The Torn World: The Harvesting Series Book 5 Read online

  Zoey grabbed a tote bag.

  “We’ll take it all,” Chase said.

  “I can’t believe they’re all still here,” Zoey said as she packed the bag. “Makes sense though. It all happened so fast. It was like it just swallowed us, like a wave of death,” she said with a shake of the head.

  Darius tossed a bag to me. Moving quickly, I started shoving ammo inside. Through the window, I saw even more undead coming toward the house. They had heard the window pane break. Through the window, however, I saw Logan run to the end of the walkway and close the gate, wrapping the lock with the broken chain.

  “Shit,” Chase said. “We can’t get pinned down here.”

  “Layla? Zoey?” Amelia called.

  “Let’s go,” I said, stuffing three grenades into my coat pocket. We headed back out onto the roof and handed the bags to Logan and Amelia then climbed down.

  “We need to find another way out,” Logan said, eyeing the undead blocking the path.

  I shook my head. “No. We’ve got this,” I said, motioning to Chase.

  Moving to the end of the walkway, I stabbed the few undead who’d gathered then opened the gate. Chase followed me, and we quickly finished off the undead who were closest to us.

  “They’re going to have to get their hands bloody,” Chase said then, looking back at the others.

  “They’ll learn.”

  “Clear, but we need to move,” I called.

  “Well, let’s hope they learn fast,” Chase said and we headed back out into the dead world.

  CHAPTER 13: AMELIA

  I TRIED TO HIDE HOW MUCH I was shaking at the sight of so much…death. We had seen the moment the world ended but nothing after. The whole world had gone dim. The light around everything had faded. It was all so dark, so black, as if all the life had been sucked out of the world. As much as I thought I was ready for it, I wasn’t. Not even a little.

  “Are you all right?” Logan asked.

  I shook my head. “It’s all gone. All the colors. It’s just gone.”

  “No. You are alive. We all are. There is still life,” Logan said.

  I didn’t respond. I didn’t know what Logan could or couldn’t see, but what I could see was that the world was nothing more than a husk.

  Moving quietly, we worked our way down Ash Street toward the old feed store. Brighton was just rural enough that the local feed and tackle store stayed in business. We were hoping it hadn’t already been looted.

  As we moved, Layla, Chase, and Darius worked together, cutting down the zombies that crossed our path. Their hands, unlike ours, seemed practiced. For Chase and Darius, it was a job that had to be done. For Layla, however, something about her energy changed every time she swung her sword. The sword itself had a glow, a dark blue hue. When she wielded it, the aura around the girl and the sword melded and became one, both glowing brightly. The sword was an extension of her, and she an extension of it. I could see from her face that she didn’t love the killing, that wasn’t what was making her sparkle. It was her love of the blade, the craft of using it. It was the same glow all people took on when they practiced something they were really good at, something they were born to do. I used to see that same aura around Mom. How many times had I seen her moving quickly down the hallway at the hospital, rushing from one patient to the next, the soft pastel colors around her glowing like her spirit might burst from the shell that confined it?

  I was heading home for the first time in all these months. What condition was I going to find her in? Would she still be there? Would she be a rotten and decayed corpse like the zombies roaming the streets of Brighton?

  Zoey whistled to the others then pointed toward the shop. Out front were several trucks. Bodies lay on the ground in various states of decay. Inside one of the trucks, an undead man struggled to get out.

  “Mister Johnson,” Zoey said, looking him over. “Used to come into Studio. Likes his coffee black. Was always flirting with Janice.”

  “You want me to…” Chase offered, motioning to the knife.

  Zoey shook her head. “He’s good where he is,” she said then leaned into the back of his truck and pulled out an axe.

  “Company,” Layla called. Spinning her sword like a baton, she readied herself as six undead men came lumbering out of the feed store.

  “Stay back,” Logan whispered, stepping in front of me.

