Time of Zombies (Book 2): The Zombie Hunter's Wife (5 page)

Rule #3   
Men aren’t the simple creatures we
think they are. Some have depth and layers and a way to worm their way through
your carefully built walls. Always be on guard, walls are there for a reason.

Michelle stood on the scaffolding at the front
gate. Dylan jumped up and down as the blue pickup truck came down the road. She
put her hand on his shaking shoulder. “Please stop that. I don’t want to have
you break an arm or leg.”

“Fine,” he muttered, still hoping from foot to
foot.

As the truck reached the red line on the road,
they slowed and gave two short beeps and one long one of the horn. She took a
deep breath she hadn’t realized she was holding as the tightness in her chest
eased. The signal let the compound know they were friendlies and they could
safely open the gate.

Teddy jumped out of the bed of the truck as soon
as it braked to a stop in front of the compound. For an instance, he wore a
serious look on his face. His gaze shot upward to her and Dylan on the wall and
a smile appeared. Like a mask, it covered the sadness she had been sure she saw
in his eyes just a second before.

The gate slid open silently on well-oiled tracks.
Dylan rushed down the stairs and ran to the big man. Teddy scooped him up and
threw him in the air. The child’s laughter floated on the air. Michelle walked
down the stairs and halted to a stop in front of the man with the boy in his
arms.

“How did it go?”

For a second, the smile slipped and she felt she
saw the real man behind the fake grin he showed everyone. All too soon it was
plastered on his face again.

“Oh, you know. No problem for the King of
Pittsburg.”

“Dylan,” she said to the child. “The girls are
waiting for you. You’re on lunch cleanup today.”

“Oh, man,” he whined, wiggling out of Mr.
Ridgewood’s arms and racing to the kitchen area of the compound without a
good-bye.

“Just like a man—whining and bitching about a
little chore,” Teddy joked.

She wasn’t buying it. Her hand reached for his arm
and squeezed. “Was it that bad?”

He looked down at her and his Adam’s apple bobbed.
His lips tightened as he fought to keep the ever-present smile. The smile lost
and his eyes darkened as he looked away.

“You don’t need my problems, Mrs. Greggs. You got
enough on your plate. Those four boys are a handful and a half as my momma
would say, along with everything else you do for this camp.”

She pulled him to a pair of chairs in the corner,
away from the bustling group crowding around the rest of the group that had
just returned, waiting to hear about the latest zombie scuffle. Teddy would
tell her what happened, or Emily would later with info she got from Seth. The
long worried faces of all didn’t promise any good news. But news from those who
went outside was all she got. It wasn’t like there was newspaper delivery
anymore or even TMZ.

As usual, he waited until she sat before he took a
seat as well. His hand reached for hers and she squeezed his fingers and waited
for him to talk—or not. She could talk with Emily later if it came to that.

A harsh cough brought her attention back to Mr.
Ridgewood. The words tumbled out like a broken dam, a trickle at first until he
rushed through them as if to purge his heart and soul of ugliness.

Was there anything unusual?” she prompted as his
words turned to mumbles and indecipherable ramblings.

“No. Some skinbags walking around a parking lot.
Then we heard knocking.”

He looked away and she reached and cradled his
hand between her two. His skin radiated heat through her palm to her arm. It
was like an oven to sit near the man, even with the chill in the wind.

“A kid in a wheelchair. No, a zombie in a
wheelchair was hitting a door. We got rid of him and then we heard crying. Like
a baby.”

The air whooshed out of her. Bile rose in her
throat. This was why she stayed behind the walls. Inside her motor home.
Wrapped in her bed with blankets. The new world was too harsh, too demanding, and
too sick. Too much. How much until they broke?

“A baby girl. An itty-bitty thing. Something bit
her. I couldn’t let her turn. I couldn’t. I just couldn’t. I killed her.”

The words fell in a tumble and Teddy hung his head
down. Her heart cracked with a snap in her chest. Tears blurred her vision as
she released his hands and he pulled back as if she’d condemned him. Reaching,
she cupped his face in her palms. He raised his head and all she read there was
a soul-wrenching ache, a need for forgiveness. Lines bracketed his tightened
lips and his brow furrowed with doubt. A gray tinge hid just beneath the
darkness of his skin.

