The Dead Saga (Novella Part 2): Odium Origins Read online

“Are you sure?” he whispers against my mouth.

  I pull away and stare into his face, only seeing the outline of his jaw and nose. “I am,” I say with certainty.

  And I am sure. So sure. I’ve wanted this since we first met, but wanted to wait—had to wait. I needed to keep one final promise to my parents. I promised them I’d keep my virginity until after I turned sixteen, and for some reason it’s been important to me to do that. Malcolm doesn’t need any more persuasion, and he stands and reaches down, pulling me up into his arms and carrying me out of the room and up the stairs. He takes me to one of the bedrooms and gently lays me on the bed.

  His fingers quickly unbutton my jeans and slide them down my legs, stealing my panties at the same time. And then he does the same with his, and lets his boxers fall to his ankles. I gasp at the size of him. It’s not that I’ve never seen a penis before—I have. I kept my virginity but not my virtue. But he’s huge, and I shiver in both excitement and fear. He reaches down and gets something from his jeans, and I blush when I see him slide a condom down himself.

  I’m so glad that I can see him up here, the light of the moon shining in through the window and giving more definition to his features and body.

  “You sure?” he asks once more, looking nervously at me. He’s been waiting for this for weeks too, and he’s been patient enough to wait and not pressure me.

  I smile up at him and nod. He climbs on top of me, pushing my legs apart and kisses me as he eases himself inside. I gasp against his mouth at the slow intrusion of him as he eases into me and then back out. His kisses are heated and strong as he pushes his tongue inside my mouth and moves it against mine. My hands clasp at his back, digging my nails down it as his thrusts get less gentle and slow and become more forceful and urgent.

  I wrap my legs around his waist as he speeds up. He presses one hand against the headboard of the bed to stop it from banging and waking up Dean. He pushes himself all the way inside of me and then pulls all the way back out before repeating the torturous pleasure once again. My body has adjusted to his size; the initial sting from his first intrusion is gone, and leaves me with a dull ache in my lower belly and heat blossoming down below. I bite down on my lip to stop the cry of pleasure escaping as his thrusts become more and more urgent, the quiet creak of the bed and low thump of it against the wall only urging us on quicker. He closes his eyes as he thrusts into me sharply and I let out a short cry of both pleasure and pain as he buries himself deep inside me before collapsing on top of me.

  He breathes heavily against my neck and I pant as tingles continue to run over my body in rivers. He eventually looks down at me and smiles, pressing a kiss against my mouth again.

  “You okay?” he asks between pants.

  “Yeah, I think,” I say, hissing when he pulls out of me. It stings and my body feels empty now that he’s not inside me. “We need to tell him now.”

  Malcolm leans on his side, resting up on one elbow, and nods. “Yeah, I know. We’ll do it tomorrow.”

  I bite down on my lip, both pleased to get it out of the way so I don’t have to suffer Dean’s advances any longer, and Malcolm and I can be together, and nervous because I never know how Dean is going to react to anything.

  I sit up and look around for my clothes. “I need to get back downstairs in case he wakes,” I mumble and climb off the bed.

  Malcolm stands up and fumbles around with the condom for a moment before searching for his own clothes. I slide my panties up my thighs, but when I tug them into place I realize how sore I am. I look at my fingers and see that they are dark with blood.

  “Everything okay?” Malcolm says walking to the doorway.

  “Yeah, just my virginity,” I say, gesturing to the blood with embarrassment.

  “Oh,” he replies with a small grin.

  We walk back down the stairs where we finish dressing, finding our T-shirts in a heap on the floor, and then I kiss him goodnight and slip back down the stairs and into bed. Dean isn’t snoring anymore, but he doesn’t make a sound as I enter and his breathing is still deep and labored.

  I stare into the darkness around me, a chill of fear humming through my body but a smile on my face. How could I be smiling at a time like this? At the end of days when all I knew and loved was now zombie chow? I should feel bad. I should feel depressed or something, but I don’t. Does that make me a bad person, I wonder, or is it all perfectly normal?