  With the others distracted, I closed my eyes and pressed my hands together, feeling the energy pulsing around them. The old ways. The old magick. All winter, Madame Knightly had been giving me things to read. Humans had once been close to the Earth, close to our Great Goddess. As a Wiccan, I knew this. As an aura reader and healer, I understood that magic was real. But it wasn’t until my encounter with Larry that I knew how real. That was the first time my white light had manifested in the material plane for something other than healing. It had been an accident. But slowly, I was learning that I could wield my power.

  I opened my eyes to see Layla and the others making short work of the zombies. Then I heard a terrible gurgling sound behind me. I heard the groan, and then the terrible smell of death wafted toward me.

  I turned to see a zombie woman lumbering our way. Her jaw hung slack. She must have just eaten…something. Blood dripped from her chin. What had she eaten? An animal? A person? I almost called out to Zoey, but then I thought better of it.

  “Stay here,” Logan said to me and moved forward to help Zoey. He didn’t see the undead shuffling our way.

  I turned and stared down the zombie woman, studying the darkness around her. Flickering light, soft tones of blue, fought against clouds of black. Like a flame struggling to come to light and burning out over and over again, the blackness surrounded her, eating up the light.

  I took a deep breath, looked down at my hands, and envisioned a massive ball of swirling white light therein.

  Now or never, Amelia.

  “Amelia,” I heard Layla call as the zombie woman came near, too near, to turn back.

  “No,” I yelled and with every bit of energy I could muster, I sent the white light spinning forward. I could see it in my mind’s eye, blasting toward the zombie woman.

  The undead woman’s body rocked when the light hit her, and she stumbled backward. I watched the white light snake around her, infecting the darkness. She reeled then stumbled toward me again.

  “Amelia,” Logan called, rushing back toward me.

  Calling up my energy again, I envisioned a fiery ball of light. I sent the light flying from my hands.

  This time, when it struck her, the undead woman fell to the ground.

  “Amelia?” Logan said. “Amelia, are you okay?”

  Chase, Darius, Zoey, and Layla joined me. Chase and Darius were looking at me with confused expressions on their faces. Layla regarded me closely, her green eyes assessing.

  “Told you she’d be fine,” Zoey told Chase as she shook blood off the axe.

  I looked at the others. “I…I’m a witch,” I told them.

  Chase laughed, shaking his head. He wiped the blood off his blade then shoved it back into the sheath. He then looked at Darius. “I’m beginning to think we’re the only people to survive the apocalypse who aren’t psychic or something.”

  Darius laughed. “Well, at least we’re in good company.”

  “What about you?” Chase asked Zoey. “Secretly a werewolf or anything?”

  “Do I look like a werewolf?”

  “Girl, when you have some time, I’d love to run down how I think you look,” Chase replied.

  Red flashed in Zoey’s cheeks. That was a first.

  “Shut up,” she said, but she was smiling at him. “You okay, Amelia?” she asked me.

  Shaping my hand into a finger gun, I blew off the illusory smoke.

  Zoey laughed.

  “Let’s go see what we can find,” Layla said, motioning to the building. Before she went in, she turned and smiled at me, her eyes meeting mine. Her energy shifted, softened, and
I could see from her expression that she understood. She nodded gently then turned and went inside.

  “I’ll try the trucks,” Darius said. “This town is full of zombies. We’re going to need a ride.”

  I followed behind the others, Logan alongside me. “Your training is going well,” he whispered.

  “But I don’t want to hurt anyone or anything,” I said, looking back at the undead woman lying on the ground. The dark light all around her was gone, as was the blue light that had struggled to survive. Now she was very still, very silent. There was no glow to her. There was nothing.

  “They’re already gone,” Logan said. “Don’t let it trouble you.”

  “Are they?” I asked, thinking once more about the fighting glimmer of blue light.

  I walked into the store and grabbed a bag off the wall as Layla and Chase cut down the last two zombies still inside.

  The place smelled nauseating. The cooler, which had once displayed local cheeses, was completely overgrown with green mold. In the freezer beside it, cuts of meat sat in the same state of rot. The shelves, which had once held canned goods, were all empty.

