Page 5 of Making Haven (Haven #1)

Devin

A door clicking shut is what wakes me. My body goes tense and I hiss through clenched teeth as I realize how fucking sore my body is. My ankle throbs with my heartbeat, pain lancing up over my knee. It takes me far longer than I care to admit to orient myself and realize where I am.

Fuck. Lawrence.

As much as fucking Lawrence might have sparked excitement in me before the entire world went to hell, right now I can’t help but think the phrase in a derogatory way. Fuck that vampire and his help. He’s gotta have some ulterior motive. There’s no way he’d help me just for the sake of helping.

Any time now he’s going to creep in here with his fangs bared asking to take a sip. I can’t think of another reason why he’d save me if not to have a taste.

“Morning,” a voice says softly and I carefully sit up, groaning as my muscles protest. Lawrence chuckles, the bastard.

“Whatever,” I say, running my fingers through my hair. I look over towards the window. It’s dark outside. I guess while I’ll be staying here, I’ll have to get used to my schedule being ass backwards. Up during the night and sleeping during the day, same as the zombies. Great.

“Or maybe I should say night. I found something for you.”

“What? Why?” There used to be a day I would marvel at being presented with a gift. Now I know what sort of strings come attached to things like this.

I look over at Lawrence, raising my brow at him. What the fuck is this dude’s game?

Despite my tone and demeanor, Lawrence gives me a small smile. “I thought you could use this to get around. I have a feeling you want my help as little as possible and this’ll help that,” he says, holding up a strong looking stick.

I quickly look away, doing my best to mask the shock I feel. Why did he go out of his way to find that for me? He must have been up earlier, getting outside as soon as the sun was down.

“What’ll it cost me?” I ask before I can think better of it, narrowing my eyes at him. “Just a little sucky suck?”

Lawrence’s jaw clenches. He throws the walking stick at me and it’s only the fact that I’m looking right at him when it happens that I have the awareness to put my hand up and bat it away before it hits me in the face. It clatters to the ground beside me.

“What the fuck?”

“First of all, don’t ever fucking call it sucky suck again. Second, fuck you. All I’ve done so far is help you and all you’ve done is be suspicious of me.”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like out there? Any time I’ve ever encountered another living person, I’ve been fucked over. Sorry that me being wary of you is hurting your feelings.”

Lawrence snorts but it’s not in amusement, more like a self-deprecating laugh, like he’s turning his nose up at me. “Lucky for you, I’m not a living person technically,” he says before storming out of the room.

I cross my arms over my chest. As much as I want to storm after him and tell him he’s an asshole, I know this one is on me.

He’s done nothing to warrant the amount of scorn I hold for him, but I can’t seem to let it go.

Having this mistrust is how I’ve kept myself alive so far. I can’t just shut it off!

“Fuck,” I whisper under my breath, scratching at the stubble on my cheek. “Fuck all of this.”

I carefully push myself to my feet, picking up my new walking stick as I go. Something funny stirs inside my chest as I place it under my arm and use it as a makeshift crutch. It’s the perfect height while being sturdy enough to hold my weight. It’s a lovely gift. Really thoughtful.

I might be a jackass.

I’m about to leave the room and hobble after Lawrence when I look at the table next to the couch. There’s a plate of food along with a pitcher of water.

Okay, yeah, I’m a total asshole.

I sit back down with a huff, digging into the scrambled eggs on the plate and sipping at the water.

I wonder how the fuck he’s got fresh water but put it at the back of my mind, telling myself I’ll ask him later.

I should really apologize. I can put up a wall around myself to keep myself safe but that doesn’t mean I can’t at least have basic manners towards Lawrence.

Noticing the little pills on the plate, I quickly swallow them down. Hopefully they help with the swelling and throbbing in my ankle. The sooner I can get walking on this thing, the sooner I can leave this place.

For just a moment, I let myself think about how nice it would be to stay. I could sleep on this comfortable couch, could keep myself warm by the fire, could finally stop being so goddamn lonely.

I know it’s only a dream, but what a nice dream it is.

It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed myself to think about anything other than what it takes to survive another day.

I don’t let myself hope, because the crushing disappointment of waking up in this shit world gets to be too much if I do.

But right now, just for a moment, I let myself picture what it would be like to simply be comfortable.

I take another sip of water, smiling to myself for the first time in… a long time. For just a moment, Iet myself hope that just maybe things are going to be okay.

Letting out a long breath, I let the moment pass. As much as I’d like to keep that hope alive, sometimes it’s better to expect the worst in everything and everyone, that way I can be pleasantly surprised.

“Oh,” Lawrence says softly when he steps back into the room. “You’re done eating. Good. Would you like to come outside with me? I’m going to attend to my chores.”

I stand up, leaning on my walking stick. I nod my head. “Yeah. That sounds good.”

“Good,” he says back before turning around and walking towards the entryway. He slips into his shoes before turning towards me. He lets out a sigh before kneeling on the floor and gesturing me forward.

“What?”

“Let me help you with your shoes. It’ll be quicker than watching you hobble around trying to do it yourself.”

“God, I hate you,” I grumble but there’s less heat in the words.

Lawrence just rolls his blue eyes before holding out my shoe expectantly. I quickly slide my good foot into the shoe, leaning against my walking stick so as not to put too much weight on my bad ankle. “Please don’t kick me in the head,” Lawrence murmurs and it surprises a smile out of me.

“I won’t. Not worth hurting my ankle for.”

“Good to know you have an ounce of self-preservation hidden in there somewhere.”

“Right next to the disdain and self-loathing.”

Lawrence is gentle as he helps my right foot into my shoe.

I have to look away, afraid I might do something foolish like blush at the gestures.