“You listen to me, Teddy. That little girl was in
pain. It would have only gotten worse. You saved her from that. I’m sure you
made it quick and painless as possible. You are a good man, Teddy. Do you hear
me? A good man.”

His eyes widened at the same time she realized
she’d finally called him by his first name for the first time. She laughed and
leaned closer as her lips brushed his. The man was as still as a statue, until
his lips warmed under hers. Her breath caught as he kissed her back. Her
heartbeat raced as the moment deepened from a gentle brushing of lips, a
benediction, to a warm gliding attack on her senses, and deep in her heart. Her
mind said stop and her passions said shut up.

Her fingers slid along his smooth cheeks and
reached for the back of his neck to hold him there. The flesh there was hot and
smooth as glass. The kiss tasted of his sweat and her tears.

Teddy moved back and her vision took a second to
straighten. A real, relaxed smile graced his face, one she hadn’t seen in a while,
since he’d first arrived at the RV yard. She smiled back; he had that kind of air
of happiness that made you want to join in. His eyes twinkled and heat pooled
in her chest and between her thighs. They held a promise that echoed the fire
of his kiss.

“Michelle. I may call you Michelle, right? You did
call me Teddy.” He laughed and she joined in. “Not that that wasn’t the nicest
kiss I’ve had, but I do have to ask why.”

“Why?” Her voice dropped down to a tone she didn’t
like, the one her friends called the Ice Witch, but she couldn’t help it. “I
can’t just kiss you because I want to?”

“Sure you could. But you haven’t even seemed to
know I existed before today. So, I have to ask myself, ‘why today’?”

She stood up and folded her arms across her chest.
“If you think I didn’t notice you, you’re crazy. Hell, I’ve seen you in your
boxer briefs. You’re a little hard to miss with all that.”

As she waved her arms around, indicating his body,
Teddy stood up and hugged her in his embrace. His laugh rumbled his chest
beneath her cheek.

“You’re hard to miss, too, Michelle, ma belle.”

She giggled.
What was with that? She never
giggled. That was for the cheerleaders and hair-tossing flirters of the world.

“My dad would sing that song to me.”

“I may be older than you, but I am not old enough
to be your father. Okay, in my ‘hood I might be.”

She smacked his arm. “Teddy Ridgewood, you are not
old enough to be my father. My dad would have been sixty-six this year if the
flu hadn’t killed him. He was probably old enough to be your father.”

His hand reached out and cupped her cheek. He leaned
down and his lips found hers. If the other kiss had been hot, this one was
scorching. Her face heated up and she grew lightheaded. Her hands grabbed his rock-solid
forearms and held on. Her stomach flipped like it did on a roller coaster and
she went with the exhilarating ride. Who knew a kiss could do all of that?

He didn’t know what had changed her mind and he
didn’t care. A blast of cold air blew across the yard and skimmed over his bare
head, the only area of his body to feel the chill. The rest of his body was
fever-hot on every inch that Michelle was pressed against.

Teddy hated to drag himself away from this moment,
but he still needed to report in to Jack and give his impressions of the church
clearing and Reverend Billy Joe Bennett. Like a dash of ice-cold water, his
mind couldn’t escape the slimy ooze of Bennett. It wasn’t just what he said. It
was all that went unsaid but peered out of his ice-cold eyes. Like a vulture
waiting for the prey to die.

Her arms dropped away and Michelle backed up.
“What?” Her eyes were still hazed over with lust and he wanted to be nowhere
but back in her arms to see where this newfound attraction led.

“I hate to do this,” Teddy stumbled for words.
“But I need to talk to Jack about what we saw out there and I get this feeling
that ten minutes from now you’ll regret kissing me.”

She stood tall and smiled up at him. “I only have
one regret in this life, and kissing you isn’t it.”

His heart was fit to burst out of his chest as she
took his hand and they headed to the center of the compound where Jack and Paul
were already holding a group meeting. The words ‘Bennett’ and ‘church’ filtered
through his happy bubble and just like that they were back in the crappy world
of zombies and possible renegades. He’d missed the insanity of General Peters
and his zombie army attacking the group, but intuition told him Billy Joe
Bennett might be just as bad.

