“Not too shabby, right?” He beamed at my shock and headed toward the bar. A door stood right by the end of the counter, he entered a code into the panel beside it and then pushed it open. He motioned for me to follow. I was still awestruck, but I reminded myself to remember where the hell I was.
The bottles of beer lining the shelves of the bar were green, just like the shattered glass on the road.
I entered what was a comfortably-sized apartment behind the bar. It had a simple set up to it and one black accent wall. His bedspread was a striped black and brown, making it clean and crisp. It looked like a hotel room, but the decorative knives and swords lining the walls and sitting in glass displays along with the pictures of smiling people made it more lived in. One picture was of a woman, bright blue eyes and dark brown hair. Her perfectly white smile gleamed at me through the glass. Another had an older couple, white hair peppering their once dark strands and wrinkles cinching on their happy faces. I wondered who they were, what they meant to this man. I was definitely fascinated.
He walked to the mini bar he had set up in the center of the room and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of rum. He even had cans of soda, and my heart leaped at the sound as he cracked open a can and poured it into the liquor. I had not drunk any alcohol since high school, and that had been very little. But this little luxury was too good to pass up.
Elijah held the glass out to me as he took a swig of his own. “Come on, I don’t bite.” I stepped forward and took the glass, looking down at the little cubes of ice floating in the liquid, hitting the sides with the usual tink. I smiled, eager to taste the fluid. I took a swig, almost coughing as the burn tumbled down my throat and into my belly, setting it on fire. “Whoa there, not so fast.” He laughed, handing me a dinner napkin to mop up the dribbles sliding down my chin.
I cleaned it up and set the glass down on the counter, staring at Elijah, wondering what to say. I had imagined this moment for months, but now, finally meeting another human, I had nothing to say.
“You never told me your name.” He watched me tentatively, the anger gone from his face as he tossed back his drink. He was built enough he could throw someone out of a club if he wanted, but he didn’t feel dangerous to me. I hoped my gut feeling was right.
“April.”
“Well, April. It seems you are the first human I have seen in Vegas in a long, long time.” He set his glass down and sat on the edge of his bed. He offered me the spot next to him, to which I shook my head. I was starting to feel a tad uncomfortable standing in a bedroom with someone other than Rye.
“Everyone’s dead.” I managed to squeak out. Sweat was forming on my brow from the liquor, and I was sure I was drenching my maroon shirt with stains. I had hung my machete on my belt in the elevator, leaving me free to wipe my dampened hands on my jeans. He watched my every move, which made me self-conscious, but the need to talk with him overpowered my desire to run.
“Yep, that’s pretty much what’s happened.” Elijah sighed, scratching his head and staring out the window.
“How come you’re alive?” I wanted to kick myself for sounding so stupid.
“I could ask you the same thing,” he mumbled. His dark brown eyes found me again but crinkled with the large smile widening across his jaw. “Glad to meet you, April. I’m sure we would’ve been really great friends.” Elijah stood up and held his hand out to me, still flashing his pearly whites as he waited for me to take the next step. I accepted, slipping my hand into his to give it a shake.
Instead, he pulled me toward him, spinning me around so that I faced away from him, and pinned my arm behind me. He easily yanked my other hand, which was trying to reach for one of my weapons, back behind me as well. I bucked up and down, trying to hit his face with my skull or stomp his feet, but he was well trained. He dodged my efforts easily, pulling me snug against his chest, his head cradling mine as he waited for me to calm down.
His rough stubble scratched my neck, making me pull away as his hot breath trickled down the side of my face. He smelled of cologne and clean linen. Pleasant. So why was he doing this? Up until that point, I had not felt a threat from him at all.
“The city is not safe. I wouldn’t dream of harming you, but I’m warning you now. Go back to where you’re hiding and stay there. Don’t ever come back, and don’t tell a soul about me, or I will kill you.” With that, he pushed me forward.
