The World Without A Future Part 9

"To your standards?"

I shake my head. The car was flawed-attempting to restore it to what it was is a waste of time. "Find a buyer."

Nurrin s.h.i.+fts, and I step away from her. "How is the Harley?"

Jesse's gaze slides over Ren, and I glance back at her. She's smiling, a f.u.c.k-me tilt to the lips, her eyes sleepy.

"She's not really dressed for the bike, Finn."

"She's none of your d.a.m.n concern," I snap, and her eyes flick to me, amused. "Get the bike. I'll meet you in the garage."

There's a moment of hesitation from Jesse, but he's used to following orders, and he knows my temper. He leaves.

"What the f.u.c.k are you doing?" I ask without looking at her.

She moves, standing lithely. I stay very still as she comes up behind me, her breath whispering over my skin as she says, "Scratching an itch."

I grab her as she struts away. Her eyes are filled with amus.e.m.e.nt and a challenge. "No."

An eyebrow arches, and she laughs. "Why not?"

My jaw clenches, and something flickers in her gaze. Disgust.

Why did I have to obsess over the girl who couldn't be happy with a good f.u.c.k? Why the one who needed to know everything.

I release her. "Fine. Scratch away. Have him bring you home-and my bike."

She opens her mouth to say something-probably ask another b.l.o.o.d.y question-but I ignore it, ignore her yelling my name as I leave.

Chapter 2.

Killing Aggression Every Haven has a Wall. And every wall needs Walkers. I stalk there now, ignoring the curious faces of Haven citizens, the mourning incense still hanging like a pungent cloud over the city.

There is very little I dislike more than Day One and the subsequent days. She's at her most vulnerable then. For a heartbeat, I hesitate. Leaving her with Jesse is making all of my protective instincts scream. But I kissed her last night-if I keep up with the over-protective alpha-male routine, she'll bolt. I make a face. This long game might be worth the end reward, but there's something to be said for instant gratification. Namely, that it's instant.

There are a few Walkers in the barracks, and I nod at them. "Help you?" one asks.

I smile lazily. "Haven 8. Chief Walker of the Western sector."

"Bit far from your sector, sir," he says, politely questioning my right to be here.

I hate questions. Despise them. Why don't people get that questions are just a way to lie. The answers don't mean anything-they aren't earned, they're given for nothing. How could they mean anything? "Just need a bit of a distraction. Do you mind?"

He eyes me for a moment then shrugs. "A Walker's a Walker, no matter where he hails. Try not to get yourself killed up there."

I flash a sharp smile, but don't say anything in response. He steps aside, and I jog up the steep stairs.

The Wall is twenty feet thick, a hundred feet high. On the inside, it's braced by buildings and barracks, small businesses that cater to the thrill-seekers.

On the outside, there is nothing. A sheer, smooth drop directly to the ground, no vegetation or growth sprouting along the Wall. No trees within fifty yards. It's like a great big hand carved away all of nature's beauty and dropped a fortified city in its place.

It gleams white in the morning light, the stink of zom repellent still filling the air. It's a familiar scent, on the Wall. Almost as familiar as the scent of blood and decay.

I see a small herd milling around a fallen deer. Infects prefer humans-if they can get at a healthy human, they'll bypa.s.s any wild game for a shot at spreading the disease. But when hungry and desperate enough, they aren't terribly picky.

Any meat will do when they're starving.

Aside from the infects feeding, it's a quiet morning-the border is empty. I lean against the wall, my finger tapping incessantly. This isn't what I need. I'm too edgy, anxious. "Do you have a patrol scheduled?"

The Walker at my left s.h.i.+fts, surprised. "Sir?"

I flick my head, annoyed. "A patrol. Scouting parties."

He stares at me blankly, and I growl, clattering down the stairs and approaching the fortified gate. It's a stone door that slides directly into place, which lets Walkers into the Wide Open to patrol beyond the Haven and clear the wall.

