Will walked up with two bottles of water and eyed the feast, then grunted.
“I feel like I could eat all of our beef jerky in one sitting,” he said, dropping to a seat next to me.
“Do that, and I might have to kill you,” I muttered, reaching for a bag and tearing it open, then offering him the first piece.
He set the flashlights down on the ground so that the light was shining around our feet—and therefore low enough that I hoped no one else would be able to see it—and threw an arm around me before he reached into the bag.
In the end, we didn’t eat as much as I thought we both expected, both of us too tired—and too nervous—to have much of an appetite. Before long we were turning to put together a bed out of the blankets we’d brought with us. I spread one across the ground, then, after thinking about it, doubled it up. It would be narrower and we’d have to sleep closer together, but it would also be softer—and a soft bed sounded like it might be the best thing in the entire world right now. Two more blankets would serve as coverings, and the final blanket made up our pillow.
I shot Will a quick grin, silently acknowledging how ridiculous the whole thing was, and then reached over and turned off the flashlights. We crawled into the makeshift bed in the dark. Will lied down first and I followed, turned my back to him, and then scooted backward until I was against him, his arm coming naturally around my waist.
It had been too long since I’d had anyone else in my bed, and the presence of a very large and not unhandsome man up against me sent butterflies flitting through my veins. But I pushed them away, unwilling to allow them free rein here, and turned my mind back to what we were doing.
Will must have been thinking along the same lines, because he squirmed a bit, then abruptly started talking, his voice too loud in the darkness.
“So, you know about what’s happened out there, don’t you? What was it? What’s done this? And is it going to happen again?”
“If you don’t lower your voice, you’re going to draw enough people to us that we’re not going to have to worry about another attack,” I joked.
Then, I started telling him what I knew. The tip I’d had from a friend online about that chat room in the dark web. The cult I’d discovered—and the conversation I’d read. The days of fear as I’d tried to get help, and the fact that no one would listen to me—while I lived in absolute terror of that very cult figuring out what I knew and where I lived and coming after me. My uncle. The bunker. Simone. Her knowledge. And finding out about it just before we watched all those people die on TV. Heard them die on the radio.
“It’s called VXM,” I finally said. “It’s a sort of biochemical weapon that the Russians first designed. Now, freelance scientists make it. The thing is, it has a short half-life, which means it’s only… well, effective, I guess, for about a week. After that, it won’t do anything to people anymore, so that makes it safe. But there could be another attack, and with every attack—every time someone releases some new batch of VXM into the atmosphere or water source or something like that—it will kill again. The cult I told you about decided they were going to use it to bring on the end of the world. And we have no idea how much they have. Or how many attacks they’re planning.”
“Is this the end of the world, do you think?” he asked softly, his breath lifting the hair on my neck.
I shivered, and not just because of the feel of him breathing against my skin. The end of the world. I’d never thought I would be around to see it.
“If it is, then I guess that makes us some of the last people left,” I answered.
I closed my eyes and went to sleep before I could think too much about what that meant—for both the world, and for us.
Chapter 24
I woke up to a rush of noise and lights and movement, and the effect was immediate confusion in my brain. I exploded out of the nest of blankets, registering with some part of my mind that the warm, comforting presence that had been Will was already gone, and came to a crouching position several yards away, my hands up in front of my face and my eyes snapping around the circle of light.
Why, why, why hadn’t we slept with those guns we’d gone out of our way to steal? We had weapons to hand and were in a situation where we’d felt we needed to steal them to protect ourselves, yet we’d gone to bed without them anywhere close to us. I had no idea what the hell was going on, but I did know that we would have been in a better situation if we’d had weapons on us.
Immediately after that thought came far more important ones. Where was Will? And who the hell was attacking us? What was with all the noise and shouting—and what did they want?
Another quick scan of the circle answered both questions. There was more light now than there had been, courtesy of the sun starting to rise on the horizon, so at least I could see clearly.
It was about the only good thing.
Because Sally, Bruce, and Jameson had found us. They were still dressed in the same black outfits they’d worn before, and though they looked a bit worse for wear, now—like they’d actually run this entire way—they were definitely the same scummy people.
They also looked a whole lot angrier than the last time I’d seen them. Well, not Bruce, who had been absolutely furious the last time I saw him. But Sally was definitely out for blood. Her blue eyes were glittering in the beam of the flashlight, her lips pulled up into a snarl. Jameson just looked… the same as he’d always looked. Like a GI Joe wannabe who didn’t know where he was supposed to be or what he was supposed to do, but was very, very good at following orders and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if that was what his master told him to do.
Right now, his orders evidently included holding a knife to Will’s throat. Because that was exactly what he was doing. And he looked far too pleased with the situation for my liking, like he’d been waiting for exactly this opportunity for quite a while.
Terrific. If that was any indication, it meant he’d be even more likely to shove that knife into Will’s neck if Sally told him to. Or if Will made one wrong move.
