Beyond Paradise Pt. 07

CONNOR

I walk through the checkpoint.

My eyes have never been this focused. I pull my brown hair back, I can tie it off now it's gotten so long. Eli's brown jacket sits molded to my shoulders. My hiking boots pitch my freezing toes.

The guard moves to the weapons room--a small, reinforced structure with a heavy steel door and a single lightbulb swinging overhead. I see him release the key from a chain around his neck, the metal glinting in the dim light, and open the door to retrieve our weapons for today.

I gently, subtly crane my neck.

I see it. Standing at attention on a rack near the back, its stock worn smooth from handling, its barrel still dark with the residue of gunpowder. Candace's rifle. She had one request before we leave Paradise. Her rifle. She got me Bo's--my knife. I have to get her rifle.

The cold air hits my lungs as I step outside, sharp and biting. I take a deep breath, testing the way it fills my chest. It doesn't hurt the way it used to. It doesn't feel like a weight pressing down on me. It feels like possibility.

It won't be easy, but we can survive. We have to.

"Hey, dumbass," Trevor yells at me from the other side of the checkpoint. "Get a move on!"

"Yes sir," I say easily.

Trevor grimaces with confusion at my upbeat attitude. His eyes narrow, searching my face for the catch. There isn't one. Not that he can see.

I've got a new lease on life. Now that we've decided to leave--really decided, not just talked about it--everything but doesn't feel so awful. In fact, I couldn't care less about Trevor or his attitude or the cold slicing through my clothes like a blade. I have everything I want, and soon we'll be out of here.

The clinic looms before us like a monument to everything that's gone wrong.

It's a small hospital--three stories of grey concrete and shattered glass, its facade cracked and weathered by years of neglect.

The windows are empty sockets, staring out at the frozen street like the eyes of a skull. Snow has drifted inside through the broken panes, piling in white mounds against the walls. The sign above the entrance hangs at a crooked angle. It's name faded and forgotten.

The cold is worse here, somehow. It seeps through the walls, through the floors, through the soles of my boots. It settles in my bones like a sickness. I can feel it in my teeth, in my fingertips, in the ache that never quite leaves my shoulders.

"Same as before," Trevor says, his breath fogging in the air. "You go in, draw them out. I'll take them down from here."

His eyes seems extra blue in the winter snow. His body lankier than when we got here.

I nod, keeping my expression neutral. "You sure you don't want to come with me this time? Might be faster if--"

"What did I say?" Trevor cuts me off, his voice sharp. "You do what I say, and you say yes sir. That's it."

I shrug. "Yes sir."

I walk toward the entrance, my boots crunching on the frozen ground. The glass crunches under my feet as I step through the shattered doors, the sound sharp and musical in the silence.

The interior is dark, the air thick with the smell of decay and old medicine. The walls are covered in peeling paint, the floors slick with ice and something darker. I can hear the deadmen before I see them--a low, constant groaning that echoes through the corridors like a heartbeat.

They're everywhere. Shuffling through the halls, their rotted feet scraping against the tile. Their heads hang at odd angles, their mouths frozen open, dried blood crusted on their chins. Some of them are wearing doctor's coats. Some are in patient gowns. One of them is still clutching a clipboard, its fingers skeletal and grey.

I slip past them quickly, my footsteps light, my breathing shallow. They move slowly, their bodies stiff with cold, their reactions dulled by the freeze. I can see my breath fogging in front of me, and I hold it when I pass too close, afraid that even that small warmth might draw their attention.

The pharmacy is at the end of the hall, its glass window shattered, the counter covered in debris. I hop over it, landing softly on the other side. The shelves have been ransacked, bottles and boxes scattered across the floor. Pain meds. Antibiotics. All the usual needs and wants. Most of it is broken, useless, the pills crushed underfoot or spilled across the tiles.

But what I'm looking for, I doubt many people would have been searching for.

I walk down the aisles quickly, scanning the shelves. Nothing.

I dig through bottles and bags with long names I have no meaning for. My fingers are numb, my breath fogging in the cold air. The smell of old medicine is overwhelming--bitter and chemical, clinging to the back of my throat.

Then I find it.

A small orange bottle, the label faded but still legible. I pop the cap, and for a moment, I'm taken back. Before the world ended. Before the dead rose. Before everything.

I'm ten years old, lying in my bed, listening to my parents fight in their bedroom. Their voices are hushed, but the walls are thin, and I can hear every word. My father's voice, low and angry. My mother's voice, higher, cracking with tears. The sound of something breaking--a glass, maybe, or a picture frame.

I hear my father walk out in the middle of the night. The front door slams.

Everyone knew he'd be back. He always came back but that didn't make it hurt any less.

I would watch from my window as Candace snuck back in the morning glow, her hair messy, her clothes wrinkled, the smell of beer and cigarettes clinging to her like a second skin. She'd stumble through the front door, her eyes red, her makeup smeared. Our mother would be passed out medicated and too out of it to notice. Candace would be too hungover to care.

I was just there. Just an ornament in the house. A piece of furniture that no one thought to dust.

For a second, the memory freezes me in place, firmer than the cold. How far things have come. How different everything is now. I wonder if something like that could ever happen to us--to me and Candace. If we could ever become our parents, trapped in a house that's falling apart, fighting battles that can't be won.

I already messed up with Maria. I let her get close, let her believe in something that wasn't real. Now she's out there, somewhere, hating me.

Maria...

I shake my head, forcing the thought away. Not now, not the time.

I shove the pill bottle into my pocket, the plastic cold against my fingers, and return up the hospital floor, heading toward a back door. It's frozen shut, the handle locked, a heavy chain wrapped around it. I step back, raise my pistol, and shoot the chain.

The sound echoes through the corridor like a thunderclap, sharp and sudden. The chain falls away, clattering to the floor.

I kick the door. Once. Twice. Again and again, hurriedly, worried that Trevor might come to investigate. The deadmen are getting closer, their groaning louder, their shuffling footsteps faster. I can smell them--the rot, the decay, the wet, heavy stench of death.

I rear back and kick with all I have. The door bursts open, swinging wide into the cold air. I stumble through, my boots slipping on the ice, and turn to face the deadmen.

They come through the door behind me, their arms outstretched, their mouths open. I lead them out the rear entrance, smiling all the while, my heart pounding with something that feels almost like joy.

We can't finish the job today. No, I need another reason to be allowed out of Paradise and if the punishment is reduced rations, it won't matter if Candace and I are long gone.

When we get back to the walls for review of the day Trevor is still cursing under his breath.

Gunnar, our commanding officer, a mountain of man built on a no nonsense personality stands us in front of the other men and openly calls us out.

The scarlet sunset hovers behind him, bleeding across the horizon like an open wound. The cold is sharper now, the wind picking up, carrying the smell of snow and diesel and something faintly metallic.

