Chapter 7

SEVEN

Bash slammed the truck's backdoor shut with a resounding clang, his heart pounding in his chest. The last of the livestock was now secured inside, ready for transport to the military base closest to Emma's farm.

It wasn't the task itself that made his blood boil. It was the way he couldn't help but glance at Emma. He found himself stealing glances, his eyes drawn to the young woman who had joined their ranks only hours ago. He cursed under his breath. Emma was nothing but trouble, but the unit was ready for something better, and she would offer that to them.

The sun beat down relentlessly on the barren wasteland that likely once fed the entire area, but it was nothing compared to the heat that flared in his chest whenever he looked at Emma.

Her curly brown hair fell past her shoulders in unruly waves, framing a face that radiated innocence and resilience in equal measure. Her hazel eyes held a defiance that drew him in, even as his better judgment screamed at him to push her away. He didn't need this distraction, not when he hadn't earned it.

Bash adjusted his grip on his rifle, trying to ignore the memories that threatened to surface. He'd sworn off women long ago after the bombs had claimed the last remnants of his humanity and left him a shell of the man he'd once been. But there was something about Emma.

"You're thinking awfully hard over there, Bash," she said, startling him from his thoughts.

Her voice was like honey, sweet and sticky and oh so addictive. He forced himself to meet her gaze, feeling a spark of recognition in those hazel depths that unnerved him.

"A man's allowed to think," he grunted, turning away from her. He didn't need her getting under his skin, not when they had a job to do. Anything else was a distraction he couldn't afford.

But even as he spoke, he knew it was too late. Her unique brand of poison had already seeped into his veins, infecting him with a longing he'd thought long dead. He could deny it all he wanted, but the truth was staring him in the face, Emma had gotten under his skin too quickly because he'd not left that part of himself dead on the street where it belonged.

Women weren't plentiful, but his unit found comfort when they needed it. The infertile ones were often cast out by the government, leaving them behind like everyone else.

Making them a fast, cheap fuck, that sated needs when emotions weren't allowed in.

It wasn't something they talked about openly, but it was an unspoken truth among the members of his unit. They all knew how important physical intimacy could be in a world that denied any kind of emotional attachment.

He remembered when he first joined the unit, trying to distance himself from any kind of connection with his fellow soldiers. But as time went on and missions became more dangerous, he couldn't ignore how much he'd come to care for the other four.

Shaking his head, Bash tried to shake off those thoughts. He couldn't let himself get tangled up with Emma or anyone else, for that matter.

It was just too risky.

But even as he tried to push her away, a part of him couldn't help but admire her strength and determination. She had survived on her own for so long before joining their unit.

"You all good then?" Chris damn near seemed to scream from the front of the transport.

Bash's eyes snapped back to the present, his heart pounding in his chest. He blinked away the memory, ejecting the clip from his gun and checking each bullet with practiced movements. He couldn't afford to think about what might have been. There was only the mission and protecting those he cared for now. The past was the past, and it needed to remain there.

"All set. If she's been hiding here for three years, I'm sure I can protect her overnight. You get those animals back safe and come back tomorrow."

A small cry came from Emma, and he turned to see her holding a small, aged Jack Russel. The small dog bathed her face in kisses.

"You're certain they'll be cared for?" Emma's words broke with emotion as she handed Liam the smaller dog and a larger mutt trotted after.

"Dogs are a comfort we all still enjoy. I swear to you they'll be as safe as here and may even have the livestock to be with."

Bash knew the damn fool was flirting with Emma, and it wasn't likely Liam had any clue he was doing it. Still, it riled him up that they all seemed turned upside down by a pretty face.

Liam and Chris climbed in last, and Bash fell prey to the demons in his head. The worry always came when they split up. He wasn't in charge of the group, but it sure as felt fuck like the weight of the world sat on his shoulders when they traveled. And Chris had never done anything to make him feel that way, Bash just did.

Bash reluctantly watched the truck drive off into the bleak, apocalyptic wasteland, his heart heavy with the weight of memories.

Memories that swept him away from the dangerous land they lived in now.

Before the bombs, Bash had a family—a gorgeous girlfriend and dreams of starting a life together. They were young and ambitious. But when the virus first struck, he was called away on duty. He never made it back home in time. No one did, really. Hospitals were overrun, cities crumbled, and innocent souls turned into rabid beasts within hours. Bash was left with nothing but memories of his love. He tried to forget her, to bury her in the pit of his stomach where guilt and regret resided, but she resurfaced every now and then like a vengeful ghost.

Three years ago.

The dust cloud from the fourth explosion in a day started to settle slowly, revealing a panicked crowd of survivors running helter-skelter. As far as the eye could see, there were faces contorted with fear and confusion, some trying to find their loved ones amidst the chaos.

