Undead Love

  Undead Love

  Lee Sutherland

  Undead Love Copyright © 2016 by Lee Sutherland

  leesutherlandauthor.wordpress.com/

  All Rights Reserved. This book may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover Art by EbookLaunch (ebooklaunch.com)

  Editing & Formatting by Mia Darien (miadarien.com)

  Dedication

  For Sarah and Scott,

  This book would not be what it is without you.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Preview of Undead Love: Not Alone

  About the Author

  Chapter One

  Rus knew that if he waited long enough, he would see her again. He sat by the side of the road for two days after the rain stopped. The afternoon air was muggy and hot. Late-spring in the Carolinas was a force of nature; after a rain, mist hung in the air so thick it could be scooped out with a spoon. His white v-neck stuck to his body like a second layer of skin, showing the contours of his muscled physique. He heard a motorcycle roaring down the empty road and knew that she would be coming around the bend any minute. He kicked his motorcycle to life, making sure to turn off the headlight. Twilight was approaching and he didn’t want to give away his location before he was ready.

  Leaves scattered across the street as Rus waited. The roads were empty nowadays and weeds filled in the cracks, no longer threatened by the constant barrage of traffic. Rus’ pulse started to increase as he thought about the woman he had seen a week ago. He hadn’t gone an hour since that day without thinking about her. She had even invaded his dreams, doing things to him that only his wife had ever done. His skin prickled at the thought.

  One week ago, as Rus was doing his normal perimeter patrols around town, he had seen a motorcycle parked in front of the old Texaco on Highway 11. The gas station had been picked to the bone. Rus had done some of the picking himself in the early days. When he pulled in, he came upon a woman leaning over an old ice chest, fishing for something at the bottom. She wore an old wife beater that was covered in dirt, grease, and what looked like blood. Her hair draped down her tanned back, shiny and dark in the bright summer sun. He was so surprised to see a woman that he had walked straight up to her, something he would never have done before, fearful of a trap or worse. With catlike quickness, she had pulled a gun and pointed it straight at his head, but he found himself looking past the gun to her face. It was dirty, but underneath the smudges, he saw a woman who wasn’t scared. She was beautiful, too; dark and exotic with a wild air. But she was deadly; her deep, dark eyes had a menacing quality. He saw a fire burning behind those eyes. When she motioned for him to back away and then leave on his bike, he didn’t dare disobey.

  Rus doubted she had found anything of value, which was how he knew she would be back, looking for more of whatever she needed. So he had waited. It had rained that first night, a downpour that flooded the gullies and pooled across the pastures. It continued to rain for the following four nights before finally letting up. The next two days were beautiful and sun-filled. Rus slept in a tent on the side of the road, hoping he might hear her motorcycle purring in the distance, even though he knew it wasn’t smart, and even though he had a house to go back to. He roped off an area around his tent and hung cans from it, making an alarm in case someone or something stumbled upon him during the night. He had slept peacefully, dreaming of his mystery woman, and now she was there.

  Rus hung back in the trees as he heard her approach, careful not to be seen. The motorcycle turned the corner and he saw her. She wore a helmet, but there was no denying that she was the woman he was waiting for. Her dark hair whipped in the wind as it escaped underneath the helmet, and she had on the same dirty wife beater she had worn the last time they met. In a flash, she passed by and Rus hit the throttle in pursuit. He slung his crossbow over his back and set off after her. The tires flung mud as he emerged from the woods and the dull roar of the motorcycle filled the air, merging with the evening cacophony of locusts. The sun was beginning to dip behind the trees, but he knew these roads like the back of his hand; the light of the moon would be enough to guide him.

  Rus rode along the deserted highway. His unbuttoned jacket flapped in the wind and his beard parted and blew to the sides of his neck. He had given up shaving not long after everything went to shit. The priority was eating and staying alive, not grooming. His light brown hair was now down to his shoulders. It made life a little simpler to not have to worry about those things.

  It took a few minutes to catch up, but Rus could see her headlights as they flickered along the trees. He wondered where she could be heading. She didn’t stay in town or he would have heard her before now. That meant she stayed outside the city limits. But was she alone or with a group? Rus was about to find out. It might be worth it, to finally settle down. There was safety in numbers, or so he had been told.

  He followed her into the night, her headlight a beacon guiding him along. The night filled red as she slowed at a T-intersection. She took the road to the right and her engine roared.

  Polly knew she was being followed and it made her uneasy. The glimmer of the moon caught her eye as it reflected off the chrome of the bike behind her. Had she not looked in the mirror at that precise moment, she might not have noticed. They were very careful, whoever they were, and following at a great distance. Her first thought was that it was related to the man she had seen last week while searching for supplies in the old gas station. He had seemed innocent enough, the way he walked up to her without any weapons and with that stupid look on his face like he wanted to say hi. Polly had wiped it off his face quick enough when she pulled her gun. Her palms grew sweaty at the thought and she couldn’t help but laugh. He had been a good-looking man, and the way part of his tattoo peeked over the top of his v-neck had been a constant intrusion in her thoughts all week, but it was his smile that nearly undid her. It took everything she had not to talk to him, but she knew better than to get to know this man, than to trust anyone. She had gone against her rules with Phil and Connor, but only because they seemed harmless. They were smart, and even a bit conniving, but they were what her dad had referred to as ‘good ole boys.’ And the fact that their mother was still alive and well in this shit-show of a world was proof to that. But she didn’t know if this man had been alone or what kind of people he associated with.

