Chapter 6Wyatt

Chapter 6

Wyatt

The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over the dusty road as we set out for California. The fog, still hanging low in the air, was thinner out here in the desert. I could just barely make out the shape of a mountain in the distance.

Alex gripped the steering wheel tightly, knuckles white. The tension in the car was thick, and we barely spoke. Hell sat in the passenger seat next to him, staring out the window in silence. We all tensed when, for the hundredth time in a span of two hours, the walkie-talkie squealed and crackled to life.

"Alex," Jessa began hesitantly, her voice small and cracking over the fuzzy radio waves. "I just want you to know that I'm really sorry. We need to talk about this eventually..."

Dante slammed back in his seat next to me, cursing under his breath in Spanish as he shook his head. I rubbed a hand over my beard nervously. Even hearing her voice after all this time was like a fucking shock to my system, and not in a good, nostalgic way. It fucking hurt like an icepick to the chest.

"Save it," Alex snapped, through the radio back at her. His jaw was clenched tightly, and his shoulders were ramrod straight.

Helana placed a comforting hand on his arm, and he exhaled shakily. "I wish we could turn the walkie off, but we need to stay connected to them just in case," she said apologetically. "Just ignore the bitch. I try to."

We all tried. It was becoming impossible. Over the last week and a half that we'd been at the Grey family's ranch, Jessa seemed to be everywhere. She popped up when I least expected her, trying to talk and talk and fucking talk. All she wanted to do was give us more excuses for why she betrayed us and left Alex for dead. There was nothing she could say to make it better.

"Listen, I know I messed up, but I'm here now, right?" Jessa insisted, her voice faltering.

We all shifted uncomfortably in our seats, doing our best to ignore the rage her voice inflicted. Even Dante, the ever-compassionate healer, was on edge in a way I'd never seen him.

"Enough!" growled Alex, the word cutting through the thick atmosphere like a knife. The radio crackled and buzzed, and I could only imagine what Hell's brothers were thinking over in the other Hummer. "Give the walkie to Missy or Nina; it's not a fucking cellphone."

The car was shrouded in a heavy silence, the engine's rumble and the rolling of the tires on the sidewalk punctuating it like a faint heartbeat. We had said goodbye to the desert and were now driving through small towns that dotted the highway.

There was still enough gasoline for us to make it all the way to California without needing to stop, but I couldn't shake the feeling that there might be something worth finding if we veered off and explored.

"They look like ghosts," Helana commented as she stared out the window pensively.

Dante and I briefly locked eyes before shifting our glances towards the window. The thick fog had painted the world in sepia hues, yet in the far-off distance, you could still make out the sluggish figures of dozens of zombies.

Even from this safe place, we could feel their hunger for flesh as they meandered around with no perceived purpose or direction.

"Why couldn't we have had a ghost apocalypse instead of zombies?" I found myself asking as I counted the number of staggering bodies in sight. "Ghosts can't eat people, right?"

As far as I knew, ghosts weren't even real. But then again, a year and a half ago, if you'd told me that zombies would take over the world, I would have laughed my ass off.

Dante huffed."Maybe ghosts can eat souls. Who knows? But I'd take that over flesh-eating monsters any day. I always wanted to be a Ghostbuster."

Helana laughed, and the sound was like music to my fucking ears. I met Alex's icy blue eyes in the mirror for a split second, and I knew he wasn't unaffected by it either. He could brood all he wanted, but he was just as lost to her as we were.

After another half hour of tense silence, Jessa's voice echoed over the walkie yet again. "I need a bathroom break," she whined. I had forgotten just how shrill her whiny voice could be. "I think I'm going to be sick," she added pathetically.

Ret groaned from the seat behind Dante and me. "Does this chick ever shut the fuck up?"

I was about to tell her no—not really—when Jessa proved my point for me. "I'm serious. I get car sick, guys."

It was technically true. She used to get queasy on longer trips we took when we were teenagers. It was easy to forget all those little things that were a part of everyday life before the end of the world came. It was hard to understand how any of us had put up with her for as long as we did.

Maybe I was a dickhead, but I couldn't help but compare her to Helana. They were polar opposites in every way, and I was so fucking thankful for that.

