My gun is raised and I skulk through the inside of the house. It’s apparent that a fight is happening in another room, but I refuse to charge in half-cocked. As I waltz through the hallways and ensure that there is nobody able to sneak up on me, I peek around the corner and into the room where Hayden is brawling with three much larger men.
The second my head peeks around the corner, he notices my presence and his eyes tell me to leave, but I refuse. Hayden’s only advantage is his speed and strength. When one man grabs for him, he dodges and sets himself up to evade another blow. He is doing well and I am distracted by his smooth, flawless, motions. Distracted enough to not notice a person behind me until it is far too late.
A cool hand wraps around my throat and an arm winds around my waist, lifting me from the floor. The gun in my hand is trapped below the man’s arm and is dangerously close to escaping my grasp. My capture is enough to distract Hayden long enough to receive a dangerous blow to the skull. “Hayden,” I try to scream, but the grip on my throat tightens and nothing escapes but a strangled gasp.
Fear fills my chest and I realize that I may be the reason that Hayden and I will be killed. If I had listened to him, we wouldn’t be in this situation. I jerk my body to the side in hopes of loosening the grasp enough for me to take a shot, but my movements do the opposite and the man tightens his hold and my gun clatters to the floor and is rendered useless. My throat burns because of the grip of the man and blood rushes to my head—or possibly a lack of blood flows to my head, causing dizziness.
Black spots fill my vision and my throat tightens. I look at Hayden and find him staring at me with wide, helpless eyes. I close mine, attempting to clear my vision from black dots, but instead, they worsen.
An eerie tone fills my ears and I realize that it’s coming from Hayden’s lips. “Let her go,” he says. An odd feeling flows through me and I fall to the ground. The dizziness fades and I reach for my Glock. I vaguely recognize the man’s words before I point the gun upward without any hesitation and pull the trigger, rolling to the side to avoid the free-falling mass. “You are one of them,” he had said.
I don’t take the time to contemplate the life I just stole, but instead I turn my gun to one of the other men and pull the trigger. I’m a great shot and know that I didn’t miss my mark, so I watch as Hayden jumps to his feet, and in motions too fast for me to track, takes another man to the ground.
As Hayden is on the ground finishing the third man, the final one rushes to him and snakes an arm around his throat in a chokehold. I know the danger of this position and if not relieved, Hayden will be helpless. Before I can line a shot, the final man hides behind Hayden. All vital organs and kill shots are concealed and Hayden can’t do anything from his knees.
“You thought you stood a chance against us, girl?” The man asks. It’s the first I have heard any of them speak. His brown eyes are hooded and speech is slurred. I wonder if he suffers from one of the many diseases Mary listed earlier.
“I still believe we do,” I admit, though I am beginning to question myself. The one person I trust is caught in a chokehold and I can’t do anything about it.
“I could snap this boys neck in less than a second, and you can do nothing about it. Watch me.” But I don’t watch.
When the man moves his arm just barely, the corner of his head is exposed behind Hayden’s and I pull the trigger. I know I am an excellent shot. I know that I have never missed my mark, and such a skill is one beneficial to our situation. The man behind Hayden falls backward and I tilt my head and allow my arm to fall to my side.
After making sure he’s incapacitated, I look at Hayden and find him still on his knees, staring at me in wonder. I can’t understand the expression, but he springs to his feet and rushes toward me. I’m tempted to take a small step backward but instead hold my ground. Hayden reaches a finger under my chin and forces me to look at him in his eyes. As always, they draw my attention and cause my heart to skip a beat. How can two orbs be so brilliant and beautiful—just like the stars.
“You saved my life,” Hayden says as if it’s difficult to believe.
“And you saved mine a few times, as well,” I retort. Before I can fathom what’s happening, I’m wrapped in an embrace that I would have never expected. Hayden’s arms are firm and warm. He doesn’t squeeze too hard, but doesn’t allow his arms to hand limp around my back. I force myself to return the embrace and we stand in the position for a moment. As much as I enjoy the nearness, it grows increasingly awkward due to my lack of clothing.
“We need to go,” I whisper, biting my bottom lip.
He simply nods his head and leads us out of the door and into the car with our newfound partners.
*****
Chapter 23
When the adrenaline finally runs out, I am able to comprehend what I had done. I killed three men as ruthlessly as they killed innocent people, but I don’t feel remorse or regret. I am thrilled that I did such a thing and the feeling scares me. Feeling satisfaction from taking a life is a terrible thing, though I can’t control the quickening of my heart of sweating of my palms when I think about it. I can’t control my urge to kill again.
“We need to stop for supplies,” Hayden says. I almost forgot about my unclothed state, but once reminded, I wrap my arms around my knees again. I can imagine that Mary is doing the same from the back seat, but I don’t turn my attention to her. Hayden and I found her sister in the house before we left and there wasn’t enough left to show Mary. The men worked quickly when attaining food and we couldn’t allow Mary to see her sister. She hasn’t said much more than an irrelevant fact here or there. It seems to be her way of coping.
