Read Breach (The Blood Bargain) Online

Authors: Macaela Reeves

Breach (The Blood Bargain) (14 page)

“Off to see that boyfriend of yours first? Honestly, I wish you would hurry up and marry him.  Another winter of you pouting about the house is going to kill me.”

“Dad!”  My reply was more of a whine than a huff.  I wasn’t about to start listing all the reasons why his statement was wrong.  Cole had definitely not been the source of my pouting. Sure I had missed the big guy a ton and that was where I was headed, I just...wasn’t ready for more of his marriage talk I suppose.  The lingering tremors
Dimitri had left in my mind made the whole subject feel morbidly wrong.  About as wrong as to why I had them, but that was another ball of wax entirely.  I had brought my hand up to my throat, fingering the angel pendant that had been my mothers.  Something that become a tell in my opinion that I didn’t like the topic.

As quickly as I could muster without looking obvious, I dropped my hand back to my side.

“Either way I want you to know I still approve of him.  Damn fine young man you got.” My father wrapped me into a quick hug.

“Yeah.  I do.”  Apparently when it came to Cole my vocabulary was severely throttled.

With a pat on the back, Dad left me alone and wandered downstairs, his loafers clapping loudly against the wood.

Before I changed into fresh clothes, I put myself through a quick exercise routine. Sit-ups, Squats, Push-ups.  Then a ten minute yoga cool down; warrior pose being my favorite.

In the hard winter one thing had become increasingly clear about my body, it had rebounded. The pain in my legs was gone, rehab complete.  I felt...new.  Strong.  Agile.  Most important of all, able. No longer did I feel like a liability, someone who needed coddling.  Someone who would slow the group down in a pinch.  Not that I was destined to get in a pinch in the foreseeable future.

Dressing quickly in my little room, I threw on a thick pair of jeans and a grey thermal with white and black angel wings printed on the back.  The color had faded, but it was still one of my favorites; warm enough to not need an over shirt, tight enough not to worry about grabbers.  I paused at that thought as I slipped on my socks, not that I had to worry about grabbers much now did I?  I was going to sit in a stuffy office all day, planning parties and crops.

“You’re not a suit, you're a soldier.”  I shook my head to loose Rylie’s words while I laced my boots.  Damn him, damn his words.  I was where I was supposed to be.  Where my father, my community needed me.              So why did it make me feel so...empty?  Did I truly relish in the gruesome deaths of the already dead, or was there something else.  Some more primal defense instinct that pulled me back to the fight.

With a groan, my eyes landing on my own face staring back at me from my antique mirror. Maybe I really was damaged.  I didn’t feel it, didn’t look it.  I still had the same big green eyes I always had, my sculpted brow, and my ever growing mess of mahogany hair.  Then again, do the insane truly acknowledge their own lack of sanity?  No, I’m sure they just go about their merry little way in the cocoon of the world they have created for themselves within their minds.

Yeah that’s I chastised myself.
  Wasting no time enough of that Liv.  , I took the stairs two at a time on my way down.  Telling myself it was just a combination of cabin fever, being a repeat luncheon for Caius and my worry for Dimitri turning me into a blithering mess of confused drama.  Fresh air and sunshine were the two glorious creations I needed more than anything at the moment.

As I didn’t pass anyone on the first floor on my way for the door, I could only assume they were already all outside.  A guess that was confirmed as truth soon as my boots hit the concrete.  The twins already had pulled all sorts of yard toys out of the garage, Mark was helping Tyler on his bike while Candice and Zoe played catch with Max.  I just stood there for a moment, a living statue, watching life play out in that carefree way it did around children.  Their laughter, so sweet and innocent, Marks playful encouragement, Zoe and Candice’s pretty church bell giggles.  It was like watching a Hallmark card.  Walking towards them I felt refreshed, taking a deep breath of the pleasant spring air.  It was over, our horrible caged period of hibernation gone for yet another year.  In its wake came spring and all the promises of new beginnings, new life against all odds.  In the fall, due to a combination of our caged period and
fall out from the spring festival, there would be newborns.  Each one heralded as a momentous achievement against our extinction.