"I think she's for real, man," said a deeper voice over the radio. I think it was Scottie, but it was hard to tell the triplets apart sometimes. "She's looking kind of green, and I'm not spending the next twenty-four hours in a puke-covered car."

We all visibly cringed at the mental image Scottie provided.

"Fine," Alex sighed. He pressed the gas a little harder, and we sped up. "Try to hold it in until we get to the city. You can't puke outside or you'll inhale the fog."

It wouldn't take long for her to turn if that happened. I'd seen it happen a few times over the last year. Always in a moment of panic or surprise. Someone gets caught in a sticky situation and thinks they can hold their breath long enough to make it indoors, but it never ends up working out that way.

The process is ugly. First comes the desperate inhale, and then comes the look of dread that fills their eyes the moment they realize what they've just done. Then comes the gagging, the coughing, and the choking. Soon, they throw up blood and flesh until there's nothing left in their stomachs.

All of this takes a matter of minutes, if that. The toxins in that bioweapon were obviously engineered to do the most damage in the shortest amount of time.

Eventually, we made it to a town just outside of Vegas. This is where shit was about to get tricky. Towns meant hordes, and if we weren't stealthy and smart, we could get stuck for days. The people trapped on that ship didn't have days.

I leaned forward in my seat and clapped Alex on the shoulder. "I'll drive next, man. You need to get some shut-eye."

"I'm fine," he grunted in his usual clipped tone.

My fingers dug into his shoulder harder. "That wasn't a fucking suggestion. I'm telling you to sleep before you put us all at risk and crash into a damn building."

He sighed, giving me a curt nod before grabbing the walkie. "Follow us through. I want to stick to the outskirts if we can. We'll see if we can find an intact building. We probably need to rest for an hour or two."

We were taking turns driving; that way, there was no need to stop for an entire night. This was a time-sensitive mission, and the majority of us had at least some semblance of training. Dante wasn't ex-military, nor was he an officer like me, but he'd grown up with our crazy fathers and was an experienced outdoorsman just like the rest of us were.

Jessa, on the other hand, was a liability. She didn't get a weapon, especially a firearm, and she sure as shit wasn't going to be driving. For all intents and purposes, she was as useful as luggage. Just another fucking mouth to feed and a body to worry about.

Breaking the silence, Alex grumbled, "Bringing her was a dumb idea."

Helana let out a heavy sigh. "We were backed into a corner," she replied. "But as soon as we get the baby to the ranch, you can continue ignoring her existence."

Dante and I exchanged a knowing look, and his lips formed a sly smile as he commented, "Shouldn't the new girlfriend despise the ex even more than we do?"

I bit my tongue to keep from laughing, knowing that from the way Helana went utterly and completely still, that Dante was about to have his ass handed to him.

She swiftly pivoted in her seat, fixing him with a piercing glare that could make even the toughest man crumble. In certain lighting, her brown eyes took on a golden hue, giving her a fairy-like appearance, even in her combat gear.

She pointed her finger at him. "Firstly, do not ever call me the 'new girlfriend.' And secondly, I don't hate Jessa. I don't care about her enough to hate her." She glanced at Alex, their eyes meeting briefly, something passing between them for a split second. "What she did to you all was wrong, so it's natural for me to not trust her. I'm just being realistic."

Dante's smile remained plastered on his face as he leaned in, unfastening his seatbelt. "You don't want to be my new girlfriend? Ouch, that stings, baby girl." He puckered his lips in a mock pout. I caught Alex's eye roll through the rearview mirror.

"To be fair, none of you actually asked me to be your girlfriend. So does that make me technically single?" She playfully tilted her head and tapped her chin in mock contemplation.

Dante's response was sharp and passionate. He firmly grabbed her face, pressing his lips against hers in a forceful kiss. When he pulled back, there was an audible smack, and Hell seemed stunned, her cheeks flushed with a pretty pink hue. "You're my girl," Dante declared. "I didn't think I needed to make some grand gesture, but if you want me to, I'll get down on one knee and ask." Her eyes dipped to his lips again. "I can do wonderful things on my knees…"

Missy's voice came through the walkie abruptly, interrupting their conversation. "I see something ahead," she reported. "It looks like an empty gas station. According to the map, there are a couple of side streets that split off to the south in case we need a quick escape."

