Dating After the End of the World - 11

I sprint around the dummy house toward Blake and JJ, who are loading the black pickup truck parked at the end of the driveway. Dad is over by the front fence line, pulling the decapitated biter loose from the barbwire. A leg tears from the body as he yanks it free and drops it into a wheelbarrow.

“Dad!” I yell.

Blake listens to whatever my dad says, so I just gotta tell him to tell Blake that I’m going with. Problem solved.

I call his name again, and this time, my dad turns back and waves a hand in the air. “Hey, sweetie. How’d you sleep?”

I come to a halt a few feet from him, a bit winded. “Fine. I want to go on a run with Blake and JJ,” I say, gesturing to the truck.

Blake looks over at me and slowly shakes his head.

Dad pauses before letting out a sigh. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Casey. You just got in last night, and you should rest up a few more days, get acclimated, and then you—”

“Get acclimated?” I squint, crossing my arms over my chest. “I grew up here. There’s nothing for me to get acclimated to.”

He tugs on the severed leg still tangled in the fence, shredding the decaying flesh against the barbs as he pulls it free. It lands in the wheelbarrow with a wet thump. Sunlight glistens off the black slime, still fresh on the limbs and body, making it shine like polished obsidian. The cool air aids in slowing the rot, but the stench is unbearable, a mixture of old blood and spoiled milk.

“Things are different now,” Dad says, scanning the ground around him. “Do you see the head?”

I groan and point to a section of long grass beside the fence post, where a patch of dark, matted hair peeks out. “Over there.”

Dad follows my finger and fishes the head out of the grass, picking it up by its hair. It used to be a man, most likely in his forties, but it’s hard to tell now, due to the decomposition. Its eyes are sunken in, clouded white, and its mouth gapes open with a partially bitten-off tongue protruding from it. Black sludge drips from the opening in its neck. Dad sets the head in the wheelbarrow and then removes his gloves, throwing them on top of the corpse.

“Dad, I’m well aware that things are different now, but I made it here from Chicago all my own, so I’m perfectly capable of going on a supply run.”

He scratches at his beard and exhales. I know he’s thinking it over, and I’ll be getting a Fine, you can go from him any second now. I mean, how could he not? I practically gave up my whole childhood prepping for this.

Blake strolls over with a shit-eating grin on his face. I can’t wait to wipe it right off. “Hey, Dale. JJ and I are gonna head out.”

“Me too,” I say, shooting him a dirty look.

“No, you’re not.” Blake raises his chin, challenging me.

“Yes, I am. Isn’t that right, Dad?” I smile and look to my father, waiting for a That’s right .

JJ walks up, stopping beside Blake. He gives him a pat on the back. “Ready?”

“I am,” I reply with a nod.

My cousin moves his mouth side to side, looking to Blake and then my dad for confirmation.

“No, Casey, you’re not going,” Dad says, letting out a sigh. “We have rules for a reason, and I can’t make any exceptions.” He pulls his lips in, signaling that’s the end of the discussion, but it’s not for me.

Blake smirks. “Told ya.”

“Come on, Dad! What rules? Only big, stupid muscular men can go?”

“Hey!” JJ says, cocking his head.

“Not you. Just him.” I gesture to Blake and narrow my eyes.

“You’re not ready to go out on a run, Case,” Dad interjects.

“What?! Of course I’m ready. You trained me for this, remember?”

I can’t believe it. How could he take the word of a stranger over his own daughter?

“That was a long time ago, and I don’t know what your combat skills are like now. Plus, when was the last time you even fired a gun?” He tilts his head.

I haven’t shot a firearm since I was eighteen, but I’m not going to tell him that. Does he not realize what I went through yesterday to get here? Not only that, but I also got here in one piece all by myself. He’s treating me like I’m fragile, like I could just shatter at any moment, but he’s the one who forced me to be strong. It was the only thing he would let me be. And now he doesn’t trust that I am. What was the point of all the training if I’m never going to be able to use it?

“Dad, my combat skill are fine. I literally took out three burners yesterday.”

“Burners?” Blake furrows his brow. “Don’t you mean zombies ? This is exactly why you can’t come. You don’t even know what we’re dealing with.”

I step toward him, positioning myself just a foot away from his face, showing that I’m not intimidated by him in the slightest. I don’t care that he’s nearly a foot taller than me or that his biceps are practically the size of my thighs. I jab a finger in the center of his chest. He doesn’t flinch. I don’t care that it feels like I’m poking a rock right now either.

