Page 17

CHAPTER 16

Noah

I killed someone.

He was a dead guy already. But I took a step further and made sure there was no way he was coming back.

Something is wrong with me.

I’m used to feeling too much. But this is completely different. It’s like I’m standing in the middle of a storm, wind and rain lashing from every direction. My brain is chaotic, overwhelming—a stupid tangle of feelings colliding, twisting inside my head, each emotion denying that this was our new reality. How are the people who are dead just rising up again? I don’t understand. And it’s not like we have people to tell us anymore. How are we supposed to just accept that? How am I supposed to just accept that one day Mallory, Rue, and I were just getting ready for a party at the college to now running for my life? Where are Mallory and Rue? Did they make it to Florida? Did Mallory finally ditch those heels for something more practical in this world? Did Rue finally trust someone enough to survive?

So much of the unknown slips into my weakened brain, causing a whirlwind of emotions that I’m not ready to deal with.

So, doing what I do best when I can’t control my feelings, I shut down. I become silent and pick the mallet up. Not bothering to look at Reed because I know the moment I do, I’m bound to slip and fall apart.

I can’t afford to let myself feel. I refuse to let Reed see me like that. He’s a stranger, and I’d be damned if I let my emotions out in front of him. So, even if parts of me want to ask him to make me forget the horrors of killing someone, I don’t. I shove my hands into my pockets and pick the pace up. The next thirty minutes are going to kill me. I need to keep myself together until we reach the welcome center. When we get there, then I can allow myself a moment to fall apart. I just can’t do that with Reed hovering.

Unfortunately, the thirty minutes takes longer when you’re walking. My legs begin to feel like jelly when the building comes into view. I could jump for joy, but then my heart feels weighed down, muffled under the heaviness of what I had done.

“Almost there,” Reed says somewhere beside me.

I try to smile, but it’s faint, my emotions only stretching so far. This should make me happy, but everything else inside me is screaming to be let out. So I don’t say anything, and I just hope Reed doesn’t try to get me to talk.

Finally reaching the welcome center, we both keep our eyes peeled for any sudden movement. I pray we don’t; I don’t think I have it in me to kill someone again, not so soon.

The once-white building now is covered in mud and other bodily fluids. The door hangs open, the hinges almost rusted off.

“Stay behind me,” Reed orders. Nodding my head, I tighten my grip around the mallet. Stepping into the musty building, a squirrel pops its head up, eyeing us before it skitters over the floor and towards the women's bathroom. Maps are scattered over the floor with dirt and debris, and I swear I see a bloodstain out of the corner of my eye. My stomach cramps at the sight, uneasiness clawing at my insides.

“Noah?” Reed softly calls.

Blinking my eyes up, I’m met with Reed’s furrowed brows and concerned eyes. I shake my head and take a deep breath. Swallowing around the ball in my throat, I reach down to my hip and pinch myself as hard as I can. Focusing on the pain is better than breaking down right now. It would be just my luck that I’d be a crying mess, completely falling apart when a zombie attack happens.

Reed must understand because his eyes flicker to what I’m doing before meeting my eyes. I swear I see him give me a nod before turning around and continuing on through the main entrance.

I follow him towards the men’s room, his bat resting against his shoulder as if he’s ready to swing. I chew on my cheek as I stand by the entrance of the restroom while he goes down, peering into every stall. Neither of us talks or breathes as we check the women's bath next. After that we stood in the middle of the welcome center. I look everywhere but at him, unable to think of what I should or need to say.

“Stay here,” Reed grunts out. My brows furrow, my mouth opening and then closing. I’m about to demand he rethink who he’s speaking to before he gives me a hard look, and then he’s moving around me. I turn around, my hand tempted to grab him and make him sorry that he’s being such an asshole. But I don’t; something inside me stops me from doing anything but watching him walk towards a door. I’m not sure how I missed that door, but I blame it all on Reed.

Holding my breath, I feel my flight instinct taking over my fight. I’m not ready f–for that. I’m not. I can’t kill someone, not again. Not this soon.

But I don’t say that. Reed will know I’m weak, and not just like normal weakness. He’ll know I’m not some badass with a smart mouth. He’ll think what everyone else must think and what my parents think.

A wave of nausea creeps up my stomach, tightening around my throat. My body clams up; a cold sweat breaks out across my skin. And the closer he gets to the door, the more I instinctively clutch my stomach. My mouth waters uncontrollably, a bitter taste creeping up my throat. I take a deep breath, blowing it out of my mouth slowly. Trying anything to stop the bile from rising up further, but it’s too late. The narrowing fight is useless.