"You two are the only ones behind schedule for reclaiming this area," Gunnar bellows, his voice carrying across the frozen ground. "Your rations are docked. Two weeks. You don't work, you don't eat."

"We'll probably need help tracking the ones that got out," I say out loud to Gunnar.

"No!" Trevor yells quickly, his voice cracking. "We'll do it ourselves. I swear. I'll make sure that all the dead are--"

"Shut up!" Gunnar yells, his face reddening. "If you think anyone is going to help you fix your fuck-up, you're out of your mind. You're going to come in on your day off. No vehicles. No support. Just the two of you and if you don't finish, don't bother coming back!"

Trevor grits his teeth, his jaw tight. "Yes sir."

I do my best to hide my smile. "Yes sir."

When we return to Paradise, I hide the pills inside my mouth while being checked for bites.

The guard and I have never been friendly since the day we showed up, so we don't talk. He checks me quickly, his hands cold and impersonal, and waves me through.

The sun is gone, replaced with a full moon shining like a pearl in the dark. Lonely and beautiful. The streets are empty, the snow crunching beneath our boots, the trees heavy with frost. The cold doesn't feel so bad tonight. I breathe it in like relief.

Trevor doesn't say a word to me as we walk back to the house. His silence is loud, his body tense. I can feel the anger radiating off him like heat.

When we reach the front yard, he stops in his tracks.

"Come here." He says without looking back to see if I follow. His voice is colder than ice.

I follow him to the side of the house. Away from the street view.

He finally turns to face me. His eyes are wild, his face flushed, his jaw tight with barely contained rage. The moonlight catches the sharp angles of his cheekbones, the hard line of his mouth. He looks like a man who's been pushed to the edge and is trying to decide whether to step back or jump.

Again, I hide my smile. "Everything alright, Trevor?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" Trevor hisses at me.

"Don't know what you mean." I say without the slightest bit of hostility.

He steps forward, shoving a finger in my face, shadows casting around us like grasping hands.

"You're trying to sabotage me. Trying to get me in trouble, huh. Is that it? This some little rebellion you're trying?"

"Of course not." I reply with all seriousness. "Today was an accident but I did tell you, if we just went in together and--"

Trevor comes closer, shoving a finger in my face. "You think I don't know what you're doing?"

I stay silent now. There's no possible way he could know but I can't take that for granted, just in case.

"What am I doing, Trevor?"

"You're trying to make me look stupid. Trying to get me punished just 'cause I'm giving it to Candace." Trevor smiles, cruel and spiteful. "You don't like me, and this is your way of getting back. Is that it?"

Relief fills me. That being said, he's not far off. "Trevor, that makes no sense. If you suffer, we all suffer. After all, you vouched for us."

"Yeah." He's an inch away from my face now. "I did. All the good it did me, too. I want you to remember, you little shitstain. Whatever happens to me, I'll do twice as worse to you sister in there. That's my woman. My wife. I do whatever I want to her, and you'll do whatever I say. Got it?"

My face turns to stone. The cold air burns in my lungs. "Trevor, I want you to know. If you ever touch Candace, there won't be enough of you to come back as a deadman."

"Ha." He laughs, but there's no humor in it. "You're threatening me? That's rich. You can't touch me. You're both here because of me. I could kick your ass right now, and there's nothing you could do about it."

I step closer now. "Go ahead."

His eyes widen for a half second. "What?"

I speak slowly. "I said, go ahead. Try. I want you to."

He pauses. The moment stretches.

Then he scoffs and turns his back.

He spins violently back, swinging at me.

I knew it was coming. Wide and open and off balance. I dodge and bring my fist up from below him and connect with his chin. The impact jars my arm, a shock of pain that travels up to my shoulder. He stumbles backward, his eyes wide with surprise, and I tackle him to the ground.

I sit on his chest, pushing his face into the cold, hard ground. The snow is wet against my knees, seeping through my jeans. I can feel him struggling beneath me, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"The fuck are you doing, you idiot?" He gasps out, his voice muffled against the ground. "This is it for you. You're out of here. You hear me?"

"Yeah, I don't think so." I press my forearm harder against his face. He groans, a sound of pain and frustration. "I can see it in your eyes, Trevor. You're scared. That's the reason you didn't want to go in the hospital. You don't want to be in there with the deadmen. A real problem when it's your job, huh."

"Fuck you. I'm not scared of anything. Just scared you and Candace will be dead by morning from sleeping in the cold."

"What did Gunnar say again? If you don't take care of all the deadmen, you might as well not come back. You get rid of me, you'll have to do that by yourself. No support." I remind him.

Trevor remains silent, fury blooming in his eyes.

"You need me, Trevor. Way more than I need you."

I get off of him finally, and he scrambles to his feet, getting in my face again. He doesn't speak, the heat of his breathing against my skin. I can smell the sweat on him, the fear, the anger.

"Go ahead," I begin. "Kick us out. I can't stop you."

Trevor's teeth bare. His fists clench. He pushes me--one last protest, one last show of dominance. Then he walks toward the house's front door.

I smile as I watch him move.

The cold doesn't feel so bad tonight.

*****

CANDACE

I stand in the kitchen in front of a hot stove in an oversize t-shit and pajamas. You can't see my curves underneath, they are still there. I make sure everyday that I'm still hot. Cause hey, I'm still me. Apocalypse and all.

I've tied my dark hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way.

Look at me, being all domestic.

My mother would never believe her eyes she could see me now. Granted it's mac and cheese. The orange powder mixing with the pasta, the steam rising in fragrant clouds-but still. It's a goddamn miracle.

I feel renewed, like everything isn't so bad. Now that we're leaving, I have to admit I'm going to miss all of this.

The luxury of four walls and running water. The warmth that seeps through the house, keeping the cold at bay. The way the stove glows orange in the dim light of the kitchen, a small sun against the endless winter night.

But it's worth it. Being with Connor again. The way we're meant to be, and out of this gilded cage.

I think back to Haven, how safe and beautiful it felt. How it almost ended with me being barbecued. I remember the smell of smoke and burning flesh, the heat of the flames, the way the crowd had watched with hungry eyes. Cheering for my death.

Yeah, I'll take my chances with the dead. At least with deadmen, you know what you're getting.

I touch my hair, dark and well kept yet. It's too long. The ends touching my back. Soft and unfamiliar. Before we leave I'll have to cut it again.

I hear the front door swing open violently, like the cops are here and we've been busted. I switch the stove off and rush over.

Trevor barely glances my direction, stomping through the house like he has a grudge with the floor. There's dirt on his face, a smear of something dark on his cheek. Snow clings to his shoulders, melting into his jacket.

I watch curiously as he walks by me. "Hi Trevor."

"Shut up." Trevor spits as he angrily stomps up stairs. "I'm going to take a shower. Dinner better be ready when I'm done."