Alex grunted an affirmation, and veered off toward the exit ramp leading to the aforementioned gas station. Without another word spoken between us, he steered the Hummer onto a smaller street littered with broken-down vehicles.

The sound of glass crunching under the tires didn't faze me. These vehicles were designed to handle off-road terrain, after all. However, their loud engines were a concern. Zombies were drawn to noise and scent more than anything else, especially since most of them couldn't see very well. And with the thick fog obscuring our view, it was difficult to assess our surroundings.

We spotted the gas station on the right-hand side of the road, and it required some skillful driving to navigate into the parking lot. The structure was run-down, its walls covered in flaking paint and broken fluorescent signs hanging like open wounds. The parking lot was filled with abandoned cars that seemed frozen in time since before things had fallen apart.

We climbed out of the vehicle, our guns already in hand. We were nearing the city and couldn't afford to let our guard down. This area used to be bustling with people, but now it was desolate and eerie. With California's reputation for overpopulation, we knew things would only get worse once we crossed the border. If anything went even slightly wrong, we were screwed.

Jessa emerged from the other Hummer, her hand pressed against her stomach in pain. I glanced at Dante, who was rolling his eyes at her over-the-top reaction. Helana joined me by my side, crossing her arms over her chest as she too watched in amusement.

"She's really gonna milk this, isn't she?"" she mused. Her long, pale hair was secured in a waterfall of a ponytail that nearly touched her ass. Even with a respirator on, she was gorgeous.

"You have no idea how far that woman will go for attention.

"Hey, Dante?" Jessa called out, feigning pain. "You're a doctor; maybe you could come and make sure I'm okay?"

"I'm a medic, Jessa, and being carsick is hardly a medical emergency," Dante replied curtly, not even bothering to glance her way. He crossed his arms and stared resolutely at the gas station.

"Please?" she implored, desperation creeping into her voice. It was clear this was just another feeble attempt to force him to acknowledge her existence.

"Let's just give her some space," Helana suggested softly, placing a hand on Dante's shoulder. "She's like a gnat. If you fling her away, she just comes back harder."

For the next hour, we sat in the rundown gas station, gathering whatever non-perishable items we could find and throwing them into the trunk of our car. As time passed, Jessa's faux dry heaving turned into silence as she gave up and pouted.

An hour later, Jessa's voice quivered as she came back to the car and asked, "Is this how it's going to be?" I was loading a box of old granola bars into the trunk when she stopped next to me. I avoided looking at her for more than a moment; every time I did, my anger flared up and I wanted to lash out.

The rest of the group had already piled into the car, leaving the driver's seat open for me. As I approached, I noticed Alex had taken the back seat. Scottie stood outside their car, tapping his foot impatiently and crossing his arms. I shot Jessa a stern look and said, "This is your fault; you made it like this."

She shook her head, her eyes widening in fear and desperation. "I had no choice, Wyatt. They forced me to do it. If I didn't shoot Alex, they would have killed all of you. But I made sure the wound wasn't fatal..."

My voice dripped with disdain as I took a step closer, looming over her. "You're nothing but a liar," I hissed. "I know you too well, Jessa. You ran off with those assholes because you thought they'd protect you. How does it feel to be a spineless coward?"

Her eyes clouded over and tears threatened to spill, yet she remained silent. There was no point in speaking; the truth was already evident. I had known this woman since childhood, and her lies were as clear to me as the scent of freshly cut grass. I could read her like a book. I knew all her tricks.

"Get back in the fucking car, shut the fuck up, and stay away from the walkie."

She flinched so hard she nearly stumbled. I didn't bother paying any more attention to her. Instead, I let Anubis leap into the trunk, then shut it behind him.

We had been driving for only thirty minutes when I slammed on the brakes.

"Shit!"

The car skidded to a stop, causing the others behind us to do the same, nearly slamming into us before Scottie veered onto the shoulder of the road.

"What the hell, Wyatt?!" Beretta cursed from the back seat.

Through the haze, I could make out the silhouette of a car, a lone island in a sea of decay. It sat in the dirt off the shoulder of the road, facing the wrong way. It was swarmed, crawling with those things—zombies, biters, whatever you want to call them.

Helana unbuckled herself and leaned forward to get a better look. "Looks like someone's in there."