Livvy catch!”  Max squealed when I was in range, his perfect little angel face spread into a wide grin, thick brown hair a tousled mess.

The red plastic ball flew high into the air and slightly to the left, two quick steps to the side I caught it, with a theatrical effort of course.

“Right back at you Maximillions.”  I announced, lightly tossing the object back in his direction.  My heart swelling as he caught it with both hands, turning to throw it to his mother. I kept telling myself I needed to leave and go find Cole, but the simple innocence of the spring morning was too enthralling for me to pull away.  Robin’s chirped overhead in agreement as a light breeze wove through us, carrying the red ball slightly left as it sailed from Zoe to Candice. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I stifled a giggle as Candice fumbled with the catch.  This was what life was about; tranquility, family and-

A scream ripped down the street.  A blood curdling, horrified scream that ended as quickly as it had begun in the morning light.

My feet were flying towards it without a thought, from the shouting behind me Mark was rounding up his family and getting them back in doors.  Someone yelled for me to join them, but I was already in motion.

The sound originated west of my position, towards Fifth Street.  Rounding the corner to the next block I saw heads poking out of doors in confusion, others who had heard that horrible sound as well.

“Get back inside.”  I managed to spit out as I ran, last thing we needed was civilian gawkers in a pinch.  I think I heard a door shut behind me, I wasn’t about to turn around and confirm.  My eyes were focused solely on finding the source of the distress, legs pumping at full speed.

I was half a block away when I saw something out of the ordinary.  Something I hadn’t seen in months, a scene that took me back to a battered graveyard of a city with the scent of decay in the air.  A sky thick with flies and the aura of death.

How the hell?

The front door on a brick bungalow was wide open. About three paces down from the front steps was a horror that didn’t belong within our walls.  A deadhead was bent over a woman, blood poured from her throat where the thing was chewing on her. Wounds marred her left arm, as though she had tried to put up a fight, it hadn’t worked though.  Through lifeless she stared up at the blue sky, her mouth slack in a frozen expression that was almost peaceful considering what was occurring to her vacant flesh.

The thing was so enthralled in its meal it hadn’t noticed my shuffled approach.  On impulse I reached over my back for my bow.

It wasn’t there.  I was a civilian now.  No reason to be
armed in town right?

Shit.  I had some time though, it was preoccupied, I could find something around in peripheral.  Maybe one of the terracotta pots at the end of the drive could be used to another moan brought my eyes up.

A mangled version of Jeff Arnold lurched through the open front door, I knew it was him based on the flannel shirt and cargo pants.  No one else in town sported that kind of mismatch with pride.  Still it was a look I had given him a hard time about when I passed him at the Garage. Sadly, his poor clothing was about the only thing left on him that was easily identifiable; his jaw was practically detached, skin peeled back off his face exposing the bone of his cheeks and forehead, there was a dinner knife sticking out of his shoulder and his left foot dragging, turned out at a forty five degree angle.

In seconds the sound morphed into a choir, there were two more behind him.  I couldn’t make them out aside from arms attempting to get around the slow mover that blocked the doorway.

No bow, no time...

On a prayer I dug into my boot, praying my habit of tucking my-

Yes!

My hand wrapped around the rubber handle of my short knife.  I pulled it up into the open air, the silver of the blade reflecting the warm sun in rays across the pavement.  Out of sheer habit I had shoved it in my boot, probably while I was chastising myself for
Rylie’s comments.

I needed to strike often and fast.  The feeder was the first in my path but occupied.

However, that wasn’t a constant.  He could ankle grab or jerk up at any moment.

In a quick dash I sprinted forward, kicking the feeder in the side of the head with as much force as I could put behind my steel toed boot.  Twice.  It’s bloody face
turning to mush underneath the impact.  The woman underneath would have to likewise be dealt with,  I had sometime before she turned though.