  I ponder these thoughts as I fall asleep.

  Eight.

  I crouch down low below the kitchen window, the low thump thump thump on the boarded up windows and doors sending my heart into overdrive.

  “There’s so many of them,” I whisper to Malcolm.

  “How many?”

  “Too many!” I yell-whisper back.

  Dean scowls at me and I try to rein in my freaking out. He shuffles over to me, crouching close and then quickly stands to look out the window. The growls outside increase and he bobs back down and out of view again. The banging intensifies and he curses.

  “She’s right, there’s way too many of them. We need to get down below and hope they get bored and leave.”

  “Bored?” Malcolm says incredulously.

  “Distracted then, whatever. We need to get down below. Grab anything you think you might need, as long as you can get it easily, and let’s go.” Dean keeps low and moves around the kitchen, grabbing various things.

  Malcolm catches my eye. “You okay?” he whispers, checking behind him that Dean isn’t close enough to hear. I nod and he offers me a small smile.

  We gather what we can from our crappy vantage point, moving around the house and keeping as quiet as possible. I go down into the underground house first while the boys continue to pass supplies down to me. I don’t like the thought of staying down here, but right now we don’t have a choice. It’s the safest place for us to stay. There must be over fifty of the zombies out in the yard, and there’s no way we can fight them off to clear them away. Dean was right in that we need to stay down here until they move on. Something will distract them sooner or later—if they don’t get in first, anyway.

  Malcolm and Dean come down the stairs, locking the metal door behind them, and then we’re trapped. The silence descends around us—well, not silence, since we can still hear the incessant banging and moaning from the zombies outside, but trapped in this little underground house, the awkwardness between us three is evident.

  “Are you okay, Anne?”

  I look up sharply at Dean, his voice cutting the air like a hot knife through butter. His look is menacing and I immediately regret that we didn’t try to make a run for it. I nod and look away, not being able to look him in the eye in case he sees through my lies.

  “What about you, Malcolm?”

  I look up through my lashes, my hair falling around my face. Dean is staring at Malcolm, who seems to be more than aware of the tone in Dean’s voice.

  “Sure, man. As good as can be expected.” He shrugs and glances over to me.

  “Should I fix us something to eat?” I ask, standing, needing something to do besides sit here and feel awkward and afraid. I go toward the little kitchen without waiting for a reply from either boy. I’m not even hungry, and when I get to the small space that is the makeshift kitchen I realize that I can’t waste any of the food by making something to eat that no one wants. We have no idea how long we’ll be down here. It could be an hour, it could be days. Either way, we need to ration.

  I hear yelling coming from the other room, and rush back to see what’s going on but immediately wish that I hadn’t. Dean and Malcolm are fighting, and from the evil glare coming from Dean it can only mean that Malcolm has come clean about our relationship.

  I stand in the doorway, not knowing how to stop them or what to say. It turns out I don’t need to say or do anything as Malcolm’s arm rears back and hits Dean in the face. The poor boy flies backwards through the air and lands on his back with a groan. Blood explodes from his nose and he passes
out as his head hits the concrete floor.

  “Dean!” I yell and run to him, crouching down to lift his head on to my knee. “Dean, wake up.”

  “Keep the noise down, they’ll hear us,” Malcolm says, coming back up to standing. He dusts himself off, gingerly touching his split lip. “He’ll be fine,” he says and sits down heavily on his bed.

  “You don’t know that,” I hiss at him angrily, tapping the side of Dean’s face to try and wake him up. “You could have killed him, you idiot.” I glare at Malcolm. “Then we would be trapped down here with a zombie!” I add on to make him understand my frustration.

  “I told you, he’ll be fine. It’s what boys do: we fight—or most boys do, unless you’re this little nerd.” He chuckles.

  I stare at him incredulously. “Who are you?”

  He rolls his eyes and scoffs at me. “Don’t act so innocent. This is all your fault. You played us both against one another—you’ve done so for months now.”

  “What? I have done no such thing.” I gape at him in horror.

