home. Those images were replaced immediately by the haunting vision of Jackson standing at the top of that skyscraper, or her stomping her boot down on her brother’s neck.
“You’re so fucking brave,” he whispered. “I have no idea how you made it here.”
Her grip on his arm tightened and his chest with it. The minutes ticked by and he thought about everything, playing it all over in his mind. Him. Her. Their journey. He even found himself thinking about Tye and wondered if Jackson had been as elusive and independent with him, whether she had even told him her skyscraper story. Luke suspected not. It was the person she was… no, he amended, the person she had become.
In his mind’s eye he could easily imagine Jackson as she must have once been. Her long dark hair running down her back. Her body all curvy, a smile on her face as she served drinks and wrote down her orders. She’d told him how much she missed her iPod and he could see her striding along the street, the headphones in, oblivious to the world around her. It pained him to think she would never be oblivious to anything ever again. Neither of them would be.
She mumbled again in her sleep and he looked down to see a frown chase across her brow. Even in the darkness her skin was very pale, her lashes fanning across the dark smudges underneath her eyes, and her lips were settled into their customary frown. Yet, still, she was so pretty to him. Too pretty, maybe? It surprised Luke how much he felt for her already. They were so unlike each other, both of them having responded to this new world in such different ways. He knew that essentially he was the same person he had been two years ago. Sure he was tougher, maybe a little meaner, maybe even a little harder—but when it came right down to the nitty-gritty he was still Luke. Still the mechanic who missed his family and wished every single day that things were different. If Jackson’s idea of a world without zombies was real, he knew it wouldn’t take much for him to slip back into the person he’d once been. It would be like putting on an old coat, familiar and comfortable. No trouble at all.
But the more he considered it, the more he didn’t think it would be that way for Jackson. She was good at this life—odd though that might sound. Her skill at beheading the dead was a thing to behold. Nothing interfered with her actions, no emotions, no hesitation. She took the dead down one after the other and didn’t even pause. Of course, now he understood why.
The lack of food, the lack of warmth, none of it fazed her, not in the way it did him. This existence suited her and he wondered how much she’d had to change to make it that way, or whether the person he knew had been in the person that was her all along.
“Who are you, really, Jackson?” he whispered. “And why is it so important to me that I find out?”
She mumbled some more, shifted against him, and he would have held her a little closer, comforted her in her sleep, but a noise outside caught his attention and he paused. Slowly he swiveled his head and watched as four zombies, illuminated by the moon’s light, walked up the deserted street. Though maybe walked was the wrong way to describe it. It was more that they sort of stalked.
He checked his weapons slowly, carefully, and was relieved to find them exactly where they should be. Energy was coursing through him and he had to force himself to sit perfectly still.
They groaned as they moved, snapped at one another and bared their teeth. The rain didn’t seem to bother them at all, even though two of them were naked. Luke wondered if they even felt the cold, or whether that sensation was long since gone. It was an abstract wonder, though. In truth, he didn’t really care.
“They’re outside aren’t they?”
Her whispered words against him were soft on his skin and Luke sighed, craning his neck slightly as the zombies started to move out of view.
“How did you know?”
“I just did.”
“You haven’t slept for long.”
“I know, but now is the time to get moving. How many are there?”
“Four.”
“That’s four less on the road. Let’s move while we can.”
Luke frowned and eyed the disappearing zombies. Wondering what they were stalking, if anything. Who knew what the hell they were up to anymore? The bastards. What he did know was that Jackson had barely rested, that she was as tense as anything and he did not like it. He wanted her to rest some more. He wanted her to just take a whole day or a night or fucking something to escape from it. She wouldn’t though.
“Jack—”
“Andrew and Peter,” she whispered.
“Huh?
“I just dreamed about them,” she said with a sigh. “It all comes out in my dreams. The first zombie. My brothers. Those were their names. Andrew and Peter, and really in the end, I guess you could say, I killed them both.”
He shook his head instantly, and pulled her closer. “Jack, you didn’t.”
“I did,” she whispered, and he felt her tremble ever so slightly in his arms. “You wanted to know, so here it is. They went out to find supplies and only one came back. He was already infected. I had no choice but to kill him. I almost didn’t…I almost let him eat me…”
“He’d have killed you.”
“I know,” she sighed. “So I killed him instead, moral dilemma number one, and who knows what happened to Peter? I never found him.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” he said, even as he imagined how awful that moment must have been for her. He supposed, in a way, he should almost be grateful that his parents hadn’t been waiting for him, waiting to
“I know that,” she whispered. “But all the hundreds I’ve killed? They were all someone’s brother, someone’s sister, someone’s kid. One after the other and after the other. I don’t even know how I do it, Luke. I was never tough before, but the moment Mandy is in my hand I just kill them. Nothing stops me.”
“We do what we have to.”
“And does that make it—”
The screeching noise that filled the air had only one obvious source and Jackson stopped speaking immediately. They were both instantly still and he relaxed his arms so that Jackson could lift Mandy, poised and ready without so much as a noise.
“The front door,” she whispered and he nodded.
“Quickly.”
Another screech and Jackson lifted herself off him carefully, her shadowed face settling into the familiar lines. He stood too, and swiveled around as quietly as possible, before leading the way forward and down the spiral staircase to their escape route. Another screech followed by the sounds of glass breaking and they both ran. The zombies were pushing the table out of the way, but now that the window was broken they would likely just climb through the gap, not caring if they broke their skin or bones while they were at it. He scowled, even as his heart pumped double time.
How had they found them? Had they circled back around while Jackson was confessing her secrets? The questions clicked through his mind in a mere second and he tightened his grip on his ax.
“Quick, Luke,” Jackson hissed and he felt her bump against him.
A howl sounded, followed by another, and Luke gave up all pretensions of stealth. He kicked through the front door and ran straight out into the rain…and one of them. Clawed hands grabbed at his arm, teeth snapped, and Luke used his ax to simply bash rather than cut, catching the zombie hard on the face.
A screech, a howl, and the zombie reared back, allowing Luke to swing the ax properly. It embedded itself in the zombie’s chest, and remembering Jackson’s advice from the pool room, all those days ago, Luke pulled upward. His ax tore through the zombie’s chest and came out at the neck. From there it was easy to pull it free and swipe once more, removing the head. It rolled across the floor, the body hitting the wet street with a nasty squelching noise.
Luke turned quickly and spotted Jackson by a large Dumpster, two zombies were closing in on her and he ran forward, desperate to ensure she was okay.
“Get the car,” she shouted and he gaped. She thought he’d just leave her?
“No fucking way!”
