Tales of Terror from Survivors (Zombie Apocalypse #3.5) Read online

  He didn’t want to think about things like that, at least not right now. He was going to start over and try to rebuild his life, and refusing to move on from the things that had happened in the past wasn’t going to help him. He went downstairs and tried not to feel out of place, like he was a monster that didn’t belong. Demarion had relaxed a little now that Corey didn’t look so much like a corpse, but the unease was still tangible in the small kitchen. Even Lonnie couldn’t hide it fully, and he caught her watching him more than once with a look that could only be described as wary and cautious.

  Is she waiting for me to snap and start eating them? Corey frowned and stared at the table. He didn’t want either of them to see how much it hurt to be looked at like a freak. Even though he understood their fears, it didn’t change the fact that he had done nothing wrong. He didn’t deserve to be treated like dynamite, ready to blow at any moment. He was just a boy.

  The static on the radio cut out and a voice filtered into the kitchen. Lonnie immediately dropped what she was doing and rushed to the radio, turning the volume up as high as it would go. The voice was female, and whoever she was, she sounded young. Far too young to be part of the government or military. He almost tuned her out from the disappointment, but the look of fascination on Lonnie’s face drew him back into the radio, and he found himself listening to an incredible story he never could have imagined.

  When he heard his sister’s name, he jumped to his feet and got as close to the radio as he could. He heard about a horrible man named Frank, a fire that claimed tons of lives, a helicopter crash that reunited a family, and the decision to spread a cure. He listened with pride as this girl talked about how Naomi had bravely jumped into freezing water to save another girl in their group. He’d never been more proud of his sister than in this moment. She had been willing to risk everything for a chance to see him again!

  And it had cost her dearly.

  He froze when he heard the story of Naomi’s death, about how she had been ripped away from their group and devoured in a forest, far from any loved ones that she had been fighting for. Thanks to a vivid flashback, he knew exactly what it looked like to tear someone apart and eat them alive, and he could picture it now. He could hear Naomi screaming as she died, terrified and alone. She did it for you, he thought. She did it so you could have a chance to live again, no matter how slim that chance was.

  The remainder of the story faded out as he slumped into the kitchen chair. His heart ached in his chest, and he felt like it might rip apart. Naomi was gone forever and there was nothing that could bring her back. The girl on the radio had said as much, that the cure had cost them friends they were unable to save. So that was it. She had given her life for a chance that a cure might be able to save him, and in the end, it hadn’t been able to save her. Would that be considered irony?

  He struggled to breathe as the weight of her loss hit him, and he fought to stay upright in his chair as the world spun around him. He could feel Lonnie’s hand on his arm, trying to comfort him the best she could, but there was nothing she could do that would help. Naomi’s loss was like a bullet to the chest—it left a hole that would never be filled and it made him feel like he was dying. He took some small measure of comfort in knowing that his sister had been brave enough to risk her life for the good of others, and he felt a rush of adoration for her courage and sacrifice.

  She should be here right now, not me. He looked down at himself, his hands clenching on the table. Was I even worth saving? What am I supposed to do with my life when I look like a freak? I’ll never be able to move on or forget what happened to me. At least she would have had a chance at living a normal life. She should have taken it…

  The hours after learning of Naomi’s death passed by in a blur of numbness. Corey could hear his aunt and cousin trying to comfort him, but he it was as if he was underwater, a hundred feet down, submerged beneath the crushing weight of his tears. Their voices and concerns were muffled and they didn’t mater to him. His thoughts were solely focused on that radio broadcast and what it meant to him.

  Naomi was gone and she was never coming back, but her sacrifice had been so brave. And it had been for him. She had valued the lives of her brothers as equal—if not as greater than—her own. That was the Naomi he remembered, the one who always looked out for them, even when they didn’t deserve it, even when they were horrible to her.

  He clenched his hands and slammed them down on the table. Lonnie and Demarion both jumped, startled to see him show emotion after hours of nothing. “It’s not fair,” he said, his shoulders trembling. “She should be here with you right now, not me.”