  “Someone has been here,” Zoey said, tapping her nails on the shelf.

  “Who?” I mused.

  Zoey shrugged.

  “We’ve got wheat and corn here,” Layla called from the back.

  “Propane tanks. Small ones,” Chase said.

  From outside, we heard a vehicle door open followed by a grunt. A moment later, we heard an engine sputter, reluctant to start. After a minute, however, the engine clicked on.

  “Too much noise,” Layla said. “We need to be fast.” Sliding her sword back into her scabbard, she picked up a bag of grain, carrying it on her shoulder.

  Nodding, Logan and I lifted a bag of corn and went outside.

  “We can plant a whole field with this. Feed a lot of people at Witch Wood,” Logan said with a smile.

  I nodded, but I was overcome with feelings of regret. How many people in Brighton had died because we hadn’t offered them shelter at Witch Wood? It hadn’t been my choice, I knew that, but the guilt nagged at me. Hiding at Witch Wood wasn’t the answer, but I didn’t know what was. The idea of a cure, however, was something I could trust in. But how do you cure a walking corpse, their eyes bulging out of their heads, their limbs missing? There is no cure for that.

  Moving quickly, we headed outside. As it turned out, it was Mister Johnson’s truck that started, his corpse now lying on the ground, his head bashed to bits. We loaded the truck with supplies as Layla and Chase kept watch. So far, it was a good haul. Guns, ammo, and now some food. Just one last stop.

  The hardest one of all.

  CHAPTER 14: LAYLA

  AMELIA SAT IN THE FRONT WITH DARIUS directing him toward her home. We could see signs of small arms fire all around town. There were many dead bodies littering the streets, and someone had tried to barricade the small library only to have failed as evidenced by the bodies lying all over the sidewalk on both sides.

  “They didn’t stand a chance,” Chase said.

  I shook my head. “Overrun just like that.”

  I thought back to the first days in Hamletville. They’d been hard, but we’d stayed together. We’d worked as a team. Kellimore and the others had saved Claddagh-Basel. Here, no one had made it.

  The truck pulled into the driveway of a small house and parked beside a green Volkswagen Beetle.

  Amelia exited the truck then went to an enormous oak tree that sat at the side of the driveway and lay her hand on the trunk, her eyes closed. After a moment, she turned to us. “I’ll go in and grab the supplies. Be back in just a minute,” she told us.

  “We’ll go with you,” Logan said, motioning to Zoey.

  The expression on Amelia’s face saddened me. She looked as if she were about to burst into tears. Was it just the loss of everything or something more? I frowned, an odd feeling nagging at me. Something more was going on here.

  “What do you think?” Chase whispered to Darius.

  “She’s hot,” Darius said. “Lots of attitude. Good fit for you.”

  Chase laughed. “Zoey? Oh yeah. But I was talking about Amelia. Did you see what happened? She pulled an X-Men move back there. What the hell was that?”

  “New world order,” Darius said with a shrug. “After all the times Vella has saved us with her cards, I guess I just roll with it now. You shouldn’t be worried about mutant powers. Instead, better keep your eye on shorty with the attitude. What do you think, Layla? Good match?” Darius asked.

  “Leave me out of it,” I said with a grin, but then I looked at Chase. “But yeah. I’d work on that if I were you,” I said then lowered the tailgate and sat down.

  Chase chuckled, and then he and Darius started strategizing about Zoey. I rolled my eyes and pulled out my shashka. I was about to start cleaning the blade when I felt a soft brush against my mind. It was almost like I heard someone take a sharp inhale.

  “Daughter. Daughter. Home.”

  “Oh shit,” I said then jumped off the back of the truck and raced toward the house.

  “Layla?” Chase called.

  I rushed quickly inside, scanning all around, looking for the source of the voice, trying to hear.

  “Hello? Hello? Where are you?” I called, my eyes searching.

  “My daughter. Amelia.”

  Amelia, Logan, and Zoey were in the back of the house talking in low tones. I could hear drawers opening and closing. From the tone in her voice, I could tell Zoey was trying to comfort Amelia.

