Page 27 of Desiderium (Devil Dogs of the Apocalypse #2)

“You’re always singing. I love it. How can you possibly be happy like that all the time? Weren’t you just being chased by zombies? Aren’t you afraid? Like, ever?”

“My life is a playlist, sweetheart. I just dance to the tunes as they come.” He smiles and continues to stroke the oar in time with me.

“Plus, in times like this, it helps keep me focused. It’s like a cadence.

If you get tired, or worn down, you can focus on the cadence and drown out the aches, pains and exhaustion. ”

I scrunch my nose thinking about how that could possibly work. If I’m in pain, I’m going to be in pain unless I get some sort of relief. That’s all there is to it.

“Think of it like a meditation,” Cole chimes in quietly, turning his head around to peek at us.

His exhaustion becoming more and more noticeable as our journey across the lake progresses.

“You set your breathing pattern to it, your steps, whatever you want, to the beat of the song and it helps you keep that pace, even when you think you’re about to fall out. ”

I can see that. Over the past few months, Cole has been teaching me how to ground myself. One of the things we’ve been doing is meditating. Another is shibari—the Japanese art of rope tying/ bondage.

I remember having a really bad day over the winter.

Between the nightmares, hallucinations, and then the zombie attack, I couldn’t get a grip on anything.

Reality was a far cry from where I was mentally.

I was spiraling in an overwhelming state of anxiety.

When simple meditation didn’t work to calm my impending panic attack, Cole suggested another option.

There was something about the way the ropes constricted everything, causing my breathing to slow incredibly.

Eventually, it was like I was flying. Nothing else mattered in the world.

Not the nightmares. Not the hallucinations.

Not the anxiety. Just me, my breathing and the tight grip of the ropes tethering me to the world. It’s almost indescribable.

Looking at Cole, I wonder if he’s using his own methods to keep himself from passing out.

I’m surprised he’s managed to stay awake this long, to be honest. Between the lack of blood, the overabundance of trauma, and the overall long day, I’d be knocked out, snoring like crazy, even on the boat, but no, he’s still conscious.

It makes me worry even more now. Is he trying to stay awake because he’s afraid of falling asleep?

Or am I overthinking things and he just wants to stay alert?

Or maybe he’s giving himself the Zen treatment, attempting to slow his heart rate and the progressing damage.

Maybe it’s a mixture of the three? My mantra comes barreling back into the forefront of my mind, forcing me to remember Cole’s words from earlier.

‘Why worry about something that isn’t set in stone.’

I nod. “Ok, I guess that makes sense, then.” I think of the song Hawk chose as his rowing cadence earlier. “Was that what you were doing before?”

He quirks a smile at that. “Yes, ma’am. ”

“Why that song?”

“What are you talking about? Clarence Carter wrote a masterpiece with that one,” Hawk states unabashedly.

Cole chuckles slightly. “It’s ‘cause he’s got a perpetual hard-on for you, beautiful, and is always stroking it to you.”

“Uh, damn straight, cox! Of course, I’m gonna stroke it day and night to our goddess of a woman. Have you fucking seen her?!”

“Cox?” Cole questions, breathing heavier than he was just minutes ago.

His words raspy as he continues. “What the fuck, man? Who calls somebody that? At least get creative and call me a hobbledehoy, or a douche-baguette. Shit, you could even get fancy and call me a maladroit, or, fuck, a Bieber or something. Those would have been properly offensive, not some schoolyard laziness sprouting from a toddler’s mouth.

” Cole smiles even as his face turns a grey ashy color.

“Dude, look at where you’re slumped over. You’re in the cox box at the front of the boat. It’s fucking literal, ya douche canoe. And you were in the Navy! Fucking shameful.” Hawk shakes his head and laughs even though it doesn’t fully reach his eyes.

Their back-and-forth bashing makes me smile as I take another stroke of the oar.

It’s as if everything is as it always has been and how it should be.

But I remind myself, that’s just Hawk. It’s what he does.

He takes a shitty situation and turns it around on its head until everyone is laughing again.

Even though I know we’re all thinking the same thing, he’s managed to take our focus off of the doom and gloom and placed it on him and his humor.

It fixed the somber mood... at least for the moment.

If only it could fix everything...

* * *

As Hawk finishes up his latest rendition of Come Sail Away by Styx, complete with a fully blown case of laryngitis, we finally hit the shore at the other side of the lake. It’s been a little over an hour and my arms are about to fall off my body but we all made it here in one piece.

One by one we stumble out of the boat, onto land and take a look around. Well, Hawk, Sadie and I stumble out of the boat, while Cole, refusing to let either of us help him, sort of rolls out from the side, landing with a raspy grunt and a barely audible, “Fuck that hurt.”

I lean down to check on Cole but he waves me off, turning to get on all fours as he takes a few stabilizing breaths. I know he can’t walk, not with his ankle looking the way it does, so I take a seat next to him and look around while he catches his breath.

“Do you see him?” I ask Hawk. Jax is supposed to meet us here but I don’t see any sign of him yet .

Hawk does a visual sweep of the property. It’s about as large as Jax’s estate and surprisingly also lacks any form of a dock. But unlike his, it’s happily lacking any undead presence, which makes me breathe a sigh of relief.

I’ve officially hit my quota of zombie fuckery today, thank you.

There’s a slight hill that makes up the entirety of the backyard, meeting the gritty sand that makes up the beach.

Thankfully, it’s nothing too steep. I can only assume it was built up just enough to combat the rise and fall of the lake.

There are a few wooden deck chairs near the water and a gazebo further back between the beach and the house.

I’m not sure if the owners are still around, but this place must have been great for gatherings.

It’s secluded, inviting and absolutely gorgeous.

Hawk takes a moment to scan the property once again before turning back around, shaking his head.

“No sign of him yet. At least, not that I can see from here. Let’s move in closer, he might be around the front or inside for all we know.

” He waves his fingers at Cole in a come-hither motion.

“Come on Long Dong Silver, I’ll be your pegleg.

” Hawk wraps his arm around Cole, helping him up off the sand and together we walk up the grassy slope beyond the beach.

“I’ll pass on the pegging for now but thanks man. Raincheck,” Cole replies, earning a few laughs from us in return. Unfortunately, the slight rise of humor only lasts so long as we observe him on the move.

His breath is reduced to short whisps, now.

He’s absolutely exhausted, barely able to move one foot in front of the other.

We all look it, but him especially. His body’s been through a lot and needs immediate rest. The time spent on the swimming dock doesn’t count.

We’re wet, cold and his wounds still haven’t been properly cared for.

I just hope Jax is here and ready to go so we can remedy that sooner rather than later.

We round the front of the house and still don’t see Jax. Just a vacant driveway, a bunch of overgrown bushes, dead undisturbed leaves scattered along the entryway, and a fuck-ton of garden gnomes.

Creepy ass fuckers...

“Where the hell is he?”

He should have been here by now. He’s been gone for hours. Granted, part of that was spent wading in the water for Hawk to draw the undead off of his property, but still. We had to row across a lake for crying out loud. He had a truck and, maybe twenty miles to drive. Did something happen?

Just then, movement catches the periphery of my vision and a startled gasp escapes my lips.