Deadlocked (Book 8): Sons of Reagan Read online

  “Gotcha,” said Ben, understanding my hesitation to discuss Hero’s death. “So you’re the only scout left standing?”

  “Yes,” I said with reflection. I hadn’t thought much about it before, but Ben was right. Being a scout for the Rollers wasn’t as simple as just heading out to keep an eye on things. Survival played a key role, and it was a skill that took time to learn. Living in an undead world is a tricky prospect. There were other members of the Rollers that could certainly be competent scouts, but none that had been competent enough to serve in the role frequently before we were attacked.

  “What about Billy’s scavengers?” asked Ben of the Rollers that Billy had chosen to be in charge of going out and collecting food and supplies to bring back.

  “I’m sure some of them probably think they could handle a scouting mission, but they’re wrong. Traveling out in a five mile radius around the camp is a heck of lot different than going out on a scout. You probably know that better than anyone. Surviving out there’s not as easy as people assume.”

  “We should go,” said Ben.

  I thought he meant that we should go back inside. “You two go,” I said with a glance down at Stubs. “I’m going to stay out here for a little longer.”

  “No, I meant that you and I should go scout the airport. I spent the better part of my life surviving on my own, sneaking around, and I probably know more about the military facilities than anyone in the Rollers. You and I would make a pretty good team.”

  “I thought you worked alone,” I said, chiding him for how he always used to insist on being alone during our time under Jill’s watchful eye.

  “I do, for the most part, but you’re not bad company.” He leaned closer so that he could nudge me with his shoulder.

  “Mom would never go for it,” I said, wary of how my mother would respond. She’d been fiercely protective of me ever since Kim’s death, and I knew that she wouldn’t allow me to set off on a scouting trip.

  “Tell her she’s got nothing to worry about. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

  I snickered and then said, “Yeah right. I’ve got a feeling if we went scouting it’d be me saving your ass the whole time, not the other way around.”

  “Oh really?” he asked, amused.

  “Really.”

  “We’ll see about that.” He adjusted his grip on Stubs, and the dog hung limply in his arms as if ready to fall asleep. “I’m serious, you should tell Laura that the two of us will head back out to the airport. I don’t think there’s anyone else here that would be better suited for the job.”

  “Are you feeling up for it? I thought you were still pretty banged up.”

  He shook his head and said, “I’m fine. I heal fast.”

  “All right,” I said, but rolled my eyes and sighed before adding, “But I already know what her answer’s going to be.”

  * * *

  “Absolutely not,” said Laura, expecting that to be enough to end the conversation.

  “Hold on,” I said as I took her arm to keep her from walking away. “Don’t dismiss me like that.”

  “You’re in no shape to go traipsing around,” said my mother as she avoided eye contact with me. We were inside of the rehab center, in one of the conference rooms that had once been used for group counseling. The ring of comfortable seats in the center of the room was where the leaders of our group would meet to discuss the bevy of issues that arose in a camp of people such as this. One might expect that the majority of my mother’s time would be spent with planning the attack against Jerald’s military, or managing food, water, and supplies for such a large group, but in truth, most of her time was spent settling minor disagreements between people staying with us. Leading the Rollers had been easy compared to trying to handle people that had become accustomed to life in Vineyard. The survivors had their own opinions on how a colony should be run, and were quick to voice their concerns with how Laura managed them. The former strife within the Rollers, caused by Billy’s desire to continue fighting the military and Laura’s hope for peace, had been tame compared to the vitriolic battles that erupted between the supposedly civil refugees of Vineyard.

  The stress of leading such a large group, and trying to keep everyone happy, had a visible effect on my mother. She looked tired and pale, thinner than she’d ever been, and was easily agitated.

  “I’m fine,” I said in defiance.

  “No, we’re not having this debate. Not now.”

  “Don’t turn your back on me,” I shouted, like a child throwing a tantrum, and she stopped before leaving the room. “Don’t treat me like this.”

  “Like what? Like you’re my daughter?” she asked as if she might be amused if she weren’t so angry. “Because I’ll tell you what, Annie, you are my daughter. You’re my only daughter. You’re the only person I have left in this world and I’m not going to lose you by sending you off on a scouting mission. No way.”

  “Stop being dramatic. You’ve got Zack and David.” I motioned over to Zack who was standing near the door. “And besides, nothing’s going to happen to me. I went out on a hundred scouting trips before and…”

  “And what? And you happened to survive? You happened to be one of the only scouts to still be alive? That’s supposed to be why I should let you go? No. I’m sorry, Annie, but the answer is no.”

  “If I wasn’t your daughter, then you’d let me go. If I were anyone else in this camp, then you’d have no problem sending me off as a scout.”

  “But you’re not anyone else in this camp. You’re my daughter. Annie, please don’t fight me on this. I just don’t have the strength for this right now.”

  Zack took my mother’s hand and said, “Ladies, calm down. No need to fight.”

  “I don’t have time for this right now,” said Laura. “Sorry, but I just…” She shook her head and still refused to look at me. “I have to go.” She pulled away from Zack’s grip and left me alone with him.