My mind flew through some possibilities, none of them good. Evidently, my guess about where they were and how far ahead—or behind—we might be had been completely wrong. Then again, I might have been right last night. But we were the idiots who had decided it was okay to actually sleep. And wherever Sally and her gang had been, that had given them the time they'd needed to track our position and actually find us.
I didn’t know how they did it, because we’d taken a detour that should have thrown off anyone following us—and they had to have stolen a car or something like it to have caught up to us.
Honestly, that didn’t matter. The only thing that mattered was that they had found us. Hell, maybe they were just checking any points of light in the wilderness. God knew it wasn’t hard to pick out areas where people had fires or flashlights. And Will and I had turned ours on last night as we ate.
Dammit. Sloppy, sloppy, sloppy.
“So, you thought you could steal from us and then get away, huh?” Sally snarled, walking toward me with slow steps that I was sure were supposed to be incredibly menacing.
I mean, they were. Sort of. But they were also so dramatic that it was difficult to stop myself from laughing in that bad-things-are-happening-and-laughing-seems-appropriate way.
“We didn’t steal anything from you,” I snapped. “Unless you count stealing your reputations by escaping in the first place.”
No, it wasn’t smart. The woman had a gun pointed right at my head. But I’d never claimed to be level-headed in situations like this one. I had a very bad—and very consistent—habit of letting my mouth run away with me when I was in trouble.
Sally narrowed her eyes dangerously and cocked the trigger of the gun.
“Really, you think it’s a good idea to let your smart mouth run with you right now?”
“What do you want, Sally?” I asked bluntly. “We’re not causing you any trouble. We’re not even in your way. You want that town for yo
urselves? Have at it. We won’t even tell anyone we ever knew you. We’re nothing in the larger scheme of things. And yet you came all this way and found us in the middle of the night. It couldn’t have been an easy journey for you. There has to be a reason. I assume we have something that you desperately need. What is it? What do you want from us?”
I could see Will standing just past her shoulder, his eyes enormous, his lips pressed into a straight line as he tried to hold as still as possible. I guessed that having a knife to your neck would do that to you, but damn did I wish he was a little bit freer.
A little bit more available for tackling Sally, if she decided to start shooting.
“What do I want?” she asked, her tone suddenly too saccharine sweet, her face going slack as if she was actually thinking about it.
She put a finger up to her lip and tapped, considering the question for a moment.
“What do I want? Hmmm….”
Suddenly, she spun and pointed the gun at Will instead, and my heart dropped into my feet. My entire body grew tense as I tried desperately to figure out what I could do about this situation. I could run at her and tackle her, but there was a very good chance that the gun would go off the moment I did that, and with that gun currently aimed at Will, it would mean he was the one getting shot.
I could try to get her attention back on me. I could keep her busy while Will tried to come up with some sort of plan. At least if she was looking at me, I would be able to keep her occupied for a little bit. Give her a chance to cool off.
Give him a chance to actually put some effort into getting away from Jameson rather than just standing there like a lamb that was about to be slaughtered.
“You want to point the gun at Will instead of me? You sure about that?” I asked quickly. “After all, I’m the outsider here. I’m the one who came into your little club and ruined everything.”
She shot a quick blue-eyed glance over her shoulder at me, and I shrugged.
“Then again, I’m also the only one here who knows exactly who attacked us, and what they used to do it. I know what the symptoms are, and how that powder kills people. Maybe I even know what to do if they attack again. A way to survive. I don’t think you’re heroes, so I don’t think you want to find them and fight them. But I do think you’re the type that would want to survive the next attack. Right?”
She gave a sly, very frightening grin at that statement, nodded, and said, “You’re right. You did come in and ruin our fun. I wanted you to join us. Thought you had some talents that we could use, if I’m being honest. But instead, it turned out you didn’t want to play. I suspect that you are one of those heroes you’re talking about, and that won’t do me one bit of good. So, honestly, I’d rather just kill you.”
She paused and narrowed her eyes, and I remembered my assumption that she was the smart one of the group. The one whose brain might actually rival mine.
The thought sent chills racing up and down my spine.
“But you might also know more than you’ve told us. It sure seemed that way when you first got into town. You looked like you’d been expecting what you were seeing. Like you knew more than anyone else. You were being so careful not to touch the bodies, and that was different from anyone else we’d seen. Plus, you appeared from out of nowhere. You’d obviously known enough to hide somewhere. So you’re right; I do think you know more than me. And I guess that means we’ll keep you around. For now. As for him…”
She looked back toward Will, shrugged, and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 25
“What are you doing?” I shouted, starting toward where Will had been standing and was now lying on the ground. “There was no cause to shoot him!”
I was horrified. Worse than that, actually—though I didn’t know what word to put to it. It was something that was so deep and so dark and so awful that I didn’t even know if it had a word. Maybe it would only have a word for those who had gone through it, for those who knew this shocking, ice-cold-water-in-the-pit-of-your-stomach feeling that came with watching someone you cared about being shot.