Stomach bile spews from my mouth all over the welcome center desk. Oh god, the sound, the mess coming out of me is embarrassing—that doesn’t even cover it. I’m too exposed. The instant I gag at the contents leaking out of my mouth, Reed's head snaps to me.

Breathing heavily, I rest my hands on my knees. Physical relief comes only moments before the embarrassment burns hot on my face. I slam my eyes closed, mortified that Reed just saw me throw up. I feel the lack of control slipping through my fingers. My eyes burn as I will myself not to cry. Trying to collect myself seems close enough to impossible. I think I'd rather drag myself through shards of glass. A nerve-wracking burn of humiliation burns over my body. I’m aware of Reed turning back around towards the door, his movement slow and steady.

I force myself to stand up and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve. From the corner of my eye, I watch Reed reach for the door handle, not daring to breathe as he twists and jerks the door open.

“Shit,” I breathe out when nothing but dust flies up. The closet is empty, and it dawns on me that I threw up from a panic attack. I force a shaky laugh out, awkwardly smiling at Reed.

“We’ll rest here tonight and hit the road at first light,” he announces not too loudly.

I nod my head. “Good, great. Awesome,” I’m making a fool of myself. As if I hadn’t just done that already. “Well, now that that's been settled, I’m gonna…” pointing towards the bathroom. “Yeah, I’m gonna go.” I barely get the last word out before I’m hiking up my invisible pants that must have fallen off and running towards the restroom.

* * *

I set my bag down on the bench outside the two bathroom shower stalls. Thankfully this welcome center must have also been a truck stop, because I’m in desperate need of a shower. I make quick work of shedding off my clothes and jumping into the freezing water.

While I was bougie in my old life—still am in other ways—I’ll take a cold shower over not having one. So even while I rather take my sweet time showering, I also refuse to die naked. I can’t imagine being in the nude when a zombie attacks. My options would be to try and fight the dead thing or run out and have Reed save me. Which will not happen. Worse than dying naked from a dead guy would be running into Reed while my dick is swinging around.

So unfortunately, while I would like to stay in the shower and reminisce about the good times, I need to focus and think logically. I also need to eat, brush my teeth, and sleep. Daylight is going to come before I know it, and I don’t function well on little sleep.

Stepping out of the stall, I make quick work of drying off and slipping on the extra clothes inside my bag. I should clean my week-old clothes, or at least try to. Biting my inner cheek, I think about it for a total of two seconds before needing some part of normalcy to win.

Dumping my dirty clothes into the sink, I pour some body wash over them and turn the faucet on. I don’t understand how in the olden days our grandparents washed clothes in the river because this sucks. I move the clothes around, watching the water turn from a light grey to almost black. Draining, I repeat the process until the water is mainly just light grey and I can somewhat see inside the sink.

“Well, fuck,” I mutter as it dawns on me that I have to hang these up to dry or try and use the hand dryer. I squeeze out as much water as possible before heading to the dryer, feeling even more irritated with myself. There's nothing embarrassing about needing to dry your clothes, but something in my brain tells me it is. I rush through trying to dry most of them before Reed walks in, even though I know the chances of him coming in here are slim. Close to nothing. It’s the women's bathroom for one, which is why I chose it, because I doubted he would come in here looking for me. But something I’ve learned about him is that he’s going to surprise me. When I think I know him just a little bit more, he does a one-eighty and shocks me.

So, there I stand looking stupid in my head, holding m?—

“Noah?” No, please don’t tell me… “What are you doing?”

I open my mouth to be smart with him; I mean, what does it look like I’m doing? But the words die in my throat. Reed stands there in his black jeans and thin grey t-shirt. His broad shoulders strain against the material. My mouth begins to water in a different way. I’m not dumb; Reed is attractive. He has this whole bad boy, don’t mess with me attitude. Which is probably the reason I do mess with him more than I should. But right now, my cock definitely notices how good he looks.

“I–I’m, well, what does it look like I’m doing?” I roll my eyes.

“Why?” Reed asks, crossing his arms over his chest. I swear I’m near drooling at the mouth. I need to get laid, preferably by him, but honestly anything but my hand would do.

“My clothes were gross; I—” I refuse to think about the fact zombie brain matter was on them. “Why are you in the women's bathroom?” I decided to ask instead. Anything to get my mind off begging to see his dick. I bet he has a massive package. My entire body heats at the sight of him.

