Page 19 of Creepy (The Zombiepidemic #1)

With too many questions running through my mind, I stuffed the letter back into the envelope.

Dillon may not have fabricated the letter, but the thing was evil.

I shut it up in the drawer, not wanting to look at it anymore.

Just another cruel twist to this timeline, like the virus and the zombies.

I drew one knee up into the chair and hugged it to me.

Reminded of slipping into insanity while Papa and I watched the national news, and they confirmed the first zombie, I fought off the dreadful reflections.

So many times I’d believed I’d essentially died, and this was my hell.

Because how could any of this be real? At first, I’d had the others, a town full, Mrs. Dean and my Papa.

Then eventually I was the only one left.

Too many lonely days ran together as I was the sole resident of Creepy until the Stayers found me.

When they presented me to Dillon, of all people, that had been the ultimate cruel joke indeed.

What level of hell was I in now?

My mind fluttered back to the letter. Why would my Papa hide it?

To his credit, he didn’t know what it said.

Why didn’t Dillon say anything after the tabloids caught him in Florida with another woman and I confronted him and told him it was over?

Why didn’t he explain? And why did Dillon suddenly want me to know, now, after all this time?

The wall I’d built around all my feelings for Dillon came crumbling down. A tear trickled down my cheek for what could’ve been if only I’d gotten this letter.

As quick as the sentiments for my ex came rushing in, I grabbed a brick and started stacking.

The realization hit me. Dillon could’ve said something if the woman they caught him with in Florida was in reality his kin.

I remembered the moment I saw their picture on the front page of the SUN.

Recalling how it’d made me feel overwhelmed me, shattering me anew.

They had spotted the two of them at some posh country club, by the pool with drinks, laughing.

The paper claimed they were lovers. Inside there were more photos and convincing accounts.

What was worse, the papers catching Dillon with another woman had seemingly confirmed their negative commentary on me.

I was just some country bumpkin nobody who didn’t deserve Dillon after all.

In a rage, I had called his landline in Alexandria and left a message.

The next day he returned my call, and I let him have it.

Who could blame me? There was no denial on his part.

He didn’t explain a thing. I said we were over and all he said was that he understood.

Ugh, I didn’t have time for a stroll down memory lane.

Taking the bottom of my shirt, I wiped the tears away.

After all, our breakup felt like a million years ago.

Enough had happened since to fill ten years at least. Once the epidemic started, each day felt like a year.

Everything we’d counted on our entire lives was no longer certain.

All that mattered at the moment was Dillon and the Stayers had Troy.

A light bulb turned on over my head. Did Dillon want me to know about the letter now because he thought Troy and I were together?

Would he seriously stoop so low as to keep this information to himself until it could cause the most harm?

Yes, that was in line with the man Dillon was now.

Callous, unfeeling. Vindictive. I knew damned well one reason Dillon let me stay in Creepy was because I was all alone here.

He wanted me all to himself. That may not be the case if I joined the Stayers or if other survivors started showing up in this town.

That explained the odd talk of us getting married the other day.

Like I’d forget months of him blackmailing me for sex and marry the guy.

My anger propelled me off my butt. I waddled back to the couch and lost the boot.

I’d have to put some weight on it today, because I’d have to use my right foot to drive to Alexandria later tonight.

Whirling my foot around, I noticed it didn’t hurt as bad since whatever Mabel gave me kicked in.

But my head was swimming, too. My eyes heavy, I felt the other effects of the medication.

It wouldn’t hurt to nap for a bit. I wanted to leave as soon as the sun started setting as to miss whatever patrol Joey planned.

Not to mention, it was unwise to travel alone at night.

Hours until sunset, I had plenty of time to rest.

I dreamed of the days before the pandemic, of ice cream and Mardi Gras.

The crowds of people all packed together on Bourbon Street like cattle.

I was in the middle of them surrounded by beads, hats, jazz.

I gazed up to see people hanging over the balconies.

Then, I was back in college, I guess, because I was afraid of missing class.

Naked as my mother made me, I walked into embarrassment, but the class was full of the undead.

I woke up sweating, and that was before I noticed the pitch black of the room.

Geezus. How long did I sleep? Sitting up, I was reminded of my aching foot.

Carefully putting pressure on it, I tried walking to the window.

It hurt like hell, but I could apply a bit of weight.

Hopefully, enough to press the gas pedal until I could hit cruise on the highway.

Sighing, I drew up the blinds, knowing it was way past dusk.

Pushing the dial on my watch made it glow green, revealing the time, nine pm.

A light outside caught my eye. A flashlight.

That was dumb and must have been the guard my brother promised.

The light would only draw the zombies near.

I knocked on the window to get the person’s attention.

The noise could draw them too, but I had no choice.

The orb of light bobbled in my direction.

I kept gently tapping as they made their way toward me until they were on the porch in front of the window.

Wade lit up his face like he was about to tell a ghost story. I went to the door and unlocked it.