This Would Be Paradise (Book 2) (6 page)

I wondered why Tim hadn’t returned. All Karla had said was that he’d told her to get some rest and that he’d radio her if he needed her. But despite her half-closed eyelids, she hadn’t called it a night. I had a feeling Tim and Karla were together, even though when they were beside each other, they never hinted at any romantic attachment. Tim was always anywhere but here, except in brief moments. Not the most involved leader.

Roy got up from his spot. “Okay guys, time to turn in.”

His announcement was met with a chorus of boos from the audience, but everyone dispersed, migrating to their rooms. I looked at the clock: just past nine p.m. Today had been tiring; I was wiped and secretly grateful for the early bedtime. I ushered Chloe upstairs after she said her goodnights to Amanda and Roy. In less than twenty minutes, the apartment building went from lively to quieter than a church mass.

I was about ready to fall asleep when the faintest light crossed over the semi-boarded-up window in my room. I walked over and looked out. On the ground, directly below my third-floor window, was Tim and two guys I didn’t recognize. They were all holding flashlights, the bright LED kind. They were angrily discussing something, and one of the men handed Tim a large, overstuffed bag. Once he took it, Tim pointed straight to my window.

I ducked to the side, hoping they hadn’t seen me. My heart raced like it wanted out of my chest. I peeked back out when the flashlight beam no longer shone in the window. The two men had weapons on their belts, which I’d failed to notice at first glance. They broke apart and the strangers headed for the front door.

I swallowed. This was bad news.
But what the hell do I do?

I quietly shut the bedroom door where Chloe was sleeping and decided to find Roy, fear flooding my system. I reached the apartment door as a gunshot blasted downstairs and someone screamed. I threw the front door open and found others sticking their heads out in the hallway.

“Get back in your rooms and lock the door!” I commanded.

One by one, the doors closed and the heads disappeared. Heavy footfalls came up the stairs and one of the strangers hit the landing fast. His stare whipped down the hallway, his eyes locking with mine. Panicking, I slammed the door shut and flipped the deadbolt. I backed up a few feet when the door handle twisted. The door vibrated with a loud bang as he rammed against it.

“What is that?” Chloe asked, her eyes wide.

“Get back in your room and hide!” I pointed and she scurried back inside her bedroom.

I retreated farther as the banging intensified. With one last hit, the door flew open, landing flat on the scuffed floor. The hinges and locks had been forced out of the wall, the aged wood unable to withstand the barrage. The intruder fell with the door but was already getting up. He looked up at me, no expression on his face, just determination. Without a word, he started towards me. I turned and ran to the sofa bed, the intruder on my heels.

I needed something to use as a weapon and my gun was stashed away in my backpack.
Fucking think of something!

I spotted the knitting paraphernalia in the bag on the floor and dashed over the sofa bed. I grabbed one of the metallic needles sticking out, then rolled to the other side of the bed, but realized I’d trapped myself. The man stood on the other side of the pullout couch, mirroring my movements as I moved from side to side like a cornered animal. He knew that I knew I had nowhere to go. He placed a boot on the bed and climbed up. I tried to run around the end of the bed, but he lunged for me.

We hit the wall and fell to the floor, him half landing on top of me. My whole side exploded in pain from the impact, and I yelled out. He grunted as if in pain, which confused me, since I was the one who’d taken the brunt of the tackle. I struggled with everything I had but eventually registered that he was slowly slipping off me. He lifted his head, his face pale, and then he looked down. I followed his gaze. The knitting needle was sticking out of his chest.

Hot blood poured from the wound and trickled down my arm. He wheezed, and with a final shove, I got him off me. He rolled onto his back, the needle protruding from his chest. I shuffled back from him just in case. His hands were shaking pointlessly beside the knitting needle; he must have been in shock. His breathing was labored and he spewed blood with each exhale. I probably hit a lung.

