Brutal

  Cover

  Title Page

  Brutal

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  T.S. Brock

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  Omnific Publishing

  Los Angeles

  Copyright Information

  Brutal, Copyright © 2014 by T.S. Brock

  All Rights Reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior written permission of the publisher.

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  Omnific Publishing

  1901 Avenue of the Stars, 2nd Floor

  Los Angeles, California 90067

  www.omnificpublishing.com

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  First Omnific eBook edition, October 2014

  First Omnific trade paperback edition, October 2014

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  The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

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  Library of Congress Cataloguing-in-Publication Data

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  Brock, T.A.

  Brutal / T.S. Brock – 1st ed

  ISBN: 978-1-623421-92-2

  1. Young Adult—Romance. 2. Zombies—Fiction.

  3. Homeless children—Fiction. 4. Supernatural—Fiction. I. Title

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  Cover Design by Micha Stone and Amy Brokaw

  Interior Book Design by Coreen Montagna

  Dedication

  For all the people who make wrong choices for the right reasons.

  Chapter 1

  Spring 1964

  HE’D KILLED THE WOMAN he loved and he didn’t regret it. He wouldn’t let himself regret it, no matter what the outcome was. This was the path forced upon him and there was no going back now. Only forward.

  Stooping, Leiv lifted Raina’s lifeless body, ignoring the brown-tinged tears that dropped from his face to land on hers. There were too many for his skin to absorb. And her skin didn’t possess that quality. Yet. Didn’t possess that quality yet.

  He laid her on his bed and tried not to think about the first time she’d fallen asleep there, resting in his arms, their legs tangled together. She’d been warm. Too warm, but there was no way he was leaving her to go hydrate. He’d required extra water the next morning.

  Leiv brushed black strands of hair out of her face. Her skin was cold to the touch and she was so very still. She was gone. Only time would tell what she would become, but one thing was for sure: she wasn’t his Raina any longer.

  His chest locked up, making it impossible to breathe right. Yanking his hand from Raina’s face, he sat back, gulping mouthfuls of raw air. He had to pull himself together. There was more to do.

  “Hannah.” His voice rasped, barely more than a breeze. “Hannah,” he called louder.

  She walked through the bedroom doorway the same way she walked everywhere—with a light, careless trot—as if a tragedy hadn’t just struck. As if his world hadn’t just crumbled to tiny, insignificant specks of dust.

  “It’s done,” he managed.

  “I see that.” Her voice and walk didn’t match; her voice was cold, severe. She drifted over to the bed, bypassing the sheets scattering the floor and the ruby colored blood and…the syringe.

  Hannah stood perfectly still as she stared down at the one person Leiv couldn’t live without. Funny, but even though he was undead, he’d never actually thought of himself as not living until this moment.

  He dragged a hand through his hair, tugging until he felt pain that wasn’t coming from inside of him. “What now?” he whispered.

  Hannah ran a finger slowly over Raina’s cheek. Leiv ground his molars until his jaw popped. She shouldn’t be touching Raina. Not her, not one of them. If it weren’t for them, Raina wouldn’t be dead right now. Every last one of the Oracles could go straight to hell as far as he was concerned.

  But Hannah didn’t stop. She brushed her thumb over each ebony eyebrow and the hollows under Raina’s eyes before finally speaking.

  “Now you start over. Live the life you were meant to live. A life that doesn’t endanger us all.”

  Start over. She made it sound so easy.

  “She won’t remember any of this. All she’ll retain is her connection with you.” Hannah turned, her pale eyes pinning him in place. “Do try to be more careful in the future. Perhaps the next time you break the laws, a solution won’t be so simple.”

  Simple? Leiv’s throat caught. He clenched his fists tightly, otherwise he might’ve tried to claw her eyes out. The heartless witch. There was nothing simple about this “solution.” Raina had made it clear she didn’t want to become a riser. She would rather die—for good—than be a zombie. Leiv had promised her he’d honor her wishes. Instead, he’d conspired with the very people she despised. Sure, he’d had his reasons, but still. He’d betrayed her on the deepest level and that knowledge burned his insides, licked at his fingertips, razed his lungs.

