Revenge & the Zombie Apocalypse

  Revenge & the Zombie Apocalypse

  Book 3

  Zombie Apocalypse Trilogy

  By

  Chelsea Luna

  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

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Acknowledgments

  Novels by Chelsea Luna

  About the Author

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without the express written permission of the author.

  Copyright © May 2015 by Chelsea Luna

  Cover art created by Rahul Philip (http://www.rahulphilip.com)

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  For more information, please visit: http://www.chelsealunaauthor.com

  http://www.facebook.com/ChelseaLuna.Author

  Follow me on Twitter: @Chelsea_Luna_

  To Jackson,

  I’ve never loved anyone more.

  Chapter One

  Adam Guerra stared at the little grave.

  Rachel Cole kneeled in front of him, her eyes rimmed red, but she hadn’t cried since it happened. Not a single tear had fallen from her pretty face since she’d killed, in cold blood, the gang member who shot her little sister Morgan. It was as if the revenge murder had sucked all the life out of her. Adam was familiar with the feeling—a destructive concoction of grief, guilt, anger and revenge that could devour you from the inside. Hopefully, Rachel could wrench herself from the despair before the toxic emotion consumed her.

  Rachel punched the loose dirt with her knuckles. Strands of long blonde hair fell over her eyes, but she didn’t bother pushing it back. Mud and bloodstains—Morgan’s blood—covered her arms, neck and once blue shirt.

  It had been over a week since the infection spread, and the zombies overran America. Less than two weeks for the world to plummet into an apocalyptic nightmare.

  “What’s the mile marker?”

  Adam blinked. “What?”

  “Where on this goddamn highway are we? Did you see a mile marker?”

  “Oh, no. I’d guess a few miles outside of Detroit.”

  “I should probably know the location of my little sister’s grave, right? That’s something I should know.” Rachel sank her teeth into her bottom lip to stop it from quivering.

  “I’ll check when we get back to the road,” Adam said.

  They were roughly two hundred yards in from the highway. The length of two football fields from the bloody stain on the cement where eleven-year-old Morgan had died—a casualty of a high-speed shootout with a gang of outlaws in control of Detroit. You’d think zombies would be the main threat during the zombie apocalypse. Not humans.

  A shadow fell over Rachel. Adam shot to his feet, but it was only Cage standing over them. Cage avoided eye contact. Adam wasn’t exactly sure when he had started hating him, but it clearly happened sometime during the last forty-eight hours.

  “Nicky and Lindsay are searching abandoned cars for supplies,” Cage said to Rachel. “If you want, I can get them and we can say a few words for—”

  “No.” Rachel’s palm glided over the dirt.

  “You don’t want to say anything for Morgan?”

  “No.”

  “It might be helpful—”

  The irises in Rachel’s eyes were so dark in the midst of Cage’s shadow, the blue looked black. Her breathing was even—her shoulders moved up and down—as she held back a volcano of rage bubbling just below the surface. She was on the verge of erupting. “I said no.”

  Cage nodded. “Okay.”

  Rachel resumed flattening the dirt.

  “I’ll go help Nicky and Lindsay find supplies,” Cage said. “If you need anything, I’m…” He crouched beside Rachel and laid a cautious hand on her back. “I’m really sorry about Morgan.”

  “Thanks.” She went rigid with his touch, but she didn’t shake him off.

  He hesitated before he walked away.

  “Cage, wait.” Adam stood. “Can you tell Lindsay and Nicky to be careful? I don’t like that they’re wandering the highway. It’s dangerous.”

  Cage focused on a spot above Adam’s shoulder. “Sure.”

  “It’s dangerous.” Adam repeated—he didn’t know what else to say.

  “I know.”

  “Will you help Nicky look out for Lindsay and Finn?”

  “Sure.”

  Adam sighed. “Rachel needs some time.”

  “She doesn’t mind your company.” Cage’s eyes shifted to Adam.