  Lonnie put a hand on his shoulder gingerly, afraid that he might snap and explode. “Corey, I do wish Naomi could be here with us, but I’m so thankful to have you, too. You came back to us, just like I always hoped you would some day.”

  “But she gave her life, and for what?” he looked down at himself and grimaced. “A monster.”

  “Do you think she would see you that way?”

  He wanted to argue with her, but he couldn’t. She was right, of course. Naomi would never have seen him as a monster, even if she knew all of the horrible things he had most likely done as a zombie. She told him once that he would always be her baby brother, pinching his cheek with a taunting smile as she said it. It was something she knew he always hated, so she took every chance to do it. What he wouldn’t give for her to do it just one more time.

  “I wanna do something for her,” he said, his eyes focused on his hands. “I want everyone to know what she did. Not just for me, but for all of us.”

  “I think that’s wonderful of you,” Lonnie said softly.

  “I don’t know where I’d start, though,” he admitted. “I want it to be something big, something that honors her and gets the word out about what she did, but I don’t know what to do.”

  “Well, you could go talk to Jeffrey,” she said, glancing out the window. “You remember him, right? He was responsible for rebuilding most of our neighborhood after things got really bad. He’s the reason we have running water and some electricity, and he even oversaw the building of the fence that surrounds and protects us. He made sure there were no weaknesses, and we’ve been able to thrive because of him. He might be able to help you think of something grand to do for her.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “Corey, it’s kind of late,” Lonnie said, her lips pursed. “I think you should wait until tomorrow.”

  “No,” he said, getting to his feet. “I don’t wanna wait, not for one second.”

  She sighed. “He lives around the corner, a few houses down. It’s white, with a picket fence. You used to pass it whenever you’d come up to stay with us and you boys would go to the park.”

  “I remember,” he said.

  He made sure to close the front door behind him, and he started down the sidewalk. He tried to keep his eyes focused on the ground in an attempt to avoid confrontation, but he couldn’t help but look around at everything these people had. Everywhere he looked, he saw people thriving. Maybe thriving wasn’t the right word, but they weren’t beaten down and cowering in their homes, they weren’t scared to wake up each day and face what was waiting for them outside their doors.

  They had hope, something most of the world had given up on. I wonder how many other places there are like this one. They can’t be the only neighborhood to pull together to survive. There could be thousands of them scattered all around the country, and even more around the world. Places like these ones are going to be the driving force behind rebuilding civilization.

  It was freezing out, and his breath came out in wispy tendrils. There was snow on the ground and he didn’t have a coat, but he didn’t seem to mind the cold. He focused on the warm thoughts of Naomi, and forced himself to ignore the stinging bite of the weather. He shoved his hands in his pockets to keep them from going numb and kept walking, making his way through the neighborhood to Jeffrey’s home. Along the way, he noti
ced several people out and about, and they all gave him as wide a berth as possible.

  One woman openly glared at him, her eyebrows furrowed and a frown on his lips. She stared him down as he walked by, stopping and turning to keep watching him as he continued on. His stomach tightened at her reaction, and he wondered how many of the people here would hate him as long as he lived for something he had no control over. That depends, he thought to himself as he kept walking. How many of these people have lost loved ones and their entire lives to people like me? I’d guess probably all of them. I doubt there are many who escaped without some kind of loss.

  I understand why they hate me…

  “Corey!” A sharp voice called out to him from behind, and he stopped, sure his mind must have been playing tricks on him.

  He could have sworn that voice belonged to… “Miranda?” He squinted, trying to make out her shape in the quickly approaching darkness. His eyes widened when he caught sight of her familiar red hair, porcelain skin, and brown doe eyes. “Miranda!”

