Un-Dead World Book One: Dead Men's Game

Chapter Five: Cheater, Cheater

    The drive to my house took longer than expected. We had to take some other routes, trying to avoid the creatures walking around and vehicles that had been abandoned in the roadways. The pure silence of the cab didn't help the time pass any faster either. Since my bombshell about Sheila and Carson, it was like nobody knew what to say, aside from a few sarcastic remarks from Scott. Sheila was on the opposite side of the car from me, staring out the window and Scott had flipped down his mirror and angled it to watch what I'm certain was Sheila's cleavage. Men could be disgusting sometimes. Throw a big pair of boobs in front of them and all rational thought went out the window.    

    After Scott had walked outside at the store, I had asked Branson to cover me while I went to find a t-shirt to cover myself. He hadn't said anything about my near nakedness, but I had caught his glances several times. Sheila had gone outside after Scott and when we returned to the truck with our haul of supplies and the first aid kit, Scott had decided Sheila was coming with us. I wasn't thrilled about it, but it's not like I was gonna leave her to fend for herself either. She would have died the second she tried to leave that room alone. She had zero self preservation instincts, aside from hiding in a room without a lock that is. It was almost laughable.

    My wounds had begun to take their toll on me. I felt so stiff and the scabs were tearing every time I moved. Luckily they had stopped bleeding, but I was certain I had lost a good amount of blood. I'd have asked Sheila to finish tending my wounds but I was being petty. I'd wait until Scott or Branson had a chance. My wounds were the least of our worries at the moment. We needed somewhere secure to stay, at least for the night. I could see the exhaustion on the men's faces and wondered when they had last slept. Branson had large, dark bags underneath his eyes, making me think he had gone the longest without rest. I honestly didn't care if Sheila was tired or not, she was a liability either way. She had proven already that she would rather hide than fight. I would offer to keep watch while the men slept tonight. We needed them on their toes if we had any hope of surviving. 

    We pulled into my front yard, not caring about parking in the driveway in light of the situation. Branson, Scott, and I scanned around us and prepared our weapons. Branson's magazine clicked into place with a satisfying clink. He looked at us all and said, "Be quiet and get to the house quickly."

    We exited the truck, quietly shutting the doors. Well, except for Sheila who apparently didn't know what the word quiet meant. We all turned to look at her, glaring. Even Scott looked annoyed at her for a moment. 

    "What?" She asked us. She was completely unaware and it was infuriating. I rolled my eyes as we all began to make our way to the front door. It was still wide open and there was blood everywhere. Suddenly the image of Carson on the floor flooded into my mind. As Sheila was almost to the front step, I jumped in front of her, stopping her. She gave me a dirty look mixed with confusion. 

    "Is there a problem?" She asked me. "What? You're really not gonna let me in the house? Isn't this kinda immature?" Ignoring her, I turned to Branson. 

    "It's probably not a great idea for her to just walk in and see what's in there. Especially if we're going for quiet." I tried to say this in as low of a voice as I could. "We'll go wait in the truck so we aren't exposed, if you could handle the uh...cleanup." Understanding flooded his eyes and he nodded. Handing me the keys to the truck, he grabbed Scott by the arm and drug him inside behind him. I grabbed Sheila and turned her towards the truck. "Walk." 

    "Seriously? All of this over a dirty house? No wonder Carson hated you. You're kinda bitchy." Sheila muttered under her breath while she got into the passenger seat of the truck. I climbed into the drivers side with a huff. I tried to ignore the sting her words brought. I mean, it wasn't like I didn't know how my relationship had been at the end there, but to hear someone else say it...made it hit harder. Anger flashed through me.

    "Shut up! You are such a dumbass! Carson is laying on my Livingroom floor with my bullet between his eyes. I should have just let you walk in on it but instead I decided to spare your feelings. I thought maybe I'd  give us all a chance to f*****g survive this night without your damn mouth getting us killed. So do you really wanna keep making your snide comments? You weren't some special girl to him. Carson was an asshole who didn't respect me and he sure as hell didn't respect you. You obviously don't respect yourself though, do you? Throwing yourself at ANOTHER taken man and then any other guy you can sink your teeth into. The day Carson slept with a w***e like you, he ruined himself. He wouldn't have even been at work if you hadn't sent him that f*****g text asking him to come in for your little tryst. It's your f*****g fault that he's dead! You ruin everything!" I didn't even realize that my volume level had raised as I completely lost it on her. 

