Promise Me Forever

by Paige Weaver

  I grabbed the strap of her backpack and pulled her away from the building. “I’m getting you out, Keely. I promise.”

  She shook her head again but there was no time to argue. With a clenched jaw, I let her go and led the way down between the two buildings. All I wanted to do was find the two men who had touched her and Cat and send them to an early grave. Put the motherfuckers six feet under with holes in their heads.

  But I reigned in my temper and walked at a leisure pace, leading Cat, Keely, and Tate.

  We emerged on the sidewalk. Across the street, people were gathered. They wore faded clothes and homespun knit hats. Children ran through the maze of excited adults, squealing and laughing. I hadn’t seen the men’s leader but Tate said he was older. That’s okay. My gun wasn’t picky and neither was I.

  I kept my head tilted just right to hide my face under my cowboy hat, but I kept a sharp eye out for trouble. I made sure Cat and Keely stayed behind me and Tate remained calm. My body was wound tight. My senses were heightened. I was ready for anything.

  But hell was about to find me first.

  We passed what looked like had been a diner before the EMP strike. The words ‘Burger and Shakes’ were painted on the big picture window in front. They were faded now, some of the letters almost gone. Through the filth-coated glass, I could see chairs stacked on tables and movement in the room. I stared straight ahead and kept walking. Casual. Relaxed. Making sure Cat and Keely were well protected behind me.

  Gavin appeared up ahead. He was at the corner of the last building, near the entrance cut into Hilltop’s wall. Walking over, he slid the gate open, ready for us to make a quick getaway. I figured we could reach him in ten minutes flat.

  But that was not going to happen.

  An itch started between my shoulder blades. The kind that had kept me alive since the world ended and World War III started. The hair on the back of my neck rose. I heard a door open and a little bell ding. The sound of boots shuffling on the sidewalk came from behind me.

  “I heard we had visitors,” a deep voice boomed. “Welcome to Hilltop.”

  Shit. We were in trouble.

  Chapter Two

  Cash

  My hand clenched around the shotgun. I recognized the voice. I had heard it another time. Another place.

  Slowly, I turned.

  Five men stood under a tattered, storefront awning. They had malice in their eyes and guns in their hands.

  Cat stood in front of me with Keely beside her and Tate not far away. I grabbed hold of Cat’s backpack then Keely’s arm and pulled them behind me. Tate stood still, his gaze glued to the men.

  I spotted the leader right away. He was older than the others. More distinguished looking. His dark hair was peppered with gray and his cheeks were covered with a thick, wiry beard. From the way he stood, to the look in his eyes, he exuded power and control.

  He hadn’t changed much from the last time I saw him. He was the same man who had raided Ryder’s ranch. Leader of a militia. Cocky sonofabitch nut. He had threatened my friend, Maddie, and ordered his men to take all of our supplies and food. We were left hungry for weeks. Now I knew where it had all gone – to feed the town of Hilltop.

  “Welcome,” he said again. “I’m Frankie. And you are?”

  “We’re leaving,” I said in a deadly voice.

  The old man didn’t look happy with my attitude but played nice and smiled. “I hate to see you leave. We’re always happy to get visitors here. Especially young Americans like yourselves.”

  Tate snorted, widening his stance. “That why you’ve got a wall around your town? Because you’re happy to get visitors?”

  Frankie frowned and turned his gaze on the kid. “Watch yourself, boy.”

  Cat stepped out from behind me before I could stop her. “Why don’t you watch yourself, you sonofabitch. No one threatens my brother.”

  Frankie chuckled and ran a hand over his bearded chin, glancing up and down her. “Hello there. You look mighty familiar. What’s your name, darling?”

  I pulled Cat behind me again, rage pulsating through me. “Her name is none of your damn business.”

  Frankie smiled wider and started strolling toward us. “Don’t get your panties in a wad, young man. I’m just asking. Women are worshipped around here. They will bring forth a new generation of Americans. We hold them in the utmost regard.”

  I eased my finger over the trigger of my gun. “I don’t care who the fuck you worship. It won’t be her.”