  Hannah stepped away from the bed and crouched near the bundle of evidence Leiv had left nearby. “I’ll take care of this. You need not worry.”

  He stared as she lifted the sheet-wrapped lump and held it carefully away from her billowy dress. The evidence of what he’d done to his love. He wanted to keep it…as a reminder. Of everything they’d shared. Everything they’d lost. Of everything.

  His mouth went dry and swallowing was out of the question because there was nothing to swallow. All his liquid was falling from his eyes in muddy drops. He was making a mess.

  Hannah brushed past him, addressing him one last time. “Clean yourself up. Drink. She will rise soon and she will have questions. You need to give her answers.” With that, she left him alone with the corpse of a woman who had changed his life. And worse, so much worse, with guilt he had no hope of escaping.

  She was dreaming the most wonderful of dreams. She must be smiling in her sleep, she must. It was like an entire love story condensed into short dramatic bursts. He was tall, handsome, and kind. She was…herself.

  They met in the night. It was cold and dark. The kind of dark that swaddles you in a cocoon and leaves you feeling like there’s not a single other person on the planet. She always dreaded the two a.m. walk home after finishing her shift at the diner. But the late night tips were good and that made it worth it.

  The crash of some animal invading a nearby garbage can had her gasping for extra air. She couldn’t see where it came from but, just to be safe, she fisted her room key and let the sharp end poke out between her middle and ring finger. If any hoodlum got the jump on her, he would walk (or preferably, run) away minus one eye.

  Sirens wailed briefly in the distance, sending chills racing up her spine. She wasn’t that far from home. Her room at the Baker house called to her like a rope pulling her to safety. The urgency to get there moved her forward faster. Her black and white saddle shoes clicked lightly against the sidewalk, every tap lightening her load. Only two more blocks and then around a corner, first entry on the left…

  She stopped short when she saw red lights flashing from somewhere around the bend. Grams! She ran the rest of the way to the corner as fast as her too-tight uniform skirt would allow her. There were plenty of other people in the Baker house; Grams could be fine. There were other houses on the street for that matter. The emergency could be at any of them.

  But when she skidded around the block, she knew she was wrong. The white and red ambulance was parked with doors wide open at the entrance of her building. Several neighbors gathered around, trying to see what was happening. Once again she was drawn forward, pressed by a sense of urgency. If something happened to Grams…she’d be all alone.

  Elbowing her way through the grow
ing crowd, she made it through the door. But inside there were more onlookers. “What is it? What happened?”

  Abraham from room twenty six just shrugged.

  She experienced a moment of relief when she noticed the action wasn’t in the room that belonged to her and Grams. It appeared the emergency, whatever it was, was on a different floor.

  A wave of dizziness hit her. Adrenaline. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, she went to unlock her room.

  “Step aside, please,” a calm male voice rumbled from the stairwell.

  Maybe it was the excess adrenaline, but she had a strange reaction to it. All the muscles in her body clenched with unexplainable excitement. And even though she was sure she’d never heard the voice before, it somehow seemed familiar.

  “Make room. We need to get Ms. Lukin onto the gurney.”

  Lukin. She gasped and spun, the key falling from her suddenly numb hands. “Grams!”

  She shoved past the waiting gurney at the bottom of the staircase and hiked her skirt up, taking the steps two at a time. Her heart pounded in her ears when she saw her grandmother strapped to a bright orange board, a brace secured around her neck.

  “Oh Grams, what happened?” Her voice wavered like smoke on a breeze. She wanted to take Grams’ hand but didn’t know if it would do more harm than good.

  “Clear the way,” a new rough voice said, but she didn’t dare look to see who it came from. She focused on Grams’ eyes. They were hazy with obvious pain but she still attempted a smile.

