Heaven's Grief (Sequel to Hell's Reign)

Prologue

A/N: First off, sorry for the wait on this sequel! I just got back into the swing of writing last night, and pumped out this prologue. I was too excited about it to not share it with everyone immediately, so here it is! I hope you all enjoy this book as much as the first one. Hopefully it won't be too long before I post the first chapter. Happy reading!!

                Andy walked out of the room with his head down, closing the door slowly and holding tightly to the handle. He could feel everyone's eyes on him, but he couldn't bring himself to meet their gazes. Just last night, his mother had begun feeling ill. She had collapsed while she was making dinner for them all, her hand clutching her right arm in a vice-like grip. Pete had been the first one to her side; Patrick and Joe had been out with the kid practicing shooting, and Andy had been helping Tori do laundry. At first, Pete had assumed she was having a heart attack. He screamed for Andy, and he was by their side in a heartbeat. They had carried her into her bedroom, the only one on the first floor of the house they were living in, which she also shared with her son. The second they laid her on the bed, however, Andy knew it wasn't a heart attack.

He had seen the same pained expression on the face of another, not too long ago. Over twelve years ago, yet the scene was still all too fresh in his mind. Only this time, Pete wasn't going to be able to hack away the affected body part. Andy had forcefully pushed up the sleeve of his mother's shirt to find the bite mark on her upper arm. It was old; festering already, as if that part of her body had already decayed. It was oozing pus and was covered in dried blood; How or why she had kept this hidden from them, Andy would never know. The disease was already too far throughout her body. Right before their eyes, Pete and Andy could see her skin paling, turning a sickly shade of grey throughout the night. When the boys returned around midnight, Tori was able to fill them in. Patrick and Joe joined Andy and Pete in taking care of Ann Hurley, although there wasn't much any of them could do. By morning, they had all decided it would be best to leave Andy alone with his mother, before the disease took her completely.

It was only an hour later when two shots rang out through the house. They were all sitting in the kitchen, Tori with her son on her lap, clutching him as if she might lose him, with her husband standing behind her. His hooked arm rested against her shoulder, the cold metal a sharp reminder of how vulnerable they all were. Joe and Pete shared a knowing glance, and that was when Andy walked out the bedroom door.

When he lifted his head, he nodded once as if to say, there. It's done. Then, he walked past all of them, out the front door, and down the porch steps, the pistol still clutched in his hand. Pete gently touched Joe's arm and walked towards the bedroom. Joe followed, and Tori stood with her son to lead him away from the violence. Patrick stood rooted behind the chair that Tori and Aaron had occupied, his mind a complete blank. Yesterday, this house was their sanctuary. This house was safe. They hadn't seen zombies in weeks, months even. Yet somehow, Ann had been bitten and thought it best to hide it from all of them.

Pete and Joe carried her out of the room, a trail of fresh blood dripping behind them. She had two holes in her head, where her son had shot her. Twice, just to be sure. Andy was always efficient. Patrick stared until they were out the front door with her, then finally he moved. He walked to the sink in the kitchen, reaching under it into the cupboards for the bottle of bleach they had found in a recent raid. With his hook, he carefully snatched a hand towel from a drawer, and then stalked back to the bedroom. He pulled the stained pillow case from the pillow on the bed and soaked it in bleach, balling it up and setting it to the side while he got to work scrubbing the floor. He made it all the way to the doorway before a pair of bare feet stopped in front of him. He stared at the toes for a moment, and then slowly looked up, surprised by the tears in his own eyes. His wife looked down at him calmly, then kneeled down in front of him and pulled him into her arms. He dropped the towel beside her and clutched her desperately, both of them sobbing into each other's shoulders.

Pain was not new to them. Sorrow was like an old friend. Patrick had felt pain when his best friend had been forced to saw off his hand, leaving him unable to play music anymore. Tori had known sorrow when she watched her little brother die right in front of her; his brains and blood splattering over her legs. They had all experienced hell in their own ways. Unfortunately for them, the outbreak that had started this mess almost thirteen years ago was only the beginning.