Lockey vs. the Apocalypse | Book 2 | We Will Rise [Adrian's Undead Diary Novel] Meadows, Carl (an ebook reader txt) 📖

to go away and take a look at himself, instead of wailing on me because the feelings he chose to have weren’t returned.

Harsh? Maybe. But still fucking true.

I’d probably have more sympathy if he hadn’t been such an arse about it, so instead, he gets the middle-finger treatment.

At least this is out in the open now and we can move on. Well, try and move on in Isaac’s case. He needs to get his shit together and quick, because if he starts being an asshole while we’re beyond the gate, Nate will bench him in an instant. Maybe that needs to happen so he can get his shit together.

Personally, I learned a valuable lesson from this whole experience.

I learned that everything happens for a reason.

And usually, that reason is you’re bloody stupid and make bad choices.

Okay, that’s enough for now. Next time I write, it’ll probably be after the surplus store, if this rain ever lets up.

NOVEMBER 1st, 2010

ALPHA AND OMEGA

It rained for another couple of days, and I tried to spend as much time as I could in my room. Isaac and I have largely been avoiding each other. He’s been in broody sulk mode and snappy with everyone. He’s largely ignored me which I was okay with, but that means his sarcastic little nips have been targeted at everyone else.

Today, he went too far, and cut Nate’s exceptionally long fuse too short. There had been a couple of times where Nate had cut Isaac short with a hard glare of warning, or a quipped, “Hey!” when Nate felt he was going too far with someone.

After a couple of days of it though, I could tell Nate was starting to get pissed by Isaac’s petulance. Childish pique is not something a man like Nate Carter will abide from a so-called adult. I have a childish sense of humour, but I never throw childish tantrums.

Isaac finally crossed the line today and oh mama, did he get put in his place.

He had a bit of a headache, and the rule we’ve set down in the lodge is that if anyone needs any form of medication, we go through Maria. She’s the trained medical professional as a highly experienced Senior Nurse Practitioner, so even if you want an ibuprofen, you go via Maria.

Isaac said he had, “a bit of a migraine,” and asked if he could have something for it.

Maria chuckled. “If you’d ever had an actual migraine, you’d know there’s no such thing as a ‘bit’ of one. I’ll get you some paracetamol and we’ll see how you fare.”

“That won’t touch it,” he complained with a huff. “I need something stronger.”

“Isaac, I’m not giving you prescription painkillers for a headache.”

Maria’s tone brooked no further argument. As far as she was concerned, the debate was over.

“How do you know how fucking bad it is, eh?” he snapped.

“Language,” warned Nate from his seat at the table, coffee cup in hand.

He has a thing about bad language round Maria, Norah, and especially Charlie. He’s proper old school like that. An accidental “shit” can slide by without incident, but the F-bomb is the big no-no around them. Even I watch my foul mouth when those three are around, as I know Nate doesn’t like it. He swears like a trooper when we’re out and about, but neither of us would ever drop the F-bomb when little Charlie was in earshot because he’s a kid, and I don’t swear like a fishwife in front of Maria and Norah anyway. It’d be like swearing in front of my mum and grandma. You just don’t do it.

Isaac, however, had decided today was going to be a special day. A day when he did what no sane person would even dream of doing.

“Fuck off, old man,” he quipped. “It’s a free country.”

Well, shit.

Nate didn’t explode into motion, or even get animated. He deftly placed his cup back on the table, stood, turned his dark eyes to Isaac, and ominously moved towards him, slow and deliberate.

I’m sure I heard Isaac’s spine turn to water as Nate closed on him. The old marine stopped about two inches from Isaac and looked down on him. Isaac is about five-nine in height, but Nate is a good six-two. He’s a big guy, but it’s not just his height. He’s thick and broad, a solid, aged powerhouse, but his presence is bigger than any physical size.

He filled Isaac’s vision so all our tech guy could see was Nate, and nothing but Nate, before that tombstone voice filled the lodge, as cold as an arctic gale. Even though he spoke softly, the whole place had gone still and quiet, like everyone knew what was going to happen the moment Isaac opened his stupid mouth.

“Say that to me again, boy,” he breathed. “Because men have died for less.”

I wasn’t even the target, but I near shit myself. Hardly any oxygen was consumed in the lodge for a few dangerous seconds. Everyone held their collective breath and the whole place was charged with tension, as we all waited for Isaac’s response.

I felt kind of sorry for him. Sure, he was a dick, and he shouldn’t have spoken to Nate or Maria in that manner, but holy crap, the look of abject terror on his face was a sight to behold. I honestly don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone that scared in my life. Even people fleeing the undead monstrosities could run, or scream, or wave their arms, or flail about like a lunatic. Isaac was frozen near catatonic by Nate’s statement and presence, and he’d hardly done fuck all.

Alpha and omega, side by side.

Now, I really did feel sorry for Isaac as a dark stain bloomed on the front of his trousers. Many would laugh at the thought of a grown man wetting himself in fear, but it’s nothing to laugh at. Not at all. Can you even imagine being so frozen with fear that you lose control of your bladder? How fucking