Michelle folded clothing on the picnic table as
the front gate rolled open and Commander Canida left to talk with the church
group. He had Paul and Suz with him as backup. More of the men had wanted to
go, but Jack overruled them all with the logic of being less threatening and
not giving away their numbers.

She was on the last load of washing when the ‘all
safe’ honking sounded and the gate rolled open again. Three mad faces didn’t
bode well for the initial meeting. Jack put a hand on Paul’s shoulder and the
man yelled and shoved it away. His anger carried across the yard even if the
words didn’t.

Jack marched to the firepit, which had become the
hub of communication in the camp. Meetings were routinely held there and gossip
circles mingled there as well during the day. He held his hands up as soon as
everyone gathered. “We have met with the Fruitful Harvest Church. All I will
say is the meeting went as expected. Once the children are in bed tonight, we
will hold a group meeting.”

Loud mumblings rolled across the space, but it
died down as Jack refused to say more and marched to his motor home. The
slamming of Paul Luther’s trailer door echoed in the suddenly-silent yard.

Dinner was a quiet affair except for the
complaints of the children at missing the important meeting. Rogue Vantage sat
on either side of her and made their thoughts very clear.

Dylan hit the table with his fist. “We’re part of
this camp too. We should have our say in what matters.”

She hugged him. “I know. But this is a grown-up
meeting. I’ll tell you all about it in the morning.”

“When do I get to be a grown-up?”

“When you are way older than six, stupid,” Connor
said, punching him.

“I’m not stupid, am I, Mom?”

“Of course not, Dylan.” She eyed Connor over
Dylan’s head. “And don’t punch your brother.”

“Well, I can’t punch anyone else,” Connor added
with a smirk.

She sighed and hugged Dylan. “Boys,” she muttered
under her breath.

The boys fought her every step of the way, but she
finally got them all settled down in their trailer. Originally, it was Aiden’s,
but the boys had found paint and personalized it all their own. Dylan’s
contribution was his painted handprints in a row down the side. Michelle smiled
every time she saw them.

Her smile died as she reached the firepit and the
angry voices rose. She found a seat by Emily and Seth.

“I think we all need to go to this church,” Juan
Morales said as he stood from his seat. “Church never hurt anyone, and some in
this group could use it.”

Michelle gritted her teeth. She’d tried to like
Juan but his ignorance reared its ugly head every time she saw him. When she
had to gather his bloody clothing he gave her a smile that raised her hackles.
She’d seen it before from other men. That “the little lady” smile that implied
women didn’t have a brain in their heads. Add to that, the man practically
strutted when he was down to his skivvies. The picture of skinny Juan thinking
he was male model material made her skin crawl.

Paul stood up. “We can’t all go. We can’t leave
the camp vulnerable. I don’t think I need to remind anyone of General Peters
and the attack on The Streets of Brentwood. I’ve already stated my opinion of
Reverend Bennett and his beliefs. Even if he hadn’t stated his morals in stuff
that is none of his business, his views of the skinbags as being resurrected
people is downright scary. His church may be as mad and crazy as General Peters
and his group, or it may not. Perhaps some of us
should
go and form
their own opinions, but someone has to stay here and watch the children.”

“We want to go to church,” Dylan’s voice piped up
from the open door of their trailer.

Michelle got up and rushed over. “You aren’t
going.”

He stomped his foot. “It isn’t fair,” he said, marching
off to his bed.

She shut the door and returned to her seat. Anger
rumbled through the group. “We can take our kids if we want to,” Juan
complained.

Jack stood up. “We will make a decision as a group
on whether we go or not. But the children are non-negotiable. They are the
future. They are staying here.”

Juan sat down in a huff. His wife, Lila put a hand
on his arm, but he shook her off. The woman sat back and huddled in her chair.

Another man stood up. Michelle wasn’t sure of his
name. “Maybe all the men should go. Give this preacher a show of force.”

The women protested loudly until Jack put his hands
up again. “An all-male group would look suspicious, like an ambush or raid. We
need a mix of the group to go and represent us, while still leaving a group to
protect the kids and the camp. You can decide among yourselves who goes and who
stays. As your chosen leaders, Paul and I will be going. Thank you.”