Alone (2 page)

“Mr. Carmichael!” the man calls in an overly enthusiastic tone.

“Mr. Smith, how nice to meet you.”

“Call me Rick, please.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkles when he smiles.

“Rick, of course.” My father returns the Regulator’s smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He doesn’t have a sense of humor, and he takes work way too seriously. Mr. Smith will not be finding a new poker buddy in my father. “This is my daughter, Juliana, by the way.”

I’m an afterthought, like always.

The Regulator gives me a quick nod before turning back to my father.

Oh joy, another person to look through me.
As if I haven’t gotten enough of that since my mom died.

With the exception of their indifference to me, my father and Mr. Smith don’t seem to have much common ground. In fact, going just by looks, I’d say they are polar opposites. My father is impeccably groomed, as usual. So much so that a person may not notice how worn his suit is or how scuffed his shoes are. It would be clear to anyone the minute they saw his perfectly in-place dark hair and immaculately trimmed beard that he was once an important and wealthy man. I guess he still is, as much as people can be these days.

Mr. Smith, on the other hand, is completely forgettable. He’s of average height and build, and is neither good-looking nor unattractive. His brown hair is cut short, but not too short, and his eyes are an unspectacular color of brown. Dull like mud. He resembles a Chemistry teacher more than a politician during zombie times. When there were Chemistry teachers, that is.

“Welcome to Coastal Manor! I’ll give you a quick tour of the place on the way to your new house, but before that why don’t I give you a little tour of the building?” The Regulator’s voice is enthusiastic, but there’s something about his tone that catches my attention. It sounds fake. Guarded.

I study him while my father asks a few questions, but there’s nothing about Mr. Smith’s answers that seem off. He’s perfectly relaxed and friendly. Professional, even. Whatever it was I thought I saw, it must have been my imagination running away with itself.

“Alright then, follow me,” he says, waving for us to follow him.

My legs move on their own, trailing after the two men who don’t even seem to notice that I exist. On the way out of the room, I sneak a peek at Roz. She doesn’t even look up. The silent boredom must be part of her persona.

We go through the former living room and toward the back of the house, with Mr. Smith talking every step of the way. The things he points out don’t seem that important, which tells me he just likes to hear himself talk, and he doesn’t stop until we’ve almost reached the kitchen.

He finally stops walking just outside a closed door, and when he turns to face us his expression hard. Like a statue etched out of marble. The Chemistry teacher that greeted us in the foyer has somehow vanished, and in his place is a man whose eyes swim with darkness. Is this a glimpse of who he really is? It’s impossible to tell. He’s so guarded that his face appears almost emotionless. Everything is smooth but his eyes. They crackle with fire.

His gaze meets mine, and his lips pucker as his eyebrows pull together, almost like he isn’t sure if I should be here. That makes two of us.

“I’m obligated to show this to everyone who decides to live in our town,” he says in a cold voice. “As a warning. We have a zero tolerance policy.”

He pushes the door open, and there’s so much production to the whole thing that I find my heart pounding in anticipation. My father and I lean forward at the exact same time, trying to get a better view of the room. When I do, I blink. It’s a bathroom, or at least that’s what it was. Now, a metal cot has been shoved into the small space.

What the hell is this?

I turn back to face the Regulator, and his dark gaze holds mine, sending a shiver shooting through me. Why does this once-upon-a-time bathroom make me so nervous?

“This is the room,” the Mr. Smith says.

That clears it up
. My eyes twitch with the desire to roll.

I wait for my father to ask questions but he doesn’t, and my own voice is muffled by the questions bouncing around inside my head. The seconds tick by, and the shiver that had moved through me settles in my stomach.

“If you choose to leave the safety of our fence,” the Regulator finally says, “you go out at your own risk. We can’t stop you. Just know that if you get bitten and choose to return to Coastal Manor, this is where you will be placed until we can determine how the virus will affect you. We abide by the guidelines Atlanta has put in place, but I will not take risks.” His eyes grow harder and his eyebrows pull down, making him look even more sinister than before.

My stomach buzzes uncomfortably, but even under the intensity of the Regulator’s cold stare, I find myself trying to figure him out. His appearance might be bland, but I have an odd sense that he has darkness inside him that is desperate to get out.

My father nods, and Mr. Smith’s brown eyes burrow their way into my soul while he waits for me to do the same. I shrug, which must satisfy him, because he relaxes. The darkness fades and the mask returns, the Chemistry teacher coming with it.

