The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10 (10 page)

Jim crouched down in front of my body blocking me. In one swing, Jim sliced the eater’s head right open like he wielded a machete. It split like a watermelon. Brain matter and blood poured over me as the body fell beside me. I couldn’t hold back my building nausea anymore.
 

I turned to my side and vomited. My already aching body hurt as heaves tore through me. I shut my eyes and tried to breathe deeply. My lungs ached from walking so much. There was nothing inside of me to throw up, yet my body continued to contract. My throat burned a hundred times hotter than the house fire we escaped.
 

Jim rubbed up and down my back. My spine tingled, little shivers running between vertebras. He pulled out a square cloth and wiped my face while I sat in silence, unable to move.

Without uttering a word, he lifted me into his arms. I couldn’t say a single thing, my throat in too much pain. I couldn’t walk anyway, my body too weak. I’d never felt more useless. Keeping my eyes open was even a struggle. I was a dead weight.
 

Guilt washed over me. Jim took the brunt of my vulnerability, having to carry me through woods and destruction. But the heavier my eyes got the less I cared. My eyes drooped, my breathing evened. I realized I wasn’t wearing the mask anymore.
 

But before I could do anything, the darkness took over, destroying me in its hold. The red eyes let me sleep, if for just a few moments. I could hear their screams coming in the distance.

The red eyes. They haunted me. I ran through the woods, the eaters on my heels. For some reason, they could run and were faster than I was. I searched in front and behind me for Jim but couldn’t see much. The eyes stood out in the blackness of the night.
 

A roar rang out from behind me as I was tackled to the forest floor. My head collided with a large rock, and my vision spotted. I flipped over but the eater was on top of me now. His hands grabbed onto my shoulders and pressed me down.
 

It was Jim.
 

The eater had Jim’s face. I screamed and punched the eater in the face. I kicked and wriggled to try to get him off me but I was stuck. Jim—the eater—smiled, his teeth tainted in blood. Then he leaned down and bit my shoulder.
 

Pain blasted through my body, and I jumped.
 

My eyes shot open. I didn’t move. A starchy material scratched my back, and I grabbed it with my hands. I pulled the fabric out from under me, holding it to my chest. Where was I?
 

The room was too quiet, almost like I was sitting right in the eye of a storm. I turned and glanced around, but I couldn’t see anything recognizable. I had no recollection of how I got there. My mind raced.
 

Where was Jim? I pressed against the ground and sat up, my back against something hard. A bookcase reached the ceiling. It blocked me from seeing much else. Another bookcase sat in front of me, blocking more of my vision.
 

The room had a musty smell with hints of citrus and vanilla. It comforted me. Images from community college rushed to the forefront of my mind.

I spun around, attempting to stand up, but my body rebelled. All of my bones and joints ached from the sudden movement. Most noticeable was my legs, specifically my quads. They burned. I pressed my hand to the top of my thigh and winced.
 

I sat back with my head resting on the book shelf and tried to remember how I ended up in what seemed like a library. The last thing I could come up with was killing the eater. Everything after became fuzzy.
 

My insides leapt into panic mode, my heart skittering, my hands shaking. Was I kidnapped again? A whimper escaped my lips, and I covered my mouth with my hand. I didn’t want anyone to hear me.

My throat felt like it was closing, and I lay on my side to force air into my lungs. I pulled in a deep breath and held it while curling into a ball. I wrapped my arms around my legs, trying to calm myself down enough to come up with a plan.
 

“Hey.”
 

I opened my eyes and saw him kneeling in front of me. The sound of his voice was like that of a guardian angel—I’d guess. A whiplash of emotions tore through me and tears rolled down my face. He put his hand on my shoulder, and his warmth immediately filled me.
 

“Lana, you’re okay. I’m here.”

“I thought you left me.” I choked on my words as a sob cut through me. “I thought I was kidnapped again.” I tried to hold back the tears. I didn’t want Jim to see me as weak, but I couldn’t hold it in anymore. Everything weighed on me and chose that moment to break my back.
 

“I wouldn’t leave you alone.” He sat down next to me and lifted my head onto his lap. I didn’t have the energy to push him away. One of his arms wrapped around my shoulder, the other beside my head.
 

I squeezed my eyes shut as I tried to banish the negativity from my thoughts, but everything seemed so impossible. The kidnapping that brought me into this world of monsters taunted me with questions of ‘what if’.
 

What if they never found me and stole me from my home? Would someone else have come along? Killed me? What if Jim had been like his brother? Would I have been raped and beaten by now? Every thought piled, one after the other, until I shut down.
 

His hand brushed through my hair. My entire body stiffened at the first hint of contact. But he just touched my hair, playing with it and running his fingers through it. I found that I didn’t hate it. I liked it, the motion, the soothing gentleness of it.
 

I basked in the few stolen moments of quiet. When I had myself in check, I turned and faced him, lying on my back. For some reason, he seemed different than before, and I didn’t understand why. I was painfully alone right now; yet when he was close to me, nurturing me like this, I was okay.
 

The moments when he left my side were harsh. Rejection encompassed me, and doubt flooded through my veins. Yet here, as his fingers were wrapped around my dull brown hair, my life felt controllable.
 

“What?” Jim asked, his voice cracking at the end. He stared down at me with a wrinkled brow. He cocked his head to the side as his hand wrapped around a strand of my hair. “I know you probably want to relax…” His voice trailed at the end.

“Yeah…” I widened my eyes, waiting for the drop.