  “She’s not talking to me either.”

  “Whatever you say, Adam.”

  “Listen, I don’t know why you have a problem with me all of a sudden, but if we’re going to—”

  “Don’t you?” Cage snorted.

  “I suggest you get over it. It’s a long drive to Vegas.” Adam had more important problems to deal with than Cage’s feelings. He kneeled across the grave from Rachel. “Cage is only trying to help. He’s worried about you.”

  Rachel wiped her dirty palms on her jeans. She didn’t say anything.

  “I get it.” Adam plunged a stick in the dirt to mark Morgan’s grave.

  She watched him in silence. He wanted to comfort her, but he knew better.

  “You shot the biker,” Adam said. “You needed revenge. There’s nothing we can do to change what happened to Morgan. It’s in the past, but I need to know you’re going to be okay. Not right this minute, but eventually. You’re scaring the others. Look at me, Rachel.”

  Glassy blue eyes met his. The muscles in her jaws bulged. “I don’t care about the others.”

  “Yes, you do,” Adam said quickly.

  Rachel pointed a shaky finger at the grave. “I was supposed to take care of her, Adam. That was my one job and I failed.”

  “You didn’t fail.” He inhaled the warm air. He felt exhausted—when was the last time he’d slept?

  “It feels like I failed.”

  “Rachel.”

  “I don’t want to do this now,” she said.

  “Fine, but don’t be so hard on Cage. He’s worried about you.”

  “Cage couldn’t possibly understand why I shot the guy in the van.” She shook her head.

  “He’s entitled to his opinion.”

  Rachel looked up at the cloudless sky. “I don’t care which one of them was responsible for Morgan’s death. If I could go back a hundred times, I’d shoot the bastard every single time. That’s the difference between Cage and me.”

  That inner thirst for revenge lived in Adam, too. He and Rachel were alike—always striving for that moral balance.

  “I don’t have any jewelry or anything,” Rachel whispered.

  “What?”

  “I don’t have anything to leave her.”

  Adam patted his pockets, but they were empty.

  Rachel focused on something behind him. Her eyes welled with tears before s
he pressed her palms against them.

  Adam turned. Finn—the twelve-year-old boy who’d attended science camp with Morgan—waded through the tall grass holding a neon yellow bundle in one hand and a blood-crusted lead pipe in the other.

  Adam and Rachel watched him approach. The boy’s green eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. Finn handed Rachel the bright yellow camp T-shirt. “I’m sorry about Morgan. It’s my fault.”

  Tears spilled down Rachel’s cheek. “What?”

  “I should’ve held her down. Then the bullet wouldn’t have hit her. I’m sorry.”

  Rachel clutched the T-shirt and slumped to her knees. “Don’t say that. It’s not your fault.”

  “But if I—”

  Rachel embraced him. “Thank you, Finn.”

  She tied the shirt around Morgan’s grave marker. “This is perfect, Finn.” Rachel sighed. “We should leave before night falls. I don’t want to camp anywhere near here.”

  Adam, Rachel and Finn walked in silence toward the highway. Giant evergreen trees were clustered near the highway, but out here it was like a wild prairie—the burnt yellow grass scorched from the summer heat was taller than their knees. The silence felt strange. Was it like this everywhere? Had huge cities fallen all over the country?

  Rachel absently twirled the aluminum baseball bat. The hunting knife protruded from her back pocket. She’d left the shotgun—the one she’d used to kill the gang member—back at the SUV. Adam knew she felt more comfortable with the bat than with the gun.

  He fought the urge to run to the SUV and speed away. Detroit had been nothing but death and destruction. They’d lost Selena and Morgan there—and for what? Nothing. There was no safe zone. No redemption. No salvation. Only death. And revenge.