  “Well, that went about how I expected,” I said with a frustrated shake of my head. “What the hell’s wrong with her lately?”

  Zack looked forlornly at the door and then attempted to smile as he regarded me. He and my mother had developed a close bond after Kim’s death, although I hesitated to call it a romance. They certainly cared for one another, but for some reason my mother was hesitant to enter into a full-fledged relationship with him.

  “You’ve got to give her a break,” said Zack as if in apology for how she’d reacted. “She’s going through a lot of stuff right now.”

  “If being captain is so hard for her, then maybe she needs to step down.”

  Zack smirked and raised his eyebrows as he said, “I’ve been trying to tell her that for months, but you know how she can be.”

  I smugly nodded and then groaned in frustration before continuing, “She drives me crazy, Zack. I don’t know how you put up with her. She’s been impossible ever since…” There was no reason to continue. We both knew what I was talking about.

  “I know what you mean, but you’ve got to trust me on this one. She’s just doing what she thinks is best.”

  “I’m the best person for this job, and you know it. I’m the last scout we’ve got left here. If we’re all dead-set on attacking Jerald, then we’re going to need someone to head out there and scout the facility. If she sends someone out that’s never done it before, they’re liable to get caught.”

  “I know,” said Zack, although he sounded weary of the debate.

  “Then help me convince her that she should let me do this.”

  “Why with Ben?” asked Zack.

  His question surprised me. “Because he’d be a good partner.”

  “Not because the two of you are…” he hesitated. “You know.”

  I realized what he was implying and was taken aback. “No,” I said sharply. “Is that what she thinks?”

  He shrugged. “Seems like you and Ben got pretty close. You two are always headed outside together.”

 
; “That’s not…” I was flustered. “That’s because we both like being alone, not because… Christ. Is that the reason she freaked out like that, because she thinks I’m trying to sneak off with Ben?”

  “No, she just wants to keep you close. You can’t blame her for that.”

  “Yes I can,” I said as I thumped down in one of the seats. “I’m not a kid anymore. She needs to stop treating me like one.”

  “You’ll always be her baby,” said Zack. “That’s never going to stop. She needs you here, with her.”

  “Maybe so, but that’s not what’s best for the group. If she’s really so interested in making sure the people here are safe, and that we’re being smart in how we attack Jerald, then she’d let me go scout the airport.”

  “Give her the benefit of the doubt. She’s got a lot on her mind.”

  “I’ve been giving her the benefit of the doubt my whole life.”

  Zack was exhausted, I could see it in the way he hung his head. His shoulders slunk, and it looked like he might collapse if not for the support of the wall behind him. He’d been defending my mother’s decisions ever since she’d taken over as captain of the Rollers, but I think his steadfast devotion was wearing thin.

  I stood from my chair, resolute. “I’m going, Zack, whether she wants me to or not.”

  My defiance caused his posture to strengthen and he shook his head. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “It’s the right thing to do for the group. If she sends out some other scouts, and they get hurt or die, then people are going to turn on her. This was my job as a Roller. It’s what I was trained for, and she needs to understand that.”

  “She’s still your captain, Annie. Like it or not, you have to follow her orders.”

  “We’re the only ones that know she told me not to go. If I go out there and tell everyone my plan, and that mom’s okay with it, then she’ll have to go along with it.”

  Zack looked at me with weary indignation. “Are you really going to do that to her? You’re going to hurt her like that, after everything she’s been through?”

  I relented. He’d called my bluff. “No,” I said and then fell heavily back into my chair. “Although I should.”

  “Let me talk to her,” said Zack. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  I was surprised. I hadn’t expected him to side with me, but I didn’t question it. There was no one in the Rollers that had a better chance of changing Laura’s mind than Zack.

  “Thanks,” I said as he turned to leave.

  “Don’t thank me yet,” he said with a glimmer of amusement. “You know how she can be.”

  2 – Uncertainty

  Laura Conrad

  I’d left Annie and Zack alone in the conference room and retreated to the playroom where I knew David would be. One of the Roller’s oldest nursemaids, Rachel, was keeping an eye on the children as they played with the variety of toys our scavengers had pilfered from a nearby town. She saw me come in and stood to greet me. “Hi Laura. Looking for David?”

  I glanced around as I answered, “Yes.”

  “Arthur took him. I think they went to the kitchen.”

  I nodded and smiled before turning to leave, but then I heard a young girl say, “Hi, Miss Captain.”

  I looked back into the room and saw a child of Vineyard, a girl no older than seven, staring up at me with big brown eyes and disheveled hair. She was in a yellow dress that hadn’t been washed in days, and she was in dire need of a bath, as were most of us. Despite how hard we all worked to keep our temporary abode clean, it was an insurmountable task with so many people milling about.

  “Hi sweetie,” I said with a grin. She looked so much like Kim that the beat of my heart weakened. It was as if my body ached for me as I tried to push away the encroaching sorrow.