I am fortunate enough to have a new pair of boots, but Mary and Ross have nothing more than their undergarments. We are lucky that it is a warm enough day to survive without clothes. Lately, the weather has been unpredictable and seasons are irrelevant. In the middle of the summer it has snowed two feet one day and then been too hot to be outdoors the next. It’s my belief that the rain has affected the climate in irreversible ways, but we don’t have proof to support the claim.
Hayden pulls to the side of the road near a small town and we exit the car. Mary and I stand near one another, both uncomfortable to be in the same situation. “I don’t want you two to be alone. I’m staying with Jo Leigh and you two can find clothes for Mary,” Hayden orders. I look into Mary’s sea green eyes for confirmation, but she doesn’t seem to mind either way.
Hayden and I strut through the street and I grip my pistol. Holding the weapon gives me a thrill that it had never given me before, but I don’t admit to the feeling. I will never admit to more than remorse for my actions. “So how did you know that they’d be there?” I ask Hayden.
He shakes his head and continues forward, making his way toward a hunting and camping store. There will surely be plenty of appropriate apparel in such a store. “It doesn’t matter.”
“How did you know?”
Hayden sighs and stops walking as soon as we break the threshold. “On my journey west, I came across one of the groups of cannibals. They were less deteriorated than these because they had just begun their ways. I was invited to join and I accepted, not yet knowing that they planned to eat human flesh. I was given the locations of all of the different groups and thought it was fascinating that there were so many of them.”
I cover my mouth, sick to my stomach. “You ate human flesh?”
“Of course not,” Hayden scoffed. “I figured out what they were doing and left. Now they are all much stronger and more inhumane than before. They all know of me now that I escaped one of their grasps just as they will all know of you now that you have killed some of their own.”
I gulp. “Will they come after me?” I ask.
“They may,” Hayden admits, taking a step closer. I am so mesmerized by our conversation I almost didn’t notice our nearness. “But they won’t get to you. I won’t let it happen.”
I exhale shakily and tak
e a step closer to him involuntarily. It’s almost as if my body moves on its own accord. His eyes are what typically draws me closer to him; the stars and the galaxies that swirl within his irises mesmerize me so greatly that I find it difficult to concentrate when around him. The longer we are together and the closer we become, I crave his touch more than before. When did these feelings blossom from within me and why haven’t I noticed them before now?
Hayden looks trapped in place, unsure if he should move or take a step closer. His charcoal eyes depict concern and uncertainty, but they flash something else, as well; they flash the same desire that I am struggling to control. His eyes flick downward and over my body and I stand utterly still, almost forgetting that I am hardly wearing any clothing. My breath catches in my throat and an animalistic expression appears on Hayden’s face. When a well-built man who is over six feet tall wears that expression, I should be frightened, but I am anything but.
With one more hesitant step forward, our faces are mere inches apart. I could close the distance in an instant just as he could, nut instead, he takes a step back.
“Find some clothes,” Hayden says in a raspy voice. I furrow my brows and look at the ground beneath my feet. It is filthy and covered in leaves, but I find that irrelevant. What did I do? I take a deep breath and attempt to pass Hayden to look through the store, but he grabs my upper arm with a firm grip and I turn to look at him. “I’m not touching you until you are clothed,” he says before releasing my arm and walking in the other direction.
I look over myself and bite my bottom lip. Was Hayden trying to be a gentleman and let me down with a chivalrous excuse? I walk through the store and search for something in my size, which is not difficult to find. Before the apocalypse, I would have never dared to wear camouflage in public, but that’s one of the most efficient things to wear these days. Bright colors stand out, but camo isn’t noticeable in the least.
I tear a long-sleeve black shirt from a rack and throw it over my filthy body. Upon spotting a thick camouflage jacket, I tie it around my waste and grab a few other dark-colored shirts. I throw on a pair of thick cargo pants and take another just in case. On a shelf in the back of the store, I notice a large, multi compartment camping backpack and rush to grab it. My bug out bag was somehow lost in the commotion, so all my stored food, water, clothes and medical supplies are long gone. My boots remained untouched, but our bags were gone.
As I search through the store, I find a couple of water bottles and granola bars hidden behind some other items on a shelf. I wonder if someone hid them at some point and planned to come back for them. Because the items are still here, I can only assume that the person who hid them had died.
I finish packing my bag with a pot, some plastic water bottles and first aid equipment. I shove a few other items into the bag, including ammunition and hand sanitizer, but the necessities are food, water, and clothes. The store is a pigsty of epic proportions, but I am thrilled to have found some useful items. I throw my bag over my shoulder and strut to the store entrance. I hear Hayden behind me but don’t bother to turn around as I exit fully clothed.
If he doesn’t want me, I won’t push myself onto him. Relationships are meaningless in the apocalypse anyways.
*****
Chapter 24
For the next few hours of driving, Ross and Hayden are up front while Mary and I are in the backseat. She grips my hand firmly the entire ride, either because she is scared or because she needs the comfort that physical contact offers. Every once in a while, she will utter an irrelevant fact about a city that we are passing or something that she spots out the window, but we never respond.