The remains of Jeff Arnold were almost within arm’s reach.  With no time to think I went with the classic defensive kill motion we had learned on guard training day one.  Crouch down under extended limbs, thrust up with knife inside the grab zone.  It worked like a charm, the hilt pushing through the soft skin underneath the dislocated jaw back into the brain, its blood didn’t pour from the wound, it came out in a cold almost black ooze that smelled like well fermented compost.  Stifling a gag, I pulled back my weapon from the thing as it crumpled.

Revealing the smaller female that had been right on his heels.

It grabbed at me, jaw snapping.

My heart jumped in my chest, the other one was trying to reach around its comrade with its one working arm.

I took a step back and tripped over the body of the woman, falling backward onto the pavement with the deadhead on top of me, grabbing it by the neck I pushed up, trying to keep its teeth away.

A loud metallic thud rang out behind me.  Something fell to the ground by my feet.  I didn’t register what it was, there was nothing on my mind aside from the blackened teeth foul breath inches from my face.

Then the dead on top of me stopped moving, a small hatchet stuck in the side of its skull. I pushed it off of me before it had the opportunity to bleed all over me.

A small crowd had gathered around the house.  An older man I had seen around town was holding a bloodied shovel near the door.  We didn’t cross paths much, he tended to work, church and little else if memory served.

“Are you alright?”  A woman asked me, helping me to my feet.  Dark hair, oval face. Beth.  It was Beth, mother of Jake from my class.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”  I looked around at all the worried faces that were collecting around the perimeter.  Everyone clutching loved ones, baseball bats or some version of both. Who could blame them?  We hadn’t had an outbreak inside the wall in...well since the wall went up.

“How many people lived in this house?”  I asked no one specifically.  I figured the more authoritative I acted, the calmer the crowd would remain.

“Five.”  The guy with the shovel answered.

“We’ve got three here.”  I muttered a curse staring at the open doorway.  Odds were there were two more shambling around inside ready to wreak havoc.  That was if they hadn’t ambled out the back and were causing problems elsewhere.

“Come with me?”  I asked the one who had answered me.  He had sweat on his brow despite the slight spring chill.  He responded with a quick nod.

“Rest of you keep your guard up, get those kids inside!” I barked at the doe eyed crowd.

“Clyde went after the wall guards.”  Beth’s even voice chimed in.

“Good.”  Not waiting though. I thought to myself.

“Let’s go in.”  I pegged my shovel savoir with a hard glare, trying to put the seriousness of the situation in one look.  “Watch my back okay?”

“Yeah.”  He replied, tightening his grip on the shovel’s hilt.

Cautiously I approached the entrance of the rust colored brick bungalow.  The doorway appeared to open up into a living room, pale green walls and carpet lurked just inside of the white painted door.  Nothing appeared to be moving from within, no sound carried in the halls.

Stepping forward I kept
my knife up in a strike ready position, up over the lip of the doorway I paused in the entryway checking the layout. 

Directly forward appeared to be a dining room, I could make out the edges of the kitchen cabinetry in the
doorway as well.  The room I was in was a living room.  A tussle appeared to have happened in this room, a lamp was knocked over by the couch, there was blood smeared on the walls at the far end that opened into a dark hallway.  Droplets from that location to about the middle of the living room where the carpet was stained brown in a large circle.  I had a feeling at least one person had died there, little bits of flesh seemed to be ground into the carpet.  Going off instinct I figured whatever had gone down probably occurred in the bedroom area and worked its way out here, as I didn’t immediately see any movement in either direction I figured a quick dining/kitchen sweep then down the dark hallway to the scene of the crime so to speak.

A wooden rattling behind me interrupted my focus.

My shovel wielding backup was shaking in his boots behind me, his eyes wide as he looked past me into the carnage that had impacted his neighbors.   I knew from the look on his face he was not going to be much use to me. 

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