Dominion of the Damned Page 16

  “I hope so.”

  “Come on. Let’s head back.” They walked for a while in the direction of their neighborhood, when he said, “Look, I hope you don’t think… I mean, I know you’re, like, the only single girl my own age on the entire base.”

  “Slim pickin’s, huh?”

  “No! I mean, that’s what I’m trying to say, badly. That’s not the reason I asked you out.”

  Hannah found herself grinning at his discomfort. It was cute. “Then what’s the reason?”

  “I like you,” he said, simply. “You’re pretty, and you seem smart, and tough—”

  “Tough? Even after that wiggins I had back there, you think I’m tough?”

  “You didn’t wig out. Well, you did, but you were, like, on your feet, ready to fight.”

  “I was ready to run.”

  “But you didn’t. A lot of girls would’ve taken off screaming. Hell, a lot of girls our age never would’ve survived on their own for five months, or taken on the monumental task of raising their baby brothers.” He bumped into her with his shoulder. “You’re made of strong stuff, Hannah Jordan.”

  She smiled, briefly. “You only say that because you don’t know how terrified I am all the time.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of shamblers.” She laughed, like it should have been obvious. “Of vampires. Of getting eaten, or worse. Of… of screwing up. Making a wrong decision and getting Noah killed, or getting myself killed and leaving him all alone.” She blew out a long sigh. “And I’m scared that I don’t know how to be a mother. That I’m going to screw that up, too.”

  “Then maybe don’t try to be his mother. Just be his sister, but on, like, permanent baby-sitting duty.” Chris shrugged. “But parents screw up sometimes. I think maybe it just goes with the territory.”

  “I already screwed up by leaving that shelter. We were safe there, and all I did was land us in that prison.”

  He took her hand and intertwined his fingers with hers. “Don’t beat yourself up about that. You would’ve had to leave sooner or later. You would’ve run out of food eventually. Besides, look how it ended up.” He squeezed her hand.

  Hannah smiled. “Thanks.”

  He returned her smile. “Once, when I was younger and my dad was on leave from Iraq, I asked him if fighting over there made him scared. He told me that he was scared every day, that all of his troops were. That there was something wrong with anybody who didn’t feel fear in that situation. He said it’s pushing past the fear that makes people brave. That toughness is just not letting your fear stop you from doing what needs to be done.” He squeezed her hand again. “Like I said, you’re a tough girl.”

  By then they’d reached her house. They walked up to the porch hand in hand. “So you like tough girls,” said Hannah. “Does that mean I should go to the store and see if I can dig up some chains and leather?”

  Grinning, he walked with her up the steps. “Not necessary. Although I bet you’d look good in chains and leather.” They stood facing each other on the porch. Hannah lowered her gaze, and it landed on the spot where Alek had been sitting when they left. She forced her eyes back up to meet his. “I guess my mom’s still inside,” he said.

  “Yeah. Do you want to come in?”

  “I think I’d rather say goodnight out here. Maybe next time you can bring the baby over to our place instead.”

  Hannah grinned. “Next time?”

  Chris matched her grin as he leaned in close. “Definitely.” His lips met hers. His kiss was soft and sweet, and Hannah appreciated that he didn’t get grabby or overly bold. “Good night,” he said when it was done.

  “Good night.” She watched him go down the steps and the front walk, turning every few steps to look back at her. Finally, she went inside.

  Paula stood up from the living room sofa as soon as she opened the door. “How’d it go?”

  “Good.” She shut the door and went into the living room. “It was nice. Chris is really sweet.”

  “Yeah, I did raise a sweetheart, didn’t I?”

  Hannah smiled. “Oh, and that peach cobbler?” She put a hand on Paula’s arm and closed her eyes, unable to find words for how good it was. When she opened her eyes again, Paula was grinning.

  “You liked that, huh? Well, good. These days I don’t bake all that often, but this seemed like a special occasion. You want me to send over some of the leftovers?”

  “That’s okay.” At Paula’s disappointed look, she added, “I mean, I would love some. But I’ve got to start getting back in shape.”

