BEYOND THE DEAD ZONE | COMPLETE

Thirty-Seven | Barron

Thirty-Seven | Barron

I have always been a no-good bastard.

If there was one thing Maxwell taught me was good people died first. The only way to survive was to kill anyone who was stupid enough to not fear you, and when that wasn't an option, you had to outsmart anyone stronger. Until I met Erin Brooks.

I couldn't understand why Maxwell wanted her so badly. He didn't need her. Not really. I'm sure he'd figure out his own shit eventually even without her blood. I guessed she was Jacob Brooks trophy—the man who'd always been one step ahead of Maxwell. Then I realized, it had been Erin who'd always been one step ahead.

That enraged Maxwell.

He wanted to best a fucking teenager.

She just wanted to survive.

Wasn't that a funny one. It didn't take long for her and her merry men to best him and then Maxwell was out of the picture and I was a forgiven murderer. I'd tried to kill her, and then I tried to manipulate her into sparing my pathetic life and she did. She did but didn't stop there. Erin considered us friends.

Me a friend!

Maybe the world wasn't so dark.

The rest is history. I found my way in the new world, I fell in love with a man who was far too good for the pathetic likes of me and then we even had a kid. A smart kid who was quiet and kind to those around him. He took after Isaac for sure, and I know someday, he'll become a leader. I couldn't be more proud of my husband and my son.

Sadness filled me.

"Damn it all," I muttered to myself.

"Nows no time...for memoriesss."

I look up from my spot. Those bastards are tough. They got me good. I couldn't move, both legs shattered. They didn't attack either, but that gave me no peace of mind. All I knew was everyone was now dead here but me. A city of delta zombies.

I whistled lowly, my birds circling the air again, this time above the large propane tank that fueled all power in this city. It was a bit away from the connected roofs so no one could get to it. But birds could. I give my silent command. The birds infect more birds, their numbers growing without notice now. In front of me, I almost believe Spencer is ok. If not for the blood tears and ripped mouth.

Holy shit she got fucked up.

"You delta's are good," I laugh to buy time.

Her head tilts. "All is from our Master. Master decides how good we get to be. Master decided this moment. Master doesn't like your ability."

My brow arches, "And who is your Master?"

Spencer grins more, her cheeks splitting. "Master's name is forbidden."

Scary. I fake a yawn. Whoever has the ability to control zombies...to let zombies keep some sort of intelligence...it was unfathomable. Maxwell's dreams had come true but who the hell could have done that? I immediately think of the surviving illicit. Aribella was alive last I heard, but she'd long slithered past the dome. Colton was alive too—but who knew where he could be. Was he their Master? I couldn't think of anyone else. Colton was a fucking idiot, but maybe that's what he wanted everyone to think.

"Why is he doing this?" I demand.

She moves forward, slamming two fingers into my leg. I let out a cry, hot pain lacing through my flesh. Fuck. It's a bitch and so is she. I'm out of time and I know it. She's no longer interested in playing and I was finally ready.

But could I do what needed to be done?

"When you turn," Spencer told me, her voice raspy, and her breath smelling like rot, "Master will be able to control both mind and animal."

I grin at her. "Do your best bitch."

My life is nothing if I can't protect my son and husband from this shithole.

My whistle is final. A murder of crows dive for the tank. Spencer pauses.

The tank explodes. My eyes close. Acceptance fills me. I can feel the stupid tears dripping down my face and I think of all the moments I've had with Will. With Izaac. Building the town. Teaching my boy how to walk, and then how to say "potty words" that got Izaac riled up. A small smile pulls onto my face. All I feel is heat.

And then—

Writing this chapter gave me emotional damage.