Apocalypse For Realz Read online

  APOCALYPSE FOR REALZ

  Apocalypse Babes | Book Six

  by

  Bella Street

  Firefly Press

  Nashville

  ©2011 All Rights Reserved

  Kindle Edition

  Cover by Palindrome Design/Magyar Design

  Photos

  ©Valua Vitaly

  ©Tomislav Zivkovic

  Many thanks to my readers who have become friends.

  Your enthusiasm is what kept me going!

  ...so that he may persuade Hades, with gentle words, that he allow holy

  Persephone to leave the misty realms of darkness.

  Homeric hymn

  Chapter One

  “Call it.”

  Fenn pressed his fingers on the glass of the window, staring into the surgery room with disbelieving eyes—watching Olga gaze at the doctor, grief and defiance marring her usually gentle face.

  The other doctor glanced at the clock. “Time of death, 12:01 a.m.”

  Both doctors walked away, stripping off their face shields, smocks, and gloves, and throwing them away.

  Olga remained, slightly hunched, looking down at Trent's lifeless body, now littered with emptied blister packs, bloodied instruments, and blood-clotted gauze. She blinked several times and began to sway.

  As the doctors left, Fenn slipped through the surgery doors. When he reached her side, he put a steadying hand on her arm.

  In the harsh glare of the surgical lights, he saw only washed out colors—the blue of the hospital drape...the dark red of blood that seemed to absorb all the light in the room.

  Trent's blood.

  Olga looked up at him, her pale blue eyes wet, her voice faint. “There wasn't anything left to fix.”

  Fenn closed his eyes for a moment, only imagining the explosive damage from the 9mm hollow point ammunition the guards carried. Taking a measured breath, he struggled to put the recent events into perspective. “You did everything you could. You should go. I'll have someone...take care of this.”

  The nurse shook her head. Before he could respond, she began throwing away the medical detritus. Fenn watched for a moment, caught up in a loop of incredulity and shock. Olga's movements were methodical and deliberate, betrayed only by a slight trembling of her hands.

  “Someone should see to Seffy,” he heard himself say.

  The nurse paused, a spasm of pain twisting her face. “Yes. Someone should. I'm seeing to Trent.”

  Fenn realized the task would fall to him—the leader of Fugere.

  But he wasn't ready. Maybe he never would never be.

  All his efforts had been in vain. Everything he'd planned had gone awry. How could he have been so arrogant?

  Outside in the waiting room, the others were there—the Outsiders as they were known. Had the doctors given them the news on their way out?

  He paused at the door, listening for sounds of grief, but there was only a heavy silence. Fenn took a deep breath and entered the room where they all huddled in chairs.

  He was aware of the others, but his eyes found Seffy first.

  She looked up at his entrance and when he saw what was in her gaze, he knew she knew.

  Aside from the bottomless anguish shimmering in her dark, dazed eyes, he saw the accusation. He felt it to the marrow of his cancer-ridden bones.

  Fenn opened his mouth, unsure how to assemble the words.

  “The doctors informed us,” Fiona said quietly, standing near a far wall.

  He sent her a small, relieved nod—her face a pale, blank mask.

  Lani and Addison sat on either side of Seffy, their woeful expressions blotchy with tears.

  Gareth stood off a little to one side, staring at Seffy with a longing that would never be satisfied. Eva and Cynthia sat together, gripping each others hands, their tear-stained faces—as always—sullen and vacant.

  Jared had been taken away in cuffs—the murderer. Everyone knew who did it—they all saw it happen. But Seffy stared at the true culprit.

  He knew she knew.

  “I want to see him.”

  Her voice was disembodied and hollow, as if what made her whole had been scooped out and discarded.

  Fenn swallowed, feeling the weight of her attention. He lowered his eyes, only to see the front of her body soaked with blood. The room began to waver, but he straightened his spine and took a deep breath. “You can, in an hour or so. After...”

  Lani said something in a low, pleading voice to Seffy. Without taking her eyes from him, she stood along with the girls. They put their arms around her and led her from the room. Gareth followed at a distance.

  Cynthia and Eva stared at Fenn with sour expressions. “We want to go home.”

  He sent them a tight smile. “I know just how you feel.”

  Fenn turned and left the room, walking blindly through nameless curving corridors, needing a breath of fresh air. The end was near—in so many ways. The end of Cynthia and Eva's stay, the shift in leadership, the collision of worlds...

  But the end had come too soon for Trent. That shouldn't have happened.

  When he went outside through the garage bays into the night, he realized he couldn't outrun what he couldn't control. In the white glow afforded by the compound floodlights, he saw the blood in the snow. New flakes had begun to cover the dark red stain, turning it pink—the color the sky would be at sunrise.

  His heart twisted in his chest, weighted by a failure so deep it was beyond redemption. But events had been set in motion. He couldn't call back what he didn't like; couldn't untie the knots he'd entangled everyone in.

  “What the hell happened?”

  Fenn turned back to see Fiona standing just beyond the bays, her indifferent posture belying the shocked resignation of her words.

  He walked over to where she stood and brushed snowflakes from her hair. “You should get inside. It's cold.”