  “Iraina…how was your night?”

  “My night?” Leave it to Grams to take the focus off of herself. “How did you get up here?”

  “Don’t be silly. I walked up. Looks like I won’t be walking down though.”

  “But why were you—”

  “Excuse me, miss. We really need to get her into the ambulance.” It was the one with the gentle voice again.

  Iraina looked up into gauzy blue eyes and instantly felt her own cross. She blinked twice to clear the sudden vertigo. She didn’t like heights. Being halfway between the second and third floor made her feel wobbly and off balance. “Of course,” she murmured. “But I’m coming with her.”

  He started to nod but his partner interrupted. “There won’t be room in the ambulance.”

  She wasn’t leaving Grams’ side.

  “We’ll make room,” the blue-eyed paramedic insisted, his intense gaze never straying from Iraina’s.

  She nodded and reluctantly stepped aside, though she followed them closely down the stairs. She didn’t exactly trust them to keep their word.

  In a matter of minutes, Grams was strapped to the gurney and wheeled out into the frigid night air. The doors of the ambulance remained open as they carefully lifted her inside. Iraina swallowed the lump in her throat. Seeing her sweet grandma nestled in the emergency vehicle sent the fiercest jolt of dread to the center of her chest. She wouldn’t cry. Grams could smell tears a mile away and it wouldn’t do for her to be worrying over Iraina now.

  Once they were all crammed inside, the gruff paramedic drove while the kind one went to work on Grams, attaching a mask to her face and checking her blood pressure. Iraina noticed how gentle he was with Grams. As if he could sense how precious she was. Or perhaps that was just his way. Whatever the case, Iraina appreciated it.

  Her eyes fell on his nametag: Leiv. It was a nice name. In Russian it meant “like a lion.” Though it didn’t seem to suit him. He was more like a lamb.

  “What is wrong with her,” Iraina asked him.

  He took a deep breath. “From what I understand, she took a fall. Looks like a possible broken hip, sprained wrist, and a plethora of bumps and bruises along the way. Won’t know for sure until they check her out at the hospital, though.”

  Iraina’s jaw dropped at the description.

  “Don’t worry,” he rushed out. “I’m fairly certain she didn’t sustain any internal injuries, but the doctor will check for sure.”

  That…wasn’t helping.

  Her eyes scanned the length of Grams’ body, landing on her face. She was staring at Iraina with stubborn—albeit pain-filled—eyes.

  “What were you doing on the third floor?”

  “Visiting a friend.”

  “What friend?” No one Grams’ age lived on the third floor. She was ninety-two but she liked to pretend she was a lot younger than that.

  Her lips formed a mulish line.

  “This is exactly why I shouldn’t be working nights. If I was home this wouldn’t have happened. You have no business—”

  “Vnuchka!” Her bark stunned Iraina and brought her back to her childhood. Brusque was the way you reined in an unruly child, according to Grams. The syrupy sweet demeanor that made Grams like the finest of honey was reserved for one who behaved. “My business is still my business no matter how old I get. You’d do well to remember that.”

  Iraina couldn’t bring herself to mutter an agreement since she didn’t agree, didn’t think anyone Gram’s age should be climbing the stairs, so Grams had to settle for a single curt nod. Iraina peeked at Leiv who was busying himself with supplies. It seemed like he was trying to hide a grin. With a name like his, she wondered if he had a hickory-voiced Russian grandma of his own at home.

  “I appreciate you working so hard, so late, but perhaps your tantrum could wait until I’m in less pain, dear.”

  Iraina’s eyes went wide. Tantrum? This was no tantrum. This was sick with worry and regret. She’d show Grams a tantrum. The stubborn, hot blooded, old fool—

  But then her indignation was quelled by guilt. Grams was hurt.