  The smile died on his lips. Anger flared in his eyes. He stared at me hard, his hand hovering over his own gun. “I don’t like the tone of your voice, young man. Sounded like a threat to me.”

  Fuck. This is not what I wanted. Not with Tate, Keely, and Cat here. But I wasn’t going to back down and show weakness.

  I tilted my head, staring at him under my hat. “Yeah, guess it was. You better throw us out of town for threatening you and all.”

  Frankie snorted. “You think I’m a fool, boy?”

  I shrugged. “Well, maybe.”

  His face grew red and his hands clenched. I was wondering what were our chances of making a run for it when two men strolled out of the building beside him. One was thin, average height. The other was huge, his head shaved.

  The thin one was walking toward Frankie. “Hey, boss, we got…” His voice trailed off when he looked up and saw us. “What the fuck?”

  Malice ripped through me when his eyes slid over Cat.

  “Well, well. Hello little bird. Hellooo.”

  Cat grabbed the back of my jacket. “No. No,” she whispered in a terrified voice. She was shaking, her hands gripping at me in fear.

  Keely let out a soft cry and started backing away slowly, whimpering and hunching her shoulders as if invisible hands were hurting her.

  That’s when I knew. These were the fuckers. The two men that hurt Cat and Keely.

  Time seemed to stop. My heart rate slowed down. I could hear each breath I took. Each time I drew air into my lungs. A roaring started in my ears, blocking out other noises. My vision zeroed in on the thin man.

  Him first.

  I dropped my backpack and reached back, shoving Cat to the ground. She hit the concrete hard, dropping the shotgun. The bag on her back took the blunt of the fall. I couldn’t worry if she was hurt. I needed her safe.

  Tate grabbed Keely and pushed her down. With them out of the line of fire, I swung my gun up. At the same time, Tate pulled the pistol from his waistband and another one from the back of his jeans.

  “Shit!” the thin man roared, reaching for his gun.

  But I was faster.

  I pulled the trigger. The gun exploded and kicked back against my shoulder. The blast was loud as the shot left the chamber.

  “OWWW!” the thin man screamed as the pellets found their home in his shoulder with a sickening thud. He fell back a step and clasped the wounds. Blood ran down his arm.

  He lifted his hand and saw the blood. “You fucker!” He lifted his gun and fired.

  “NOOOOO!”

  The scream came from behind me. Cat.

  Shrugging out of her pack, she scrambled to her feet and dived in front of me. I reached out to wrap my arm around her waist and yank her back but it was too late.

  The bullet found her instead of me.

  Chapter Three

  Cash

  Cat jerked as the lead buried in her body. Her legs folded. The back of her head hit the concrete as she fell.

  Keely screamed and crawled to her on all fours. I saw the blood on Cat’s jacket and lost it.

  Roaring, I opened fire on the men. Fury made me pull the trigger again and again, spraying lead through the air.

  Blasts came from beside me. Tate. He released a volley of bullets from the two pistols he held, looking like Billy the Kid in an old timey flick.

  The men returned fire, some dropping to the ground for cover. The air filled with the sulphur smell of gunpowder. It filled my nostrils and tast
ed like metal. Smoke rose from the barrels. I squinted against it and pumped my shotgun then fired.

  Two men went down. Another ran for cover behind a building. The kid and I were holding our own but more men were racing toward us. We needed help.

  And it came in the form of Gavin.

  He appeared out of nowhere, riding up on the horse like the hero in a Spaghetti Western. His dark hair was tossed wildly in the wind and his eyes blazed down on the men. Raising his bow, he let an arrow fly.

  I fired off another shot then dropped down beside Cat, letting Tate and Gavin take over. But before I could take care of her, a bullet whizzed by Keely’s head.

  “Gavin, get my sister out of here!” I shouted, ducking over Cat’s body when a shot hit the ground close to her.

  Gavin slung the bow to his back and turned his horse. With a firm kick to the ribs, he spurred it straight for Keely. Hooves thundered as he rushed toward her. When he was close enough, he leaned down and swooped her up. She kicked and screamed, terrified, but he held onto her and plunked her down in front of him in the saddle.