  Paula scoffed at that. “Sweetie, it’s not like you need to lose weight.”

  “Oh, I know. But I need to build my strength back up. And I need to work on my endurance. All that sugar….”

  “Will help put some healthy meat back on those bones,” Paula insisted. “I’ll send some over tomorrow. And the quiche, too.”

  Defeated, Hannah laughed. “Thanks. How’s Noah?”

  “Oh, he’s such a little doll. He woke up not long after you left, and I fed him some peas and applesauce—he really loved that applesauce. Then we played and I read him the books I brought over.” She pointed to a stack of indestructible baby books on the coffee table. “You can keep those. He sure seemed to like them. Anyway, I put him back to bed about half an hour ago, and he went right to sleep.”

  “Thanks for watching him.”

  “It was my pleasure.” She turned to grab her purse from the side table. “You look about as tuckered out as he did, so I’m gonna get out of your hair.” As she walked toward the door she said, “I’ll get over here about 3:30 tomorrow. That ought to give you plenty of time to get to your new job.”

  Hannah walked her to the door. “Thank you so much. I really mean it.”

  Paula grinned. “And I really mean that it’s a pleasure. You call me any time you need help with that little angel.”

  Hannah smiled. “I will.” She saw Paula out, then locked the door. As she turned around, she noticed that the piano bench had never been pushed back in. She went over and scooted it under the piano, and paused, remembering how Alek had looked, all rumpled and straight out of bed, his eyes closed as he bent over the keys, his face a mask of grief and nostalgia. She wondered what he thought about while he played. Then she remembered how he’d looked after, the hope in his eyes as he asked her to dinner. Or had she imagined that, and the glimpse of disappointment she thought she’d caught after she turned him down?

  “He was just being nice,” she said aloud. He couldn’t have seriously wanted to take her out. He was a century old, and a doctor, and let’s not forget barely human. They had nothing in common. How could he possible want her?

  How could she possibly want him?

  She turned away from the piano and forced all thoughts of Alek from her mind. She replayed the date with Chris in her head while she got ready for bed, and as she lay down, she touched her fingers to her lips, remembering their kiss. The first kiss she’d had in a very long time.

  She rolled over and buried her face in her pillow. It smelled like soap and men’s shampoo. As she breathed it in, her thoughts drifted back to the vampire who’d slept in her bed, the kiss quickly forgotten.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  The next morning, Hannah put the jogging stroller to its intended use. Noah seemed to enjoy the ride, and he babbled happily and entertained himself with some toys while Hannah jogged up and down the streets of her new neighborhood. She grew winded after only a couple of blocks and had to slow to a brisk walk, and then jogged some more once she’d caught her breath.

  It frustrated her that she’d gotten so out of shape. She’d been on the track team in high school. In college, although she hadn’t joined the team, she’d still kept up her daily run. Before the shelter, she’d been able to run five miles in thirty minutes. Now she couldn’t even run one.

  She knew she’d be in big trouble if she ever needed to run for her life.

  Fortunately, the infected moved slowly
. Individually, they could easily be outrun. It was their tendency to mob up that made them so deadly. Vampires, on the other hand, were unbelievably fast. Hannah remembered the prison guard, how she’d had no hope of outrunning him, and shuddered. It was almost lucky that he’d wanted more from her than just a meal, otherwise he could have torn her throat out and there would have been nothing she could do about it. Out of breath and struggling, she pushed herself to run just a little farther, and a little faster.

  By the time she got home, her heart felt like it was ready to burst. A truck was parked in front of her house, and the old man who’d driven the tank was unloading boxes and stacking them on her porch. As she doubled over, bracing her hands against her knees and struggling to breathe, she racked her brain for his name. Was it Ed? Or Ned? She wanted to ask him what he was doing, but she couldn’t draw enough air to talk. Finally, she felt stable enough to push the stroller up the front walk. She sat down on the porch steps and waved to Ned as he unloaded another box from the trunk.