He’d run headlong into the sharp end of the weapon, taking himself out. That could have been me had I been holding the needle the other way.

I could be the one dying right now.
My veins froze with liquid nitrogen at the thought.

My attention flew to the busted door when it groaned from added weight. The other stranger was standing on it. He took in the scene with a passive face, his eyes landing on his fallen comrade and my retreating form.
Now what do I do?

“Bailey, are you okay?” The bedroom door inched open and my heart leaped into my throat.

The man watched Chloe appear in the bedroom doorway, and I screamed as loud as I could, getting to my feet, “RUN!”

The man sprinted toward the bedroom as the door slammed shut. In my fear-addled state, I managed to rip the needle from the chest of the man on the floor. He groaned and blood gushed from the wound, the needle no longer clogging the hole. I ran for the other man; my only concern was to stop him from getting to Chloe.

I tackled him with all the force I could create, swiping at his face with the bloody needle. He was far stronger than I was and shoved me back, flinging me to the small kitchen floor. I slid back until my head connected with a hard corner. Dots of light and blackness coated my vision.

He stepped toward me, then must have thought differently, because he went back to the bedroom door. I tried to call out but my voice wasn’t working. My consciousness wavered, darkness cascading over my eyes. The last thing I heard was a scream before I drowned in blackness.

It was weird. I was having an out of body experience or I was dreaming. Others talked around me, but I couldn’t move or talk. The voices sounded like Roy and Elaine, but I wasn’t sure. My brain wasn’t processing properly. Everything was jumbled.

“… do with him?”

“Shot him …”

“Concussion …”

“… where’s Tim?”

At that, I forced myself out of whatever state I was in. My fingers twitched at my command. My consciousness became clearer. I could sense light all around me.

“She’s waking up. Pass me that!” the female voice demanded.

Hands gripped my arm.

“Bailey?” a male voice asked.

“Wha—?” My mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton.

“Don’t speak,” the female voice said.

My eyelids opened like a blind being yanked up on a window. The light burned my eyes, and I snapped them shut. Nausea rolled over me in a fierce wave. I turned and heaved.

“Here!” Someone passed me a pail-shaped item.

My arms wrapped around it as my stomach emptied its contents. Tears stung my eyes from the force of my heaving and my headed throbbed like an open wound.
Thud, thud, thud.
My head pounded in an increasing tempo. More nausea and more vomiting until my stomach was completely devoid of its contents. I could finally breathe now that the retching and rolling in my stomach had subsided.

I cracked my eyelids open. Two concerned faces, Elaine’s and Roy’s, were staring intently at me.

“Chloe?” I croaked.

“Chloe’s fine. She’s in the common room with Amanda,” Roy said.

My body sagged in relief.

“Do you know where you are?” Elaine asked, her voice as clinical as her office.

“Your office,” I answered.

I’d spotted the desk behind them and the cabinet against the wall. She must be evaluating my head injury.

“Good. Do you know what happened to you?”

I swallowed, my mouth tasting like battery acid. “My head hit something—hard.”

“Yes, you have a concussion. Do you remember being attacked?” Elaine asked softly.

“Yes, two men. I got one and was the other threw me.”

“Are you still feeling nauseous?”

“No.”

She took the garbage can from me.

“I want you to rest for a little while longer, then you can get up, as long as you take it slow,” she instructed.

I obeyed and lay back down. “Can I have some water?”

Elaine moved to her desk and came back with a water bottle with a straw in it. “Sips only.”

She allowed me to hold the bottle as I took small drinks. The water helped to wash away the acrid taste in my mouth and sooth my burning throat.

“What happened to the other man? Did he get to Chloe?”

“I heard her scream as I was heading up the stairs,” Roy told me, his face pinched. “I saw you unconscious on the ground and found the guy trying to subdue Chloe. He pulled his gun on me, but I shot first.”

I closed my eyes as I groaned. I’d failed to protect her—again—and she’d witnessed a man get shot.