Fifteen zombies were clawing and banging on the car, their usual behavior when they sensed fresh meat nearby. This meant there was likely someone trapped inside, just waiting to be devoured by the undead.

"Alive?" Dante asked, leaning forward, the medic in him already calculating odds of saving a life in this hellscape. We had limited resources, but we weren't destitute.

"Has to be," I said. There was movement inside that car, frantic shadows against slowly cracking glass. "Alright. We do this clean and fast."

"Or we don't do it at all," Alex added dryly as he contradicted his own words, reaching for his weapon and securing his mask.

"Let's move." I grab my glock, the weight familiar and comforting in my hands. My heart was a drumbeat in my chest, but it wasn't fear—it was the thrill of the fight. I wanted to kill something.

I locked eyes with Alex and Dante. The world outside was been a blur of gray and dust. "Alex, headed for the driver's side door. Dante, circle around back and draw some away."

"Got it," he replied without hesitation, already moving.

"Helana, pick off the stragglers."

"Yes, sir," she quipped. The sassiness in her voice made me pause.

Our eyes met, and my cock hardened. I could tell she was grinning under her mask, and all I wanted to do was bend her over the dashboard and fuck her senseless just so she could call me sir again.

"Let's make it quick," Alex grunted, his ice-blue eyes flickering with that same fire that saved our asses more times than I can count.

We poured out, the door slamming shut behind us like the final note of a dirge. Our boots hit the ground, and we were gods of war in a world gone to hell. The first shot rang out, a clarion call as the bullet found its mark between the milky-white eyes of a stumbling corpse. Its head snapped back, and it crumbled like a puppet with its strings cut.

"Two at nine o'clock!" Dante's voice cut through the chaos. He was a shadow, swift and deadly, his gun barking death from a distance.

"Covering!" I shouted back, sighting another one. It was closer, too close, gnashing teeth—a grotesque caricature of hunger. The recoil jolted up my arm as I put it down.

"Moving up!" Alex's voice was steel. He moved with lethal grace, his blade singing as it arced through the air, severing rotting flesh and bone. It was poetry, if poetry were written in blood and intestines.

"Clear!" I called out, scanning for more threats.

Several arrows zipped through the air from the direction of the car, finding their home in the heads of multiple zombies. I caught a glimpse of Hell sitting halfway out the passenger-side window with that insane hot pink crossbow of hers.

"Clear," echoed Alex, wiping his blade on the tattered remains of what used to be a person. His face was set in grim determination, with scars and tattoos hidden under a mask of grime and gore.

We moved into formation, encircling the car like predators closing in on their prey. The trapped survivor inside was panting, his eyes wild with fear and just a shred of hope.

"Stay down!" Alex warned them, shattering the remaining glass with a well-placed elbow.

Ethan , he said his name was. The kid looked like he was barely old enough to drive, let alone survive this nightmare.

"Hey, just stay still for me, okay?" Dante's voice was steady, a calms. He was all business, checking Ethan's pupils, the rise and fall of his chest, searching for injuries hidden by the torn clothes.

There was blood, not sure whose it was, but Dante's hands didn't tremble, his touch gentle against the boy's bruised skin.

Dante murmured, more to himself than anyone else. His fingers deftly unwrapped a bandage, pressing it against a gash on Ethan's arm with practiced care. I

We pulled the kid free and dragged him to the car, shutting the doors, and settled Ethan between Alex and Dante. Helana swiveled around in her chair, looking the kid over with a critical eye.

"Thanks," Ethan choked out, his voice a raspy whisper that barely carried over the sound of our heavy breathing. His eyes darted between each of us, wide with something akin to disbelief. Maybe he hadn't thought he'd make it out alive. Can't blame him; we'd all been there.

Dante replied without looking up from his work, "There's nothing to thank me for yet, kid."

I watched as Dante's hands moved with precision, cleaning wounds and securing bandages. He used to be a medic, now he's a guardian angel in this messed up world. The kid was safe now, or at least as safe as any of us can be with death always lurking behind us.

"Can you move?" Dante finally asked, locking eyes with Ethan. He nodded, wincing as Dante helped him get strapped in. Relief washed over his face, the kind that comes when the grim reaper's been knocking and suddenly gets told to eff off.