  “It sure is hot,” he said as he carried the box over. Hannah nodded as she dug her water bottle out of one of the stroller’s many pockets. “Humid, too,” he said as she took a long drink. “Not the best weather for a workout.”

  She emptied the bottle. “I used to be used to it,” she said, finding the ability to talk once again. “I guess it’s not the best weather for hauling boxes, either. What is all this?”

  “Special delivery. Carl brought your things down from your old house overnight, and asked me to deliver it this morning.”

  “Thanks. And thank Carl for me.” She stood up. “Here, I’ll help.” She was still breathing heavy, and her legs felt like jelly, but she felt bad letting the old man do all the work.

  “No need,” he said. “Just got one more box.”

  “Well, do you want to come in and get some water?”

  “That’s all right, but thanks all the same. I need to get back to the farm.”

  Hannah thanked him again and took the baby inside as he unloaded the final box. Maybe Ed, or Ned, didn’t need water, but she did. She drank two full glasses before putting Noah in his playpen so she could take a quick shower. Once she was dressed, she started hauling the boxes into the living room. There were about thirty in all, loaded with her family’s personal effects. As she opened the boxes and dug through them, she was happy to find her own clothes. She also found pictures, knick knacks that had sat around the house, her mom and dad’s clothes. One box was full of baby things, but most of them were meant for a newborn. Noah had already outgrown them.

  It felt strange, going through her family’s belongings in this new house. She didn’t know how to feel. Mostly, she felt numb. It would be a lot of work sorting through it, deciding what to keep and what to donate to the store. She couldn’t decide whether decorating the house with her mother’s things would be comforting, or just sad.

  She opened another box and peered inside at her father’s duffel bag. She stared at it for a moment before pulling it out. It felt as heavy as the last time she’d held it, and she set it on the floor with a thud. Hannah unzipped it and found everything she’d taken with her from the shelter. MREs, provisions for Noah, and guns. The bag still held her dad’s rifle, his Sig Sauer .45 automatic, and plenty of ammunition for both. Did they mean to give her these? The automatic shotgun was there, too, even though she’d left it in the foyer of her old house. Someone had to have packed it for her. Not that she was about to complain.

  She pulled out the Sig and checked the clip. Still loaded. She wondered if she’d be able to pick up a holster at Paula’s store. She doubted it, but this was an Army base. There had to be a spare holster lying around somewhere. Thinking about how scared she’d been the night before, just hearing that thing moaning inside the old jail, she knew she’d feel a lot safer walking around at night if she had a sidearm, no matter how many supposedly good vampires patrolled the fence.

  Hannah laid the handgun on the kitchen counter, and stashed the rifle and shotgun in the coat closet. She knew she needed to find safer storage for them, and soon. Noah was already starting to crawl, and he’d be walking before she knew it. Although it would likely be at least another year or two before he’d have the strength and coordination to actually pick up a gun, she didn’t want to take any chances.

  But for now, it was time to get ready for her new job. Paula would be at their house soon. Hannah hauled the boxes filled with her clothing into her bedroom. She checked on Noah and found him sacked out in his playpen. She left him there while she changed into work-appropriate slacks and a button-down shirt. It felt good to wear her own clothes again, even if they hung a little loosely on her. She clipped her hair up in a loose bun and put on just enough makeup to avoid being confused for one of the walking dead. She found a set of nursing scrubs that she’d been required to wear to her classes, and stuck them in a tote bag. She didn’t know whether Zach would want her to wear scrubs, or if he’d supply her with a set, but she wanted to be prepared. She put the gun in there, too. After a moment’s deliberation, she went to the closet to retrieve the spare clip and added it to the tote.

  Paula knocked on the door and let herself in as Hannah took a deep breath to steady the butterflies in her stomach. Time go go see what her new normal looked like.

  TWENTY-SIX

  As it turned out, Zach didn’t particularly care what she wore, just as long as she showed up. Nevertheless, she changed into her scrubs once she got there. They made her feel more like a real nurse, even though so far the work Zach had given her was more suitable for a filing clerk. She spent the first few hours sorting research notes and organizing files. “That’s the stuff I never have time to do,” he’d explained, and that much was obvious. The place was a mess.

