Sole Survivors: Crux Survivors, Book 2 (3 page)

The younger brother was a looker too—prettier, less rugged. His hair, a blond that reminded her of summer wheat, had been recently hacked off. And badly. The same royal blue eyes were bright enough to see even from her cover of trees. Her gaze went back to Chase. The bright sun wasn’t kind to the scarred half of his face, but the twisted lines did nothing to dampen his appeal. He strode across the clearing in front of their RV and she couldn’t keep from watching the muscles bunch in his thighs. His jeans were ridiculous. Too tight and so full of holes, she could see the light brown hair on his legs shimmering in the sunlight. Hair the same soft color as his beard.

The brothers were thin—a lot thinner than her father or Dax had been—but her family had stored jeans and clothes of different sizes in the bunker. Dax had been a mountain of a man who had always been trying to lose weight. He’d left shirts she could take in, though she kind of sucked at sewing. These two had the lean, wiry builds that would probably never fill out one of Dax’s old shirts, but it looked like the boots might work.

But first, Keera had to be sure they wouldn’t just kill her and take her things.

The instinct to clothe and feed the men surprised her. She’d been on her own since her father had passed away three years before. By all rights, she should be insane by now, but she’d learned that keeping busy kept her from losing it.

Until recently. Recently, there had been a lot of bad nights. Even worse thoughts.

But today there were people. Other people who were possibly good. The zip of giddiness jolting through her surprised her. That was certainly a long-forgotten feeling.

She listened to Chase tell his brother they couldn’t go home. The younger man’s sadness as he walked back to the RV made her heart ache, but watching Chase sink to the ground out of his brother’s sight made her knees buckle. She pressed one palm against a tree to keep from following him to the ground. There was an enormous mass of carpenter ants in the hollowed-out bottom of the trunk and she didn’t want those on her.

Keera couldn’t imagine traveling, couldn’t imagine the things they saw on the road. In town, most had fallen ill and died in their beds, but she’d come across one or two who’d collapsed inside their stores and not been able to get up. She’d left the bodies there, just as her father told her to. Better for raiders to think the town held no survivors than to show cleaned-up buildings in town.

Watching Chase, she decided then and there to risk it. She was tired of being lonely. She’d bring them food in the morning as promised and stick around to talk.

Keera turned to go, but halted in her tracks when she spotted movement in the brush. Reddish-brown fur with small black spots showed between leaves, and as she stared, the bobcat came fully into view. A gold-eyed gaze met her eyes. The cats mostly left her alone in these woods, preferring to go after smaller prey, but this one stared her down. It could have a litter nearby but that was doubtful at this time of year. But then, everything felt off this winter. It barely felt like winter at all.

The cat made a long, growling sound. A female in heat calling for a mate. Keera froze, sure the men had heard the noise. The RV’s door squeaked. She didn’t turn, didn’t take her eyes off the cat. She couldn’t run because that would only provoke it.

Something rustled behind her and the cat growled again, low in her throat.

“Don’t move,” Tripp said as he came up beside her, a rifle sighted on the cat.

“Don’t shoot her,” Keera said, voice low. “Just turn and go back to your RV. She’s only looking for a mate.” She glanced to her right to see that Tripp had every intention of shooting the cat—his intent blazing in his expression. Taking a deep breath, she stepped toward him just as the cat must have decided more than one human was too much. It turned and fled as Keera pushed the rifle up.

“Dammit,” he growled. Lowering the gun, the young man swung his gaze to her, his pretty blue eyes going wide. “You the woman my brother found in the creek?”

“Hi Keera,” Chase said as he came around the trees. He held his gun as well.

“Thank you both for coming to my rescue, but the cat probably wouldn’t have bothered me.”

“You followed me back.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but Chase lifted an eyebrow.

“I wanted to see you with your brother, make sure you’re a nice guy before I bring the food.”

“What food?” Tripp asked, eyes now narrowed but still stuck on her. “You’re wearing Chase’s coat.”