Everywhere he looked, were wreckages of cars and homes reduced to nothing but twisted metal skeletons. The aftermath of the explosion lingered in the air, a green smoke choking everything, masking their vision and making it hard to breathe. He takes a deep breath through his mouth, tasting the metallic tang of blood and ash mixed with the thin air.

Bash's heart hammered against his chest as he joined the throng of people searching for his girlfriend, Kathleen. She was petite and beautiful, with strawberry blonde hair that cascaded past her shoulders in soft waves, and eyes that sparkled like the ocean under a bright sun. Her laughter rang out like wind chimes on a warm summer breeze, her smile as contagious as her laughter.

Despair lodged deep in his gut like a swallowed stone as he tried to focus on anything as people slammed into him, dashing to safety. A luxury he couldn't afford with or without Kathleen.

"Get her and hurry up!" Chris barked, the veins in his neck bulging with his attempt to be heard over the screaming chaos.

The smell of burning rubber mingled with sweat and fear. His fear. Fear that made him nauseous. Still, Bash moved forward, his boots crunching against shattered glass and twisted metal. Every face he saw brought a fresh pang of hope that quickly dissipated like smoke in the wind.

Voices called out for loved ones long gone or simply lost in the chaos. Tear-streaked cheeks painted every face he passed by. His skin began to prickle with anxious sweat as time wore on without any sign of Kathleen. Had she been caught in the crossfire? Was she already gone? The question burned at his throat as he pushed through bodies desperate for air they couldn't find amidst the haze of smoke filling their lungs.

"Kathleen!" He shouted her name until his throat went raw, his hands reaching out to grab at anyone who looked familiar.

A young boy stumbled past Bash, holding onto a scrap of fabric that used to be a dress before it tore apart. Bash grabbed him by the arm gently, pulling him close enough to whisper in his ear.

"Find the man with a scar on his cheek in clothes like mine. We'll protect you."

Though the young boy nodded, Bash wasn't certain he would make it to Chris.

As Bash ran, he realized what the putrid smell swamping his nose— death .

Amidst the haze of grief and despair, a glimpse of strawberry blonde hair caught Bash's eye.

Kathleen!

She coughed violently, clutching onto a toddler to her chest as if she was their only lifeline. The pair of them seemed to be searching for someone or something amidst the carnage.

Bash made his way toward them, his heart pounding in his chest like a drum as he shoved closer. Guilt seared through him that he hadn't been right by her side. But now, he couldn't ignore the desperation radiating from her eyes.

Close enough to help, Bash threw his hand out and took hers in his, tugging her to get her to start running with him. He didn't know who the child was, but there would be time to figure that out later.

The world around Bash became a blur of chaos as he pushed himself to move faster. The stench of death and decay hangs heavy in the air, causing his stomach to churn with every breath he takes, but if he needed to run, he needed to breathe. His eyes darted around, searching for anything that could pose a threat to their group as the truck and the men waiting there came into view. They were damn near invisible in the chaos to anyone who wasn't looking for a military unit.

The sound of the engines roared against the backdrop of an eerie silence that hung over the abandoned streets and echoed off the decrepit buildings. Red-tinted skies painted a canvas of doom, casting an ominous glow on their weary forms.

Kathleen struggled to keep up, her breaths coming out in ragged gasps as she held onto Bash's hand tightly .

His eyes landed on Chris's as they approached the truck, and his leader's message was clear: Get her on and do it quickly.

"Up you go," Bash hoisted Kathleen and the toddler onto the truck before pulling himself up. "Go, Chris, fucking go! "

Chris peeled out without warning, causing Kathleen to tumble out, the child going with her.

"Kathleen!" he screamed and went to jump after her with his arms wrapped around his chest.

His unit. His brothers.

"Bash, you go out there you don't come back." Trevor snarled in his ear.

"I won't fucking leave her."

And then everything had gone black.

Bash squeezed his eyes tight, trying to push away the images that haunted him and focus on their mission—finding a safe haven for them all and protection for Emma where he failed Kathleen.

"Bash?" Emma's voice broke through his reverie, her tone laced with concern.

He cleared his throat, shoving the magazine back into his gun. "Yeah?"

"I just wanted to say thank you. For everything you've done for me. For . . . risking your neck to save a stranger."

His jaw clenched. "You're one of us now. We don't leave our own behind."

She gave him a knowing look, and he knew she saw right through his tough exterior. "I know," she said softly. "But still, I want you to know that it means something. To me. There are not too many men who would come across a female—never mind one admitting she was likely fertile— and do the right thing."

Bash looked away, feeling a blush creeping up his cheeks. "Don't mention it. It's literally what we're paid for, not that money matters much now," he muttered gruffly, loading another clip into his sidearm.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words and unacknowledged tension. Bash shifted uncomfortably, unsure of how to navigate these uncharted waters. It had been too long since he'd spent time with a woman who didn't want something from him.

"So, no planes, huh?" she said, breaking the silence. "No easy way to take me wherever this safe place is?"

