Something to Die For by Kaye Blue

Forty-Three

Angel

Three Months Later

“Are we there yet?”

Lucas gave me a smile, but this one was more grim than I had gotten used to from him.

“What? You don’t think that joke still has legs after three months?”

He laughed, but even that sound was muted.

“I’m just impressed that you can still joke after walking for this long,” he said.

“I have great company. And my calves look great,” I said with a shrug.

I would have flexed, but the pain would have been too intense, so instead I gave him what I hoped was a winning smile.

“Your calves have always looked great,” he said absently.

I still smiled anyway, felt myself blushing.

He shouldn’t have been able to do that, not after all we had been through, not after everything that had changed, but he did.

“You look worried,” I finally said, giving voice to the thought that had been nagging at the back of my brain.

He turned his dark eyes on me, but he didn’t say anything.

“We’re going to make a detour,” he said, looking at the map.

I tried to keep a general idea of where we were but left most of the navigating up to him. All I knew was that the terrain was getting rougher, and the air was getting colder. In fact, I expected snow any day, though I prayed that it stayed away. I would always be a Southern girl at heart. Apparently I could handle the zombie apocalypse, but snow…

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“Not sure, but if this map is right, there should be something a few miles ahead.”

He was right.

We came across a small town with just a couple of warehouses and a general store. I got the sense the town had been in decline before everything had happened, and now, it was abandoned. We kept walking, getting farther away from the center of town, to an area that was more sparse, houses popping up sporadically.

“Here,” he said, going to one of the houses.

“You sure?” I asked, wary.

“Yeah,” he responded.

I stood on the back porch as he went in to the house, and after a few moments, he ushered me in.

“Rest,” he said, gesturing toward a couch.

He didn’t have to tell me twice. I sat down, grateful to have the soft cushion under me.

I didn’t care that it was dusty, covered with who knew what kind of animal waste.

I was just grateful for the seat.

I rested for a moment and then stood and looked around. I found a sheet that looked clean enough and spread it on the couch and lay down, not even bothering to take off my boots, which were still in surprisingly good shape given what I had put them through.

“I’m going have to write a letter to this company. Their product really lives up to its name,” I said as I clicked my heels together.

He cracked another smile then squatted down, his expression serious.

A full beard had grown in, his dark hair fell well past his collar, and his face was leaner.

To be expected with all the walking and not eating we had been doing.

Still, I saw the intensity of his expression and started to worry.

“What is it?”

He didn’t respond, not immediately, but after a long moment, one where he seemed to study my face, he spoke.

“When were you going to tell me?” he whispered.

“Tell you what?” I asked, blinking, which I was sure gave me away.

His eyes flashed, anger in them for the first time that I could remember a long while. I sighed and sank deeper into the couch. I’d known I’d have to tell him eventually, but I hadn’t found the nerve.

“I wasn’t sure,” I said, my voice small.

“You were,” he said, his gaze not letting me escape.

“I wasn’t. Not really,” I protested.

He didn’t say anything for a long, long time.

“Angel?” he finally whispered.

“It might not be yours,” I said, forcing out the words as fast as I could.

I’d refused to even think it, but as soon as the words were spoken, dread came over me.

My eyes started to well, but Lucas shook his head.

“No tears,” he said.

That shouldn’t have been enough to calm me, but he was right.

I hadn’t shed a tear over him before, and I wouldn’t now.

“There’s no way to—”

“Angel,” he cut me off.

I looked down, but at the sound of his voice, I met his eyes again, saw a ferocity that took my breath away.

“It’s mine. No matter what,” he said.

He held my gaze, didn’t blink until I nodded.

“But?” I asked, sensing that something else was weighing on him.

“At this rate, we’re never going to get there. Certainly not before…”

“I know,” I whispered, my not saying something sooner seeming that much more ridiculous. “I should have said something sooner.”

“Me, too, but we can’t go back. But now, we’ve got to do something different,” he said.

“All right, what are you thinking?”

From his expression, I knew I wouldn’t like what he said.

“I’m going to find us enough supplies and transportation to get us there.”

“And what am I going to do?”

“You’re going to stay right here. And if I’m not back in four days, you’re going to start walking, and you’re not going to stop till you get to this X on the map.”

“You mean you want us to split up?” I whispered.

“Yeah. We have to,” he said quietly, with finality.

“Lucas…”

“I don’t like it either. But it’s the fastest and best way, and we can’t keep going like this,” he said.

I wanted to argue, wanted to do anything if it meant we wouldn’t be apart.

But he was right.

I was only slowing him down and getting slower every day.

And he was right about the pain. Every step got a little bit harder, and soon walking would be excruciating.

I suspected it was pelvic girdle pain, a fairly common occurrence in pregnancy, and figured it’d be just my luck to have that during the fucking apocalypse.

“The pain is really bad, isn’t it?” he asked.

I wanted to deny it, but I nodded. “Yes, and it’ll only get worse.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. I wanted to stay like that, but I forced myself to get up, shooed him away when he tried to get me to sit back down.

“You rest. Let me go through the supplies and make sure you have what you’ll need.”

He watched as I rummaged through our supplies and packed a separate bag for him. We spent the evening together, mostly silent, as the hours ticked by. Then, the morning came, and after he prepared, he stood at the front door and stared at me.

“Four days and you go,” he said.

“Just make sure you’re back,” I responded.

He nodded and set off. He was gone almost instantly, leaving me with nothing but my fear.

And my hope.