She found her gaze returning to the scarred Chase with his longer, sun-streaked light brown hair. “Your brother loaned it to me. I told him I’d share some of the vegetables and fruit I canned this summer.”

“You have a garden?” Tripp leaned against the tree, then scowled as carpenter ants crawled onto his hand. He shook it and straightened back up.

She had to smile at the longing in his voice. “I do. My father was an avid gardener and I learned to save seeds and grow things pretty much from birth.” She glanced at Chase again, then had to drag her gaze from him to get a good look at the younger brother. The boy…or young man, since he looked like he’d passed his twenty-year mark, was tall—over six feet. He had a square jaw, soft, full lips, a long nose—one of the most attractive faces she’d ever seen actually. Like Chase, his jeans and T-shirt had seen better days.

Chase cleared his throat. “We don’t have a lot to trade.”

“I don’t need a trade. I have everything I need.” She sighed. “I do have to get going, though. There are more big cats in the woods these days and they tend to get braver after dark. So do the wolves.”

“We’ll take you home,” Tripp said quickly, flashing a charming grin.

She couldn’t stop the return smile. The kid had charisma and an obvious sweet nature. She looked back at Chase, who stood silent and watchful, his expression harder and not only due to the scars. He’d helped her fight off the raiders…but he had a darker edge to him that still sent up her radar. It unfortunately seemed to be awakening all her interest too. “I’ll come back tomorrow. Will you two still be here?”

Chase frowned. “I was going to move us on to the plantation tonight. We’re all charged up.”

“Okay. I think I can still get my car there. It’s small.” She grimaced. “But now that I’m thinking about it, you might not be able to get all the way there in that big vehicle. Few years back, a bad storm swept through and knocked a bunch of trees down. There are a lot of abandoned cars…that highway is a mess.”

“You have a car?” Tripp took a step closer.

Keera instinctively took two quick steps back.

He held up his hands. “I swear, I won’t hurt you. Couldn’t. Not for anything. Please don’t be scared.”

“Can’t be too cautious these days,” she murmured, glancing at Chase to find that sharp blue gaze glued to her face. “As your brother can tell you from earlier. Thanks for helping me fight them again.”

“Fight?” Tripp’s face lost all color. He turned to his brother. “There was a fight? Raiders?”

“Shit.” Chase set down his gun and held his hands out to his brother. “Tripp, don’t freak out on me. I was going to tell you, I promise.”

But Tripp didn’t say anything. Instead, he only stood there, swallowing, and it looked like he was trying to gulp razorblades. His face had gone so white, alarm filled Keera.

“It was just a couple of jerks who didn’t want to take no for an answer, Tripp.” She smiled and risked walking a little closer to him. “Your brother was great. He helped me.” She looked at Chase.

His lips tightened as he briefly met her gaze then looked back to his brother. “Hey, it’s okay. Look at me. I’m okay. This was nothing like last time. Are you listening to me? See anything on me? Wounds? Blood? There’s nothing, right?”

“You almost died,” Tripp muttered. “Like Maggie.”

The grief that flashed across Chase’s scarred face threatened to send Keera to her knees again. Damn, these two had fresh wounds. Such fresh, fresh wounds. “I have a cool electric car, Tripp, and a solar-powered set-up at my home that keeps the car powered.” She bit her lip. “You guys probably have honey because the stuff seems to have an infinite shelf life, but I have a ton of it if you’d like some.”

“You have a hive?” Tripp asked the question, but he hadn’t looked away from his older brother.

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Chase smiled his half smile. “Think about how much that will help mask the freeze-dried cardboard we’ve been eating.”

“It hasn’t been that bad.” Tripp’s voice, barely raised, took on a sort of blankness…like his throat had been suddenly hollowed out. Or his soul.

Though worry made her want to stick around, Keera glanced at the sky. “I do have to leave. But I promise to meet you two tomorrow with my thanks for the help today.”