“Noah, what did I say about the next time you stare at my dick?”

My eyes meet his and widen as he approaches me. I might have been staring a little too hard, but I didn’t think he’d notice.

“Reed,” I say, too loudly for my liking. I wince at the sound of my voice, horny from the lack of attention my dick has gotten lately.

His eyes narrow at me. And for some reason, while I should welcome this attention he’s giving me, I’m shaking my head, my clothes slipping from my fingers.

“Don’t Reed me,” he grunts out. His steps eat up the space between us a little too fast. My heart thrums in my ears at how close he’s getting. My entire body begins to tremble, a tingling at the base of my spine. Instead of dropping to my knees like I normally would have, I find myself growing tense.

“What did I tell you, Noah?”

I shake my head, not thinking clearly. I can’t remember what he told me he would do. It couldn’t have been good, not if he’s watching me with this murderous rage. Did he say he was going to kill me?

Oh god, he’s going to kill me. That was totally it. He said he was going to smite me, and now I’m never going to have the chance to see Rue and her feisty self again. I’m never going to see Mallory and her quick mouth but terrible self-awareness again.

“Reed, no.” I try to make my voice sound stern. Though I’m sure it betrays me because Reed acts like I’m a mouse and he’s a damn lion about to pounce and murder with his bare hands.

The sound of the dryer dies just as Reed stands within two feet of me. Taking this as my chance to get away, I make a poor attempt at a fist and swing. Of course my lack of survival skills should’ve told me to just make a run for it. I’m smaller and could—hopefully—run faster than him.

But the dude doesn’t even flinch or falter. A huff falls from his mouth; reaching forward, he smacks my hand away like it's a freaking fly.

Without a word he leans forward and grabs my shoulder. I blame the lack of oxygen in my brain for not kneeing him in the balls when he drags me towards him. Or scratch his eyes out.

“Ass—”

“You need to watch that mouth of yours, pretty boy.” Reed doesn’t give me a chance to say anything back before he’s fisting my hair and yanking my head back roughly. It also could be that my brain short-circuits around him calling me a pretty boy. I don’t think straight men just go around calling other boys pretty.

“Let me go,” I grit out. I feel too exposed, as if he’s reading me like a book. His eyes shift around my face, reading me.

“Now why would I do that?” Reed whispers. His fist tightens in my hair; my scalp stings from his grip.

“I’ll kill you,” I hissed. I know for a fact I won’t. Reed isn’t stupid enough, but if I had a mini breakdown because I killed an already dead person. I can’t imagine what kind of mess I would be in if I were to try to kill a living one, let alone Reed.

“What’s wrong, Noah? You’re obviously begging for attention; you’re nearly drooling at the mouth for it.”

I hate him.

I hate that he’s right.

I hate that he’s picking me apart and hitting the fucking nail on the head. I swallow, not missing when Reed’s eyes drop to my exposed neck. He knows what he’s doing to me. He can see every little detail on my face. I’ve never been good at hiding what I feel. And he knows it.

Suddenly I’m being spun around, my back hitting his chest as my hands are pinned behind me. My face hits the mirror; my hips lay against the sink. I go limp as I realize I’m bent over the sink.

“When I agreed to let you tag along, I didn’t realize I would be bringing a brat along. One that needs so much attention, one that begs for it,” he says, his voice low. I swear I stop breathing; everything inside my body freezes when I feel his hand touch the bottom of my shirt. I don’t move when the faint touch of his fingertips hits my stomach. Reed’s hand travels up past my stomach until he reaches my nipple. I’m already painfully hard, so I don’t even realize I’m trying to create some friction against the sink before he twists my nipple.

“AH, fuck!” I cry out. Pain shoots across my chest to my stomach.

“Hmm,” he hums, too close to my neck. My entire body breaks out in goosebumps, a tingle at the base of my spine.

“Fuck you,” I barely manage to get out.

“I did tell you the next time I caught you staring at my cock, I was going to bend you over and make you take it.”

He said… Oh shit . Of course he didn’t tell me he was going to kill me. And I freaked out for nothing. Shame washes over me, almost enough that my cock softens.

“I thought you were going to kill me,” I find myself mumbling.

“Hmm. There's more than just one way to kill someone,” Reed utters. He suddenly lets go of my hands and steps away. Humiliation hits me like a freight train, enough that I want to die right here.

What did I just get myself into?