"And a merry fucking christmas to you too." I whisper under my breath.

"Hey."

I turn to the door. My smile already full. Connor stands in the doorway against the black of the unforgiving night, his silhouette framed by the cold glow of the moon. He looks fuller, more alive than I've seen him in my whole life.

His posture straight and strong, his shoulders broad in his brown jacket. The unruly mop of brown hair looks matured, clean and pulled back. He's a man now.

My man.

I bite my lip. "Look at you."

I cross the distance in a gentle sway, hoping he looks at me the way I look at him.

He does.

"Look at you." He says back with a smile.

I take a quick peek over my shoulder to make sure Trevor is gone and drape my arms around my brother's neck. His arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close. The warmth of him seeps through my clothes, chasing away the lonely cold.

"Trevor seems cheery tonight."

"Yeah, we had a... talk." Connor says with a measure of satisfaction. His brown eyes glint in the dim light.

I hold his face in my hands, concern flooding my mind. "You're not hurt are you?"

He shakes his head confidently. "No, I'm fine. Trevor couldn't hurt me if there were two of him."

Fuck, is it bad if that turns me on.

I press up against him. My chest to his, my body curving into him like I was designed to. Maybe I was.

"Do you remember," I begin, tightening my arms around his neck. "When I made you go get me flowers in the middle of the woods just to sleep with."

Connor nods with chuckle. "You were a bitch."

"You were a doormat." I laugh against his lips.

We kiss like it's the first and the hundredth time all at once. I feel his arms squeeze my waist. I hide his face behind my arms as my mouth consumes him. I love it, the feel of his tongue feeling up my mine, the way his hands touch me. Moving down, squeezing my ass like it belongs to him. I'm almost standing in his shoes with how lose we are.

When we pull back, I'm breathing heavy.

"Please," I whisper breathlessly, all humor gone, replaced by something much hungrier. "Tell me you found what you were looking for we you went out."

Connor reaches into his jacket pocket and removes a pill bottle, shaking it with the rattle of a couple of pills still inside.

I bite my lip. Pushing my lips against his ear. "I am going to be so fucking loud."

After Connor and Trevor have both had their shower I plate up the good. Hot and ready on three plates. Golden and steaming with thick orange pasta that makes my stomach growl despite everything.

I crush the sleeping pills into Trevor's plate before taking the plates out. Mixing them in with the pasta until they disappear. I hope this stuff doesn't expire or something.

I plate up on the small the small dining table, a long cloth that sweep the floor. Trevor sits at the head, naturally, which means I sit across from Connor. Almost an arm's reach, yet still so far away.

"So, how was work boys." I ask once all the plates are down and we start eating. My voice cheery like the apocalypse domesticated housewife that I'm supposed to be.

"It was shit." Trevor swears while wolfing down his meal. "Your idiot brother over here fucked everything up for us. We have to go out tomorrow. On my fucking one day off."

I see Connor struggle to hide a smile where he sits across from me, and I almost laugh.

"Oh no, that's terrible," I reply, feigning disappointment. I quietly kick off my shoes beneath the table. The floor is cold against my bare feet, but I barely notice.

"Connor, you should be showing Trevor your gratitude by working extra... hard." I stretch my leg across the space, hidden by the cloth and find Connor's crotch with my bare floor. The fabric of his pants is warm beneath my toes.

Connor looks up at me from his plate, and struggles to keep a smile off his plate. I bite my lip and raise my eyebrows at him.

"Yeah, exactly." Trevor agrees, halfway through his mac and cheese. "Asshole over here needs to learn some respect too."

Trevor finishes his sentence with a large encouraging yawn.

Perfect.

I look at Connor, happy the pills are working already. I wish Trevor would eat faster and get out of our way already. I have an inch that only my sexy donkey dick brother can stratch.

I lean forward on the table, letting myself get closer. I can trace the length of Connor through the fabric of his pants, and I lick my lips, my breath already getting a little weighty. I keep my face a neutral mask even as heat begins to rise through me while I grind my foot up and down the seam of his pants.

"My bad Trevor," Connor says, putting food slowly into his mouth. Then looking at me suggestively. "I think I was just distracted, I guess."

Fuck, he's hot.

"Well try to keep your dense head in the game tomorrow, Gunnar wasn't joking, if we don't get this done, we're screwed." Trevor says with a fill mouth, his plate thankfully, almost empty.

"Great advice, Trevor. Connor, what does someone have to do to get you to put your..." I push my foot deeper, slower. "Head in the game?"

Connor stares straight into my eyes, like Trevor isn't in the room anymore. The heat between us is enough to light a fire that didn't need any help getting going.

"I always want to put my head in the game, all the way in."

His words drag over me like a wet tongue. I feel his legs spread a little wider to let me keep pushing my foot against him.

I can't help the traitorous hand the goes down the table and into the space between my legs.

"Okay... fucking weirdo." Trevor says, he stretches his arms now that he's plate is empty. Yawning again, deep and long. "Well, make sure you're focused tomorrow otherwise we're not gonna be able to come back inside Paradise."

My foot keeps massaging Connor's bulge, fuller now. Hard. Straining against the fabrice. I bite my lip as I apply pressure to my flooding shorts.

"Yeah, Connor," my breath catches as I speak. "Don't you want to... come inside Paradise again?"

I see Connor breathing faster. "If that's what Paradise wants, I'd love to come inside it as many times as it'll let me."

"Paradise wants you to come inside it everyday for the rest of it's fucking life." My foot is moving faster, up and down. The fabric feels like a thin barrier that should not exist as I trace the full length of him.

Trevor might as well not be in the room with the way things are going, and a second more and I might forget all together.

Trevor yawns again, looking back and forth between us now. Clearly catching on to something, but the fatigue is doing it's job. Pulling him under, even his words come from somewhere far away.

"What the... hell," Trevor yawns. "Are you two even talking about?"

I finally put my foot down before things get out of hand. I raise my hand from beneath the table cloth and sit back in my chair. Swallowing a lump in my throat that would rather be swallow something else.

I clear my throat, brushing my hair away from my flushed face.

I turn to Trevor. "I... why don't I help make up for you bad day, baby." I place a hand over to him. "You go upstrairs while I clean this up and I'll come show you how grateful I am at least for how much you do for us."

Trevor smiles a tired smile that nearly makes me cringe. If there's one thing that works on him every time, it's stroking his ego.

"Now that's what I like to hear," Trevor places his hand over mine, then turns to Connor. "Hear that, loser? At least someone knows their job around here. You've probably never been with a woman, have you? If you only knew what I do to your sister."

He finishes with a slimy smile. Thankfully he doesn't see me frown, or how much I have to fight the urge to slap him for talking to Connor like that. Or tell him that Connor is twice the man he wishes he was and fucks me even better. Better than he ever could.