  Adam’s stomach clenched when he thought of Selena. He had to keep his mind occupied (which wasn’t hard with life-threatening event after life-threatening event). It hurt too much to think about her. Of how kind and sweet she was and how violently she’d died. Whenever Adam closed his eyes, he saw Selena’s zombiefied face. It was becoming impossible not to picture her without those cold ice-blue eyes. Adam would never forget the sound the knife made when he’d slammed it into her skull….

  Adam shook his head.

  He wanted to remember the good times with Selena, but there weren’t many. They’d only dated a few weeks—the first night of the zombie apocalypse would’ve been their fourth date. Now Selena was dead and Adam couldn’t shake the cold, hard fact that if he hadn’t ordered her to stay outside the pharmacy during the supply raid, then the zombie wouldn’t have attacked her, and she’d still be alive. Case closed. Selena’s death was on his hands.

  Finn stopped. “Do you hear that?”

  Rachel blinked. She’d been lost in thought, too.

  Adam listened—the faint lyrics of heavy metal floated through the air. The boy and Rachel raced forward.

  Shit.

  Adam grabbed them and dug his feet into the grass. “Wait!”

  “It’s them,” Rachel breathed.

  The gang from Detroit was looking for their two friends. If Adam could hear the music from their car, then they were already at the crash site, and they’d probably already discovered their friends’ bodies. “We can’t run out there.”

  “Nicky and the others are on the road,” Finn said. “What if they’re in trouble?”

  Adam carefully watched Rachel’s face. Her eyes were hard—blurry blue gemstones. She wasn’t thinking about Nicky or Cage. Only of revenge.

  “Move quietly,” Adam said. “We don’t know how many of them are out there.” He shifted so he was in front of Rachel and Finn. His gun was tucked in his waistband, but he only had three bullets, and Rachel had left the shotgun at the SUV.

  The evergreens lining the highway provided minimal cover. Adam, Rachel and Finn moved trunk to trunk, careful of where they stepped and how much noise they made. Adam ducked behind the last line of trees, where the ground sloped upward to the highway. Rachel flattened herself next to him, and Finn laid on her other side.

  Seven men and one woman were piled in a black pickup truck. Metallica blasted from the speakers until someone abruptly turned it off. Fresh silence ominously settled over the crash site. One by one, the heavily armed gang climbed out of the truck bed and congregated around the toppled-over van.

  One man—wearing a sleeveless leather vest and torn jeans—kicked debris on the road as he closed in on his fallen comrades. He squatted near the van and fingered his greasy ponytail. “Look’s like Roy died in the crash, but they blew Reggie’s face clean off.”

  “What should we do, Gil?” The woman asked.

  The man with the ponytail—Gil—scanned the wreckage. “Find them.”

  Adam turned to Rachel, but her eyes were locked on Gil.

  Finn pointed down the road. “Look!”

  Adam leaned forward on his elbows.

  Nicky’s shaggy head poked out from behind the bumper of an old Buick several cars in front of the parked Traverse. Adam spotted Cage’s and Lindsay’s shoes under the car.

  Gil and his followers strolled over to the Traverse.

  Adam’s throat went dry. Keep Lindsay quiet, Nicky.

  Gil stopped near the SUV’s open door and scraped his toe across the cement. “There’s blood here. Hopefully, Reggie and Roy got one of them sons of bitches before they died.”

  Rachel slid forward on her stomach, but Adam gathered her under his arm. “Shh,” he whispered. “There’s too many of them. If they find us, they’ll kill us.”

  The moisture in Rachel’s eyes spilled over and rolled down her cheeks. Adam drew her against him.

  The woman opened the Traverse’s back hatch. She picked up Lindsay’s backpack and unzipped it.

  Dammit. Everything they owned was in there—food, water, the first-aid kit.

  Everything.

  The woman tossed Lindsay’s clothes to the pavement. “They gotta be close. They wouldn’t leave their stuff behind if they weren’t coming back.”

  “Grab anything useful,” Gil said.