  One thing about Iraina’s childhood stood out, one thing that made her feel loved above all: Grams’ patience. Iraina was a wild child, always getting herself into the stickiest of predicaments, and always after the strictest warnings from Grams. Iraina would break the rules, get hurt, and…get a hug that smelled like cinnamon. Grams would dry her tears with wrinkled, thin-skinned hands, fix up any wounds, and have Iraina smiling from ear to ear. Only then would she dole out punishment for the crimes.

  She would do the same for Grams. Her care first, a tongue lashing later.

  Chapter 2

  The Cure for Loneliness

  LEIV RAN HIS FINGERS through his hair for the umpteenth time and pulled. He’d have nothing left if he kept it up but every moment Raina didn’t rise, every second her lungs didn’t take in air, every minute her eyes stayed closed…he cycled into a mini-panic attack. What if the contagion wasn’t strong enough for some reason? What if it didn’t take? What if Raina was dead for good?

  It would serve him right. Living the rest of his existence without her would be a worthy punishment for his crimes. All of them.

  He bolted from the chair he’d pulled up next to their bed but he didn’t go far. Sitting still was impossible so he paced back and forth. He never let his eyes leave her. She was so very still and pale, making the dark purple injection site stand out like a blinding neon sign. The angry spot just above her elbow would eventually be her skar. A birthmark of sorts. An indicator that she was a riser. Risen. Born again. Living dead. Or just dead, depending on how you chose to look at it.

  Leiv dropped to his knees and ever so gently let his fingertips graze the mark. It had hurt her. The contagion. Her scream had crashed around the room like lightning on acid.

  His heart lurched and so did his stomach. He squeezed his eyelids closed.

  She’d been weakened from blood loss and several sleepless nights, but he’d held her down while he forced six syringes full of his diseased blood into her body. Just before she started seizing, she’d stared at him with eyes so full of sadness and regret and asked a single-worded question. As if he could ever answer it as simply as she’d asked it. He wished she’d said anything besides what had actually slipped from her lips:

  “Why?”

  Why. Why, why, why, why?

  He let his fingers follow the length of her arm until he reached her hand. He brought
it to his lips and softly kissed her ring finger before slipping off the diamond he’d bought her. She wouldn’t need it. She wouldn’t remember it. And he’d broken their vows anyway.

  Till death do us part…

  He shoved it in his jeans pocket and then pried his own ring off his finger. It was better this way. Better that she not know their love story. How could he ever explain it when it ended with her becoming the thing she hated?

  Yes, better he keep it to himself. He’d protect it, and all their moments. Like the day they’d met. She’d never remember it but he would. He’d relive it every day of his screwed up existence. He would hold their short time together in the quiet places of his heart until the day he turned rotter. They would have many more days together if everything went according to plan, but they would all be tarnished in comparison. Not pure like before. The pure days were gone. Burned in a fiery deal with a devil named Hannah.

  Leiv crawled into his bed. He shouldn’t be there but he needed to hold her again. Just for a while. He carefully pulled her flush against him. Everywhere they touched hurt. Tiny pin pricks of guilt manifested physically. He swallowed more tears, relishing the pain. He deserved it.

  He buried his face in her soft black hair and took a deep breath. Her scent was already changing. Uniquely riser. But there was enough of Raina left to take him back to the first time he’d smelled her.

  She’d charged up those stairs like she was made of all legs and worry. Her poor Grams had taken a terrible fall down the stairs. He’d known he was supposed to meet his Save soon, but hadn’t been expecting to run into her on a call. Let alone a call where someone she loved was hurt. But there she was. And she. Was. Perfect. Bacon grease on her uniform and all.

  He’d prayed to no one in particular that her Grams would be all right because he didn’t want this night marked in her mind as a tragedy. It had been the greatest struggle for him to be professional when he wanted to whoop and throw his fist in the air.

  Finally. Finally, he wouldn’t be alone anymore. The mere thought sent muddy tears to his eyes. Covering that up had been a challenge but he’d managed.