Connor doesn't seem to mind as much as me. "Yeah, you got me Trevor."

Connor returns to his food, finishing the last remnants.

Trevor nods, satisfied then turn to me, leaning over for a kiss.

I fake a smile. Sadly, this is the one thing I can't escape. I feels awful, especially with my actual boyfriend in the room. The man I love sitting right there.

I nearly grimace but lean in, my mouth clamped shut as his lips touch mine. It's chaste as I can keep it at first but he pushes in, I feel the tip of his tongue against me and I'd vomit if I could.

I pull away quickly. "You hurry upstairs. I want you ready for me. I'll be up as soon as I put the dishes away."

Trevor pulls a face for a second. I worry he might make something of the moment, of the hundreds of past moments when his touch repulsed me away but the effort seems to great, his eyes drooping. struggling to stay open.

"Fine, yeah, don't keep me waiting." Trevor finally rises, stretching hard and heading to the stairs a groan following him.

I breathe a sigh of relief, looking at Connor who watched the whole exchange. He is watching Trevor go up the stairs with a glare.

I hang my head, immediately feeling ashamed and guilty.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I didn't... I wish I didn't have to. I'm sorry you had to see that."

Connor takes a deep breath before returning his gaze to mine. His face soft with understanding.

"It's okay. It's the last time you'll have to endure that. Tomorrow, we get out of here."

I smile, genuinely excited. All that alone time, with just my perfect, sexy, brother. The heat from before is already knocking on my door again.

"Why don't I make it up to?"

I pick up my fork delicately with two gentle fingers, holding it up in the air over the side of the table. Then I let go with dramatic effect. It clatters to the floor in sharp pings.

"Oops," I say coyly. "I dropped my fork."

Connor chuckles. "Candace, at least go check to make sure Trevor is asleep."

I'm already descending down the table, pulling the cloth up, licking my lips.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm just going down to get my fork."

Connor laughs again. The last thing I see the resignation in his smile.

I pull myself under the cloth of the table. The floor is cold beneath my knees, the wood rough against my palms. I can smell the food above and Connor's skin, his familiar scent.

It's dark under here but see enough light to see Connor lift his hips to push down his pants. His thick, long member hanging over the edge of his seat. That heavy bitch-breaker, fuck.

My mouth waters. I don't use my hands, still on all four when I lick the tip. I see him shiver just a bit.

It does things to me. I put one hand beneath the waistband of my shorts. I take him in my mouth, slow and languid as I plunge. Wetting him greedily. I hear Connor swear under his breath above me.

I'm so wet I could come right here and now from the stench of his balls filling my lungs. Deep musky man.

I keep going, pleasing myself as I please him, desperate and hungry. A candle burning at both ends. My whole body him, he tastes so good. I gag a little.

"Hey."

Shit, I hear Trevor's voice coming from afar and I freeze with half of Connor's shaft down my mouth with tears pooled in my eyes.

Fuck, I was getting so close.

"Where's Candace?" Trevor demands.

What do I do. I can't possibly come up, and I can't just keep going... or can I?

Hell, it's not like popping up from the table could make this situation better. Part of me knows that's just horny me talking, but still, it make sense right now.

Fuck it!

My head moves forward again, my hand swimming beneath my shorts.

"Uhm," Connor's voice is hoarse and nervous. "She isn't here."

I'm sorry, baby. I know this can't be an easy position to be in, but if you didn't want you're dick sucked under a table with my pretend husband interrogates you, you shouldn't have made me fall in love with you and your perfect cock.

"She said she was going outside to get some air. I think her food didn't agree... agree with her."

Connor's hand gently slams the table above me as I plunge all the way to the hilt, balls to chin.

I couldn't care about Trevor anymore, let him find me with my little brother's dick down my throat. At this point I just want to the appreciation for the both of us. I pull off slow and slippery, spilt hanging off his length.

"Fuck," I whisper softly. I'm actually about to come from giving head.

I suck harder now, pulling and pushing like my life depends on it, hoping that Trevor can't hear the soft wet fleshy sounds because there isn't a force in the world that could unlatch my lips away from Connor's dick right now.

"Alright," Trevor replies. Thankfully his voice sound further away now. "Well, tell her to get upstairs already. I'm feeling really sleepy for some reason."

Go to sleep asshole, I'm busy.

My hand rubs hards, I slip a finger in me, taking him as far as I can. I'm close, I'm so close.

I feel Connor get a little bit bigger in my mouth, his legs parting a little. He's about to cum.

My body feels electric, a hum, a buzz climbing through me. Building like the tension of a rubber band reaching it's final length.

"Candace..." Connor moans.

That's right, baby. Give it to me, give it all to me.

The first rope explodes violent in my mouth, it triggers me. I'm floating away. My body shivers. I moan painfully around him as he fills my mouth with his love.

Yes, yes, fuck yes.

I'm gagging, still coming. It's amazing, my body tremors, shivers, arcs. Pleading for more and for it to stop all at once.

Connor finally pulls his chair back, and I come up for air like a horny mole from beneath the ground between his knees.

The air is cold against my flushed skin, I can feel the sweat cooling on my forehead.

Connor is breathing heavy, laughing quietly. I feel proud of the satisfaction on his face while I wipe my mouth. He looks like I drained his soul.

"Why do you always have to nearly get us caught?" Connor asks looking down at my eyes with a rye smile.

"Cause you fucking love it you perv." I smile, coming up against his body and kissing his lips. Again and again.

To think, this is just the beginning of our night.

Once we make sure Trevor is finally passed out, Connor and I head to his room. Stumbling with frantic hands and my tongue in his mouth.

There's no foreplay between us anymore. The wetter I am the harder he gets. And I like it hard, and he likes it wet.

I'm not quiet, not tonight.

The dark seeps into the small room that has become our little piece of heaven. We sixty-nine, I am completely useless at it. Biting, drooling onto his skin. Not that I don't want to but he's just... so eager. Not shy in the slightest, the way guys in my past have been. His tongue peels me clean like trying to get to the bone. I can barely keep it together and I come for the second time tonight.

He stands behind as my ass hangs over the edge of the bed. He pulls my hair, hard. I come for the second time tonight. My eyes rolling into my skull.

On and on it goes. I'm not quiet, I don't want to be, let them catch us I don't care anymore. I'm getting fucked to an inch of my life and I want hell and heaven to hear about it.

He comes on and inside me, in my mouth. By the time were finished I'm drenched and full as can be. I fall asleep so fast I regret it, not being able to kiss him goodnight.

Leaking out his kids from between my legs will have to do as my way of saying I love him.

***

I wake up to the feel of Connor's kiss against my shoulder, my neck. I stir gently, waking to the soft glow of the dawn. Warped tightly in my brother's arms, his crotch pressed against my ass. His chest against my back beneath his covers. I couldn't be happier.