I stumbled to the floor, catching myself on a chair with my arms, which now burned from the restraint he had me locked in not a moment before. I glared at him, wide-eyed and furious. He had his sword out and pointed down toward me, but made no move to use it. “I mean it. Come back and I won’t be so merciful.” He spat out his words, trying to look threatening. Was that concern I saw flashing in his eyes? In a second, it was gone, leaving only the cold stare.
My gut told me it was a farce, but my mind had me scrambling to get up to run out of the apartment, into the bar and out the doors to the lone working elevator. I shoved at the call button, fumbling with my machete in the other, just in case he came stalking around the corner or changed his mind about leaving me unharmed. The familiar ding came fast and I rushed into the box, turning to see if he was there. He was. He stood nonchalantly watching me as he leaned against the wall of the entrance to the club. His face was blank as he let his eyes glide over me and down to my machete, giving me a slight nod before the doors slid shut.
Chapter Eight
Broken
Rye
RYE WALKED TO his car as the sunrise’s unseen tendrils prickled his skin and eyes, making him don his sunglasses. He hopped into the heavily-tinted dark grey Dodge Charger. The shiny exterior of the car was an inky, black pool under the scant moonlight. The air was already heating up, rolling over his skin like a wave of steam. Summer was heading their way, promising long days in the inferno of the solar glare, heating to obscene temperatures that made traversing about the land nearly impossible for him. He hated the summers in Vegas, swearing under his breath that he had to deal with yet another one.
The call of the northern west coast coursed through his veins, making him long for the wet and freezing temperatures of the sea-sprayed air. This place was nothing but dirt and death. Even the land had a way of withering the neglected buildings around him, claiming the structures back for itself. He sped down the mountain road to the even hotter and dismal valley below. How he had come to be anchored in a place like this was beyond his comprehension. He had the urge to keep driving, past The Strip and the disarrayed tangles of garbage, cars and tumbleweeds that littered the streets and highways. Keep on driving until the ocean met him with open arms once more. Only then would he feel safe and sound again.
Oh, how he longed for that day to come already.
Rye wondered if April would join him. He wondered many things about the human girl who had stolen his heart but probably didn’t feel the same toward him. He had watched her pull away, watched her cease her loving embraces and holding of hands until the wall she had built up stood so high around her, he couldn’t reach her anymore. Left out in the bitter cold. And he didn’t even know why.
The hum of the motor made his thoughts drift. He had come to see April and found her lost in her thoughts and quiet. Dinner had been no better. He had tried to coax out of her where she had been all day long. Leaving her brother at the hive while she traipsed around town alone had sent up red flags. She loved to be alone, roam the city and do her thing. But he wanted to join her, to explore with her, spend every living second with her. Yet he didn’t want to suffocate her and push her away. It was such a struggle to let her go and be who she was, but he had to. Otherwise he’d risk losing her forever.
His superior night vision left no stone or bundle of debris unseen. Rye dodged them easily, swerving at speeds that would make most lose their lunches. April hated his driving, and he had watched her bite her tongue as she silently prayed she would live through his hellish driving to see another day. This caused him to chuckle;
these small things that made him think of her were the reasons why he kept coming around. He loved her, like he had never loved anyone, even Seraphin.
However, nothing made sense about April, not one thing. She’s human, a human hybrid of all things. Made to fight vampires and drink their blood to pump her up into a fighting machine, like she was on steroids. He was a vampire, hopelessly in love with her. He wondered if he even meant anything to her because of this. Something was going on within her head and he’d give anything to break down her confines to ease whatever it was that was bothering her. Nothing he did sufficed. Nothing whatsoever.
He pulled into the airport, not spying as many ferals on the way back to the hive as he usually did. They stayed away from the hive for the most part, somehow knowing that the hybrid vampires fed on blood from the ferals, too. He found it odd that they would know this, but he brushed the unfamiliarity of it to the side as he hopped out to open the huge gate that was rigged to an electrical lock. He punched in the code and jumped back into his car, waiting as the gate creaked open. After driving down into an underground parking lot beneath the airport, he watched as the gate closed behind him, making sure no intruders entered before it shut.