Because this was all far too familiar. Horribly familiar. I’d seen Simone shot. I hadn’t been able to save her, and I hadn’t been able to do anything when my uncle had pointed that gun in her direction and pulled the trigger.
And now the same thing had happened to Will.
No, it wasn’t purely my fault—just like it hadn’t been purely my fault with Simone. In both cases, we’d both decided to escape. We’d both decided to go through with the plan. But that didn’t stop the guilt. It didn’t stop the sneaking suspicion that neither of them would have died if I hadn’t been there. And the guilt was overwhelming.
I was starting to feel like I was cursed. Horribly and irrevocably cursed to see the people I cared about die.
My feet scrabbled across the ground, seeking traction so I could get to him, but Sally grabbed my arm before I could go too far.
“He was a traitor,” she said simply. “He’s lucky he didn’t get worse.”
I jerked my arm against her hold, suddenly changing from horrified to absolutely, seeing-red furious. Where the hell did she get off making a judgement like that? Where did she get off, just ending someone’s life like it wasn’t even important?
Where did she get off acting like I needed to get over it, too?
Then, I heard a grunt of frustration and looked back at where Will and I had been making camp. Bruce was currently rifling through my pack, throwing stuff to the ground as he went through it as if that didn’t matter, either. I watched food, batteries, water, and then clothing go flying, his hands moving faster and faster as he started to believe that there wasn’t anything in there for him.
I didn’t know what he was searching for, but thought he’d be mighty stupid if he thought he was going to find anything entertaining or fun in there. We were in the middle of the end of the world, for God’s sake. Then again, in the few days since I’d met Bruce, I’d come to think that ‘smart’ wasn’t on his list of personal attributes.
I yanked again at Sally, though, enraged at this new violation. This new sign of how little they respected me—or us. Because no, he wasn’t going to find anything fun in there—but that didn’t mean he had a right to dig through my things like they were public property.
I’d never liked other people touching my stuff, and it turned out I liked it even less when those other people were also named Bruce and were pawing through my things with a mindless, meat-headed belief that they had every right to whatever was in there.
Then he found the whiskey, and very suddenly stopped digging. This was, evidently, something that he found to be worthwhile enough to actually pause for.
I watched him as he pulled it out, grinning madly, and held it up to show the others.
“Looks like they thought they were going to have a little party,” he said, giving me a smile that was so smarmy it made my skin crawl.
Yes, I thought, that was the kind of person he was. He was the kind of guy who would have shot us within three seconds of seeing us—but would most likely have paused first, just so he could make a couple of stupid, low-brow, inappropriate jokes for good measure. And he would have thought they were hilariously funny, even though no one else was laughing.
My God, I hated the man. All my anger at Sally’s actions suddenly transferred right to him, and if looks could have killed, I would have fried his head off with my gaze right then.
I was just glad that our guns were in Will’s pack. Well, I would have been more glad if we’d actually used our brains and kept them by us instead of falling asleep unarmed. But at this point, working with the hand I’d been dealt, I was glad they were in Will’s pack rather than mine. If I could just get to that pack, get my hands on one of them before this gang noticed that I’d been moving…
“I wouldn’t touch that if I was you, Bruce,” Sally said coldly. “They probably have terrible taste in whiskey.”
He looked at her with condescens
ion. “There is no bad whiskey, Sally. Don’t be stupid.”
Then he put the bottle to his lips, tipped his head back, and took three long swigs. When he was done, he smacked his lips like it was the best thing he’d ever tasted. He also kept the whiskey bottle in his hand. For future use, no doubt.
Well, I wished him luck with that. God knew I hadn’t been planning to drink it.
Then Jameson walked up holding his hand out, and he and Bruce got to bickering about whether Jameson could have any of the good stuff or not.
Personally, I hoped Bruce let him. Personally, I hoped all three of them split the bottle.
And a second later, I realized that if Jameson was over with Bruce, then it meant that Will had been left by himself. My eyes snapped to where he was lying on the ground and scanned his body up and down, looking desperately for any sign of life. Looking for anything that might indicate that he had somehow survived the gunshot. Because I’d needed an ally back there in the house. And I needed one even worse right now.
Now that they had me, I had no idea what the thugs were planning to do with me. They’d already made it perfectly obvious that they didn’t have any use for people they thought betrayed them, and if Will had done that, then I definitely had as well. No, I’d never actually teamed up with them, and I’d never signed their little gang members contract, or whatever they used, but they’d definitely had me in hand and then lost me—and all the information I had. Did that count as betrayal?
I was willing to bet that Sally thought it did. Which meant that i
t was probably only a matter of time until she shot me, too.
Unless I found a way out of here first.
“She’s no good to us, now,” Jameson was saying at that moment, backing up my line of thought. “Just baggage. We might as well just get rid of her right now.”
Right. Evidently, he’d concluded his fight with Bruce—and lost, by the looks of it—and had moved on to trying to use his brain. Terrific.
Survival of The Fittest | Book 2 | Shallow Graves Page 12