We passed another checkpoint without any problems, but I hold my breath as we pass the town. There is no sign of life, but they are there. It’s just a matter of being seen. Two checkpoints are remaining and we have almost arrived at another. As we near it, my muscles tense and I locate my gun, which sits at my feet, unloaded. All my ammunition was lost in my last bug out bag, so I am left with only the ammo I collected from the hunting supply store, which wasn’t much.
“How much experience do you guys have with these cannibals?” Ross questions as he stares at the map with the locations of the cannibals pinpointed.
“I had met them before they were cannibals and I kept the map,” Hayden says seriously, not explaining.
“You knew them?” Ross asks.
“As I said,” Hayden repeats. “When I knew them, they were just a series of groups around the country. I left when I realized something was wrong and I’ve been on their hit list ever since.”
“Does that mean we are on their list now?” Mary whispers. I’m sure that Hayden doesn’t hear her, so I respond.
“You and Ross will be okay. You escaped, but you didn’t cause any harm. They probably won’t even remember you.”
“What about you and Hayden?” She asks. I was hoping she wouldn’t.
“We will be on their hit list as soon as word gets out that we killed some of their men.” Hayden responds for me. I notice that he says “we killed some of their men.” But it wasn’t a team effort. I killed three and he incapacitated one. I am the murderer, not him. He doesn’t need to cover for me.
Before I can elaborate, Mary looks at me straight in the eyes and nods. “Good.”
Would she have been so open to three men’s deaths if it weren’t for her sister? Because I would have never imagined myself being a murderer until I was captured and hung from a metal pipe. And even now I have a difficult time believing what I had done. But I feel no remorse, which is even harder to accept.
I look out the window as Ross says something else that is lost to my ears. I notice that we have already passed the second to last checkpoint. There isn’t another until right before we reach Charlie, so we are in the clear for a few hours. “We should stop and get gas,” I say. Someone else was speaking—possibly Hayden or Ross—but they stop when they hear my voice. Hayden looks at the gas gauge and sighs. After what happened the last time we stopped for gas, nobody wants to stop now, but we know we must.
Hayden pulls to the shoulder of the interstate in between a few cars and turns to Mary and me. “Stay in here and we can find some gas,” he says, grabbing the hose that he must have kept from last time.
“Like hell,” I argue, jerking the hose from his hand. “You went last time and you will stay here this time. I’ll take Ross to help.”
“I already told you that I’m not leaving you,” he says firmly.
“I have a gun and as I recall, I saved your bacon last time something went down.”
Hayden widens his eyes. “I saved yours first,” he argues.
I laugh bitterly. “Yeah, after you left me in the car. Stay here and I’m going. If you follow me, I’m walking the rest of the way. And that means I’ll have to walk right through cannibal central.”
I don’t give him time to reply before I open my door and drag the long, clear hose outside the car with me. Ross takes a moment and it looks like Hayden is speaking to him quietly inside the car. I look at Mary and she stared at him with wide eyes full of surprise. I jerk Ross’s door open and Hayden stops speaking immediately. “Come on, Ross. We’re going to make this quick.”
Ross jumps out of the car holding a large gas jug. It seems that the only thing we lost in the cannibals’ den was my bugout bag. We still have everything else that was in the car—including the gas jug and the siphoning tool. As we grow further from the car, I turn to Ross. “What did he say to you?” I ask, slightly irritated. Something about Ross had rubbed me the wrong way from the start, but I had never made an effort to learn his story.
Ross clears hi throat and rubs his hand down the scruff on his face, evidently uncertain about what to say to me. “He just wants me to look out for you.”
“What did he say,” I repeat.
With a deep breath, Ross divulges. “He stated that if you got hurt, he would kill me. If I let someone else touch you, he would kill me. If I came back wit
hout you, he would kill me. If shots were fired and I didn’t take a bullet for you, he would kill me. He must get off on thinking about me dead.”
I huff and shake my head as we approach a car. I reach inside and pop the gas cap before sticking the siphon into the tank and opening the lid of the gas canister. “I don’t understand his problem.” I hold the pipe between my lips and give a hard suck before peeling it away from my mouth and placing the tube in the gas canister. Gas immediately begins flowing.
“It looks like you’ve done this before,” Ross comments.
I look at him and shake my head. “Are you telling me in the three months since universal civilization died, you didn’t siphon gas from anything?” He shook his head. “You’re lucky. I’ve swallowed my fair share of gas and it’s not something you ever want to do.”
“Why are you traveling east?” He asks.
I want to act civil and tell him my reason, but for some reason, I have a difficult time trusting him. He’s done nothing wrong, yet something about him causes an icy chill to seep down my spine and alert every nerve in my body to beware. “Why are you traveling with us?” I ask.
“You saved me and I have nobody else,” he responds immediately. I don’t question the authenticity of the statement, but I still find myself questioning him.
“Have you been traveling alone?”
“I don’t have anybody left. My family died. My friends died. I used to travel with a girl, but she disappeared and I can only assume she’s dead.” For once, Ross’s tone doesn’t cause me to question him. In fact, I feel sorry for him. I lost all my friends before the apocalypse and then some more afterward. I lost my family—other than Charlie of course. I can’t imagine going through this completely alone. I’ve almost always had at least one person by my side.
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