"Nope," he grunted, holstering his gun, not knowing what to do with it. "Too much danger from the toxin lingering in the higher altitudes. We tried early on, but . . ." His voice trailed off, the memory of smoldering wreckage and charred remains still as fresh as if it were yesterday. "Let's just say, we learned the hard way and no one has risked checking again."

"I'm sorry," Emma reached out to touch his arm, and her fingers sent electricity skittering up his bicep. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories."

He shook off her touch, angered by his own weakness. "Forget about it. Ghosts are in the past, and we gotta focus on the present. Right?"

Emma nodded, her hazel eyes reflecting understanding. "Right," she said softly.

Bash patted the radio on his hip. "We stick to the plan. When they get back tomorrow morning, we'll head out. There's an old bunker not too far from here. It should be stocked with enough supplies to start us on our way and I'm sure they'll bring stuff back. We'll lie low, regroup, and Liam will do his thing with the maps."

"Are you always so… brash?" Emma's eyes searched his for the answer.

"No. But like everyone else, I lost the person I loved more than life itself when the bomb went off —the fourth one for the record. I have no need to let anyone else in."

"How did it happen? "

Bash let out a low growl and moved away from Emma. These were scars that didn't need to bleed.

"Kathleen trusted me to keep her safe. I failed." Bash buried his face in his hands to disguise the play of emotion rushing over his face. "I remember her face contorted in pain as burning embers stung her skin, her eyes wide with fear as she reached for me and I reached her."

"I'm sorry," Emma's voice was so quiet he almost missed it.

"I'll never forgive my unit for holding me back, but they're all dead now, too, except Chris."

"Wait, the five of you haven't always been together?"

Bash grunted, standing up and pushing away from her. "I think we've talked enough. The dark brings out the worst. It's time to get you back inside in the basement where you're safe." he turned to the black lab. "Ranger, get your human downstairs."

As Emma walked inside, Bash found himself unable to look away. The way her curly brown hair bounced with each step was mesmerizing, like a magnet pulling him in. His heart raced, and he could feel the burn of guilt wash over him as he remembered the woman he couldn't save. He gritted his teeth and shook his head, trying to shake off the memory.

Emma was beautiful—there was no denying that—but her presence only reminded Bash of what he had lost.

Emma moved gracefully, like a swan gliding across a pristine lake, and it took all his control not to reach out and pull her close. Her body swayed with each step, drawing his eyes along her curves as she disappeared into the darkness of the makeshift shelter. A smile played at the corner of Bash's mouth. Seeing her walk away made him feel something he hadn't felt in years —hope.

It was dangerous. He knew it was, but he couldn't help himself.

Pulling the door shut behind him, he locked the latch and wondered how she'd been safe for so long with so little protection .

"Get yourself some sleep. If I know Chris, they'll be here right after dawn, and sleep will be sparse while we travel."

She nodded but didn't turn to look at him. "I've got blankets downstairs."

"Not inviting me to sleep here?" He asked with a snicker.

"Not a shot, and besides, the car made a lot of noise today. If someone comes for whoever is left behind, I'd rather they meet you upstairs."

"I can see why you've survived so long."

Bash followed her down the stairs, working to keep his gaze on the huge basement. The horrific smell of the barnyard assaulted him, slapping him in the face.

She'd had enough to stay down here at least another year, but the smell had to be something she couldn't notice.

"Here," Emma shoved a blanket at him. "Do you not want dinner?"

Bash shook his head. "No eating when I need to be alert."

"Oh," she looked away and then back. "I know you don't want to hear this, but thank you."

He gave her a sharp nod. They'd already had this conversation.

"Good night."

Bash's boots thudded on the cold concrete as he climbed back upstairs, his mind heavy with memories. He'd shared too much with the girl.

He never shared.

It wasn't safe to let someone in, not anymore. In this world, people are liabilities. Grunting, Bash gripped the spare blanket and headed for the couch. His body ached from the day's events, but sleep was elusive.

The house was dark, save for a single candle he knew flickered in the basement. Bash allowed himself to think of her, of Emma.

She'll be gone in a week, he told himself. Even as he thought it, he couldn't shake the gnawing feeling in his gut that she was different. That maybe, just maybe, Emma might be the one to help them all.

As the night progressed, Bash found himself dozing off, lulled by her steady breathing. He'd never admit it, but her presence was a balm to his fractured soul.

Come sunrise, he woke up before her, carefully cracking open the basement door. She didn't panic, which was a problem, but maybe her brain just knew she wasn't alone to be wary of sounds.

He looked down at her peaceful face, a wave of protectiveness washing over him. He memorized every curve and freckle, committing her to memory.

"Bash?" Liam called from just outside the door.

"Yeah, over here. I'll go wake Sleeping Beauty so we can get going."

As he walked to wake Emma, Bash refused to acknowledge the pain in his chest. But he couldn't shake the feeling Emma was going to destroy them all—even if she didn't mean to.