Time of Death Book 2: Asylum (A Zombie Novel) Read Free Page B

I resigned, and scooped her
up for some kisses. "You are seriously the cutest dog in the world,
and I mean even before you were most likely the last dog left in
the world."
    Another smell mixed in with the phantom smoke
and fetid corpses. "Oh, come on!" I waved my hand wildly in front
of my face and objected. "Did you seriously have to wait until you
were inches from my face to fart? Gross!"
    With dog farts marking the end of my peaceful
relaxation, I tucked her under my arm and was going to make my way
to bed when I noticed Jake had joined us on deck.
    "What are you doing just standing there in
the dark? Creepy much?"
    "Sorry, you were having a moment; I didn't
want to ruin it for you. These days, we've gotta make the most of
every minute of peace."
    "Ain't that the truth?" I patted the seat
beside me and beckoned for him to join me.
    He sat down and I leaned into him. His strong
arms wrapped around me felt good and I got closer.
    "Penny for your thoughts?" he said.
    I looked up into his face and sighed. "I feel
lost," I admitted. "What's the point of living if all that's left
is death?"
    My vision blurred as my eyes filled with
tears that spilled over and slid down my cheeks. I took in a deep
breath and went on. "Jesus, Jake. They're all gone. How am I
supposed to go on when every time I close my eyes, I'm haunted by
their faces?"
    He squeezed me tighter and Daphne whined from
the confinement between us, causing Jake to pull back just enough
so she wasn't being crushed. We sat in the dark, the only source of
light a crescent moon, and withdrew into ourselves. When the
silence became oppressive, I spoke again, this time my voice coming
out muffled with emotion.
    "It's my fault Adam is dead; it should have
been me. It's not fair." I sobbed. "It's not fucking fair."
    "He was a good man, a good friend, and he
loved you." His admission brought me up short, and I snapped my
head up to look at him.
    "I…what? How did you know?" My face flushed
with guilt, as if I was somehow to blame for the way Adam felt.
    "Anyone could see the way he felt about you.
The way he looked at you, treated you." He looked into my eyes, and
there was pity there. "I know you had feelings for him, too. I'm
not angry at you, I get it. I was gone and he was there for
you."
    "Jake," I started, "I never—"
    "Stop. I know nothing ever happened. I'm not
accusing you of anything, I promise. I'm grateful to him for being
there for you. I can't imagine what you went through when I didn't
come back to Target, and Adam stepped up to the plate. I'm forever
in his debt and will never be anything but thankful and honored to
call him a friend."
    The guilt I had carried for so long about my
feelings for Adam lessened a bit, and the pressing weight lifted
just a little. I cried that wailing, ugly, cry reserved for the
direst of circumstances, and my husband just held me close,
muttering soft words of support and encouragement. "Let it go,
baby. Let it all go."
    He lifted my face, inspecting the open wound
on my chin that I'd received the day before. Wincing, he said,
"That really should be stitched up. It's going to leave a nasty
scar."
    "Humph," I mumbled. "Everything from
yesterday is going to leave a nasty scar."
    When my tank of despair ran dry and my
sobbing quieted, I said goodbyes to Adam, Seth, and the rest of our
friends who perished. The conscious decision to let them go didn't
come easily, but if I didn't, I would drown in sadness and squander
the reprieve each of their sacrifices had provided me. Looking up
at the night sky, I said each of their names aloud and emotionally
guided them through the gates of Heaven. I paused after uttering
Adam’s name and added, "We will never forget you."
     

Chapter 02: That's What She
Said
     
    I wasn't the only one who made their peace with
Sanibel, even Meg acted as if a huge weight had been lifted
overnight. She was already up when I dragged my tired behind out of
bed and escorted her royal highness to the upper deck