"I'm going out," I say, digging into their armory and finding a crossbow and a wicked-sharp axe. It's a personal weapon, one that requires close quarters. It's perfect. Now I just need an infect. "Open the gate."

"Sir, you can't go out there," one of the Walkers objects.

I give him a long look, and he finally flushes, looking down. "Open. The gate," I repeat flatly.

There's a screeching sound of metal on metal, and a narrow gap appears. I slip through it, putting the gleaming white of the wall behind me. The open air teases my skin, carrying the scent of wild pine and infects.

"You're crazy, you know."

I glance sideways at the Walker who followed me out of the Haven. I give a tight smile, and then a low moan draws my attention.

The herd with the deer has caught our scent, and one's head is whipping around, her moan an angry call as she searches. I pull my bow up, slowly, and carefully draw the string back. There's a sharp tw.a.n.g, which draws the others' attention. Then the quarrel catches her in the forehead, spinning her around as she falls.

"Incoming," I say, and the Walker shoots me a disbelieving look-the amus.e.m.e.nt in my voice has to disturb him. The zombies take all my attention, and for the first time since I left the Hole, I'm not thinking about her. I'm not thinking about anything but the arrow I'm aiming, the putrid body bag bolting across the clearing toward me, and the axe in my hand as I swing it around. The zombie screams just before my blade slices into its neck, and I smile, a mad hatter grin, as I go to work.

The scream draws more-five infects burst from the tree line at a dead sprint as the Walker puts down the last of the first pack. I hiss-I'm tired and running low on arrows-before jerking the crossbow up and taking aim. I drop three, and the Walker picks off a fourth. As I line up the sights of the fifth, I hesitate-her long blonde hair is still s.h.i.+ny, her face almost untouched by the infection. She's new and furious, awkward with the disease rampant in her blood system. The ends of her gold hair are b.l.o.o.d.y.

She reminds me, for a heartbeat, of the past. I close my eyes and squeeze the trigger, breathing out as the bow bucks slightly. I hear the m.u.f.fled thud of the body, finally dead, hitting the ground. Sudden exhaustion sweeps me as I survey the carnage-it was senseless risk, and I'm sure I'll hear all kinds of s.h.i.+t from Lissel later. But it did what I needed, until that last biter. A little annoyed that she ruined my high, I stalk around the dead, ripping arrows from their skulls. The Walker paces alongside me, eyeing me as he keeps watch.

"Have something to say?" I finally ask, bored. I jerk another arrow free and take the gore covered bolts back toward the Wall.

"We all have our ways of dealing with the Turn."

I stare at him, a smile ticking my lips up. He pales. The f.u.c.ker shot down a rampaging horde, took point while I retrieved s.h.i.+t we could do without-and a smile from me makes him nervous.

I don't address his statement, the truth in it-or the fact that this isn't a yearly blowup.

This is my life-everyone's-every day.

Chapter 3.

Cleaning Up She's back. I know, even before I push open the front door, that she's back-the air feels slightly different when she's sharing it with me, a subtle tension fills it that only I seem to be aware of.

I take a deep breath and open the door, letting a blank expression fall over my face.

I don't need it-she's asleep, snoring slightly, curled on her side on the couch. A blanket has slipped off her, exposing the soft curves of her breast and a.s.s, still encased in the outfit I gave her.

I start to walk past, and she make a little noise, halting me in my tracks.

d.a.m.n her for the ability to do that. I kick the couch, and she snaps upright, her gun trained on my head. I keep my face straight, despite the urge to grin. She's always ready for an attack. Collin trained her well-but then, he would. He's lost too much to risk his sister.

"The door was unlocked," I say, and she blinks, relaxing a tiny bit when she sees it's only me.

"I didn't think you had the keys," she answers, tossing them to me.

"It's dangerous for you to be unprotected right now," I say, looking away.

She's quiet, for so long I finally look back at her. She's staring at me, emotions spreading across her face too quickly for me to follow. Finally she smirks. "Didn't think you cared."

My own words, echoing back at me. A smile twitches my lips. "Collin would be p.i.s.sed if anything happened to you, Nurrin."