  Now, I knew why.

  “Where are you?” I called to the unseen voice.

  There was a pause, as if the undead had not expected to hear anyone.

  “Here,” the voice replied, and a moment later, I saw a shadow on the curtains hanging in front of the sliding glass doors. “Here.”

  Darius and Chase entered the house behind me.

  “Layla? Everything okay?” Chase asked in a low voice.

  I nodded, motioning for him to be silent.

  Moving slowly, I drew back the drapes to find a woman standing there. She was wearing faded and stained medical scrubs, her feet bare, her hair a matted mess. But she wasn’t decayed. She wasn’t in the same rotted state as the others. She was one of them.

  “Can you hear me?” she asked, her cloudy eyes searching my face.

  “Yes.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Layla.”

  “Where is Amelia?”

  “No,” Amelia yelled from behind me. “No, Layla. Don’t,” she said, rushing across the room and grabbing my arm.

  Logan and Zoey hurried into the room behind us.

  Amelia had gone absolutely pale, the color draining from her cheeks.

  “Mom,” she whispered, a tear trailing down her cheek.

  “Look away, Amelia,” Logan said. “Layla, close the curtains.”

  “No,” the undead woman said.

  “Your mother?” I whispered to Amelia who nodded sadly.

  “Mom,” she said softly. She gently set her hand on the glass.

  The undead woman groaned oddly then she set her hand on the window opposite her daughter.

  Amelia gasped. “Mom?”

  “I…I can hear her,” I whispered to Amelia.

  The girl’s brow furrowed. She stared at me. “How? But she’s gone,” she said, but then I saw her look more closely at the woman, squinting to see something we could not. After a moment, she gasped.

  The undead woman dropped her hand and turned away.

  “Mom?”

  “The hunger. I must fight it.”

  “What’s happening?” Zoey asked.

  “Mom,” Amelia said then, “her energy is still inside her. I see her colors. I can still see her in there. The darkness is all around her, but her colors, I still see them.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked the woman.

  “Can’t. Too hard. The hunger.”

  “Your name? Please
.”

  “I was…Caroline.”

  “Caroline,” I said then.

  Amelia gasped then grabbed me. “The cure! We need to get that cure.”

  I nodded. “I left my fiancé behind. He was like her, undead but not gone. Nothing will stop me. We will find the cure.”

  “Mom,” Amelia said then, setting her hands on the glass. “Mom, can you hear me? These people might have a cure. Mom! Mom? Mom, can you hear me? Mom, I love you!” she said then wept.

  Logan wrapped his arms around her, Amelia practically crumpling into a heap.

  “Amelia. Love you.”

  “Amelia…she says she loves you too.”

  CHAPTER 15: CRICKET

  “LET ME SEE IF I’VE GOT THIS RIGHT. Madame Knightly can keep this place hidden so we could just ride things out here and see if Beatrice can figure out the doc’s notes?”

  “Yes and no,” Tristan replied.

  “Oh good, yes and no, just what I wanted to hear,” I replied, frowning at Tristan across the small table in the breakfast nook in the kitchen.

  Vella, busy shuffling her cards, completely ignored us.

  “Cricket,” Tristan said carefully. “The magic will deceive the undead and the vampires, but the kitsune will be able to get past the enchantments eventually, as they did at Claddagh-Basel.”

  “At Claddagh-Basel? There were spells there?”

  “Yes, very old ones that protected the place. But they were not strong enough. I was not strong enough,” he said, looking defeated.

  Great, now I’d made him feel bad.

  “You did what you could,” Vella said. “The undead were only the beginning. This is a bigger fight.”

  I raised an eyebrow at Vella.

  “Okay, okay. Maybe so, but what I’m talking about is truly surviving in the long run. We need to figure out how to make that happen,” I said.

  “You must defeat the kitsune,” Tristan said.

  “And how are we going to do that?”

  Tristan frowned. “You cannot. We, my people, must end it. As long as you live, they will seek to extract vengeance.”