  Polly had only spotted the one bike, but there could be any number of people following her. She knew from experience the value of a woman in current times. She kept glancing in the mirror, hoping for another peek at her follower, but whoever was there stayed well hidden.

  Her thoughts drifted briefly back to the man at the gas station. The way he had so easily walked over to her had startled her. It was like when a human intrudes on a wild animal that has never seen mankind’s destruction and the animal walks up, unafraid and unknowing. When their eyes met, it was like he had recognized her, but she had never seen the man in her life and besides, she didn’t trust anyone anymore.

  She pulled the walkie-talkie from her belt and pressed the talk button. “
Phil, Connor, either of you there?” She waited for a response.

  “Phil here, Polly. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got someone tailing me. I think it’s one guy on a motorcycle, but it’s too dark to be certain; whoever it is has their lights off. I need your help. I’m heading down Broadway Road right now.”

  “Copy that. We’re not too far from you. There should be a dirt road right before you pass the old church. It’s hidden among the trees. Turn off there and we’ll be waiting for you shortly.”

  Polly eased up on the throttle, going a little slower to give the guys time to set up. It wasn’t often they ran into new people anymore.

  She watched her mirror, searching for a reflection, a light, anything to let her know how many.

  Rus coasted along. She had slowed down and he was afraid of getting too close and giving himself away. Could she know he was following her? He thought it unlikely. The evening air was beginning to cool off and the sweat that had kept his shirt snug all day long brought a welcoming icy reprieve through his body as air found its way up his jacket sleeves. Rus had always found nighttime rides calming. As a kid, his mother would put him in the back seat of the car and drive around town on nights his step-dad had too much to drink. She would turn up the music, roll the windows down, and they would just cruise for hours.

  He saw the faint glow of her brake lights disappear as she turned off and was lost behind the trees. Rus turned down hard on the throttle, hoping he wouldn’t lose her. Not after all the waiting. When he turned the corner, he was instantly blinded by a bright light shining down upon him. His fingers gripped the brake and the tail end of his motorcycle began to swivel before sliding out from under him. He felt his leg pinch under the weight of the bike and his skin burned as he slid across the dirt and gravel. This is going to hurt, he thought. The bike slid off to the side, a gritty song of metal against earth that left Rus lying on his back at the edge of the road. He was dizzy. His leg ached and the crossbow was digging into his shoulder. But nothing felt broken. That was the good news. The bad news, well, he thought he’d just fucked up.

  “Easy there, cowboy,” a young man’s voice yelled from behind the lights. “You just stay right where you are.”

  Rus couldn’t see anything besides the light blazing in front of him. From the grill, he could tell it was a Jeep, probably mounted with flood lights. He could hear movement in the Jeep and the soft crackle of gravel as a motorcycle pulled up beside it.

  “Why were you following me?” a woman asked. Rus saw a pair of boots step in front of the light. “And don’t try anything or Phil here will blow your beautiful little head off. Ain’t that right, Phil?”

  “That’s right, Miss Polly.” Rus didn’t miss the sound of a shotgun being cocked.

  “Polly,” Rus coughed as he said it. He was in pain, but he couldn’t help but smile. Now he had a name to go with the face. “That’s a pretty name.”

  There was a thud as someone jumped down from the Jeep and landed hard on the ground, kicking up dirt. There was an aggressive stomp as they approached. “I think the lady asked you a question.” This voice was different than the other. The man rushed for Rus, his leg wound up for a kick, and Rus braced for impact.

  “Connor, don’t,” Polly ordered and his foot descended to the ground. “Give the man a chance to catch his breath.”

  Rus could only see her silhouette, but he noted its contours. He coughed again, trying to catch his breath. “That was a little excessive, I just wanted to talk.”

  “Okay, talk.” Her voice was curt.

  Rus tried to sit up, saw stars shooting in and out of his vision, and fell back down.

  “I saw you at the gas station. I thought it would be a good idea to get to know you better. I see perhaps it was not.”

  Connor let out a boisterous laugh. “That’s rich. Oh god.” He bent over laughing.

  “Perhaps not,” she echoed. “Connor, take his bike. Phil, hop down and take his weapons. What’s your name, handsome?”

  “Friends call me Rus.” He lay there as Phil hunched over him, shotgun pointed at his face.

  “And what about your enemies?” asked Phil.

  “They don’t call.” Rus knew there was no way he could take out all three of them and escape, so he had to play along for the moment.