“She’s doing very well, considering,” Elaine added. “She’s been here every five minutes, banging at the door, demanding to see you.”

I smiled at that and opened my eyes. “What about the other guy?”

“Dead. His lung collapsed and he couldn’t breathe,” Elaine said matter-of-factly.

She was basically saying the man had drowned in his own blood. A sick feeling washed over me again and it had nothing to do with the concussion. Two people had died at my hands.
A few more and I’d be considered a serial killer. I let out a harsh laugh.

Elaine and Roy exchanged a look. I recognized that look; Zoe used to give it to me. They were concerned about my mental well-being.

“You did what you had to, just like I did,” Roy reasoned.

“Mmm.” He didn’t understand. Neither of them could.

“I have a feeling you were always in the nurse’s office at school,” Elaine said, changing the subject. “Oh, and thanks to you, I won’t be getting any sleep tonight. I have to wake you up every three hours.”

I could tell she was joking, but either she wasn’t very good at it, or I was beyond that right now. I touched my head; a bandage was wrapped around it and a chunk of gauze stuck out in the back. That explained the throbbing pain.

“The laceration has stopped bleeding, and I sutured you up while you were out,” Elaine continued. “Only took three stitches since the cut wasn’t deep. The impact was more the problem.”

Great, another injury to add to my growing list.
Someone banged on the door.

“Is she awake?” a little voice demanded from the other side of the door.

Roy walked over and opened it. As soon as he did, Chloe burst through and ran to the stretcher I was on.

“Bailey! Thank God you’re okay!” Her face was right beside mine. Her eyes were red and dried tear streaks ran down her cheeks.

“Hey, kid. Yep, I’ll be okay as per the good nurse Elaine.” I said.

Chloe looked at Elaine as if for conformation, and the nurse nodded. Chloe turned back to me, her smile wavering.

Tears welled in her eyes. “I was so scared.”

My vision blurred in response, but I blinked the tears away. I was beyond happy that she was okay, but I was also rotten with guilt that she’d gone through that.

“Want to know something? I was scared too, but we got through it,” I said.

“Yeah, we sure did.”

“She’s alive!” Mac boomed from the entrance and then came over to gawk at me with the rest of the onlookers.

“It would seem,” I replied. “Can I try to sit up now?”

Elaine grabbed my forearm. “All right, but slowly.”

My body creaked as I rose into a sitting position, the edges of my vision swimming but steadying with each breath. Elaine was watching me closely, making sure I didn’t pale and pass out again. I blinked to clear my eyes, but otherwise, I felt stable. She let my arm go when she saw I was okay.

Mac moved closer to pass something to me. “Here’s a juice box. You’ll need sugar and calories to get your strength back.”

With a trembling hand, I accepted the drink and took a tentative sip. It was grape. Not my favorite flavor, but I was grateful.

“If you can keep that down, we’ll give you some solid food in a bit,” Elaine said, returning to her desk.

“How long was I out for?”

“Forever!” Chloe threw her hands in the air.

Elaine gave us a rare grin. “More like an hour and a half.”

“Did anything else happen?” I needed to tell them about Tim, but I also had to tread carefully.

He was involved in this, but I didn’t know the extent. Tim had taken that bag in exchange for telling them where my room was. He’d seen the scratches on my side and knew I was immune. That was why he’d stalled my leaving and involved me: so I’d remain here until those gang members came to grab me. He was lucky I was too weak to kill him myself; another step closer to that serial killer title.  

I shook with anger, and Elaine rushed to my side.

“Do you feel like you’re going to faint again?”

I took a deep breath through my nose to contain my rage. “Chloe, can you grab me some food? I think I’m good to eat.”

Chloe’s eyes widened. “Sure can. Be right back.”

She took off out of the office.

“Close the door,” I said.

Mac shut the door and came right back. “What is it?”

