by Dia Cole
Oh, no. The cat must’ve injured itself running from me.
My heartbeat sped up. My mission was more critical now. If I didn’t catch it, the zombies would come for it. Like sharks, they seemed able to smell fresh blood a mile away.
“Here, kitty, kitty,” I sang in a soothing voice. I reached under the car and grabbed the rust-colored tabby by its scruff before it could take off again.
Aha.
Feeling relieved and triumphant, I dragged the cat close to my chest. My tattered jeans and pink hoodie now carried the faint syrupy scent of radiator fluid, but who cared about appearances these days?
All my attention was focused on the poor thing quivering in my arms. “It’s okay, kitty boy. I’ve got you now.”
Initially, the cat struggled, but as I stroked its emaciated body, it sagged against my chest.
Poor thing is starving.
I stroked it from its pink nose to the white tip of its tail. Although dried blood matted the fur on its haunches, I could find no open wounds.
That’s good news.
Soon, its motorboat purrs drowned out the sound of the zombies outside.
A glaring light shone in my face. A deep voice rumbled, “What are you doing?”
I held up one hand to shield my eyes. “Being blinded by a soldier with a Maglite.”
The light clicked off and Sergeant Mike Williams’s muscle-pack frame stepped into view. Dressed in camo, he looked every inch the special forces soldier he was, from his dark close-cropped hair to his combat boots. He strode toward me with a kind of lethal grace that brought to mind a large panther.
I glared over his broad shoulder at my supposed lookout.
Trish mouthed, “Sorry,” and retreated in the direction of her brother.
I cursed under my breath and slowly raised my gaze to meet Mike’s penetrating stare. As always, the sight of his gunmetal gray eyes, fringed by long dark lashes, took my breath away.
His sensuous lips pressed together in a firm line as he looked down at the cat burrowing into the opening of my hoodie. “You know Dominic will tear me a new one if I let you bring another animal back to the safe house.”
I stood up slowly, not wanting to jar the animal. “But this is probably the last cat in Saguaro Valley, maybe even the entire state of Arizona.”
Mike’s gaze narrowed. “You said that the last time. And the time before that. Put the cat down and help me find the engine parts we need.”
I snorted. “I wouldn’t know a catalytic converter from a can opener.” Mike knew very well that there was only one reason I went on missions—to save domesticated animals from the undead. “If we don’t rescue this cat, he will either starve to death or be eaten by the end of the week.” I buried my face in the cat’s soft fur. My chin rubbed against something around its neck—a thin collar similar to the faux leather one I wore.
I read the name on the metal tag. “Tango. His name is Tango and he’s coming with us.”
“Is that so?” Mike took a step closer, the heat of his body invading my personal space.
Although he was at least a foot taller than my five-foot-four height and outweighed me by at least a hundred pounds, I stood my ground. “Yes.”
He scowled. “Last time I checked, I was in charge of this mission. And we are not bringing it back. We have our hands full just keeping everyone fed as it is.”
That much was true. Mike and the rest of his squad worked night and day to keep our ragtag group alive. Sometimes I wondered why the soldiers didn’t just leave. No one would blame them if they did. Their original mission to rescue us civilians went up in smoke the day the helicopter from the Army base failed to show. But in the two months since the missed rendezvous, the soldiers never abandoned us.
Just like I’ll never abandon an animal in need.
I straightened my shoulders and clutched the cat closer. “Tango wouldn’t be any trouble, and you know how much Rosie would like him.”
His expression softened infinitesimally.
It was probably wrong to use the little girl to justify rescuing the animal, but I’d do whatever it took to save it. I couldn’t explain it logically, but suddenly the cat represented hope to me. Maybe because it was only the fourth domesticated animal I’d seen since the world went to hell or maybe it was because the cat’s amber eyes were similar to those of a puppy I’d once nursed back to health. Of course, that had been back before the law mandating the slaughter of all dogs had gone into effect.
A shard of grief pierced my heart as I touched the dog collar around my neck. The collar was all I had left of my sweet Sasha. There was some poetic justice in the fact the people who condemned her to die were probably zombies now like most everyone else in the world.
“Let it go, Eden,” Mike said, drawing me back to the present. He stepped closer and the woodsy scent of his aftershave played havoc with my senses.
My breath caught in my lungs. I licked my lips knowing his gaze tracked the movements of my tongue. “No.”
His expression hardened. “I’m ordering you to put it down.”
Damn his orders.
I lifted my chin. “I’m not leaving without the cat.”
Mike’s nostrils flared. “Are you challenging me?”
“Yes.” My heart hammered in my chest. I was playing with fire now and had no idea how the dangerous soldier would respond.
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