  “Sure you have. You wanted someone to keep you safe, and you played us both. Now I’m not complaining. I like you, and I’m glad that I won.” He grins and heads to the kitchen.

  I place Dean’s head gently back on the ground and follow after Malcolm.

  “What are you talking about? You won? Like, I’m some damn prize?” I yell at his back.

  Malcolm turns to face me. “Please, don’t flatter yourself. This wasn’t even about you. It was about me and him, and him always thinking he was better than me. Well look who won this round, look who won the girl. Who’s the loser now, huh?” He laughs and I clutch at my stomach in horror.

  “I was a bet? To see if you could get something that he wanted? How could you do this? I thought you liked me.” My voice hits a new level, going from angry to wailing within seconds.

  “Keep your noise down, it wasn’t a bet, not really. I do like you, but it was about proving to that little punk who’s in charge around here. He’s always thought he was better than me, put me down in front of our family. He was the brains and I was the thick brawn as far as he was concerned. Asshole had everyone believing the same thing too.” He smirks at me. “Didn’t see this one coming, did he? Who’s the smart one now?”

  I swing my arm back to slap him across his face, but Malcolm grabs my wrist and stops me. My body shakes with anger, and if looks could kill, he would be dead.

  “I can’t believe you would do this to me,” I whisper instead. “You used me.”

  I burst out crying and run back into the other room. Dean is just waking up. He clutches his head and scrambles up to sit on his bed. He glares at me, his top lip rising in an angry snarl. I go to him, but he puts a hand up to stop me.

  “Stay away from me,” he says quietly.

  “Dean, don’t be like that. It’s not what you think.” Tears continue to pour down my cheeks and I wipe them away with the back of my hand. “I thought he liked me.”

  “I liked you,” he says and looks away from me.

  “I know, but I just didn’t feel that way about you. I’m so sorry, Dean.” I take a step toward him again, but he lies down on his bed facing away from me.

  I go and sit on my own bed, staring around the room sadly. Malcolm comes back in eventually. He doesn’t smile or speak to me. Instead he lies down on his bed and munches on a cereal bar.

  The full force of the situation hits me then: Malcolm doesn’t want me. Dean doesn’t want me. I can’t fight or survive on my own and winter is coming. What if they decide to kick me out? What if they use me as bait? The tears flow faster and harder, my sobbing getting louder.

  What have I done? I think pitifully.

  Nine.

  No one speaks to me. No one helps me with anything. In fact, the boys don’t even talk to each other anymore. Things are strained and stressful down here. And it smells, both from the makeshift toilet and body sweat. And we’re running out of food, and since we’re not talking no one is rationing anything—they certainly don’t listen to me when I suggest that’s what we should do. And we’re running out of water. Things are screwed. Completely screwed.

  The zombies got into the house at day two. We heard cracking as their angry rotten fists finally broke through the wood against one of the windows. Now their moaning and groaning is worse, louder and more insistent. They can’t smell us down here because of the metal door, but they won’t leave. Perhaps they can’t get back out the way they came in, perhaps they know that we’re here somewhere and they know they can wait us out. Who knows for sure? All I know is that if a miracle doesn’t happen then we’re going to starve to death down here.

  As if on cue, my stomach growls loudly. I want to wait it out—wait for as long as possible before eating so we don’t go through so much, but since no one else is doing that it seems pointless. Like wading against the incoming tide. I make my way to the little kitchen and root through some of the cupboards. They’re almost empty, just some canned spinach and tuna. I try another cupboard and see packets of dry pasta, but we can’t waste the water to cook it. I grab a handful and try and crunch my way through it but it’s tough and hurts my teeth. I decide to suck on the bland pasta shells while I rummage some more. In the bottom cupboard there are several boxes of cereal, but when I peer inside, they’re all empty.

  I grab one of the cans of tuna and a fork and use a can opener to open it, and then slowly devour the flaky fish. It stinks up the kitchen and doesn’t really fill the hole, but there’s goodness in it—that much I’m certain of. A dizzy spell washes over me and I clutch the edge of the small sink to balance myself.