I hum at the feel of his lips on my shoulder. "Fuck, last night was amazing."

The sound of sleep still on my voice. I hug his arms to my body. I feel so warm I don't ever want to move. Maybe we shouldn't leave Paradise, if just for the beds.

"We have to get up." Connor says, like reading my thoughts. "Not right away though."

I groan bitterly. "I can barely feel my legs."

I think back to the moaning, the screaming, the coming I was doing. Bathing in my brother seed. I came so much I passed out, how the hell can he be soo good at sex the way he is.

"How did you learn to give head like that?"

Connor breathes slow. "Nowhere, I just liked doing it. It seemed like you really like it when I'm aggressive with you."

"No fucking kidding." I laugh.

"Yeah, I pretty much learned everything I know about sex from you. I mean you were my first time."

I smile at that. I love that I got that privilege. I think back to the first time we fucked, that might have been the best we ever did. Then I feel a sudden tinge of guilt.

"I'm sorry I can't give you something as special as that." I kiss the back of his hand, his knuckles, caressing his touch against my skin.

"You've done plenty." Connor says reassuringly, but it doesn't make me feel much better.

"Connor, I'm... I'm sorry for everything." I say slowly, turning in his arms to face him. Staring into his face. "For all the terrible things I said in the past, even before the world ended I was---"

Connor kisses me, shutting me up. It's full and possessive and firm. It's perfect.

"I love you." Connor says firmly. "What happened in the past doesn't matter. Understand?"

I smile, I might want to feel my legs a little less than I thought.

"Yes sir." I kiss his jaw, his cheek, his lips. "On the plus side, Mom would definitely have been happy to see us getting along."

"Yeah, I don't think this is what she had in mind." Connor finally, and miserably has tot get up from the covers. I miss the feel of his body instantly.

He pulls on his underwear and I mourn silently.

"Is everything ready for today?" Connor asks as he gets more dressed.

I sit up, nodding. The conversation is sobering. "Yeah, the food is packed. Are you sure we can do this?"

"Yeah, it should be easy." Connor says, throwing on his jacket now. "All the guards are looking outside Paradise, as long as we get access to the truck we'll be able to hide you in the back. Then we ditch Trevor and make a break for it. We'll be free of this place."

I hold the covers to my body as swing my legs over the edge of the bed.

"And my rifle? Promise not to forget." I still want it. If just for Russel and his mom to be remembered by someone.

"We'll get it. I promise. Trevor will be waking up soon."

"I can handle Trevor, don't worry." I say confidently. "I only cheated on him for both of our relationships. I can lie my way out of one morning."

Connor nods, he kneels down in front of me, then reaches under the bed. A loud scraping sounds cracks out and he reveals Bo's knife that he taped underneath.

"Here," Connor offers me the blade. "Keep this until I get you. Make sure you pack warm clothes. I have to do a few things before we leave."

I nod. I take his face firmly into my hands and we kiss. Soft at first, firmer and firmer. Dragging him closer like I could absorb him into my skin.

"I love you," I say after we finally pull after ever so slightly. "So fucking much, Connor."

"I love you too."

******************************

CONNOR

I leave the house in the clothes that will hopefully protect me for the rest of winter.

My brown jacket that Eli gave me, over a thick knitted shirt, a pair of black jeans, and work boots. I pull back my brown hair--it's too long now, I can tie it back. My body has kept growing. I feel heavier, like my bones have gotten denser, like I've finally grown into the frame that was always waiting for me.

The morning light is pale and golden, filtering through the bare branches of the trees that line the street. Snow falls gently, drifting down in lazy spirals, catching the light like tiny stars. Paradise is not so bad in the morning light. People walk around, chat in low voices, their breath fogging in the cold air. Children run and play in the snow, their laughter bright and sharp, like the old way it used to be. Like the world isn't broken.

I walk through the snow, the crunch beneath my boots the only sound I allow myself to focus on.

The vehicle depot is a low, sprawling structure near the eastern wall, its roof heavy with snow, its windows fogged with condensation. A single guard sits in a small booth by the entrance, a wood stove glowing orange behind him. He barely looks up when I approach.

"Name?"

"Connor. Gunnar said we'd be going out again."

He checks a clipboard, his finger running down a list. "Yeah, you're on here. Keys are inside. Truck 14."

He grabs the keys without even looking and drops them in my palm like handing a piece of candy to a child to make it go away.

It's just like I hoped, not just that the chain of command doesn't allow for suspicion but that one expects anyone to want to leave Paradise.

The keys are cold in my hand, the metal biting into my palm. I find the truck--a dark, old thing, nothing special, just good enough to get you there and back. The engine hums like a hungry animal when I start it, heavy and metallic, vibrating through the seat and into my bones.

I drive slowly through the suburban roads of Paradise, not wanting to seem too eager, too suspicious. The streets are quiet, the houses dark, the snow undisturbed except for the occasional set of footprints. Despite my caution, I don't even know what that kind of behavior would look like.

I should go get Candace, I should stick to the plan. I know that, I know that if she found out where I was going right now she'd throw a fit. But I can't help myself, can't let my conscience go ignored.

Just this one stop and we'll be gone.

The truck comes to a halt in front of a house much similar to the one we share with Trevor. White picket fence, well-maintained lawn, a porch swing that creaks gently in the wind. The snow has piled up on the steps, and I can see the faint glow of a fire through the front window. A smiling lawn gnome with pointy hat stands guard on at the base top of the steps. A remnant from before.

I get out of the car and walk through the gently falling snow to the door. I pause before I knock, wondering if this will do more harm than good. But I can't avoid it. I owe her this much.

I knock.

I only wait a few seconds before I hear footsteps. The door opens, and Candace's friend stands there in casual home attire--a loose sweater, leggings, her hair down. It must be her day off too. Her short hair and hard face makes her look a little older than Candace.

"Oh, hey. Candace's little brother. Connor, right?" Kara says after a moment of recognition passes over her face.

"Yeah, that's me." I say a little nervously. My heart is pounding, like somehow she'll figure me out. "I, uh, came to... Is Maria here?"

Kara nods knowingly, giving me a sad smile. "Ah, I get it. Look, Connor, I don't know you, but I know Candace. Maria is a really good girl. She didn't tell me why you guys broke up, but you should know it really messed her up."

My head falls slightly. The cold air bites at my cheeks. "Yeah, I know. I came here to talk about that."

"Sure, thing." Kara looks back into the house and yells for Maria to come to the door. "So anyway, why did you guys break up? Pretty hard thing to come by someone you like in the apocalypse, you know."

I swallow a lump. Why does it feel like I'm being interrogated? I laugh a little to try to break my own unease. I'm not sure if I should lie, if that would be suspicious, if it would give me away.