  She launched herself at Corey, flinging her arms wildly around his neck. She was laughing and crying, and he felt himself join her as his emotions took control of him. He swung her around, holding her as close as he could without hurting her. He didn’t want to put her down, but eventually she took a step back, looking him up and down with intense scrutiny. He felt his stomach clench as he prepared for her disgust, but it never came. She reached a hand out and gently caressed his face, her fingertips lightly tracing the scars along his jaw and neck. Her eyes were soft and caring as they roamed over his face, searching for any sign of the boy she remembered.

  The boy that had been her first kiss years ago, before either of them knew what they were doing. His mind flashed back to that moment, of being eight years old and stuttering as he asked her if it was okay. He could still feel her lips on his—his had been chapped and hers covered in strawberry lip gloss that glittered and stuck to his lips after. It had been one of the happiest days of his life, and he would have liked to date her, but fate had other plans and she moved away that summer.

  Her family moved back a couple of years later, but the two of them had grown distant over the years, and they ran in different social circles now. But every once in a while, he would get a smile from her when passing by on the street, or he would catch a discreet glance from her when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. He had always thought they might end up together in the end, sort of like destined high school sweethearts that found each other again years later and made a go of things.

  Looking at her now as she beamed at him with tears in her eyes made him wonder if she had maybe thought the same thing. For a minute, he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her. He clasped her hand tightly and wanted to bring her even closer, but she kept her distance, taking her time to look him over. When she finally smiled, he felt a weight lift off of his chest and he sighed in relief. At least there would be one person aside from Lonnie that wouldn’t shame him and make him feel like a freak.

  “Corey, it is you,” she breathed, her voice low and thick with emotion. “I’ve heard whispers that you were here, but I didn’t think it was possible.” She stepped forward, closing the distance between them, and wrapped her arms around his waist, burying her face in his chest. “I’m so glad you’re alive.”

  …alive. Not okay. Alive…

  He tried not to let her word choice get the better of him, and instead chose to focus on the smell of her hair as she held him tight. He breathed in her scent, feeling like this might have been one of the best moments of his tragic life. With Miranda close, he didn’t feel so alone. He almost felt like things might be okay in the end, as long as he had her and Lonnie and Demarion to comfort him. He was beginning to see that things weren’t as bleak and hopeless as he thought after hearing that radio broadcast. Naomi was gone, but there was so much still here, and it was all because of Naomi.

  “Corey, what are you doing out here in the cold? You’re going to freeze!” She put her hands on her hips and glowered at him, daring him to argue with her. “You should at least have a coat. I can’t believe Lonnie would let you out of the house like this.”

  “I didn’t give her much time to argue,” he admitted. “I have something important I have to do, and it couldn’t wait.” Miranda stared at him silently, waiting for him to continue, and he sighed. “Did you hear the broadcast?”

  Miranda’s face fell, and she looked at the ground. “I did. I’m so sorry, Corey. I was so happy to see you I didn’t even stop and think how you must be feeling.”

  “It’s okay,” he said, not wanting the conversation to get bogged down by his emotions. “I want to do something to honor Naomi, and Lonnie told me I should talk to Jeffrey. He might be able to help me come up with something, and I wanted to see him as soon as possible. I want everyone to know how brave she was, that they owe everything to her.”

  Miranda smiled, but he could see the tears in her eyes and knew she was proud of him, even if her heart was breaking like his had. She gave his hand a squeeze and said, “I’ll go with you. I’ve known Jeffrey longer than you have, and I’m sure he’ll hear you out if I’m there with you. He’s never been a big fan of kids, but he’s always liked me,” she said with a proud smile.

  Corey was touched. Miranda had only been back in his life for a few minutes, and she was already sticking her neck out and trying to help him. She was still a true friend, even after years of them being apart. He looked at her again, truly noticing for the first time that she was growing into a beautiful young woman in his absence—nearly sixteen if he remembered correctly. She had always been a little older than Corey, but now that he had come back, he wasn’t sure if the gap was the same or if it had gotten even larger. Was he still fourteen?