  “What about y’all?” he shouted, holding onto her with an arm around her waist and protecting her with his body.

  “Just get Keely as far away from here as possible!” I yelled, picking up Cat’s gun and tossing it to him. “Go!”

  He caught the gun with one hand and gave a firm nod. Digging his heels into the horse’s sides, he swung around. The gelding shot off, its eyes rolling back in its head with fear. They headed toward the opened gate, traveling at a full gallop. Gavin kept an arm around my sister, holding her in front of him. When a man appeared, racing toward the entrance to close the gate, Gavin raised the gun and fired a shot. The man dived, narrowly missing getting hit. With the gate cleared, Gavin spurred the horse to go faster. They flew past the gate and under the constructed wall. Within seconds, they disappeared among the abandoned cars and overgrown trees outside Hilltop.

  I could trust Gavin to get Keely somewhere safe and not turn around for me. He and I made a pact once. If we were ever in a sticky situation, we would do whatever we needed to do to protect our family, even if it meant one of us might be killed.

  With them gone, I picked Cat up in my arms and started running. We needed cover. Some kind of shelter. Jesus, she was so limp. And something warm soaked into my jacket. Fuck, this is not good. I tried not to freak, my mind going a million miles a minute. Bullets were ricocheting all around us. There. A little bistro table set in front of an abandoned building. It would have to do.

  “Tate, get your ass over here!” I yelled, turning the table onto its side and laying Cat behind it.

  Tate ran for us, firing at the men. They answered with bullets. The rat-a-tat-tat rang in my ear.

  When he slid to a stop beside us, he looked down at Cat and whispered, “No. No. Save her.”

  “I will,” I answered, leaning over her. But shit, she looked bad. Blood was pooling under her and made her jacket a sticky, red mess. I wanted to scream and cry and shake her until she woke up, but first things first. We needed to get out of here.

  I leaned over and tried the door of the abandoned building beside us. Locked. Damn. We couldn’t make a run for the town wall without being a moving target.

  I was looking for another option when bullets blasted the table. Ducking, I emptied my chamber over the edge, taking out a few more men.

  Tate was still frozen, staring down at Cat. His long, shaggy hair covered his eyes but I could still see his fear. His sister had been shot. She might be dying.

  “Tate!” I roared as bullets pinged around us. “Tate, get your shit together and shoot them!”

  He tightened his jaw and raised his guns. Bullets flew by him like he was invisible, but he didn’t even blink as the whizzing metal zipped by him. He just fired shot after shot.

  I fired my last bullet and tossed the gun aside. Looking down at Cat, I tried to keep the panic at bay but shit, it was hard.

  She had been hit somewhere in her midsection. Her skin was pale, her lips bloodless.

  “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

  I ripped open her jacket, looking for the wound. It wasn’t hard to find. A hole was in her left side, below her ribcage and above her hipbone.

  I put both of my hands over it and pressed down. Blood oozed between my fingers, coating my hand. When I saw that bullet hit her, I saw my life flash before my eyes. Now, I saw my life slipping away from me.

  I pressed harder on the wound and looked up at her face.

  “Don’t you do it, Cat. Don’t you fuckin’ die on me!” I yelled.

  I yanked my jacket off and bundled it into a ball. Ignoring the sticky blood on my hands, I pressed the jacket against the wound.

  Her eyes fluttered open. There was peace in them and acceptance. She was dying.

  “No.” I shook my head, tears filling my vision. “You can’t.”

  But her eyes started to close anyway.

  Anger filled me as I pressed on her wound. It was their fault. They had put a bullet in her. They had done this to the woman I loved.

  I looked up over the edge of the table. The thin one who had called Cat ‘little bird’ was crouched low, running for cover. He was the one who had shot her. The one who had tried to touch her and take what was mine. A low, predatory sound erupted from my chest.

  His arm dangled uselessly at his side. Blood dripped from his fingers. He was shooting with his other hand but his shots were going all over the place near Tate’s feet.