  “Are you okay?” I flinch at the sound of Dean’s voice. It’s so cold and empty, and makes me want to cry that I disappointed him so much that he now feels nothing for me.

  “Just a little dizzy, I’ll be fine.” I hold back the tears and take some steadying breaths.

  I open my mouth to speak, but an explosion—so loud I worry my eardrums may perforate—fills the gap. Dean grabs me and pulls me to the floor, covering my body with his protectively. I scream out as another explosion rocks the house and dust particles fall all around us, pictures crashing to the floor. There are noises above us, things tipping over, ornaments smashing, and I swear I can feel my teeth chatter as another explosion rocks us again.

  I can’t contain the scream that escapes me, and I cling on to Dean as if my very life depended on him. Because, quite possibly, it does. But mainly because I miss the feel of other people, the touch and embrace of another human—someone to hold my hand, to stroke my back, and hold me when I’m frightened. Until this moment, possibly my very last moment alive, I didn’t realize how freaking lonely I was.

  Malcolm runs into the room. He sways from side to side and clutches a hand to his head, pulling it away to reveal a palm full of blood.

  “Damn shelf fell down and hit me,” he yells, and then nearly falls over as another bang rocks the house.

  “What’s happening?” I scream, clutching Dean tighter.

  “I don’t know, but I’ve got you, don’t panic.”

  I feel his grip on me tighten and I burrow my face against his chest and continue to cry.

  I’m not just crying in fear of what the hell is happening right now, but in happiness that someone actually still cares about me. That perhaps I’m not completely alone in this horrible world. Malcolm crouches down to our level, huddling closer to us. His proximity freaks me out, since it’s the closest we’ve been since the night he took my virginity, and as he comes closer Dean must sense my unease.

  He puts a hand on Malcolm’s chest. “Back up.”

  Malcolm scowls at Dean and pushes his hand out of the way. “Pass me a damn kitchen towel for my head.”

  Dean does, and Malcolm takes the towel from him and backs away. He doesn’t stand back up, though. Instead he leans with his back against one of the cupboards. The explosions have stopped, and the house has stopped shaking now. The zombies are a
different story though. From the sounds they are making, they seem incensed by all the explosions.

  “What do you think that was?” I whisper.

  “My guess is the hydro plant. It was only going to be so long before something happened to it. Didn’t think it would blow like this, but I guess it stands to reason. Which means we can expect the electricity to go off now. No water, no electricity, nothing,” Dean says sounding worried.

  “Shit’s about to get real,” Malcolm replies and leans his head back before closing his eyes.

  Dean makes himself more comfortable and I curl up at his side, resting my head against his shoulder. I’m sure he’s going to push me away from him soon, so I’ll take what I can while I can. The zombies upstairs continue to growl and snarl. They sound so vicious and angry, and I dread to think what state they must be in now. It’s been months and they’re still going strong, not giving a damn about their decomposing sorry asses.

  “I bet they smell real bad now,” I mumble as the lights flicker on and off.

  “Maybe. I mean, they will get to a point when they stop smelling. I guess they’ll stop rotting, which means they’ll stop smelling. Unless they are going to rot until there’s nothing left of them?” Dean sighs heavily. “Winter will help a lot—the cold, I mean.”

  The lights go off and I flinch as we are swamped into darkness. Dean’s hand goes to my hair and he strokes it gently, soothing my ragged nerves.

  “I’m frightened,” I whisper, not caring that I sound like a big baby for admitting it. Because I can’t see how things can get any worse, and death seems imminent, so now seems as good a time as any to admit this one small thing. Because I am scared. More so, I’m petrified. I don’t want to die. I don’t want to be stuck in the middle of an apocalypse. I don’t want zombies to have eaten my friends and family, and to be waiting upstairs to eat me. I don’t want any of it. I begin to sob quietly in the dark and Dean continues to stroke my hair, and eventually I must drift off to sleep.

  *