Chase finally looked away from his brother. “You don’t owe me any sort of thanks. Any decent person who’d come along would have helped too.”

She offered him a sad smile. “That’s the thing. Not too many people left and the decent ones seem pretty few and far between. I couldn’t have taken them on by myself. I appreciate it.” She glanced at Tripp, who seemed to have zoned out—still staring at his brother’s face. “He okay?” she mouthed.

Chase shrugged. “He will be.” He spoke aloud, surprising her. He walked forward and put his arm around his brother’s waist and pulled him close to his side. “He’s not hearing us right now. Or at least, I don’t think he is. It’s a kind of um…”

“Post-traumatic stress,” Keera supplied. “I know. I’ve seen it before.” Twilight began to creep over the clearing behind the brothers. “I really do have to leave. I promise to bring you both something good tomorrow.”

“I’d ask if you’ll be okay going alone, but—” he broke off.

“Silly question, I know. I’ve been alone for years.” She took a few steps away from him, then looked over her shoulder. “Maybe not anymore.”

His eyes widened with her words, then they narrowed and the heat that zapped between them made her shiver.

“Maybe not,” he agreed.

Chapter Three

Nighttime was the worst.

Hours in the dark with only the memories as company. Memories and the image of Keera in her wet top.

Chase choked back a groan, put his hands behind his head, and propped his feet onto the back of the built-in couch. He and Tripp had decided to drive on to the plantation in the morning, so now he stared at the peeling ceiling of the RV. Nothing he’d seen in his entire thirty-three years before or after the Crux compared to the beauty of that woman in a soaked shirt.

His hands ached with the need to touch.

Louisiana nights carried crazy sounds. He supposed it would be worse in summer with the crickets and the katydids, but even now coyotes howled, layering over each other like they were competing for a trophy for the loudest. Barred owls joined the chorus with their disjointed, quivering hoots. He wondered if it was mating season because some of the whooping and barking sounded like they were holding important conversations. Possibly marital arguments.
Didn’t owls mate for life?
The worst were the screams.

He didn’t want to know what the owls were doing then.

The RV’s presence probably rocked their people-less worlds. The first night he and his brother had spent this far south had been a sleepless one. It was like most of the creatures that stayed awake at night had moved south. It had to be hard to find enough food in the winter with their numbers so blown out of proportion. These days, humans were a bit lower on the food chain. People needed other people to survive.

And to feel alive. Their lonely reality had been so much more tolerable when Maggie had been with them. She’d been the sunshine, the humor—even with her weird love for zombie movies and comic books.

He glanced at the top shelf at the row of movies that Tripp dusted regularly—a constant reminder that she’d been a real, living and important presence in their small world of three. Then five when he’d found Jeff and Mooch. After the three had been killed, Chase and Tripp hadn’t seen many people, and the last time had been months. For a time, Chase had started to wonder if they were all that was left.

But today, Keera had proved there were more. More survivors other than the men and women who had turned to taking and killing in their bid for survival.

The vibrating croak of a bullfrog joined the outdoor symphony. It was warm enough for them to be poking their noses in others’ business.

Chase still missed the city noises at night. The engines revving by, the occasional voices—the sound of the television in the living room because their mother had insomnia. She’d tape soap operas all day while she was work. Watch them in the middle of the night. The scent of clove cigarettes would drift down the hall and he’d know she was up, sitting in the window seat and holding her cigarette outside. She’d believed her kids didn’t know she smoked, but the cloves were invasive, seeping into the furniture cushions, the curtains…her soft, blonde hair.

She’d died in the first Crux wave. For months afterward, he’d catch whiffs of those damned cloves and think he was losing his mind. Then he’d found her cigarettes stuffed inside his little brother’s pillowcase.

To this day, he didn’t know if Tripp had put them there for the smell or the hope he’d see her if she came back for them. The little boy had become obsessed with seeing her ghost.