Jumping out of the car, he made his way toward the double locked metallic doors that led into the hive. A series of locks squeaked as he punched in the codes, letting him through and shutting behind him with an automatic click. It was a double door entrance, making him wait a mandatory minute before the next door opened. Cameras focused on him as he watched the second set of doors screech open. He wondered whose eyes were watching him from the other side of the lens. Giving a curt nod to them, he walked into the massive hive’s main meeting room, a large warehouse-like space made from enclosing the McCarran Airport underground bypass tunnel. Asphalt ran under his feet as he made his way to the other side, where another door led to the sleeping quarters of the three lieutenants of the hive−Blaze, Rye and Miranda.
The others watched him as he marched through, barely acknowledging them. No one challenged him; everyone knew who he was.
Blaze and Miranda were nowhere to be seen, making him wonder if they were already resting. The main meeting area was nearly deserted. With the sun rising outside, he was sure most had already sought the comfort of their rooms to rest. He shut the automated locking door behind him, stepped down the silent corridor and swiftly to his room.
Sliding onto his bed, he leaned back onto his arm and stared at the ceiling. The cold concrete was puckered and imperfect with its small ridges and porous surface. He had studied every crack and crevice over many, many months. He liked it here. It was silent and dark, giving him much-needed relaxation time, which seemed to be consumed by so many things lately. Letting his body lax into sleep had been difficult with so much on his mind, mainly April.
He hoped that this fiasco with the humans would make things clearer for her, make her realize that she wasn’t alone or fulfill some endless need she harbored inside. He hoped that at the end of this, she’d come to realize that he needed her and that maybe, just maybe, she needed him too. He was patient, but he hoped it wouldn’t be too long of a wait.
~~~~~
“RYE?” MIRANDA’S VOICE echoed in his dreams, making the scene before him shift violently to the dark concrete walls of the hive headquarters. He sat up as the end of his bed shook when she sat down. She looked cautious, probably expecting him to pounce on her for interrupting his sleep. He found himself slick with sweat and his heart thudding in his chest from the plagued dreams. “Are you alright? I heard you yelling at someone, I thought something was going on.”
Her golden-haloed brown eyes reflected the dim light of the hall just outside his room and swam with concern. She lived in one of the rooms next to his; a long hallway of dorm-like rooms had replaced the long room of stalls and beds that had been their resting places for a long time. Here, the walls smelled of new paint and wood. The smell was sometimes strong in the stale tunnel air. But overall, it wasn’t too unpleasant, except when it started to make him feel suffocated and hunger for fresh air, as he did now.
Rye gave Miranda a shake of his head, reassuring her that he was okay. “No, nothing, just a bad dream. Didn’t have any dinner today.” He chuckled, wanting to lighten the mood and steer her off him, but she was not so easily fooled. Miranda squinted her shiny eyes toward him, full of suspicion, not likely to let him off easy.
“You sure you’re okay? Need anything?”
“I’m fine. Please, go back to bed.” He waved her off, watching her as she slipped silently toward the doorway. She treated him like a little brother, much like April treated Jeremy. She gave him a curt not and disappeared like a flash. Her intentions were good, but he did not want her around when he was feeling vulnerable. She was second in command of the hive, set to take over if anything happened to Blaze. It was fine with Rye, but he hated to be seen as weak.
Sitting in the bed, he rested his elbows on his knees as his hands weaved through his hair, brushing back the beads of perspiration. The residual effects of the dream slowly ebbed away as his heart found a calmer rhythm. Closing his eyes brought an image of April floating into his mind. Why did she make him feel this way? Exasperated, desperate and wanting. He felt like she was pushing him away, like a nuisance, a fly buzzing around her head and annoying her to death. He wondered if he should just let her be, let her go.