His lips turn up into an unimpressive smile. “Okay! Now that we have that out of the way, we can check out the rest of the building.”

The men head toward the kitchen, but I back away. I’ve lost interest in the tour after seeing the Regulator’s little room of torture. Or whatever it is.

I head back the way we came, not bothering to tell my dad where I’m going. He probably needs as much of a break from me as I do from him. We’ve been stuck in the car together—just the two of us—for more than nine hours. Long for anyone, but torturous for two people who don’t know how to communicate without fighting.

I arrive back in the lobby to find Roz still sitting at the desk but no longer alone. A teenage boy, not much older than me, leans against the wall at her side. He has his arms crossed while Roz smiles up at him, making her even cuter than before. The bored girl who was sitting at the desk just a few minutes earlier has totally disappeared, and she actually lets out a giggle. The sound is lighter than air, which is such a stark contrast from her dark clothes that I feel like I’m watching a very bad play.

Neither one looks my way, obviously too focused on each other to notice that they’re no longer alone. Cloaked in relative anonymity, I allow my gaze to rake over the guy. He’s wearing dark jeans—also ripped—and a black, short-sleeve shirt boasting the name of some band that was long ago turned into flesh-eating monsters. A couple tattoos peek out from under his sleeves, and thick, silver hoops hang from both ears. His medium brown hair is just a bit too long, constantly dropping across his eyes. As I watch, he flicks his head to the side to move it out of the way. Normally I’m not a fan of long hair, but the messy, unkempt look suits him. When he smiles, only the right corner of his mouth pulls up—which is totally adorable—and his brown eyes sparkle with so much mischief that it’s visible from all the way across the room.

I can sum him up in two words:
juvenile delinquent
. It isn’t the dark clothes or the tattoos that give him away, but the expression in his eyes. I’ve known guys like this before. I’d be willing to bet money—or, more accurately, my government credits—that this guy had multiple problems with the law before all this. Maybe he even had a record. Not that it matters anymore. All that stuff has been vaporized, along with everything else that was once stored on computers.

When I shuffle my feet, they scrape against the floor, causing both Roz and her boyfriend to look up. Warmth moves up my neck to my cheeks, but I square my shoulders and walk forward, keeping my face as expressionless as I can.

“It’s you,” Roz says flatly.

The flirty, laid-back girl disappears, and she shoots me what can only be described as a look of disgust. Her top lip curls up, and her nose wrinkles like she smells something bad.

I guess we aren’t going to be friends
.

“Sorry. Wasn’t interested in the tour.” I keep my eyes on Roz and off the guy at her side. She already seems to dislike me, and I don’t want her to think I’m encroaching on her territory. “I’m Jules, by the way.”

Roz shrugs, and her eyes flick to her boyfriend. Her mouth softens a bit when she says, “Judicial Officer’s daughter.”

My gaze shifts back to the guy to find his eyes raking over me from head to toe. Under his gaze, the hair on my scalp prickles and my feet seem to shuffle on their own as my heart thumps violently in my chest. It’s beating so loudly that I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy could hear it already, and the longer he stares at me the harder it pumps until it feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest.

“Roman,” he says when his eyes finally make their way to mine. “The illustrious Regulator’s son.” His voice oozes with sarcasm.

He doesn’t offer his hand or give me the half-smile I’d admired a few seconds earlier, but instead reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a pack of cigarettes. Real cigarettes. Not the bootlegged ones most people smoke these days. Marlboros. He sticks one in his mouth and then whips out a lighter. His eyes hold mine as he puts the flame to the end of the cigarette, and once again the hair on my scalp prickles. When the cigarette is finally lit, Roman takes a long drag before leaning back against the wall casually.

Roz laughs a little too loudly, making it sound forced and fake. “Your dad is going to love that.”

The corner of Roman’s mouth turns up again as he blows out a mouthful of smoke, finally tearing his eyes away from mine. “Like I care.”

Daddy issues. I should have guessed. Not that I can judge, I have a fair share of those myself.

Roz laughs again, and Roman’s eyes don’t leave her face. She has to be a couple years older than he is, but it’s clear something is going on between them. She leans forward and bats her eyelashes behind her funky glasses, and my eyes roll so far back in my head that all I can see is black. Please.