“No, I don’t mean zombies , Blake, and I know exactly what I’m dealing with . . . a complete and utter dickhead.” I thrust my finger into his chest as I say each syllable.

“I think she’s talking about you, Morrison,” JJ simpers.

Blake rolls his eyes and says, “Yeah, I’m aware.”

“I know this area like the back of my hand. I did eight years of combat training, graduated from medical school, and I’m a resident doctor. So, you know what that means? I can navigate better than you, can survive just as easily as you, and if someone gets hurt, I can actually do something about it.” I stare into his eyes, waiting for his response.

“Were,” he says.

“What?”

“You were a doctor in residency. Now you’re just a pain in my ass.”

Rage thrums through my veins, churning inside me. My hands become fists at my sides, and it takes everything in me not to throw one at his jaw. He’s the one who’s a pain in the ass, not me. This is my house. I belong here. He’s just . . . an intruder.

“What are you even doing here, anyway? No one wants you here, Blake.”

“I was asked to be here.”

“By who?” The betrayal is already seething through my body, and I have no idea who to direct it at.

“Dale,” he says with a smirk.

I turn to my father, who stands by idly, letting the argument play out before him. I thought Blake just fled here. I had no idea my dad invited him. How could he do that to me?

“Why would you invite him to live here?” I plant myself squarely into the earth, bracing myself for whatever nonsensical reason is about to escape his mouth.

“Because . . . we’re friends.”

My eyes dart between Blake and my dad. So Blake wasn’t lying when he said they were friends. But how? My dad’s a fifty-some-year-old prepper who keeps to himself. And Blake is my age, and I assume his only hobbies are bullying and lifting weights.

“How in the hell did you become friends with him, Dad?” My eyes are so narrow, I can barely see my father.

He slides his hands into the front pockets of his jeans and rocks back on his heels. “Well, this place wasn’t easy to maintain alone, Casey, and I needed help with some of the bigger projects. So I put out a for-hire ad in the paper about a year and a half ago, and Blake was the most qualified applicant. He started out as my employee, but we became fast friends.”

“A year and a half!? You’ve been chumming it up with Blake Morrison for a year and a half?”

“What’s the big deal, Pearson?” Blake asks, cocking his head to the side. “Just ’cause your dad and I have spent more time together in the past eighteen months than you and him have spent together in the last decade doesn’t mean you need to—”

“Shut up, Blake!” I snap.

“Casey, don’t be like that,” my dad interjects. “It just worked out this way, and I didn’t realize this was the same Blake from when you were kids until you mentioned it last night.”

“How many Blakes do you think there are around here, Dad?” My annoyance with the both of them is building by the minute.

“Do you really expect me to remember that? The last time I heard anything about Blake was when you were thirteen,” he says.

I sharply exhale. I mean, it was a long time ago, and I did stop confiding in my dad about how horrible Blake was to me, only because his answer to the problem was either talking to Blake’s parents or reporting it to the school. I knew that would make it worse, so I just pretended like everything was fine, and I dealt with it on my own. Dad doesn’t know that it went on for years, all the way up until I graduated high school and got out of here. So I guess I can’t be mad at him for not knowing. But I can be mad at him for being the reason I left this place. The only connection I had with my dad was prepping, and I hated prepping. But it was all he cared about. It was the only thing on his mind, so it was impossible to connect with him. Now he’s taking Blake’s side, after he spent years training me, preparing me for this exact situation. It’s bullshit, and there’s no way in hell I’m letting Blake boss me around.

“Whatever. I don’t care if you two are friends, but I am going on the run,” I say, throwing my hands on my hips.

“No. You aren’t,” Blake pipes in.

“Yes. I am.”

“Dale, back me up here.” He looks to my father, appealing for his assistance in a matter that shouldn’t concern either of them.

“Casey, I’m sorry, but like I said, we have rules in place, and everyone has to follow them.”

“That’s right.” Blake nods. “You need to pass firearms training and hand-to-hand combat before you can go on a run.”

I doubt anyone here has experienced anything close to what I went through yesterday. They have no idea what’s even out there.

“I’ve seen more action than everyone here combined,” I say, clenching my jaw.

“It’s not a contest, Doomsday. Anyone can kill. It’s about making sure everyone comes home safe.”

