This Would Be Paradise (Book 2)-A Zombie Novel

Chapter 20

Once they finished twirling, Ethan carried Chloe over to us. He put her down and practically tackled me. I hugged him back with a laugh, "Careful with the ribs, eh?"

The faint scent of soap clung to him making me self-conscious. I hoped I didn't smell from being trapped in that small car with three other people all day. With his lips at my ear, he whispered to me.

"Thank you. I'll never be able to repay you for keepin' her safe."

He placed my face in his hands and kissed me square on the mouth. I wasn't expecting him to do that as we hadn't even talked about our previous make-out session a month before. I heard some cheers and whistling from the nearby people.

"Eww," Chloe scrunched her face up, but I could tell she was trying to suppress a smile.

"Uh," was all I could come up with when he pulled his face away.

"Markin' ya territory?" the Cajun man said to Ethan.

Ethan just laughed, "Gotta make sure you keep those hands away from her, Byron."

So the Cajun man had a name.

Byron just put his hands up in defeat, "I'd neva, I'm a true gentleman, you."

"And who's this?" Zoe cocked her head towards Roy and his daughter.

Damn Ethan, he threw me off with his welcoming. I unlatched myself from him and walked to Roy, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"This is Roy and his daughter Amanda. They're friends from our previous survivor hideout."

"Hi." Roy nodded and Amanda just stood slightly behind him giving everyone a shy wave.

"Previous survivor hideout?" Zoe questioned.

"Long story."

"We all have one of those," a new voice boomed through the small crowd that had formed.

People parted for the owner of the voice. It was a man with skin as dark as a starless midnight sky, wearing a green polo shirt and kakis. He looked like he belonged in a country club. From the authority in his voice I could only assume this was the Wyatt the other lady had been talking about. I was starting to think I had a problem with authority because I was instantly wary of him. But to be fair, my track record with people in charge had not been bring-home-to-the-parents worthy since this all began or even before that.

It was that teenage instinct that never seemed to go away, the one that told you no one can tell you what to do. I guess I had some more maturing to do; but I knew that already.

"You got that right," Roy stepped forward.

The man walked right up to us and offered his hand, "Welcome to Hargrove my fellow wanderers. I assume Tracy got your names?" His accent was very lightly southern, like he had only moved here instead of being born in the south.

Tracy, the lady who had stopped us when we entered, looked flustered, "I- I didn't get a chance yet, Wyatt."

"That's alright. We can get them now." He placed his hand on her shoulder.

We breezed through another round of introductions as Tracy scribbled down our names in her notebook. I guess it was wise to keep track of all the people coming in and out, but I didn't like the idea of being catalogued. Wyatt must've noticed my scrutinizing gaze because he spoke up.

"We make sure we have everyone's names upon entering to keep organized. This way we have a means of accounting for everyone should something happen."