When they go back to ignoring me, I flop onto the couch and cross my arms over my chest. Even though I try
really hard
not to stare, I can’t tear my eyes away from the couple in front of me. I’ve always found people-watching fascinating, and these two are more entertaining than anything I’ve seen in months. The way she fawns over him, like some fan girl at a boy band concert, and the casual way he does everything, from taking a puff of his cigarette to flicking his head to the side.

Roman ignores me completely, but Roz catches me staring, and her face hardens. Not that I care. It’s obvious that she is going to hate me no matter how I act, so I might as well go all in.

Male voices float down from the second floor, and a second later, my father and Mr. Smith appear at the top of the stairs.

I sit up straighter. Roman is still smoking. This should be good.

Roman doesn’t even bat an eye, and he doesn’t glance his father’s way. The fact that he starts taking longer drags off his cigarette is the only indication that he heard his father coming. He blows smoke into the air lazily as if smoking in a public building is totally normal.

My mouth twitches when a smile tries to break its way to the surface, and I’m forced to press my lips together to keep it in. Roman’s eyes meet mine, and the corner of his mouth pulls up a little. He winks, and a shiver runs through my body.

“Roman.” Mr. Smith’s stern voice fills the foyer. The Chemistry teacher is a distant memory when this man looks at his son. His eyes burn brighter than before, and there’s an evil glint in them as he hurries down the stairs and rips the cigarette out of Roman’s mouth. “I know we’ve discussed you smoking in the town hall.”

Roman smirks, and his eyebrows shoot up, getting lost under his shaggy hair. His expression is the definition of smart-ass. “This isn’t a real town hall, and you are
not
as powerful as you think you are.”

Every muscle in the Regulator’s body tightens. He clenches his fists, crushing the lit cigarette in the palm of his hand. His right eye twitches. “You should be in school,” he says through clenched teeth.

Roman pushes himself away from the wall. “I’ll see you later, Roz.” He walks through the lobby without another look at his father, glancing briefly at me as he goes by. “Nice meeting you, Jules.”

He winks, and my heart stops briefly. When it starts up again, it’s beating so fast I’m sure it’s going to explode.

Chapter Two

The New Girl

I step out onto the porch and let out a deep breath, willing the ever-present pressure in my chest to lessen. It may be October, but the humid South Carolina afternoon is so hot it’s almost suffocating. Or maybe that’s my bastard father. It’s hard to say, everything pretty much sucks these days.

When the heaviness inside me doesn’t ease, I pull another cigarette out and light up. Rick doesn’t get to have a say in my life.

I take a long drag while trying to figure out what to do with the rest of my day. There’s no way in hell I’m going to school. What a joke. It’s not like there’s such a thing as college anymore.

I blow smoke out the side of my mouth as I glance back through the window and catch Roz’s eye. She giggles and shakes her head, and I tip my cigarette toward her before taking another drag. I like Roz, but the giggly schoolgirl shit is getting old. She was cooler before we started fooling around.

My gaze moves across the room to where the new JO’s daughter sits. Jules. I didn’t really have plans to switch things up on Roz, but a new girl in town is a new girl in town. Could be a nice distraction if things between Roz and me don’t work out. And Jules seems cool. She didn’t look disgusted when I started smoking in the house, and I even caught her smiling when Rick came down the stairs. Plus, she’s hot, in a subtle way. Nice smile with dimples in both cheeks—dimples are super sexy. Her dark blue eyes are sexy as hell, too. And observant. She watched everything going on between Rick and me, and she saw right through him. I can tell. No one ever sees through Rick’s bullshit exterior. But she did.

Jules runs her fingers through her dark blonde hair as I take another drag. I bet it would look real sexy fanned out around her in my bed…

A smile curls my lips. Hell, yeah.

I pull my gaze from Jules and find Roz watching me, her glare hotter than a blowtorch even through the window. I shoot her a little smirk, but the fiery expression in her eyes doesn’t fade, and her face is so red she looks ready to explode. I can talk her down, though. Or kiss her down, which would be even better.

I turn away and jog down the stairs, heading across the lawn. It’s almost noon, which means Mac will be getting ready to break for lunch. I have no plans to go to class, but rescuing him sounds like a good idea. Poor kid doesn’t deserve to waste away in that hellhole.

The sun pounds against the top of my head as I cross the street. My shirt is already sticking to my back, and it’s still early. Damn. I can’t wait until fall really kicks in. Although winter sucks big time. Just means more time stuck inside with that asshole dad of mine. If the zoms froze the way they did in the colder states, I’d look forward to it. Here, though, it just slows them down a little.