  “It’s time to feed the rats,” he told her after she finished filing a stack of data. “Their food’s up in that cabinet.”

  Hannah found the food, and then she found the rats. She hadn’t even noticed them, tucked away in the corner. Four of them slept in a pile in one corner of a large, glass tank. A fifth had a cage of its own off to the side. “Be careful with number five,” Zach called. “Be sure you wear the gloves on top of the cage, and don’t get your hands too close to her. She’s infected.”

  Hannah looked from Zach to the caged rat and back again. “She’s a zombie rat?”

  “Not yet. But she’s a carrier.”

  “Why infect rats?”

  To his credit, Zach didn’t look at her like it should have been obvious, even though she realized after she asked that it was. “To test the efficacy of the vaccine, we have to introduce the virus.” He pointed to Number Five. “That was the latest formula, and it didn’t work. The virus still took hold. Poor thing’ll probably be dead by the end of your shift.”

  Hannah frowned at the doomed creature. The rat looked healthy enough at first glance, but her moves were sluggish, and she didn’t seem interested in the food Hannah poured in her dish. “Shouldn’t we put her out of her misery?”

  Zach sighed. “I wish we could, but we need to see how long it takes her to die. We’ve made some progress in slowing down how long it takes for the virus to kill. Or transform, as the case may be. It’s not exactly the desired outcome, but it is progress.” He pushed back from his work station and stood up. “Speaking of which, I need to collect a new sample.” He smiled at Hannah. “It’s time to introduce you to Bob.”

  “Bob? You mean that shambler you keep in the old jail?”

  Zach looked disappointed. “You already know about that?”

  “Chris told me,” she said, and left it at that. She took off the gloves and put away the rat food, then found her tote bag where she’s stashed it and took out the Sig.

  If Zach was surprised that she carried a gun, he didn’t show it. “You won’t need that. Bob’s strapped down.” Hannah tucked it in the back of her waistband anyway, and Zach shrugged. “All right, if it makes you feel better. Let’s go.”

  She was a li
ttle surprised to see that it was still light outside, even though it was only seven o’clock and still summer. It felt like she’d been stuck in that windowless cave of a lab for more than just a few hours. Zach led her to the old fort, and in the late afternoon light she could see why Chris had thought it was worth showing it to her. Every building there was at least a hundred years old, full of history and ghosts of the past.

  The old jail was a squat white stucco building with a wide wooden front porch. She could hear Bob’s muffled groans as she followed Zach up the steps and through the front door. Inside, Hannah found herself surrounded by wood. The flooring and paneling looked like it was probably original to the building, and the room held a couple of antique-looking desks. Historical plaques stood next to each, and more plaques hung on the wall, along with portraits of men in uniform and paintings of scenes right out of the Old West. “This place was a museum before,” said Zach. Before what went without saying. Iron cages lined the back of the room, and next to them was a doorway that opened onto a set of descending stairs. A mindless moan floated up those stairs, and Hannah shuddered.

  “This way,” Zach said as he started down the stairs. Reluctantly, Hannah followed him, pulling the gun from her waistband as she went. The grip felt reassuring in her hand.

  “Down here’s where they kept the most dangerous prisoners,” Zach told her. “The walls of the cells are three feet thick, with heavy doors made of oak and iron, and no windows.” He paused in front of one of such doors and pulled a key out of his pocket. He fit it into a modern-day padlock and unlocked it. “They kept Geronimo in this one.” He opened the door.

  The smell of rotting meat assaulted them, making Hannah’s stomach churn. She had to swallow against her gag reflex as she followed Zach into the tiny cell. Inside, strapped to a gurney, lay Bob. Except he didn’t lie there so much as writhe and squirm. The sight of him made her want to gag some more. His skin showed visible signs of decay, and it had mostly sloughed off where the restraints came in contact with it. His lips were missing, and as he strained toward them and gnashed his teeth, she saw that his tongue was gone, too. The flesh on the bottom half of his face had mostly rotted away.