I had to make sure I worded this right. Maybe it would be better if I started off with a bit of show and tell? I moved to get off the stretcher.

“Hey, you don’t need to stand yet,” Elaine said.

“Trust me,” I said and steadied myself on my feet.

All eyes were on me. I lifted my shirt to reveal the scars that ran up my side. Mac’s face lit up. Roy’s face was a mask of anger, and Elaine peered at the marks curiously.

“These are from an infected person. I got them months ago and never turned,” I explained. “Tim saw these the other day and deduced I was immune. I knew he was up to something when he kept trying to keep me here. Then before the attack, I saw him with those two guys outside my window. He took a bag from them and pointed to my apartment, and then they came after me.”

Stunned silence filled the room. I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what they were thinking. Mac’s theory. Roy’s wife and dead child. Elaine’s clinical logic. They were putting the pieces together.

“Are you sure it was Tim?” Elaine asked.

“A hundred percent.”

“I believe you,” Mac said. “I always thought he was off.”

“All right, how do we proceed from here?” Elaine asked. “I mean we need a little more evidence than just what you saw.”

“I’d say it’s pretty damn incriminating,” I shot back. “How else would you explain it?”

“Makes sense.” Mac crossed his arms. “He always makes these extraordinary finds. Like the time he came back with half a trunk full of guns and ammo when every place that sold weapons for miles had been picked clean. I’m willing to bet that bag he they gave him was filled with supplies and food and maybe guns.”

Mac was probably right. That bag wouldn’t contain hundred dollar bills. Money was useless these days, but weapons and food were gold. Whatever was in that bag was what Tim considered me worth.

“You know, come to think of it,” Mac continued, “during the attack on the apartment, Tim was coincidently on watch with Karla at the interstate entrance. He even traded shifts with Roy if I remember correctly.”

“But why would Tim send them after you?” Elaine asked.

“I’m immune. Mac has a theory about it, and I think he’s right.” I touched my side, feeling the raised scars underneath my shirt.

Mac told them what he’d told me in the kitchen.

“That’s all circumstantial,” Elaine said. “Is it true, Roy? Was your wife bitten?”

Roy hadn’t said one word since I’d revealed my scratches. He was tense, his fists clenched at his side. Instead of answering, Roy stormed out of the room, the door slamming against the wall. We all looked at one another and followed him out of the room. I tested my legs, taking a few shaky steps, and found I was okay to walk.

He rounded the corner to the common room and marched up to Karla.

“Where is he?” he demanded.

Karla was shocked into silence. Roy grabbed her forearms and shook her.

“Where’s Tim?” he yelled into her face.

Mac grabbed him and yanked him off Karla.

She looked at us, confused. “I-I don’t know. He’s still out, I think.”

Curious faces watched the scene from their spots all over the common room. Everyone should have been in their rooms with the doors locked, but no one had common sense around here. Chloe and Amanda chose that moment to reappear, their arms full of food.

I didn’t need that much.

“Dad?” Amanda asked hesitantly.

His shoulders stiffened, and Roy turned to his daughter. “You and Chloe need to go to your rooms.”

“But why?”

“Just do it!” Roy shouted.

His daughter looked on the verge of crying. I’d never seen Roy like this, and I didn’t think Amanda had either. I walked over to them and took some of the food from their hands.

“Thank you guys for getting me food, but now you need to go to Amanda’s room, okay?” I said.

“Do you think the bad guys are comin’ back?” Chloe asked.

“We don’t know, but you need to stay safe in your room. I’ll explain later.”
The abbreviated version anyway.

Chloe looked at me, her face serious. She turned to Amanda. “Come on, let’s go to your room.”

Chloe led them out, and they headed upstairs.

Roy was so agitated that he was pacing. Karla retreated as far from him as she could, and stern eyes watched Roy walk his circuit. I had no idea what to do. I hadn’t expected this from Roy, but his wife was missing and the gang members had killed his daughter. Someone would pay.