    Branson opening my door and yanking me from the truck was my first indication I f****d up. The second? Sheila breaking into hysterical tears in the passenger seat. Just as Branson was about to scold me, we heard groaning and footsteps nearby. He closed his mouth into a thin line.

    "Everybody inside. NOW." With this we all scrambled into the house. As soon as we were in we all spread out and checked all the doors and windows making sure they were locked up tight. Unsure if they would even keep the creatures out but it was an added comfort nonetheless. When the house was secured. Sheila, who was still crying, ran to the bathroom and Scott followed her. I think I heard him make some comment about being her shoulder but I wasn't paying close attention. With a sigh I sat on the couch, running my hands through my hair and settling my head in them. I stared at the ground and watched as two booted feet walked into my view. Branson.

    "So...Wanna tell me what happened out there? I thought you'd be the quiet one." He said it with a small smile and I could tell he understood. 

    "I'm sorry. I know it was stupid, and right after I'd just accused her of being the liability." I shook my head. "I just lost it. She can't play the victim and keep treating me like I'm some monstrous i***t. She's the one who screwed me over before all of this." 

    "I know it can't be easy. She seems like one those women my mama warned me about. You can't let it get to you though. You just need to focus on surviving. The woman I saved, the one who shot without hesitation? That's who we need right now. Let Scott worry about Sheila.." He sat down next to me on the couch and for the first time I realized he had the first aid kit. "Let's take a look at the damage." 

    I went to remove my t-shirt, but couldn't quite lift my arm due to the stiffness in my shoulder. With a grin Branson reach over. "May I?" He asked me. I just nodded, not really knowing how to respond since he was literally taking my clothes off. He gently grabbed the bottom hem of my shirt, taking it off first my uninjured side before slowly sliding it over my head and down my other arm. I couldn't help the shiver that went through me as his hands brushed my bare skin. He whistled when my shoulder was revealed.

    "That's gonna leave a pretty scar." He winked at me. "War wounds." I couldn't help but smile. A bang followed by multiple groans, outside the door brought both of our eyes up, but the door seemed to be keeping us safe for now. I breathed a sigh of relief and turned so Branson could attend to my shoulder easier. 

    "Scars are the least of my worries. I can't let me emotions get to me." I looked to the floor. "I could have gotten us killed! I was so preoccupied I even forgot to lock the truck. Stupid." 

    "While I can definitely agree that it was a stupid move, I understand it. Even without knowing anything about her, I'm not a fan. Women like that are nothin but trouble and drama. It can be hard to keep your mouth shut sometimes. I hope you got it all out of your system though, 'cause we can't have that happen again." He pressed an alcohol wipe to my skin, stinging. I sucked in a deep breath and it hissed back out through my teeth.    

    I knew he was right and I was pretty sure I had finished with my little outbursts. Though I made a mental note to think more next time. I didn't doubt there would be a next time since she was so insufferable to begin with. 

    "Wanna know something sad?" I asked Branson. A grunt was his only response so I continued. "I don't even hate her because Carson cheated on me. I hate her because we were friends once. Before she uh... developed, Sheila was my best friend. She would go on camping trips and go for target practice with my dad and I. We even went mountain climbing one summer with our families. The summer before our senior year, Sheila grew up. When she came back to school she was different. She started hanging out with another group, dating the entire football team, and she even slept with a teacher for better grades. The group she was with were big into drinking and using drugs. It was like she was brain swapped with someone else. I had a boyfriend at the time and at my senior prom, he disappeared. When I couldn't find him and he wouldn't answer my texts, I called my mom and went home. That night before bed I was scrolling through ** and found a video of them. He had went to a party with Sheila and her friends. Sheila was giving him a lap dance and kissing him. I broke up with him through a text as soon as I saw it. So, what's wrong with me isn't even about Carson. Am I sad he's dead? How could I not be? Did I love him? As a person sure...but I don't feel like I lost my boyfriend." This gave me pause and it really hit me that I wasn't very upset about Carson.  "I'm somehow more upset about having to survive with her here. She's been a pain in my ass for years and I'm at a loss as to how to handle being stuck with her." I stopped for a moment. "Oh wow, I sound so dumb don't I? Shot my boyfriend in the head, the worlds going to hell, and I've got some pretty serious bite wounds. Yet I'm complaining about Sheila. I'm sure you're regretting saving my loud mouth too." He slapped some gauze over my shoulder and taped it down, smoothing the tape down over my skin.