This is because I haven’t been around a kind soul in two years.

This has nothing to do with Lawrence and everything to do with me being a human so touch-starved that the slightest thing will have my heart aching.

“Ready?” Instead of answering, I nod my head and follow behind Lawrence as we step outside.

I didn’t have much time to look around yesterday.

That same eerie feeling clings to this place.

I’m reminded of those haunted houses that pop up during Halloween, like if I’m not paying attention a clown is going to pop out and try to jump scare me.

It’s dark out but my eyes adjust quickly, making everything grayscale which only adds to that sinking feeling in my gut.

The house that Lawrence stays in is clearly lived in.

Everything is taken care of down to the lawn while the other houses look abandoned.

It’s strange, like maybe he didn’t have the heart to clean up his neighbors’ houses.

If this was even his neighborhood before everything went down.

For all I know, he came upon this place and made it his own after the zombies started wreaking havoc.

Movement to my left has me tensing up, but I let out the breath I was holding as I realize it’s a chicken. They make a little noise as they step over to us.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Lawrence says in a cooing voice, squatting down to pet the chicken before standing back up and heading towards the back of his house. I take one more look around before following behind, much slower.

The chicken follows behind Lawrence as well and warmth fills my chest in a way that I haven’t felt in a really long time. The sight reminds me of a lost duckling following their mother, or maybe an excited puppy. I almost find myself smiling. Almost.

Lawrence makes his way over to a big hole that’s surrounded by a barrier of large rocks. I lean over the rocks and look down, realizing it’s a well.

“Did you make this yourself?”

“Mhmm,” Lawrence hums, carefully tossing a bucket down into the well before pulling it back up by a rope. “I needed some supply of water and relying on it raining regularly wasn’t working so I made this.”

“Huh,” is all I can think to say in response.

Thankfully, he doesn’t seem to need any reply from me.

He goes about his chores, releasing the bucket from the rope before bringing it along as he moves to what I can only describe as a large dog house.

It’s clearly handmade as well. There’s a bucket on the ground outside of it that he tips over before refilling.

The chicken that’s been following him quickly shoves her head into the bucket, drinking.

There’s a few clucks from inside the doghouse, letting me know there’s more chickens inside. The house only comes to Lawrence’s armpits and I quickly realize why it was built that way.

Lawrence takes the roof away before getting on his toes and digging through the house, pulling eggs from under the chickens and placing them in the pockets of his hoodie. He murmurs as he goes, soothing the chickens trying to sleep.

“Okay,” he says, putting the roof back on the coop. He smiles as the chicken that’s been following him runs into the coop. “I’m going to put this bucket back and then put the eggs away in the house. After that we can take a look at these other houses. Wanna meet me out front over on the street?”

Instead of speaking, I nod my head. Lawrence gives me a look before he’s shaking his head and taking off towards the well.

I hobble my way towards the front of the house.

I’m still waiting for the other shoe to drop.

There’s no way Lawrence is that sweet to his chickens.

Maybe he uses them to perform weird blood rituals or something.

God, why am I like this? Why can’t I just accept that not everyone left in this depressing world is out for themselves and willing to shit on anyone in their path?

Once I get to the front of the house, I look up and down the road.

If I followed the road to the right, it would lead me out of this gated community.

Across the street is another house, and then there’s a handful of houses to my left on either side of the street which opens into a wide circular shape.

I close my eyes and lean against my walking stick, picturing what it would have been like to live here a few years ago.

Did kids play street ball in this wide cul-de-sac?

Did they have pick up football games in the street?

Did families have regular BBQ parties? Did one of these families think about installing a pool so they could have all their neighbors over?

I can barely remember what life like that was like anymore.

“Alright,” Lawrence says, his voice bright as he comes to stand beside me. “Are you thinking the house across the street? Or maybe the one next to mine? Or would you rather check out some of the ones further down the way?”

I nod towards the house beside his own, the chicken coop between the two. “How safe is this place? Despite it being night, I don’t hear a single zombie.”

“It’s double-fenced,” Lawrence says, gesturing towards the giant white fence that surrounds the entire area.

“This one is a bit more decorative I’ll admit but there’s a larger, stronger fence around the entire place at the bottom of the hill.

I also have traps between the two fences.

Once a week I go around the outside fence and kill anything lurking around.

I put up little wind chimes that attract them all into one place, making it easier for me to kill them. ”

“Like shooting fish in a barrel,” I say without thinking.

“Exactly.”

Lawrence steps onto the porch, jumping on the steps to test that they’re not rotted and I follow behind. “Did you always live here?”

“I was incredibly privileged growing up. My father was part of an oil company so he came from old money. When he died, I got everything including his fortune and this house. I was the youngest person in this entire neighborhood.”

My image of this place morphs into something else. Instead of kids running around regularly, they’re here on the weekend visiting their grandparents. Instead of pool parties, there’s extravagant dinner parties and after-dinner cigars on the back porch.

I hum, letting Lawrence know I’m listening.

“Everyone here had money so when all this shit started happening, they all flew to different parts of the country. Most of them went to visit family. A few went to their vacation homes. I doubt any of them are still alive though,” he says the last part with a shrug.

He’s holding himself back, trying not to show me how he really feels about that but I can tell he’s upset.

“Are you sure it’s okay for me to move into one of these?” I ask before clearing my throat and adding, “until my ankle is better, that is.”

Lawrence puts on a smile but I can tell it’s fake. “No worries. It’s not like they’re coming back for it. I think they’d rather it be put to good use even if the occupant is a dickface.”

I roll my eyes and push past Lawrence. “Well? Shall we?”

He lets out a long breath before nodding and pushing open the door. I swallow thickly, I step inside.