"Vámonos!" Dante shouted out the window of the car, and Scottie gave us a thumbs up, revving up his engine and pulling out in front of us this time.

"I need—my brother," the kid stammers out between gasps. His eyes were pools of desperation, the kind that's seen too much and can't unsee it. "He's sick ... cancer. He's stuck in a hotel room a few miles from here."

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. Another mouth to feed, another body to shield. But this one's dying even without the zombies' help. A goddamn mercy mission in a world where mercy's as dead as the walking corpses we just put down.

"Kid, we've got our own shit to handle," Alex chimed in, scanning the horizon for more trouble. His voice is cold, hard reality slicing through the dust. "If your tell me your brother is stuck in fucking Vegas, then you're shit out of fucking luck."

We indeed passed a sign along the highway that read Vegas, 3 miles.

"Look, we can't just—" Dante started, but didn't finish. Even he knew the odds. Time was a luxury, and every second spent saving one life risks five others.

Ethan's gaze flicked between us, reading our faces like they might change the verdict. "Please," he whispered, the word heavy with the weight of knowing it's a long shot. "He's all I got left."

"Damn it," I cursed, slamming my hand on the wheel, watching him in the mirror. The kid had guts for being out on his own, gotta give him that. "We don't have the resources. We're on a tight schedule as it is."

"Taking on another liability is a no-go," Alex says, his eyes steeling over. "It's not just about us anymore."

I knew deep down he was right. We were barely making it as it is. The baby's formula was running out with each passing hour. And now Ethan's brother needs help too?

How the hell do you choose which life to save? They're both human beings for crying out loud.

Dante interrupted, always the conscience of the group. He was that voice that made you second-guess when you just wanted to not give a shit. "We take a vote."

We all paused. Helana was facing backwards in her seat as I swerved around cars, following Niko and Scottie practically bumper to bumper.

"I vote we save his brother," Hell said. Her eyes met mine. "If we leave a child out there to die, then we're no better than the fucking trappers."

A million horrors passed through her eyes at once as the car went utterly silent. She barely ever brought up the fucking trappers. Those disgusting cult-like pigs who kidnapped survivors off the streets and forced them to compete in zombie fighting pits to earn their living.

"She's fucking right and you all know it," Ret said flatly. I met her gaze in the mirror, briefly taking my eyes off the road. "Tell the others." She nodded to the walkie on the dash.

So I did. I relayed our dilemma to the others, and there was a brief pause of silence before that annoying voice crackled over the line. "We can't stop for everyone who needs help."

Jessa. I should have known she'd vote selfishly. Memories flooded back without warning - how we used to share Jessa, all tangled up and not giving a damn about the world that didn't approve of our weird relationship.

It was always Alex who fell the hardest, never me. Dante. loved her once, but not the way Alex did. Yet watching her manipulate and deceive now, any ounce of affection I may have once had was extinguished, replaced by visceral disgust.

I glanced at Hell from the corner of my eye as she grabbed the walkie. "Fuck off, Jessa. Hand it to Missy."

"Who the hell do you think you're talking to?" Jessa retorted with her typical snarkiness, but her confidence wavered. She knew she was outmatched.

Hell just smirked. "Your little soap opera's getting old, you glorified fucking milk bag. Now hand the walkie to Missy before she smacks the shit out of you."

I could picture Missy and probably Nina too, staring down Jessa like wildcats about to pounce on their prey. They were fiercely loyal to Helana, and they'd fuck Jessa up happily.

"What's up?' Came Missy's voice finally.

Hell explained the situation, and it took less than two seconds for the unanimous vote to go get the boy to filter through, as I already predicted.

"Alright," Helana finally said to Ethan."We'll get your brother."

"Thank you," Ethan breathed out, relief washing over his face like rain on parched earth.

"Let's gear up then," Alex gritted out, loading his firearm. "I know there's no talking you out of this, so we need to at least make it fast. Vegas is going to be a shitstorm."

He was right. There was no getting around that. When the fireworks went off that Fourth of July, the poison-laced smoke that rained down over the awed crowds worked fast enough that most people never had a chance to run. Crowds turned ravenous almost instantaneously, tearing each other apart. It was a bloodbath. A place like Vegas would have been a deathtrap.