Maybe I should start thinking about heading to one of the settlements up north.

The house they converted into a school is massive—at least six bedrooms with a big, fenced-in yard. I hop over the fence and drop into the backyard, then sneak up the steps of the back porch. A set of French doors leads into the kitchen, and I pause outside so I can get a good look around. Jackpot. Carmen is alone.

When I push the door open, she jumps three inches off the ground. One hand goes to her neck, and she fans her face with the other as she spins to face me. The second she sees it’s me, though, she relaxes.

“Roman, you scared the shit out of me.” She purses her lips and shakes her head, but she has a smile on her face. “You skipping again?”

I lean my hip against the island as I drum my fingers on the counter. “I’m studying the ways of the world.”

“That sounds a lot more useful than what they teach here.” She lets out a laugh as she flicks her red hair over her shoulder.

Footsteps echo through the house, heading toward the kitchen, and Carmen’s cheeks get red as she glances over her shoulder. She seems worried, but I’m not sure of what. Me getting caught by Rick? She should know by now that I don’t give a shit. True, she doesn’t know what goes on behind closed doors, but she has to know that it sucks. Carmen and I go way back.

Still…I hate to get her in trouble with my asshole dad.

“I came to liberate Mac,” I hiss, backing toward the open door. “Tell him I’m outside.”

Carmen relaxes and rolls her eyes, waving her hand at me as she turns back to the counter. “Get out of here.”

Back out on the porch, I throw myself into the green wicker chair so I can wait for Mac. She’ll tell him I’m out here. Carmen works at the school, but she’s only nineteen. Just last year she had to listen to all this bullshit herself. She thinks it’s about as useful as I do.

Before the infection, Mac wouldn’t have given me the time of day—and vice versa. I was too busy skipping school and trying to piss off my dad, and Mac was too busy studying and getting ready for college. His name isn’t really Mac. It’s Chris or Jon or some equally boring bullshit. He was a huge computer nerd before the zombies. Got the nickname at school. Guess he doesn’t see the point in changing it now.

I pull out another cigarette but don’t light it. Instead, I close my eyes and flick the thing between my fingers while I wait. There’s a faint breeze, and combined with the shade, it’s almost cool where I’m sitting.

Only a couple minutes later, the door creaks. I crack one eye to find Mac grinning down at me. “Thank God you showed up.”

I knew he’d want to get the hell out of that place.

“You know I couldn’t leave you here,” I say, hopping to my feet.

The sound of someone laughing penetrates the French doors, and Mac shoots a worried look toward the kitchen.

Time to make a break for it.

I head for the stairs, grabbing his arm on my way by. “Let’s go.”

We take off, neither one of us saying anything else as we climb the six-foot fence. I go first, making it over without incident. When Mac throws his body over, something bangs into the wood, and he swears.

“Knew I should have skipped today,” Mac says, rubbing his elbow.

He’s thin and lanky, and a bit awkward, but he grows on you. Mac’s relaxed a lot since college has become something almost as mythical as unicorns and leprechauns. He even let his dark hair grow out. It looks suspiciously similar to mine, but I don’t mind a little hero worship. He’s fun to hang out with, fearless, and has a killer sense of humor.

“You should skip every day. Haven’t you learned that by now?” I flash him a smile, but he just shakes his head. He can’t fool me though, he knows I’m right. I chuckle and motion for him to follow me across the yard. “Come on, my bike’s parked down the street.”

Mac’s hair falls across his forehead and he swats it away. “What’s the plan?”

“Town?” I shrug as I pop the cigarette into my mouth and light up. I don’t have many left. Gonna have to do something about that.

Mac nods, and he doesn’t tense up the way he did when we first started going. We’re used to braving the zombies by this point.

We’re almost across the lawn when the front door to the town hall opens. I let out a growl and duck behind a huge azalea bush when Rick steps out, and Mac is right behind me. The new JO and his daughter follow Rick across the lawn. I can’t take my eyes off her. Damn. In this light, she’s even hotter than she was before.

Mac moves a few branches aside and leans closer. “Who’s that?”

“Judicial Officer.”

Mac raises his eyebrows suggestively. “His daughter’s hot.”

I smirk as I take a drag, blowing the smoke right in his face. He coughs, and the look he gives me makes me laugh. I’m sure it’s supposed to be tough, but it looks more like a five-year-old trying to stand up to a bully.