  It didn’t matter, he decided. He had more important things to worry about right now than if Miranda was into younger guys or not. But when she offered him her arm, he trembled just a little as they brushed against one another, trying to keep the cold at bay. Together, they walked to the house he recalled from his childhood, and Miranda dragged him up to the front door, knocking with little hesitation. When the door opened and an older looking man poked his head out, Corey felt his heart slam into his chest and his palms grow sweaty.

  What do I say?

  Why hadn’t he practiced some kind of moving speech? Surely there was no shortage of powerful things he could say about Naomi that would make anybody want to help out. But they slipped his mind in this important moment, and Corey stood on Jeffrey’s porch, staring at him, his mouth gaping open like a fish. Miranda rolled her eyes and took the lead, which she had done often during their childhood.

  “Hi, Jeffrey. You remember Corey Carmichael, right? He wanted to come see you about something important.” She nudged him with her elbow, and he took a step forward, offering his hand. He wanted to die from embarrassment as it trembled, but Jeffrey took it all the same, pretending not to notice.

  “I do,” Jeffrey said.

  The years hadn’t exactly been kind to him. Corey noticed that his bushy eyebrows had grown untamed and threatened to take over his face, his hair was now fully gray instead of the darker blonde he remembered, and there was much more of him than in the past, particularly around the middle. Corey forced himself to lock eyes with Jeffrey, and silently prayed that his voice didn’t tremble as badly as his hand did.

  “Sir, I came to ask you for help.”

  “Is that so?” Jeffrey asked, letting go of Corey’s hand. He glanced at Miranda, his bushy eyebrows lifting until they joined in the middle of his forehead, looking like one long stretch of hair. Corey nearly smiled, but he remembered why he was here, and figured laughing might not go over too well with Jeffrey. So he bit his lip and clasped his hands behind his back, trying to keep himself centered and focused.

  “Did you hear that radio broadcast?” Miranda asked, her eyes wide. When Jeffrey nodded, he glanced over at Corey, his eyes lighting up with recognition.

&
nbsp; “That was our Naomi, wasn’t it?” he asked, his voice quiet. When Corey nodded, he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “I always knew that girl was destined for big things, but I never thought she’d save the world.” He smiled ruefully, his eyes meeting Corey’s. “I’m sorry for your loss. I hope you’ll take consolation from the fact that she was a true hero. We owe her a lot.”

  “Yeah, we do,” Corey said, shuffling his feet. “That’s kind of why I’m here. I wanna do something for her, but I don’t know where to start. My aunt Lonnie thought I should come talk to you, since you’re pretty good at building and designing things. I wanna build something that everyone will see, something that will show how much we appreciate what she did.”

  “You want a memorial shrine?” Jeffrey asked. “Hmm, I might be able to help you with something like that. Mind you, it won’t be the grandest thing there is, given our limits with resources. But I think we can figure something out that would make Naomi proud. Come on in, and we can start planning it out.”

  Corey smiled so widely his cheeks burned with the strain, and he followed Miranda and Jeffrey into the house. The three of them stayed up late that night, planning every aspect of the shrine that would honor Naomi. Eventually, Corey crashed on Jeffrey’s couch with the promise that they’d begin building in the morning. He smiled as he fell asleep picturing what the shrine was going to look like when it was all finished.

  I hope you like it, Sis…

  In the morning, Corey woke to a fresh mug of coffee in his face. He took it from a cheerful Jeffrey, who looked like he’d already had at least three cups. Or perhaps he hadn’t slept all night and was just manic, running on empty. It was hard to say.

  Corey sipped at the steaming beverage, wincing as the strong taste hit his tongue. He’d never been one for straight up coffee and had limited his caffeine to Mountain Dew and the occasional frappe from a fast food joint. But if the ache in his bones and the sandy feeling in his eyes was any indication, he was definitely going to need something stronger than water to get him through the day. He gulped the coffee down, shuddering as the taste lingered on his tongue.