No. He shook his head at the ridiculous thought and laid back against the cool, sweat-soaked pillow. He would distance himself a bit from her, but to be too far away would be unbearable. The connection he felt to her, the need to protect her in this devastated world, was much too strong to just let go. Maybe he should just tell her outright what she meant to him and find out what made her hesitate to return his affections.
It couldn’t be that bad; but even if it was, he had to know. He would tell her the next time they met and make sure that no matter what, she knew that he would be there for her.
Chapter Nine
I’ll Provide the Spite
Elijah
TEARS OF SOOT and despair disappear in the dusty moonlight. Or so it seems. Elijah wiped away the grimy residue caked on his skin and weapons. It streaked across his face, leaving a trail from his rough fingers. The mirror, unlike the reflection it now harbored, was crisp and clean, like the rest of the bathroom. It stood sterile, pure and white all around him. He leaned against the rim of the sink, letting the black ash trail along the clean porcelain, staining its perfect surface. He liked that. He wanted to smear around what was left of the zombified vampires’ remains, which stuck to his clothes and clung to his hair. The burnt barbeque smell permeated his nostrils, making him remember the deed long after it was done.
He hated leading them to their deaths. Though they were no longer human and no longer resembled anything with higher thinking, he still regretted the fact that he was responsible for killing them. It was getting more and more difficult to push the guilt and horror of the world back into the tiny chamber inside his head, which harbored everything that had gone wrong in his life and hid the deterioration of his morality. Turning the faucet on, he let the warm water run and splashed it his face. The fluid churned black as he washed the grime away, soaping up his arms. He had to get a shower as soon as he could, but Katrina would be waiting for him at debriefing. She wouldn’t like waiting.
Slamming the water off, he dried himself with a towel, continuing to stare into the smooth mirror before him. His reflection remained constant—slightly tanned skin and gleaming brown eyes glinted back at him. His shaggy brown hair was getting long, hanging over his ears, and needed to be brushed back for him to see without it in his eyes. Short stubble grew along his jawline, making him look like a rugged woodsman. He smiled at the thought. Elijah, the huntsman. Right.
Pulling on a clean black shirt, he smoothed the wrinkles down and jerked the door open, entering the cool, brightly-lit hallway. It’s too white here, he thought to himself. Sterile and plain. Whoever had built thi
s fortress had to have been a germ-a-phobe, he just knew it. That, or some mad scientist. The gleam of the clean walls and tile made him cringe. His thoughts wandered to a hospital he had visited before the epidemic. The smells had been nauseating, and the plain color scheme of the halls and waiting rooms just reeked of institutionalization. He wondered why they couldn’t have painted it more lively, vibrant and happy. Why make a hospital look like one? The same went for this place. Why so much white? Was there a deal on white paint when it had been built?
That was why he loved his city escape in the penthouse of the Palms Casino. Every time he returned to the underground, he longed to leave again and go back to his sanctuary above the city streets. Thinking of his apartment, his thoughts wandered to the girl, April, whom he had chased off. He had been surprised to see a human alive aboveground. It was something he had not expected to see for almost a year. Supposedly everyone had died or turned. If by chance any had lived, they’d have been eaten by now. No, ‘surprised’ was not even the right word for what he felt about his discovery. He was stunned.
He couldn’t ever tell Katrina about the girl. She would have them hunt her down and drag her against her will into the underground. He prayed she never came looking for him again. If she knew about the underground, it would be a death sentence for her, or at least a definite life imprisonment.
The underground city of Vida was the most boring and ordinary place on earth. It was inhabited by humans and hybrid humans alike. It had been the last place in Las Vegas left unaffected by the viral epidemic, the last stand. This made him smirk and almost laugh out loud. He’d never believed that. He couldn’t believe it was the last place on earth that was safe, especially now with April roaming around as proof of life above. He could feel deep inside him that there were others out there, somewhere. This knowledge crept in his mind and surged through his bones like a sixth sense. One day he was going to find them. With or without Katrina’s help.