  He stuck a knife into the Traverse’s back tire before grabbing the shotgun propped against the wheel. “They shot Reggie with his own damn gun. I’m going to peel off their skin while they watch.”

  Rachel squeezed handfuls of grass until her knuckles went white.

  “It’s okay,” Adam whispered. “We’ll find another gun. They’re going to raid the Traverse, steal our stuff and leave. We’re going to let them, Rachel. We don’t have enough weapons. It’s suicide.”

  She exhaled.

  “You don’t want to die, right?” Adam asked.

  Twin tear stains ran down her cheeks, but she was no longer crying. He stroked her lower back with his thumb—she had to stay calm.

  Adam’s lips brushed her ear. “I will never give up on you.” He whispered what Rachel had said to him at Manny’s house. Those exact words had brought him back from the brink. The words made him realize he had something to live for.

  Someone to live for.

  Rachel’s dark blue eyes searched his, and he couldn’t help it. His hand slid up her back, and his fingers curled around the base of her neck. Before he could stop himself, he pulled Rachel to him and kissed her hard on the lips.

  “Tell me you want to live,” he breathed.

  The hardness masking Rachel’s face cracked. She swallowed. “I want to live.”

  “Good. Now we have to find a way to get to Nicky.”

  Rachel’s eyes slid over Adam’s shoulder. Her pupils dilated, the blackness overtaking the dark blue. “We have company.”

  Adam twisted.

  Two zombies shuffled between the trees twenty yards away. They were walking directly in the path where Finn, Rachel and Adam laid hidden in the grass.

  Chapter Two

  Motherfu—

  “They’re going through my things,” Lindsay Donovan whispered in Nicky Ayers’s ear. “They can’t take our stuff. We can’t make it without—”


  “Shh,” Nicky said. “Be quiet.” He gripped the axe handle and peered around the bumper of an old red Buick. These assholes killed Morgan and now they were stealing all of their shit. And there was nothing Nicky could do to stop them because everyone in the gang had a weapon.

  Where was Rachel? Had she seen them yet? Or were they still at Morgan’s grave? If Rachel had spotted the gang, then Adam was probably sitting on top of her to stop her from going Rambo on them again.

  Nicky wasn’t the least bit shocked when Rachel shot Morgan’s killer in cold blood. It was the same reaction Adam would’ve had and Nicky, too, probably. Hell, maybe even Finn. It wasn’t, however, the reaction Cage or Lindsay would’ve had—guess it was just a difference in personality.

  Cage scanned the forest for Rachel. Dude was frantic—he was losing Rachel. The crazy part was, Cage was losing her to…Adam.

  Poor guy.

  Nicky had noticed the progression a while ago because he kept a close eye on Rachel. He didn’t like Rachel romantically, but Nicky liked to look at her. She was hot, and she fought like a ninja, which was badass and cool to watch.

  Adam had fallen for Rachel on day one. Why in the world would he volunteer to take Rachel, a complete stranger at the time, to Ann Arbor after just meeting her? Sure, Nicky was along for the ride, but he didn’t have anyone—or anywhere else—to go. Adam could’ve easily stayed in Flint with Selena.

  In Ann Arbor, Adam risked his life and went back into the zombie-infested dorm to help Rachel find Cage—you don’t do that for someone you hardly know. If Selena had asked, that would be different, but she hadn’t. She’d pleaded with Adam not to go, but he went with Rachel anyway. Cue the dramatic music. It was like one of those soap operas his grandma used to watch.

  But now that Selena was dead, did that free Adam up to act on his feelings? He’d only been with Selena for a few weeks. It wasn’t like they’d been married. Same thing with Rachel and Cage, they’d only been “together” for as long as the zombie apocalypse… What was that—a week and a half?

  Jesus.

  It had only been ten days of this zombie bull crap. It seemed like weeks. But what if Rachel and Adam did get together? Did that mean Lindsay would go back to Cage?