    "Let's see that leg." This was all he said. 

    "I can take care of the leg, I just couldn't reach my shoulder." I told him but he just gave me a look that said, Don't argue. I threw my hands up in defeat and lifted my leg towards him. He grabbed it and turned so he could lay my leg sideways across his lap. He gingerly peeled my pant leg up, pulling strands of materials that were stuck inside the wound. "Fuuucccckkkkk, that hurts." I gritted out.

    "I wouldn't expect it to tickle!" He chuckled and began to gently clean my calf. The alcohol stung, but it was nice to actually be able to see him while we talked. He cleared his throat and began to speak. "I was Army reserves. Overseas before that. I was married by nineteen to my high school sweetheart. Things were great, I had a career I loved and a good woman at home. Our future was set until she got pregnant. I had only been deployed for a few months, my second deployment, when she told me over a video chat that I was gonna be a father. I was so excited, I'd always wanted to be a dad. I was too young to even think to ask any questions. I noticed that she never brought the baby up on her own, only if I directly asked about it, which I thought was strange. I was approved for leave, when the baby was due. I barely made it to the hospital in time but my best friend was there so she wouldn't be alone. We asked him to be the Godfather and he accepted." Branson paused in his story and stopped cleaning my leg for a moment. "I stayed home for a while, since she needed some help, but I had to be deployed again. I'd never questioned her or her commitment to us, as we'd always been together and we were a family now. She had known about my military dreams before I enlisted and she was so supportive of it. Our daughter looked exactly like her so why would I think she wasn't mine? Then I was deployed again. Kuwait this time. Things got bad there, worse than anywhere else I'd been before. Our daughter was eighteen months old and I had decided it would be my last deployment and when my four years were up, I'd be out. I decided to surprise her when I came home for the last time. She knew it was my last deployment but I had somehow convinced my Commanding Officer to let me leave a week before my scheduled flight. When I got home, she wasn't there. I couldn't get her to answer her phone so I called her sister, thinking she was with her. When her sister answered she told me they were at the hospital and the baby was almost there so she had to go. I drove to three different hospitals until I found her." Branson took a big breathe and started to gently clean my leg again, remaining silent as if trapped in his own thoughts.

    "My best friend, Rusty, was holding her hand as she gave birth. They wouldn't let me in the room, which made me so angry. I was her husband, who the hell was he to be in there? That's when a nurse finally told me that only the father was allowed in the room. I don't know how I hadn't realized it sooner. I'd been deployed for a year and I couldn't be the father. I left the hospital and went home to pack. I filed for divorce the next day and moved in with my friend from the army, Scott. He was leaving too so he needed a roommate anyway. I found out later that, the affair had been going on since high school and she didn't want to leave me once we were out of school because of the financial stability I offered her. See, Rusty had no drive in life. He wanted to smoke meth and party all the time. She used me and he betrayed me. He had been the best man at our wedding." He looked in my eyes and his face softened. "So, I understand what happened. I understand how you feel. Maybe it was all in different ways but if I was stuck with Rusty right now, I don't know if I would have been able to keep it to just a telling off."

    "I'm so sorry that happened to you Branson." I placed my hand over his where it had again paused in its ministrations.

    "It wasn't your fault, no need to apologize." He said. "s**t happens sometimes, we have to learn from it. Next time, just try to keep a bit quieter so we don't draw any attention?" He finished cleaning my wound and began wrapping a bandage around my calf.