“Well, I’ve torn this place apart and it’ll be good for a shelter. But there’s no food left. While you were asleep, I ventured down the road and found a gas station. There aren’t too many eaters around it, but I didn’t want to go in alone.” His eyes cut to the side.
 

“I wasn’t sure when you’d be up and figured you’d be a bit disoriented. We’re going to have to go get supplies before nightfall.” His jaw set in a grim line. His sentence cut off in such a way that I knew there was more he needed to say. He looked towards the bookcase across from us.

“Okay. Let’s go.” I wasn’t going to hold Jim back, and I knew if I stayed behind it would distract him. I had to put on a brave face. Plus, I wasn’t okay with forcing him to go alone. I had killed one eater and was prepared to kill more.

“Drink and eat first. I force fed you water, but you kind of spit it up.” Jim glanced down at his chest, where I saw an oval of wetness. I cringed and sat up, my head rushing and throbbing.

“Sorry,” I said as I shrugged. My legs ached beneath me as I stood. My knees felt like they could buckle at any moment, but I pushed through the pain and leaned against the wall of books. I reached down, and Jim took my hand. Even my ankles were sore.
 

Jim walked towards the center of the room where two long tables sat side by side. One had a small stash of food on top of it. Three bottles of water were stacked in a pyramid with a large jug of Poland Springs that came off a water fountain. There was at least a gallon left inside. A box of granola bars sat at the edge of the table, my favorite honey flavor, and a carton of assorted nuts was beside it.
 

“There wasn’t anything left.” Jim pursed his lips.
 

I craved the salty taste of the bar so I grabbed the box and tore it open. There were only two left in the box. But I ate them back to back without uttering a single word. The first sunk down into the pit of my stomach like a rock. The second I chewed, savoring the flavors and fullness in my gut.
 

“Did you eat?” I asked with a mouthful. I hadn’t even thought to offer him one. I held the half-eaten bar towards him, but he shook his head.

“I had a couple.” He pulled out one of the chairs from under the table and waved his hand, instructing me to sit. I took it gladly, giving my legs a much needed rest. With narrowed eyes, I watched him limp around the table and sit across from me.
 

“Who are you?” I muttered under my breath. His head shot up and I widened my eyes. I hadn’t meant to say that aloud. His face softened as he rested his arm on top of the table.
 

“I don’t even know anymore.” He shook his head, staring down at the table. I took another bite of my granola bar and chewed it slow, grinding it between my teeth. Since I had already stuck my foot in my mouth, I figured I might as well use this to try to figure out what he was about, why he was so different than his brother.

“Who were you before this?” I cocked my head to the side as he picked at his thumb cuticle, rolling it between his fingers. I wanted to know if he was a good guy. Maybe he had a wife and kids who passed. Maybe he just lived alone like me, never fitting into society. But I didn’t know anything about him, and it bothered me.

“You definitely don’t want to know.” He glanced up at me. “I worked at the mill just outside of Hartford. It was a family business—Moore’s Wood. I mostly dried the wood and cut it. John ran the flooring section of the business.”

“You didn’t answer my question.” I didn’t care what job he had. I knew damn well that it didn’t mean anything. Being a secretary, I didn’t have a leg to stand on, but I still considered myself a good person.
 

“How’s this then?” He leveled his eyes with mine, his holding a glare. I flinched and sat back, my arms over my chest. “I only worked at the mill ‘cause it was an easy job and my father needed me. I went through the motions, not giving a shit about anyone. I used people and alcohol, to forget about my shit of a life. Is that the answer you were looking for?” His words spat out like venom.
 

“I’m sorry—”
 

The chair clashed on the ground with a resonating bang as he shot up. I quickly swallowed my words and watched him stride away from me into the lines of bookcases. I finished off the bar and a bottle of water. I rolled my neck, feeling more energized than I had in days.
 

I ran after Jim, searching down the rows and rows of cases. His back was to me as I found him leaning against the books. I stepped behind him and placed my hand on his back, rubbing up and down in what I hoped was a soothing motion.
 

I mimicked a woman I stayed with for about a month when I was thirteen or so. She used to rub my back whenever I had a panic attack. She would trail her nails down the center of my spine, making shivers spring up. Sometimes she would have to sit for hours on end just rubbing my back, not saying a single word. It helped back then—and judging from the tension disappearing from Jim’s body, I thought it was helping now.
 

“I don’t like to talk about my past. And you can’t make me, Lana.”
 

“I understand.” I nodded even though he couldn’t see me. I didn’t want to push him to tell me things. I just wanted to know him, but I guessed that would have to come with time. I didn’t want to tell him every aspect of my life prior to the bombings, but at the same time, if it would help him, I thought I would.
 

Besides, I already knew that he’d protect me with his life. When it came down to things, I trusted him to save me, to kill for me. And for now, that would have to be enough. But if we were staying together, I’d have to know more to make myself feel better about trusting him so easily.

“We need to go to the gas station now if we want to get there and back by nightfall. We should only travel during the day. Remember that, it’ll be safer.”
 

“I know. A solider told me the eaters were stronger when it’s dark and cold out.” Finally, there was some bit of knowledge I could contribute.

“Really?”
 

I nodded in response.
 

“Well, it’s good to have that theory confirmed. We were just going based on what we had seen.” He stepped forward. My hand fell from his back. He left me as he stalked towards the stairs. Resigned, I followed him with my face hot.

“Here,” Jim said as he pushed the handgun and knife across the center table. I put the gun into my back pocket and threaded the knife through my belt loop above the gun. He nodded towards the stairs, and I trailed behind him. I was just thankful he didn’t force the mask over my face.