Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

Cole moves beside me and I feel his hands on my neck, under my chin. His hands are warm and tentative. A strange feeling burns in my stomach. “What are you doing?”

“Never underestimate yourself, Alex. You’re strong and capable. Powerful.” His voice drops a level and I feel his breath on my face. “You’re beautiful. Fearless. Your father sent you on this mission for a reason. He trusts you. Believes in you.”

“What if he was wrong?” I reply in a shaky voice.

He rests his forehead against mine. “He’s not. You’ll make the right decision.”

The way my heart hammers in my chest and the tingly, electric feeling in my fingers and toes doesn’t give me confidence in making good decisions. Not at the moment, at least. All I want right now is for Cole to be closer—to push my fingers into his unruly hair. I succumb to this desire, feeling the soft curls in my hands and even in the dark I sense how close his mouth is to mine.

Cole’s hands grip my face but he hesitates…just a beat, just enough. I twist my burning face away and he moves his hands to my shoulders pulling me into his side. I rest my hand on his stomach and close my eyes, willing my heart to slow down.

“We’ll make the right decision,” he says again, close to my ear. “We have to.”

Chapter Fifty

~Before~

? Days Ago

“Damn.”

My mom never curses but the apocalypse changes things. And the SUV running out of gas, nowhere near anything, warrants at least one swear word.

“Well, at least we put some miles between us and that…whatever the hell that was,” I reply. I have no problem with cursing. This may be why we’re a good team.

“What do we do now?”

“Look for somewhere safe,” I say.

She searches the area and she doesn’t have to say what I know she’s going to say. Where? How? We’re in the middle of god forsaken nowhere. Population two.

I’m really starting to hate North Carolina. Once you leave the city you’re SOL. That’s why less than twenty-four hours after we found a vehicle and driving around in circles, we start walking across the wet, soggy fields.

“At least it stopped raining,” she says.

“At least we escaped those redneck, monster truck driving crazy people.”

“At least we got to sit for a while,” she counters. “And at least we’re not trapped in a laundry room with hundreds of cat eyes creeping us out.”

“At least I didn’t have to kill anyone today…”

My mom stops abruptly and her shoulders hunch. “Mom?” I ask, thinking maybe I’ve gone too far. I approach her and put a hand on her shaking shoulder. “That was horrible I’m sorr—”

Then I see her face. She’s crying, but it’s the good kind, followed by laughter. She laughs and laughs and I catch the bug and start laughing too. It’s the ugly kind of laugh, where her face scrunches up and I can’t breathe and oh hell, I think I may have wet myself.

She giggles like a madwoman, reaching out to a tree for support. She stumbles and I lunge for her, but she topples over anyway.

“Ow!” she howls, landing in the mud. I fall next to her, my face still wet with tears.

“Are you okay? What happened?”

A sudden seriousness takes over. She lifts her foot and her nose wrinkles. “I think I twisted my ankle.”

I touch the skin and sure enough it’s already swelling.

“Lift it up,” I tell her, pushing my bag beneath her leg to elevate her foot. I find my water bottle and open the cap, offering her some.

She shakes her head and says quietly, “I guess that’s what we get.”