"I... cheated," I say finally, the words slipping out without my permission, but they're the only ones I have.

Kara's eyes go cold. She shakes her head. "You and Candace really are something. I mean, it's the end of the world--who did you even have to--"

Kara trails off like a switch flipping. I don't like the look she gives me, the way her eyes narrow like she can't believe who I am anymore.

"Yeah," Maria is standing behind her.

She looks different than I remember. Her hair is longer, pulled back in a loose braid that rests over her shoulder. She's wearing a thick flannel shirt that's too big for her, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows, and a pair of worn jeans. There are dark circles under her eyes, but her face is softer somehow, less guarded. She looks like she's been sleeping. She looks like she's been living.

Kara is still paused on my face, but she moves out of the way, opening the door for Maria to see it's me.

I raise a hand to her. Maria's face is unreadable. She doesn't look exactly happy to see me, nor does she look like she hates me, which I had expected.

Kara backs away slowly, her eyes not leaving my face. "I'll give you two some space."

Maria and I walk out to the porch and sit on the chairs left out there. The wood is cold through my jeans, and I can feel the frost seeping into my bones. The snow continues to fall, soft and silent, blanketing the world in white.

The air is awkward and tense.

"So, how's---"

"Why are you here, Connor?" Maria snaps.

"I... just wanted to--"

"I was starting to think you'd never come," she says, her voice quiet. "A month, Connor. A whole month."

"I know." I look down at my hands. "I was ashamed. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know if you'd even want to see me."

"I didn't." She pauses. "But I also did. It's complicated."

"I know." The silence sneaks in through the cold, colder than the winter. I sigh. "I came to apologize. To tell you how sorry I am. It was never my intention to hurt you."

She's quiet for a long moment. The snow falls between us, a cold curtain.

"I lied too, you know," she says finally. "About Haven. About what I did. I was so scared, and I made a terrible choice. But I really did fall in love with you. That part was never a lie."

"I loved you too," I reply. The words feel strange in my mouth, but true. "I did."

She reaches out, and I take her hand. Her fingers are cold, but they curl around mine like they belong there.

We sit in silence for a while, the only sound the whisper of snow and the distant laughter of children.

"Why does this feel like a goodbye, Connor?" Maria asks, noticing something in my face.

I sigh softly. "I'm leaving."

"Candace." She says. It's not a question.

I nod. "Yeah, she doesn't trust it here, and her, 'boyfriend' hates me. So... I'm suppose to be at least before I came him. Candace and I. We're getting out."

Maria doesn't know what to say. She just nods, her eyes distant.

"I like it here," she admits after a moment. "I have a job. Kara's a great roommate and mentor. She's been teaching me the radios. And I...." Maria hesitates. "I met a guy in the comms building." She smiles, a small, fragile thing. "I think you and he would like each other. He's funny, kinda."

"I'm glad," I say, and I mean it. "I'm glad you're okay. I'm glad you found something here."

She looks at me, her eyes soft. "Despite everything, I'm glad we met. I'm glad I followed you from Haven. Even if you did cheat on me with you sister."

I laugh, a short, surprised sound. "That's a hell of a thing to say."

"I know." She smiles, and for a moment, we're just two people who loved each other once, sharing a moment of lost love and understanding.

Maria leans in. I don't move.

She softly plants a kiss on my cheek.

We smile at each other with content. We rise finally. I'm ready to say goodbye.

We hug. I can feel her warmth against me, the steady beat of her heart. I can smell the soap on her skin, the faint scent of woodsmoke in her hair.

Then I feel her tense in my arms.

"Kara," Maria says, her voice shaking. "Please put the gun down."

I turn.

Kara is standing in the doorway, a pistol in her hands, pointed directly at my chest. Her face is cold, her eyes hard, her jaw set with something that looks like determination.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" I ask, my voice steady despite the fear spiking through my veins.

Kara doesn't lower the gun. "You and Candace. You're leaving tonight?"

I don't answer.

"I heard you." Her voice is sharp. "Through the window. You're leaving. Running away. And you're taking her with you."

"This isn't what--"

"Shut it! You are fucking disgusting. You and Candace. Betrayal just runs in the blood, doesn't it?" Kara yells.

I panic internally. Right now no one can see us, but if Kara draws attention, there's no getting out of this.

Maria tries to step in front of me. "Kara, just calm down."

"Maria, get inside and call it in. Now!" Kara demands.

"Kara, just wait a--"

"I said now, Maria, or else I'll have you locked up along with this asshole."

Maria looks at me solemnly, her shoulders sagging. I nod--I don't hold anything against her. She moves slowly from my side to where Kara is still pointing a gun at me.

"Trust me, babe. I'm doing you a favor." Kara says as Maria walks by her. Her eyes stay glued on me.

"Kara, please. You don't want us here. We're just getting out of here. We're not hurting anyone."

"Yeah, and I suppose you're also just borrowing the truck over there." She nods to the road. "Do you know what will happen to Trevor when you leave? Do you know how much he's had to work to get even a morsel of respect? That all goes away if the two people he openly vouched for steal a truck and hightail it out of here to god knows where or who."

"We're not a threat. We don't want to hurt Paradise. We're just going to be on our own."

"Yeah, one big family of cheaters. Except that's not how it works. Someone, some group, will find you the way we did. Then you'll either turn on us or just ruin their community too." Kara spits with anger. "Seriously, kid, how many settlements are going to go up in flames because of you two?"

"So what are you going to do? Keep us locked up here forever? Your best friend and her only family?"

"That trick was old the first time Candace used it on me." Kara scoffs. "Whatever Candace is now, she isn't my friend anymore. And if I have to lock her up myself, I will. You two aren't going to destroy this place like you did Haven. There's too many lives at stake. People that I care about."

I can see the resolve in her face. "Please, Kara--"

"Shut up!" She cocks the pistol, aims it at me. "You're going to stand there until Gunnar comes personally to put you and your sister in chains."

It takes only the briefest look into her eyes to know she means it. My mind runs through the scenarios. I can't rush her in time before she pulls the trigger. Her eyes speak of a focus and determination to make sure I get caught or killed. I'm caught. Done. There isn't a chance I get out of this.

But I can still give Candace a chance to get out.

My foot takes a slow, shaking step forward.

"Don't..." Kara warns.

I brace, getting ready to surge forward. My mind is made up, and Kara sees it.

Kara shakes her head, tightening her grip on the gun. "Connor, don't do--"

I'm sorry, Candace.

The strike against Kara's head has a sickening thud to it. Kara drops like a bag full of cloth, crumbling on the ground. Unconscious in an instant.

Maria stands behind her, her hands held around the garden gnome that stood by the door.

My eyes are stretched wide, disbelief thick in my voice.

"Maria?"

"Go." Maria says quietly. "Hurry, while you still have a chance."