  Every day was a battle, and I was losing every single one. Kim’s death wasn’t something I could just push past, and every morning began with a promise of heartache. As I opened my eyes, and left the dreams behind, I knew my nightmares had just begun. Perhaps some people are able to overcome the sorrow that the loss of a child causes, but I’m not one of those people.

  I kept myself composed and stalwart in the interest of serving the Rollers and the survivors of Vineyard, but I was just a shell of the person I’d been. This was all an act. I was broken, through and through.

  “I can draw you,” said the child as she stared up at me with those glassy, wide eyes – her lips curled in the beginning of a smile.

  “You can?” I asked, placating her affection.

  She nodded and then beckoned me over.

  Rachel nodded and said, “Daisy’s your biggest fan, Laura.”

  “Oh is she?” I asked as I followed the child over to the corner of the room where the art supplies were kept. She retrieved a stack of pages, each of them bearing a similar figure: A woman with long hair and dark eyes. Some of them were fantastical, depicting the woman in a fantasy setting, often with a crown on her head. “Am I a princess in this one?” I asked as I examined one of the pictures.

  “No,” said the child with a giggle. “You’re the queen.”

  “Annie’s the princess,” said Rachel as she walked by my side and retrieved a different stack of pictures that Daisy had drawn. “See.”

  The second stack featured my daughter, her red, curly hair a defining feature on her stick figure representation. Each picture depicted Annie standing tall above the scene, often atop a church’s steeple, her gun held aloft as a storm raged behind her, like some goddess of war beckoning forth nature’s power to smite her enemies.

  “These are so good,” I said and handed them back to Daisy.

  “Thank you,” she said with a beaming grin.

  I set my hand on her head and felt my fingers slide through her brown locks, igniting a memory of Kim at that age. The sensation of my fingers pushing through this girl’s tangled hair transported me to better days, but the journey was a painful one. I turned and left, unable to say anything more. My breath came in gasps as I fought tears, and I did my best to avoid being seen in such a state. These moments of agonizing reflection came far too often, and could be set off by the most mundane things. Whether it was a coffee cup or a box of cereal, an old book or simply the touch of a little girl’s brown hair, it was staggering how many things brought the pain of loss surging back into my heart.

  “Bye,” said the girl, but I couldn’t respond.

  I ducked into the hall, closed the door, and then gasped as I braced myself against the wall. Tears filled my eyes as the familiar ache of weeping began to burn in my throat.

  “Laura,” said Zack as he walked towards me.

  I cursed and turned away as I wiped my eyes. “I hate this place.” I murmured as I tried to compose myself. “It’s impossible to find a private spot. There’s always someone walking down the hall or coming into the room. I just need to be by myself for a minute.”

  “Come here,” he said as he approached with his thick arms held wide in an offer of embrace. I cringed, weary of pity, but accepted his hug. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Obviously,” he said as he held my head to his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “Come with me.” He led me further down the hall, shielding me from the prying eyes of the others that happened to be wandering the hall at the same time. The glut of humanity within these walls was stifling.

  Zack led me to one of the men’s restrooms and ushered me inside. The restrooms in the facility had stopped working decades ago, and we’d converted them into smoking rooms because of the abundance of vents within. Settlements throughout this area had discovered very early on that tobacco can be grown even in Colorado’s arid climate. Before the apocalypse, tobacco use had waned, but after the dead rose up to ravage the world, the dangers of smoking seemed like a petty thing to be concerned with.

  There were three men and two women lounging on the couches in the restroom and Zack told them to leave. The group was enjoying a hookah,
and some of them tried to argue that we had no right to tell them to leave. Zack paid them no mind, and his tone became sterner as he commanded them once again to get the hell out. They grumbled, but did as they were told.

  “Sit,” he said to me after the others had left.

  “I don’t want to be in here,” I said as the smoke stung my already weeping eyes. “I hate all the smoke.”

  “Just sit down for a minute,” said Zack as he moved a chair in front of the door to afford us rare privacy.

  I did, but the stench of smoke that emanated from the couch’s material kept me from feeling any sense of comfort. The hookah sat on the table in front of me, its many arms like the tentacles of a dying sea creature laid out for me to marvel at, the head smoking with whatever blend of tobacco and other weeds that had been packed within.

  Zack didn’t say anything as he sat down beside me. He knew me better than anyone, and understood that I don’t like to talk about how I feel, even when I need to. I prefer to suffer in silence, and would rather disappear than talk about what’s torturing me.

  He put his arm around me and pulled me closer. I resisted at first, but then relaxed my head on his shoulder as the inevitable breakdown forced its way from deep within me where I’d been trying to keep it hidden. I sobbed, and we spent a long while just sitting there, crying together, without a single word needed to express the agony.

  Several people knocked on the door, and one person even tried to force their way in. Zack admonished them and insisted that the room was occupied, using what might kindly be referred to as ‘colorful’ language to get his point across.

  “It’s never going to get any better,” I said once the wave of tears subsided.

  “Yes it will,” he said in an attempt to reassure me.

  “No.” I shook my head vigorously. “No it won’t. I miss her so much.”