“Thought you were going after Carmen?” They’ve been flirting for a while now, but he’s too scared to make a move. He’s admitted to being a virgin, but I have a sneaking suspicion he’s never even kissed a girl. His eighteenth birthday is coming up fast. He needs to get moving.

“I am. But it’s always good to have a backup. Plus, she’s moving a little slow for me.” His tone is light, but his cheeks turn red. Sometimes, I forget what a nerd he was in high school.

Maybe I can help him out somehow. At this point, I’m afraid the guy’s gonna die a virgin. That would blow.

I take a hit off my cigarette and flick the ashes on the ground. “Good point.”

As soon as the car carrying Rick and the others is out of sight, I’m back on my feet. Mac hops up too, and we take off. My bike is parked just past the town hall, behind a group of palmetto trees where Rick wouldn’t see it. He was furious when I came home with the thing. Didn’t believe me when I told him I traded for it. That was a bad night. Just one in a long list of shitty interactions with Rick. Luckily, he let me off with a minor punishment because the bike didn’t run. I’ve always been good with mechanical things though, and it didn’t take me long to get it going. Rick still gives me his look of disapproval whenever he sees me on it. Or as I like to call it, his asshole look. Eyebrows pulled together over dark eyes, his lips bunched up. It isn’t an overprotective father thing. That isn’t him. With Rick, it’s all about control.

I hop on my bike, and Mac climbs on behind me. It isn’t the most comfortable situation for either one of us, but it’s a short ride. Just have to get to the west side of the community where it’s easier to hop the fence.

Mac leans back and holds on to the rear of the seat as I take off down the road. Houses fly by, and the humid air slaps me in the face, whipping through my hair. The faint taste of saltwater fills my mouth. The gated community is surrounded by marshlands on two sides with the ocean at the rear. As well-fortified as it is, it was the ideal place to set up camp when the outbreak hit. Just took a little bit of work to secure some of the more open areas and clear out the dead already roaming the grounds. Rick did a good job. I’ll give him that much.

When we reach the west side of the community, I pull my bike to the side of the road. Mac jumps off, and I kill the engine before pushing the bike through the grass to a group of azalea bushes where I know it will be well hidden. Not too far from where we stand, the community fence ends right where the marshlands pick up. We’re going to have to be careful when we climb over the fence. Not because of the zombies, although they’re always a risk too, but because of the gators.

Mac goes over first, spinning around the second his feet hit the ground, and I follow. Once we’re both over, we jog a few feet into the woods to the cooler we have hidden. It’s tucked under a bush and camouflaged by a thick layer of dirt. It’s where we stash our knives before climbing back over the fence. Weapons inside town have to be registered. Another one of Rick’s control issues.

“Anything to trade today?” Mac asks as he tucks a knife into his belt.

“Need some cigarettes,” I say as I start walking. “But mainly I just needed to get the hell outta there.”

He snorts as we head toward the road that leads into town, talking and joking as we go. We have almost two miles to walk, but it usually doesn’t take longer than forty minutes to get there.

“So you and Roz hang out last night?” Mac asks, trying to sound casual. He loves hearing all the filthy details.

“Yeah. Took a blanket down to the beach and fooled around,” I say, keeping it light. Roz gets super pissed when I give too many details, and she’s already going to be fuming about earlier. Just because I looked at another girl. “She’s starting to be a drag, though.”

I shake my head. Not sure what I’m going to do about Roz.

Mac opens his mouth to say something when the sound of moaning cuts him off. We stop dead in our tracks as we pull out our knives. My body tenses, and my eyes dart around, waiting for the zombie to reveal itself. It has to be close. We’re about a mile from town. Abandoned houses and woods line both sides of the street, so the bastard could be anywhere. Hiding behind a tree or a run-down home. The wind blows, and the faint scent of decay drifts toward us, making me grip my knife even tighter.

“Where is it?” Mac’s body is as tense as mine, but he isn’t scared. We’ve both killed hundreds of zombies over the past two years. One isn’t a big deal.

The dead guy steps out of the trees just as I shrug. His gray, rotting skin hangs loosely on his bones as he drags himself toward us. Every tear in his skin oozes black goo, and he’s so rotten at this point that I can’t even be positive that he is actually a
he.
It’s one of life’s great mysteries: why they’re able to get around the way they do. With as rotten as they are, I wouldn’t think they’d be able to move, let alone walk. Not after two years.