It takes me a second to process things. Then I speak, coming back to the present and the scenario in front of me, pushing down the panic.

"I can't just leave her here. When she wakes up, she'll know it was you who helped me."

Maria shakes her head. "We don't have a choice."

No, I think to myself.

I'm not going to ruin this place for her. Not one she actually wants to be in. I look at Kara's unconscious body, then back at Maria.

"Do you have anything to tie her up with?"

Maria hesitates, then nods. She disappears into the house and returns a moment later with a length of rope. We work quickly, binding Kara's hands and feet, gagging her with a strip of cloth. Her breath fogs in the cold air, but she doesn't stir.

I drag her to the truck and load her into the backseat. Her body is heavy, dead weight, and my arms ache by the time I'm done.

"We'll leave her with the truck once we get out, when she wakes up we'll be outside the walls and she'll be able to get back to Paradise. We'll tell her that Candace knocked her out and you'll still be safe."

Maria nods. "Okay, that could work."

"The problem is, you have to call for backup. Just like she told you. You have to tell them about us. So they know you're on their side."

Maria nods, her eyes wet. "I know."

"Then we're out of time." I reach out, squeeze her hand. "Thank you."

She doesn't say anything. She just nods, and I climb into the truck.

The wheels squeal as I pull away.

I drive faster this time, the truck's engine roaring as I push it through the snowy streets. The cold air rushes in through the cracked window, biting at my face, but I don't care. Every second counts now.

I pull up in front of Trevor's house, the tires skidding on the ice. I jump out, rushing to the door.

It opens before I get there.

Candace is fully dressed in her bug-out gear, Bo's knife tucked openly in her waistband. But she looks disheveled, panicked--something she shouldn't be. Not yet.

"Where the hell have you been?" she asks as we meet at the front door.

We embrace, tight and desperate.

"I ran into trouble," I begin. "I went to see Maria and--"

Candace cuts me off. "Maria? Seriously, Connor?"

"I was just going to say goodbye. But Kara figured out we're trying to get away. She knows, about you and me. I had to tie her up and put her in the car but we don't have time. Maria had to call in and tell on us."

Candace's face scrunches with pure rage. "That fucking--"

"It's not what you think. She's on our side. But we need to go."

"Yeah, right," Candace says, unconvinced. "Well, since we're sharing bad news..."

She steps aside, and I rush into the house.

I stop in my tracks.

Trevor's unconscious body is lying on the floor.

I grimace. "What happened?"

Candace sighs with frustration. "Trevor found the pack. The food, the clothes. He confronted me about it. He started to put two and two together." She pauses, her voice shaking. "Connor, he knows everything. He tried to attack me, to force himself on me, and I... well."

She gestures to his body.

I sigh. Time is running out.

I go over to Trevor's body, checking for a pulse. It's there--weak but steady. I turn his face upward and see a gnarly, ugly scar, red and raw, cutting across his face. Courtesy of Candace and Bo's knife.

Shit. Trevor is definitely not going to be able to get us out now.

"Okay, fine," I begin, rising to my feet. "The original plan is out the window anyway."

Candace walks up to me, handing me my blade back to its rightful owner. Bo's knife. The weight of it settles into my hand like it belongs there.

"What do we do?" Candace asks.

**************

CANDACE

The truck rolls to a slow stop as I press the brakes.

The guards are looking out from Paradise as they patrol the walls. I watch them move with their large guns, their silhouettes dark against the pale morning sky. Connor was definitely right--they don't believe anyone would want to leave.

This seems like a crazy plan, but I have to trust Connor. He's always gotten us out, and there's no turning back now that his fucking side piece Maria ratted on us.

Connor takes a deep breath, hiding his knife under his clothes. His breath fogs up the window, a white cloud that dissipates slowly in the cold air. I feel the pistol he took from Kara press against my own waistband as he does--cold metal, heavy with implication.

"Keep your head low and the engine running," he says quietly.

In the back seat, Kara is starting to stir to life, next to the packs of food and supplies. Her head lolls, her eyes fluttering. The ropes around her wrists and ankles are tight, biting into her skin.

"Are you sure about this? I don't exactly look like a guy." I reply, sitting in the driver's seat in Trevor's jacket. It's too big for me, the shoulders sloping, the sleeves hanging past my hands.

I've pulled the collar up high, trying to obscure my face. Behind us Trevor will be waking up tied up to a chair.

Connor looks at me with a measure of doubt that he doesn't want me to see.

"It'll work," he says, less than confidently. "Drive through as soon as the gates open. I'll meet you on the other side."

He leans in and drags me into his lips.

I put my hand against his face, feeling the rough stubble, the warmth of his skin against my cold palm. Shutting my eyes tight and hoping I can always feel the warmth of his breath, taste his skin, feel his heartbeat like it were my own.

We pull away slowly. Forehead to forehead. His breath mingles with mine, a shared warmth in the freezing air.

"Till the end of the world," I whisper against his lips.

"Till the end of the world," he whispers back.

I watch as he jumps out of the car and heads to the guard house. Walking casually, like we don't have a kidnap victim in the back seat. His boots crunch on the snow, leaving a trail of footprints that disappear as the wind blows fresh flakes over them.

He disappears into the guard house, and I wait.

The guard will wonder why Trevor isn't the one walking to him, but he'll only look out the window and see me. Or hopefully see Trevor and open the gates. Then it's just a matter of getting far enough away and ditching the truck and my former bitch of a best friend.

Speaking of whom.

I look behind me to see Kara shaking her head awake. Her hands and feet are bound, and she lies on the floor of the back seat. Her eyes are wild, darting around, taking in the situation.

"Wakey wakey, bitch," I say quietly.

Funny how we used to say that to each other after a night of booze and degeneracy. Now I'm saying it as kidnapper to... kidnappee?

Kara looks up and begins to put two and two together. She tries to scream, but her mouth is stuffed--a strip of cloth that tastes of dust and rope. Her eyes bulge, her body thrashing against the restraints.

"Oh, shut the fuck up. No one is going to hear you." I swear, but my heart is pumping at speeds that definitely aren't healthy. I watch the guard house, gripping the steering wheel with sweaty palms and white knuckles.

"You know you brought this on yourself," I say to Kara, who's finally accepted her situation. "If you had just been my friend like you were supposed to be, neither one of us would be here."

I see her face, and it looks at me with disgust. That's right--Connor said she knows. About us.

"Your judgey looks aren't going to help your case, by the way. You have no idea what Connor and I went through. I don't expect you to understand." I look forward. "Oh, and by the way. Trevor and I had a fight just now, and he told me you two hooked up. You said he never cheated on me, guess you just weren't counting yourself."

Kara mumbles something that doesn't sound like an apology.

"Yeah, yeah. Let me guess, you thought I was dead. Don't worry, to you I am." I scoff, shaking my head. "Was my imaginary corpse even cold before you were jumping on his tiny little dick."