  She tightened her arms across her middle. “I'm not sure it's a whole lot warmer inside.”

  Her dark eyes beseeched him, made him want to promise what he couldn't provide. Fenn put his arm around her and walked back to the building.

  The time of reckoning had come.

  And there would be hell to pay.

  ***

  Gareth bit his lip hard to avoid saying something he'd regret. Lani's incessant tears were like nails on a blackboard, but even worse was Addison's expression of disbelief and fury. She prowled the small compound room—a blur of red hair against the bland beige decor— clenching and unclenching her fists, asking herself over and over how this could happen.

  “Where is she now?”

  Addison snapped her head up at him, turmoil roiling in her green eyes. “She's resting and doesn't want to be bothered. What do you care?”

  “Addy,” Lani said, then resumed weeping.

  “It's ultimately what you wanted, isn't it Gareth? I can't remember how many times you threatened to kill Trent.”

  “Stop!” Lani cried. “This isn't about us! This is about Seffy.” Her voice broke on a fresh sob. “How will she go on?”

  Gareth clenched his hands and stared at the concrete wall, afraid the girls might see in his eyes something they wouldn't understand.

  “I had to help her out of her clothes.” Lani wrapped her arms around herself. “It took forever. They were stuck to her body because of the blood. She was shaking so bad and...” She stopped, pressing her fists to her mouth.

  “God,” Addison said under her breath. “What do we do now?” A pause. “Gareth!”

  He swiveled around and faced her.

  “What do we do now?”

  Gareth regarded her, keeping his face expressionless. “I don't have an answer for you, Addy.”

  “
You're supposedly the cool-headed male of our group. Think of something before Seffy goes all Carrie on someone.”

  “We should be worried about suicide,” Lani said, hiccupping. “Just because she's not crying now, doesn't mean she's strong.”

  Addison suddenly stood in front of him, assessing him, searching for the dark place he kept hidden. “Maybe that wouldn't be so bad?”

  He didn't dignify her words with a response.

  “You didn't want Sef for yourself, but even more, you didn't want Trent to have her. With both of them gone, all your problems go away.”

  Lani caught her breath.

  Gareth ground his teeth together until his jaw ached. Even though he knew she was striking out from distress, he refused to address such a horrific charge. He turned and left the room before he did or said something he couldn't take back.

  Gareth wanted to see Seffy, but he knew she wouldn't want to see him. Her thinking was still infested with lies and strangled truths that had no bearing in reality.

  Hardly knowing where he was going, doors passed him by as he walked down the ever-turning hallways.

  Several minutes later, he found himself back in the waiting area outside the surgery. It was empty now, but he caught sight of movement behind the glass. Gareth approached the small window in the door, sucking in a breath when he saw Seffy with Olga. They stood near Trent's body, laid out with fresh green draping. The surgical lights were off now, and weak light shone dimly from a couple of wall sconces. Seffy was turned slightly from the window, but he saw the trembling of her outstretched hand as the nurse put something gold in her palm. A ring.

  Trent's wedding band.

  Seffy stared at the ring, her chest rising and falling, before closing her fist over it. Olga hugged her, seemingly unaware of Seffy's stiff posture. Finally the nurse released her and turned away, leaving by another door. Seffy looked at the door for several moments before slowly shifting her attention to Trent's body. Her face was sheet white, her dark eyes huge.

  She touched him hesitantly from his shoulder to his face, before sinking her hand in his hair and leaning over to bury her face against his throat.

  Gareth watched with a feeling of detachment, his heart wrenched by her agony, but appalled by her affection for someone who didn't deserve a single tear.

  She raised her head and dropped soft kisses onto Trent's forehead, eyes, cheeks, and finally his lips as tears dripped from her chin, spotting the green drapery.

  He left the wing, walking mechanically, without direction, fury at odds with the shock fomenting in his gut. A part of him wondered when he'd wake up from the nightmare—the nightmare that had lasted six months.

  With no end in sight.

  Chapter Two

  Fenn sought out Olga in the morning after a sleepless night, to discuss funeral arrangements. His craven soul wanted to avoid speaking with Seffy as long as possible. He couldn't bear the grief in her eyes, especially knowing his own part in it.

  When Olga opened her door, her eyes red with weeping, her short, silvery-blonde hair mussed, he realized there would be no reprieve from what had been set in motion.

  She ushered him in, going through the motions of offering him coffee or tea. He shook his head. “I need your help to prepare the body for the funeral, which I want to do as soon as possible.”

  Olga nodded distractedly. “Have you talked to Seffy yet?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, I thought you would have when you were with her last night.”

  He blinked. “I wasn't with her last night.”

  The nurse's eyes widened slightly behind her half moon glasses. “Then who was? Gareth?”

  “I assume her friends joined her, but I don't know. I didn't...I didn't think she'd want me there.”

  Olga furrowed her brows. “So you didn't have the body taken to the morgue after the...viewing? I understand that was the plan after Seffy left.”

  Fenn clenched his jaw. “I assumed that...”

  Her hand went to her throat. “I would do that?”

  He nodded, feeling the blood drain from his face.