    "So, what about your daughter?" I asked him. He glanced at me for just a moment before answering.

    "She wasn't mine, they were just lucky she looked like her mom." I decided not to ask anymore questions about it and changed the subject. 

    "So, how long have you been out of the army?"

    "I technically never left. After finding out about everything, I went into the reserves. That's why I was here. We had been called to a nearby base, in the case that the military needed extra hands. When we got the order to evac to Washington, we realized they were leaving the people to fend for themselves. Pete, Scott, and I stole a truck and hauled ass here to try and help. The kid next door was our last attempt before we were gonna leave too. We knew we couldn't do much to help with just three of us. At least we saved you." He patted my leg and I pulled it off of his lap, wrapped up nicely. 

    "Thanks for patching me up...and for saving me."     

    "No problem. I'm glad you're the one I could save." He grinned widely at me, eyes traveling down my body. My cheeks burned as I remembered that I was sitting in just a torn bra and blood stained pants.    

    "I'll just go throw on some new clothes." I told him, getting carefully to my feet. Without the dried blood covering my skin, it was much easier to move without disturbing my wounds. Good. I looked at Branson carefully. "I think some of Carson's clothes are still in the closet, if you need something to change into. He was taller than you, but he wasn't as muscular so that should make up the difference." His eyebrows shot up.

    "Oh, so you think I'm muscular huh?" I laughed. A real laugh. I don't know how long it had been since I'd laughed so fully.

    "Let's just get some clean clothes on, Casanova."  

    I began to make my way down the hall to my room. Passing the bathroom I could hear Sheila crying and Scott trying to comfort her, but I was trying to ignore them for now. I opened my bedroom door and made a beeline for my still open closet. I began to rummage for new clothes, finding a couple pairs of pants for Branson and a few tshirts, I even found a windbreaker that would probably fit him. Grabbing some clothes for myself and my carbon toe boots, I turned around with my pile of clothes. Branson was standing at the foot of my bed, watching me. I took the moment to look him up and down too. I felt guilty for having such an attraction to him in light of the events that led to our meeting but on the other hand Branson made me feel more excited than any man ever had. I knew it was wrong but it was an impossible urge to resist. As my eyes wandered up his obviously powerfully built legs, I thought I saw a bulge forming in the front of his pants. It made me painfully aware that I still hadn't put clothes on and we were just staring at each other. Almost like he read my mind, he looked away. A blush crept up his face and he cleared his throat.

    "Are those for me?" He asked, still not looking at me.     

    "Uh, yeah. Here." I almost threw his clothes at him, straining my shoulder in the process.

    "Ouch!" I yelped causing him to run forward in worry. 

    "What's wrong?!" He put his hand on my arm with a worried expression on his face.

    "Just gotta watch how I move, tweaked my shoulder. It's fine." I looked up at him and realized how close he was. I could smell the scent of old blood coming off of him, but there was something underneath it all. He smelled like pine trees. Our eyes locked and I felt him begin to lean in, like he was going to kiss me and damn was I about to let him. As our lips were mere inches apart, we heard glass breaking and Scott came running in the room with his gun drawn. Sheila was hot on his heels.

    "Sarge, we got a problem." Scott said and we all rushed from the room. 

    The sound had come from the kitchen where we found my sliding glass door broken in and blood drops on the floor. 

    "Are they in the house?!" Sheila shrieked.    

    "No. There's fresh blood in the glass from whoever broke it. They don't bleed like this." Branson said this as he knelt on the ground, examining the blood drops. they seemed to lead away from the kitchen. I followed the trail to the garage where I found a bloody handprint on the door.     

    "Branson? Over here." They all came to join me at the garage door. Branson's eyes flared with alarm at the sight of the blood on the door.  With our weapons ready, we opened the door to the garage and found someone standing inside. I didn't recognize this person and apparently neither did anybody else. Branson kept his gun trained on this unknown intruder, not taking any chances.     

    "Who are you?" He demanded. The man turned around and we saw that it wasn't a man at all, it was a kid.