemporary Romance. Her Young Adult book, When We Were Human, was awarded the Silver Medal for YA Fantasy/Sci-Fi Fiction from the 2015 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards, and her Broken World series has been an Amazon best-seller since the release of book one in 2014.

You can find out more information about Kate L. Mary by following her on Twitter, or you can visit her on Facebook or at www.KateLMary.com. Sign up for her newsletter to get monthly updates on new releases and giveaways.

Check out these other titles by Kate L. Mary:

The Broken World series
Available now on Kindle, Kindle Unlimited, Paperback and Audiobook (books 1-3)!

Broken World

When a deadly virus sweeps the country, Vivian Thomas sets out for California in hopes of seeing the daughter she gave up for adoption. Then her car breaks down and she’s faced with a choice. Give up, or accept a ride from redneck brothers, Angus and Axl. Vivian knows the offer has more to do with her double D’s than kindness, but she’s prepared to do whatever it takes to reach her daughter.

The virus is spreading, and by the time the group makes it to California, most of the population has been wiped out. When the dead start coming back, Vivian and the others realize that no electricity or running water are the least of their concerns. Now Vivian has to figure out how to be a mother under the most frightening circumstances, cope with Angus’s aggressive mood swings, and sort out her growing attraction to his brooding younger brother, Axl.

While searching for a safe place to go, they pick up a pompous billionaire who may be the answer to all their problems. Trusting him means going into the middle of the Mojave Desert and possibly risking their lives, but with the streets overrun and nowhere else to turn, it seems he might be their only chance for survival.

Shattered World Mad World Lost World New World Forgotten World Broken Stories

Collision

New Adult Romantic Mystery

Available now on Kindle and Kindle Unlimited

Some secrets are better left untold…

When eighteen-year-old Kara Jones gets into a car accident on the way home from college, she’s left with more than a few bruised ribs, a busted cell phone, and a totaled car. After a slip-up at the hospital, she’s shaken to discover that her family isn’t all it seems. And now her mother’s strange behavior and willingness to do anything to protect her secrets—including pulling Kara out of school—have Kara floundering in the dark.

Enter Derek Miller, a former classmate who’s dealing with family issues of his own. His nerdy charm is too much for Kara to resist, and she’s even more amazed when he agrees to help her dig into her mother’s past. Together they investigate her mother’s old friends and boyfriends, hoping to discover who Kara really is. Instead, they find disturbing connections to the dark history of Kent State University, and an ever expanding maze of mystery surrounding Kara’s birth.

As Kara and Derek chase secrets, she realizes he’s the only person she can trust. But as they get closer to the truth, the disturbing answers reveal a web of evil far darker and further reaching than they’d imagined, leaving Kara to wish she’d never asked the questions in the first place.

The List

(College of Charleston, #1)

New Adult Contemporary Romance

Available from Lyrical Press

Amazon│Barnes & Noble│iBooks│Kobo│Google

The List. Twenty things every girl must do before she turns twenty. . .

Body piercing
Get drunk
First kiss

But thanks to her crazy, over-protective father, Annie Roth is way behind schedule. Good thing it’s her first semester of college, because Annie is more than ready to start checking off items. . .

Fake ID
Skinny dipping
Road trip!!!

Where it gets complicated? Ryan and Chris. Best friends. Both sweet, funny, totally hot, and totally into Annie.

But there are some things on The List that Annie only wants to do with Ryan. . .

Lose it
Get Heart Broken
Fall in love

No Regrets

(College of Charleston, #2)

New Adult Contemporary Romance

Available from Lyrical Press

Amazon│B&N│Google│iBooks│Kobo

College is supposed to be fun…

Go to parties

Pick up guys

Maybe get in a little trouble

On the surface Cami is your average, wild teenager out to have a good time, but inside she’s struggling. Almost a year ago her best friend was in a car accident, an accident Cami feels responsible for. Since then, she’s made it her personal mission to experience everything life has to offer, both for herself and for Julie, who will never have fun again.

Then she meets Liam, her cousin’s sexy roommate. Hooking up with a hot British dude seems like the perfect way to start off the school year, but the more time she spends with him, the more she finds herself actually liking the guy. Which totally screws up her plans to live life with no regrets…

Moving On

(College of Charleston, #3)

New Adult Contemporary Romance

Available from Lyrical Press

Amazon │ Barnes & Noble │ iBooks │Kobo │ Google

After a year with her dying aunt, Bette knows what she wants from life.

1. Keep Aunt Missy’s House

Chris Pressley is the perfect roommate—uptight and damaged and hung up on his ex. And hot. Bette doesn’t date, but she definitely likes looking.

2. Get Her Dream Job

Chris just needs to get away from the happiest couple on campus: the sweet, shy girl he loves and his former best friend. Watching Bette rock her tattoos and her curves even as she builds her own business is an education. That’s probably why he can’t keep his mind off her…

3. Never Compromise

Bette isn’t interested in changing for anyone. But the heat rising between her and Chris won’t leave her the same…

When We Were Human
Young Adult/New Adult Post-Apocalyptic

2015 Moonbeam Children’s Book Awards Silver Medalist in YA Fantasy/Sci-Fi Fiction

“They came four years ago. Invaded our planet, rounded us up, decimated the human race. We fought back, and some even say we won, but they’re wrong. The invaders took everything from us. Our family. Our hope. Our humanity. We won the war, but there are no humans left. Only monsters who will do anything to survive. Some look human and some don’t, but they are all the same.”

Eighteen-year-old Eva has spent the last year punishing herself for her sister’s death and hiding from everyone she comes into contact with, human or otherwise. With the population destroyed and the Earth left in ruins, she sees little hope left for the future.

But when she crosses paths with Walker and Tara something inside her awakens. Something she thought had died along with her entire family. In these new friends Eva sees a promise of what the future could be, as well as evidence that humanity might not be extinct after all.

When a ghost from Eva’s past makes an unexpected appearance, the group sets out on a cross-country trek that will teach Eva how to love and hope again, and will remind her what it truly means to be human.

Prep For Doom

Don’t Look Back, Chapter 18
Band of Dystopian Anthology

Young Adult Apocalyptic

From the imaginations of twenty authors of dystopian and post-apocalyptic fiction comes PREP FOR DOOM – an integrated collection of short stories that tell the tale of a single catastrophe as experienced by many characters, few of whom will ever meet. What begins with a seemingly innocuous traffic accident soon spirals into a global pandemic. The release of Airborne Viral Hemorrhagic Fever upon New York City’s unsuspecting populace brings bloody suffering within hours, death within a day, and spreads worldwide within a month.

An online community called Prep For Doom has risen to the top of a recent doomsday preparation movement. Some have written them off as crazy while others couldn’t be more serious about the safety the preppers could provide in a global disaster. But when AVHF strikes, their preparation may not be enough to save them.