  I reached for my shotgun. My hands were shaking and slippery with Cat’s blood but they gripped the metal easily.

  With trembling fingers, I reached into my jeans pocket and pulled out the only shell I had left. I loaded it into the chamber and pumped the gun. Coldness turned my blood to ice. I became distant, unemotional. Deadly.

  Lifting the gun to my shoulder, I aimed over the table. The man was running toward the building where Frankie disappeared. I had seconds. I squinted down the barrel, taking perfect aim. But Tate beat me to it.

  He pulled the trigger. The bullet hit the doorframe above the skinny man’s head. Wood splintered. He yelped and dove inside.

  The shot must have jolted Cat awake. She cried out and opened her eyes.

  I set the shotgun down and leaned over her. “Cat? Babe? Talk to me.”

  But she didn’t. Her eyes started to close.

  I cupped her face and turned her head my direction. “Look at me, Cat. Stay awake,” I shouted over the gunfire.

  When she didn’t, I pressed down on her wound again, using my jacket as a compression.

  “Tate! We need to get out of here!”

  I grabbed my shotgun and tossed it to him. He caught it mid-air as I gathered Cat in my arms.

  Her head lolled back against my arm, her dark hair falling over it. She was in bad shape but we needed to find better cover. I just didn’t know where that would be.

  But my luck was about to change.

  The sound of an engine came from outside the town walls. It was loud and clunky, shaking the earth and filling my ears with a sound that was foreign. A running vehicle was a phenomenon when the EMP had fried most of them.

  A second later, a large truck burst through the open gate. Roaring into town, it flew up on a curb and bounced over a neatly trimmed shrub. A mailbox was next. Nothing was safe from the truck obliterating everything in its path as it sped toward us.

  It was in full throttle, heading straight our way. At the last second, the driver jerked the wheel to the right. Tires shrieked. Rubber burned. The truck skidded sideways then slammed to a stop in front of us. The passenger door flew open.

  “Get in!”

  Hilltop’s preacher, David, was leaning across the seat, motioning us in the truck. I didn’t hesitate. I gathered Cat in my arms and ran.

  As soon as I reached the pickup, I climbed in with Cat in my arms. She moaned when I settled in the middle of the seat with her in my lap.

  David didn’t ask what happened to
her. He yelled at Tate. “Get in, son!”

  Tate dived for the truck, dodging a hail of bullets.

  “Where’s the rest of your group?” David shouted.

  “They got out!” Tate exclaimed, slamming the door closed. “Go!”

  David hit the gas, spinning the truck into a fishtail. Shrapnel sprayed the side of the pickup. Tate grabbed the leather handle dangling from the roof and held on.

  “Hold on, kids!” David bellowed. The pickup shot forward.

  We bounced over curbs and took out a parking sign. I held onto Cat tightly. Her blood soaked into my jacket more.

  “How is she?” David yelled over the roar of the engine, flooring the gas and heading straight for the torn off gate.

  I looked down at Cat. She was pale, her skin almost translucent, her lips white.

  “Not good,” I rasped, swallowing. “There’s blood everywhere.”

  “Where’s she shot?” David asked, keeping his eyes on the road.

  I didn’t answer. I couldn’t.

  “Cash! Where’s she shot?” Tate yelled over the sound of the wind whipping in through the windows. “We gotta know.”

  “Side,” I croaked out. “She was shot in the side.”

  The girl I swore wasn’t my type was in my arms dying.

  Chapter Four

  Cat

  “Hold her down.”

  “Fuck. I can’t do this.”

  “Yeah, you can. Hold her down, boy.”

  The voices washed over me, increasing the pain in my head. I tried opening my eyes but the agony was too much. I just wanted to return to the darkness where there was no pain, no hurt.

  I started to drift away but long fingers wrapped around my biceps and pressed down. Someone else grabbed my ankles and held them firmly against the mattress under me.

  “You got her really good? She’s gonna fight if she wakes up.”

  “Just do it,” someone growled.

  Pain exploded in my side and spread, moving like wildfire through my body. Burning me. Slicing me. Poisoning me.