She looks away. "Did you get the meds?"

I shrug out of my leather jacket, and she inhales sharply. I'm still covered in blood from the skirmish outside the Wall. "What happened?" she demands shrilly, taking a short step toward me. I pin her with a sharp look, and she stops.

I ignore her, pulling the b.l.o.o.d.y s.h.i.+rt of. It sticks to my chest. I grimace. "I'm going to shower," I announce, turning toward my bedroom.

"Finn O'Malley, you have to answer me," she snaps. "You have to talk to me!"

The bathroom feels crowded with her in it. I hook my thumbs in the top of my jeans, ready to shove them down. "You might want to leave," I murmur, turning to stare at her.

Her cheeks are flushed, but she sets her feet, crossing her arms. I grin, slow and amused. I unb.u.t.ton and push my jeans down.

Her breath catches, her gaze skirting down before snapping up to my eyes. "I'm not leaving without answers, Finn."

I step into her s.p.a.ce, so close I can feel the heat of her skin, the brush of her corset-clad b.r.e.a.s.t.s. "See something you like, little girl?"

"Nothing terribly impressive," she shoots back, and I laugh at that. Her breathing is fast, her eyes a little sleepy. She's primed for s.e.x and a fight, and I want to give her both.

I lean into her, inhaling her scent and licking at her pounding pulse point. She s.h.i.+vers, swaying toward me. "You sure, Nurrin? It's gotta be more fun than taking care of yourself."

"Who says I did," she murmurs, and I jerk upright. "Jesse is quite talented. At many things."

I want to throttle him. Or her. Instead, I twist and turn on the shower. The water is scalding hot, and it stings my skin as I step into the spray, ignoring her completely.

Knowing she was with other men in Haven 8 I could handle-there was distance, and I slept around. Tried to get her out of my system. But here, it's somehow different. I want to strangle Jesse, push her against a wall and kiss her until she can't remember anyone's name but mine.

"You can't ignore me and expect me to wait for you to do whatever it is you're doing," she shouts over the spray. I fist my erection and turn to her, blatantly displaying myself. Her eyes widen, and she bites her lip.

"I can, actually. You'll listen or I'll lock you in until I'm ready to go back to the Hole."

She bares her teeth in a parody of a smile and turns away.

f.u.c.k. "Nurrin!" I snarl, and jump out of the shower. She's almost to the door, moving fast, when I tackle her. She hits the ground with a yelp. I roll, pulling her under my wet, still-b.l.o.o.d.y body.

"Get off me, you b.a.s.t.a.r.d," she shouts, and I clamp down hard on her wrists as she reaches to slap me. I force her hand down and glare at her.

"Are you f.u.c.king insane? Or just trying to get yourself killed? The Order is out there, hunting Firsts. You idiot."

"I don't care," she says, and I groan, letting my weight drop on her. She gasps, squeezing her eyes closed. "Dustin needs me. The longer you f.u.c.k around, the longer Collin is with that danger."

My stomach twists, and I pull away. "It's too dangerous to go out while the Turn is being remembered."

"That didn't stop you this morning. And it's too dangerous for Collin to wait."

She's right. She's right, and I can't do a d.a.m.n thing about it. I prop myself up and stare at her. "You have to listen."

Hope sparks in her eyes, and she nods, a quick bob of her head. "Just like the Wide Open, Finn."

I roll off her, and she stays there for a minute, staring up at me. I don't look at her, just turn and stalk back to my abandoned shower.

Chapter 4.

The Blessed Order She strides alongside me on the quiet street. Mourning incense fills the air and my head, the streets taking on an eerie quality in the dimness. I glance at her from the corner of my eye. If she's nervous being on the streets during Second Night, she's doing a d.a.m.n good job at hiding it.

She's dressed in a scarlet bandage dress with a black ribbon shoulder strap. Paired with her black stilettos, she looks s.e.xy and dangerous and five years older than she is.

She doesn't look like a First.