The gates aren't opening. My heart beats even faster. The cold seeps through the cracked window, and I can feel it in my teeth, in my fingertips, in the hollow of my chest.

C'mon, baby. Please, you can do this.

Mumbling comes from behind me.

"What?" I ask Kara.

She mumbles something that vaguely sounds like a name from where she lies prone.

"Oh," I react, understanding. "Yeah, Maria is fine. Don't worry. Your little disciple tried to call the cops on us like you asked."

I don't know why I have to lie for that cunty spy, but Connor asked me to, and I know I'll have time in the future to fuck her memory right out of him.

The gates still don't open. Just at that moment, I hear the high-pitched squeal of tires and loud vehicles. We're out of time.

"Fuck," I whisper under my breath. "C'mon, Connor."

A gunshot rings out from the guard house, and I flinch. The sound is sharp and sudden, cutting through the cold air like a blade. The guards on the wall hear it and are immediately climbing down to go see. With that and the cavalry behind us, they know something is up now.

The gates stay still.

Nothing.

Then, mercifully, they begin to pull apart. Relief floods me like cold water over a fire.

I plant my foot on the gas pedal, and the tires burn out. The truck lurches forward, speeding past the gates, out of the walls of Paradise. I see Connor running out on the other side of the guard house. He has my rifle slung over his shoulder, the stock bobbing against his back.

I pull the truck hard into his path as the guards on the wall move closer to get a better shot. They shoot at the windows--the glass cracks and explodes, a spiderweb of fractures that sprays tiny shards across my face. I keep my head down, ducking low. Kara flinches, making herself small in the back.

I lean low and pull open the door, and Connor jumps in.

"Go, hurry!" he yells.

I put my foot down. Gunshots ring out behind us, and I see the gate close in the rearview mirror, and at least three trucks coming up the rear.

I sit up straight as Paradise shrinks. The side mirror is clipped in an explosion of glass, and I scream--a sharp, involuntary sound that tears from my throat.

"What happened?" I ask Connor, righting himself in his seat. His chest is heaving, his face flushed.

"The guard really doesn't like me," he says, out of breath. "I shot him in the leg. I think he'll be fine."

Unlike us, who will currently have three tails coming up in the rearview.

Their cars are big and powerful and way faster than ours.

"Connor, what do we do about them?" I nod to the rearview as the truck does its best to maintain a distance that will only keep shrinking.

Connor says nothing, looking back through the rearview window. His face an unreadable statue.

"Connor!" I yell.

Connor looks at me, like he's come up with something that he doesn't like the shape of. He looks at Kara, squirming in the back, trying to get free of her restraints. He sits forward again.

"We have to get past Paradise's perimeters. There's a turn coming up here to an interstate. Take it."

I nod, doing as he says. The cars behind us still loom, and it'll only be a matter of time. We can't outrun them.

"We'll have to pull over and take our chances on foot. Into the woods where the trees are thick, going uphill where the terrain gets dangerous."

"Okay."

The road stretches ahead, cracked and broken, littered with the corpses of abandoned cars. Their bodies are rusted, their windows shattered, their doors hanging open like mouths frozen in mid-scream. Snow has drifted inside them, piling in white mounds on the seats. Some of them have bodies still inside--frozen solid, their skin grey and waxy, their eyes open and staring at nothing.

The dead are everywhere. Shambling through the snow, their movements slow and jerky, their groans carried on the wind. Some of them are fresh--recently turned, their clothes still colorful, their faces still recognizable as human. Others are older, their bodies decayed, their bones visible through tattered flesh. They don't seem to notice us yet. They just wander, lost and hungry, their feet dragging through the snow.

I had almost forgotten. In the comfort of Paradise--the warm beds, the hot showers, the food--I had almost forgotten what the real world looks like. The horror of it. The endless, grinding misery.

"What about her?" I ask, referring to Kara, who's clearly also interested in the answer to that question.

Connor thinks for a second, then says, "We have to take her with us as a hostage, in case we get caught. We'll let her go as soon as we're safe."

That makes Kara's eyes bulge, and she redoubles her struggles to get free. But Connor's boyscout knots are too good.

"Oh, give it a rest already, Kara," I yell.

After we turn onto the interstate, we take the first next turn and give ourselves a small cushion of time. I pull over on the shoulder of a road littered with dead cars, cold and frozen solid. There are distant closing groans of deadmen that are beginning to be attracted to the noise we're making.

We hop out of the car with the key still in the ignition. I open the back seat, grabbing the two packs of food and supplies. The outside is a sharp prick of winter at its peak--the cold hits me like a physical force, stealing my breath, numbing my fingers. I ignore it. My hair is tied tightly back, secured against the wind.

I grab the packs and carry them briskly just past the tree line, followed closely by Connor, who is carrying Kara over his shoulder. He puts her down gently, sitting her against a tree. Venom and anger in her eyes.

"What are you doing?" I ask with two packs slung on my shoulders.

"I forgot the rifle," Connor declares, and sprints back to the car.

I almost say to leave it as I hear the approaching cars in the distance, but I need it. Kara is still struggling, but through all the movement, she's managed to spit out her gag.

"Are you crazy, Candace? If you still value your life, you'll--"

"Shut up, already. Nobody wants to hear your..."

I stop short when I hear the truck engine stir back to life. I see my rifle sitting on the ground next to the truck, and Connor in the driver's seat.

"No!" I scream.

I run towards the truck, my boots slipping on the ice, my heart pounding in my chest. I try the door, but it's locked.

"Connor, what the hell are you doing?" I yell, pulling at the door.

"They'll catch up to us. It's only a matter of time." He says without looking at me. "I have to lead them away from you."

Tears are already forming and falling down my face, hot against my cold cheeks. I bang at the window with fists not strong enough to get to him.

I plant my palms against the glass a desperate pleas craves my throat.

"Connor, baby, please. Don't go. Please don't do this."

Connor looks at me with something that verges on pain and regret. Then we hear the fast squeal of tires, and his face sets.

"I'll find you," Connor says with all the certainty in the world. "No matter where you are, I promise I will find you."

I pound painfully at the glass. "Connor, no!"

The engine roars, and the truck speeds away. I try chasing it for a fast beat, but there's no point. My legs give out, and I stumble, falling to my knees in the snow.

I'm crying. Tears fall heavy and fast, freezing on my cheeks. I shut my eyes, then quickly turn back, picking up my rifle off the road and ducking out of sight near Kara, pressing myself behind a tree as the sound of heavy trucks speeds by behind me.

I cry into my palms, muffling my sobs as Kara watches helplessly from the ground.

The cold is everywhere. In my bones. In my blood. In the hollow space where my heart used to be.

Connor is gone.

And I don't know if I'll ever see him again.