  “I need your weapons. All of them,” said Phil. Rus still couldn’t see his face as he moved closer. He was big, judging by the size of his boots and outline of his legs. Rus guessed he was bigger than him, but he was young. His voice gave him away. It still carried the melody of youth. He hadn’t taken enough breaths to coat it with life’s harsh experiences yet.

  Rus carefully unslung the crossbow from his shoulder, pain shooting down his spine, and laid it next to him. He had a gun on his waist and a knife on his thigh. He placed them both on the ground.

  “That’s all I have.”

  They forced him to put his hands in the air. His ribs ached as they tied his hands together and blindfolded him. It was a bumpy ride down the dirt road. The Jeep made them feel every rock they passed over. Being unable to see, Rus let his other senses take over. He could hear the crunch of the tires against the gravel, the spray of dust in their wake. An owl hooted in the distance, and somewhere far away, a pack of coyotes howled at the moon. The top was down and Rus could feel the air, cool and moist on his skin. The fog had begun to roll in for the night. He could smell honeysuckle in the air. It was mixed with the earthy mustiness that comes after a great rain, when all the dirt is washed from the trees and roads and evaporates back into the sky. And then there was the smell of death, causing Rus to tense. It was always in the air, ever since things had gone south. Usually he could block it out, but there was something about being blindfolded that brought the unrelenting smell back and made Rus gag.

  The Jeep slowed and Rus could hear raspy breathing just outside. A gate screeched open and they came to a stop. Someone pulled him out and shoved him from behind. He was about to thrash out in the direction of the shove when a sharp pain raged in the back of his head and darkness overtook him.

  Chapter Two

  Polly quietly watched Rus as he sat in the chair, blindfolded with his hands tied behind his back. His pants were shredded from the fall he’d taken on the motorcycle. Blood seeped through the fabric in places but aside from the scrapes and bruises, there seemed to be no serious damage. She leaned against the wall; the room was colorless and bare except for two chairs and a light that dangled lazily from the ceiling. Concrete floors and windowless gray walls sucked the life out of the room. Polly noticed how Rus looked very stoic sitting there, head held high, waiting for whatever punishment he expected to come. She wondered what could persuade this man to follow her. Did he hope to abduct her? Rape her? She thought of all the people she had encountered when she journeyed from Florida to South Carolina. More bad than good. But somehow, and she couldn’t quite explain it— maybe it was the way he smiled— she didn’t feel that this man had bad intentions.

  “Get it over with, why dontcha?” His voice was rough. Rus struggled against the ropes that bound him. “I’ve got tickets to ride the Ferris wheel on the boardwalk.”

  His muscles bulged as he continued to struggle. A thick vein threatened to explode from his neck. Polly followed the vein down to his chest, where the head of some animal tattoo peeked above his shirt. For a moment she stared at it, wondering what lay underneath. Her stomach began to warm at the thought before she caught herself. If she wanted a man, Connor was more than willing. But she wasn’t interested in him, not even for a night. He was good kid, but he was just that, a kid. Even if he was six feet tall and two hundred pounds.

  Rus listened to the sounds unfolding around him. He knew they had taken him into a secluded room. There was one person in there with him, but they hadn’t moved in a while. Whoever was in there was watching him, he could feel eyes searching him through the blindfold. If there was any way he could get out of this, he would need keep his wits about him.
They were in control for the moment and usually people in control let their guard down.

  “We don’t want to hurt you,” said Polly. He let her voice wash over him. “We just want to know why you followed me.” He heard the screech of metal on concrete as she pulled a chair across the room and sat down in front of him. She was close, so close that he could hear her short, shallow breathing and the tick of a watch on her wrist. Her breath smelled of cinnamon and faint traces of smoke.

  Rus felt a tug on the back of his head and realized she was untying the blindfold. He could have head-butted her, sent her sprawling to the floor in a geyser of blood, but her scent immobilized him as she bent forward and he imagined her body inches from his face. She smelled of honeysuckle, sweat, and cigarettes, and he breathed her in. Light rushed in, momentarily blinding him, but his eyes quickly adjusted to the drab room.

  Polly sat in front of him, hair pulled up in a messy bun, one rogue strand falling down the side of her face. Her dark brown eyes had bags under them. How long had it been since the crash? Rus didn’t know. Hours could have passed while he was unconscious. He looked her up and down and couldn’t help but smile.

  “Something funny?” she asked, her face giving away nothing.

  “It’s just…you. I don’t know how to explain it. I knew I had to follow you. When I saw you last week, there was something about you.” He tried to sit up straight and his ribs throbbed.

  “In the old days that was called stalking, harassment even. You’re lucky we didn’t kill you.” Her eyes cut into him, but he stared back, defiant.

  “Why didn’t you?”

  Why hadn’t she? Polly didn’t know. She had killed before. Phil and Connor had as well. Why had she stopped them from killing this man?

  “I don’t know.” His presence was unnerving her. She didn’t like it. Polly was always in control, but he was testing her will. The way his eyes stared into her soul, and he smiled even in the midst of being held prisoner. “Where are you from?” she asked.