  They hurried out of her residence at the same time and headed to the surgery. The waiting room was distressingly empty. Olga reached the door first, looked through the window, then covered her mouth with both hands.

  Her action made Fenn's stomach constrict. As she moved away, he looked through the window. He saw Seffy asleep, stretched out on the table next to Trent's body. She was huddled next to him, her forehead pressed against his shoulder, her hand gripping his arm.

  “She spent the night here?” He took a shuddering breath. “Alone?”

  Olga wrung her hands. “Where are her friends? How could they have abandoned her at a time like this? I would've stayed myself, but I felt it would be presumptuous.”

  “What do we do?” He swallowed hard as a new fear gripped him. “Is she even alive?”

  Olga's eyes bulged. She pushed past him and rushed into the room. Fenn followed after a moment, fearing the worst. How could he have been so stupid?

  Olga reached out and touched Seffy's shoulder, then glanced up at him. “She's alive,” she whispered.

  Seffy stirred and slowly opened her eyes. They watched as she looked at Trent for several heart-stopping moments. Had she thought it was all a dream?

  Did she notice the discoloration of his face? Would she have to experience the horror of his death all over again?

  Spotting Olga, Seffy sat up, dark smudges circling her eyes, her mouth pale. “He was so cold. I had to keep him warm.”

  The nurse put her hand on her arm. “You're trembling.” She hurried to a cabinet and pulled out a hospital blanket, then wrapped it around Seffy's shoulders.

  Seffy pulled the blanket tight around her frame, shivering. “I would've looked for a blanket, but I didn't want to leave him alone.”

  Fenn glanced at Trent's body, cursing his thoughtlessness. How could this have happened? Any of it? Charts, figures, calculations had become a morass of disaster and heartache.

  A tear slid down the nurse's face. “Of course, dear.” She glanced at him, as if he would know what to do next.

  Fenn gathered his thoughts, desperate not to muck up the next few hours. “Seffy,” he said gently, “we'd like to have a service for Trent this afternoon, followed by an internment.” He regarded her with a steady gaze, hoping she understood the ramifications of his words.

  While her expression was flat, her eyes flared slightly. She nodded after a moment, then glanced down at the body. “Can I...sing to him first?” She furrowed her brows as if words eluded her. “I meant to...last night...but I was so tired. I know, I know he'd really want me to.” She looked up at them, her eyes glittering with unshed tears. “He likes to hear me sing.”

  Olga's gaze flew to his, sorrow lining her face.

  “Of course.” Before he could ask if she wanted privacy, she began a song as she looked down at her husband.

  “I saw the glow, I heard your voice

  I watched the darkness come in

  And I can't see you anymore.

  I can't believe it's true.

  I can't believe.

  This just can't be.

  The cold rain weeps on my window

  and you said goodbye

  with tears in your eyes.

  How could we go wrong?

  Was this just a dream?

  And now that you've gone away

  can I ever believe again?

  Or will I fall?”

  Seffy's sweet, melancholy voice seared Fenn's heart and electrified his soul. He was rooted to the spot, shaken and sure he'd never heard anything so beautiful or so sad. He pressed his hands against his thighs to stop himself from reaching out for her.

  “You've slipped away from me

  You've gone somewhere else

  and there's no one but me

  to see the sun set.

  You're in my dreams

  turning to leave

  You
don't heed when I call

  looks like I'll fall after all.

  Olga's muffled sobs were the only sound when the last notes of Seffy's song died away. Fenn felt moisture on his own cheeks.

  Seffy stared at Trent, her face contorted with grief. She leaned down and pressed a lingering kiss on his lips. Fenn wondered if she really realized what was happening. Did she truly grasp that he was dead? Or was she in a dream world of her making where her husband would wake up after a while?

  “I'm staying here until...the service.”

  “All right,” he said, not knowing what else to say.

  She looked up at him with weary eyes. “Your nose is bleeding.”

  His respiration unnaturally loud, Fenn touched his nostril and his fingers came away wet with blood. Damn. He glanced at Olga, who's wide eyes said more than words as she handed him some tissue from a box on the counter.

  The nurse signaled that she'd be staying too. Pivoting, Fenn quickly left the room, afraid to completely break down in front of Seffy. He'd already added to her burden enough as it was.

  His labored breathing seemed to bounce off the walls during the long walk back to his residence. His body ached but it was nothing compared to the pain Seffy must be feeling.

  When Fenn entered his living room, blotting his nose, Fiona stood from where she'd been sitting on the couch.

  “What do we do now?” she said, her voice filled with anxiety.

  “Plan a funeral.”

  Her wide, dark eyes followed him to the phone where he made a call to the outdoor staff to prepare for the burial. Once that was done, he turned to Fiona. “I need to go talk to the others. Olga will be staying with Seffy in the surgery—”

  “Surgery? Why? Isn't the body in the morgue?”

  Fenn shook his head. “It seems...Seffy was alone with...him all night.”

  She snorted. “We have medical staff, she has several friends...and yet I suppose everyone expected you to deal with it.”

  “I'm the compound leader,” he said quietly. “It's my job, and I failed once again.” A muscle jumped in his jaw. “Why can't I get this right? Why can't I get a handle on what needs to be done?”