I’m so sick of his smug attitude. “Everyone will come home safe,” I seethe through my teeth. “Because I can handle myself just fine.”

“Okay then. Come at me,” Blake says, waving me toward him with a flick of his fingers.

I scrunch up my face. “What?”

“Prove it, and I’ll tell you what—if you can take me down, or even come close, I’ll let you come.” He smirks.

“That’s not even a fair fight. You’re a Navy Seal , and you’re twice my size.”

“Great. So we’re in agreement. You aren’t ready.” Blake turns and starts off toward the truck. “Let’s go, JJ. We’ve got a sweet supply run to go on.”

Gripped by fury, I roll my shoulders back, dig my heels into the ground, and launch myself into a full sprint. Just as I’m about to drop my shoulder into Blake’s spine, he quickly steps to the side, letting me reel forward. My own momentum causes me to topple to the ground, ungracefully somersaulting as I do so.

“Nice try, Crazy Pearson. The element of surprise is certainly a powerful asset . . . when you actually have it, that is.” Blake stands over me, smiling.

He offers me a helping hand, but I swat it away. “I don’t need your help.” Panting, I pull myself up and get back on my feet.

“Suit yourself. Now, are you done?”

“Not even close.” I square up with him, fists raised, making him think I’ll attack at any second. JJ and Dad take a step back, giving us our space. I stare intensely as I circle Blake like a predator with its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike. He watches me, half-amused, but he won’t be soon. I fake a low jab at his kidney, then bring my right arm around in a dramatic, overly telegraphed hook motion. Halfway through, I dive and shoot down toward his legs.

Blake doesn’t bite at either punch. When I plunge forward, he merely steps back and pushes my head down, forcing me to land right on my face. Grass and dirt enter my open mouth, and I choke on the unwelcome micro forest. I spit several times, trying to get it all out, and wipe my face with the back of my forearm.

“Give it up, Casey.” He leans down and pats my back twice between my shoulder blades, punctuating my defeat. But what he thinks was the sharp wrap of a period is merely a comma to me.

I roll onto my back and, with a quick sweeping motion, kick Blake’s legs out from under him. His tailbone smashes into the ground before his head rocks back, following suit.

“Damn,” JJ gasps.

“That’s my girl,” Dad says.

I flip over and mount him, pinning his arms under each of my knees. One hand hovers over his throat, while the other is cocked back, ready to strike if needed. “Yield,” I say, grinning.

Blake smiles back, and then he drives his shoulders into the earth, lifts his chest, and rolls his hips. In an instant, his boots are right in front of my face before they cross in an X over my chest, pulling me back and slamming me into the ground.

He sits up and looks down at me pinned to the grass. “Not bad, Pearson. Not bad at all.”

“Get off of me,” I yell as I try to writhe out of his grip, but I can barely move under the weight of his legs.

“Then yield.” He smirks. The green in his eyes glows with excitement at his forthcoming victory, but he’s going to have to earn it.

I twist my hips back and forth, trying to roll him off me, but he’s too heavy, and it just results in me slowly dry humping him while he pins me down with even more force.

Blake stares at me like a lion ready to go in for the final kill. Part of him hardens against my body, instantly changing his demeanor. The smoldering look on his face fades and his cheeks flush, betraying the truth of what he would like to do to me.

“Are you done?” he asks, trying to keep his composure.

I twist and squirm under his weight a few more times, fighting until I have nothing left to give. “I guess I better be, before you finish on my leg,” I wheeze.

He coyly smiles, releasing me from his death grip. Blake stands and pulls me up with him, forcefully drawing my head into his chest. Lowering his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Maybe next time.”

His hot breath on my skin sends a wave of warmth through my body. I push off him, creating a few feet of distance. The look on his face is like that of a cat who’s decided to let the mouse go, just so it can catch it again later. I groan and stomp my foot.

Blake turns and heads for the truck, tossing a cocky grin over his shoulder. “Later, Doomsday! I’ll be sure to bring you back something pretty,” he teases.

I reach down and pick up a clump of dirt, then hurl it at him. It doesn’t reach Blake, and he doesn’t even notice it.

My father wraps his arm around me and pulls me into the crux of his shoulder. “You did good, Casey. Now let’s go work on making you great.”

Defeated, I let out a heavy sigh and nod, knowing he’s right. I am rusty, and rusty isn’t going to cut it if I want to beat Blake, and right now, that’s all I want to do.