by Tera Shanley
A slow hope had been building, and by the end of Mel’s speech, Vanessa was on the edge of her seat, gripping the arms of the chair. “Yes. My answer is yes.”
“Great. You both will participate in PT in the morning, and then the rest of the day is yours. You’ll meet at the front gates and leave at first light on Sunday.”
“Oh Mylanta, thank you, Mel. You don’t know how much this means. Thank you!” She didn’t even wait for Steven before she bolted out the door at a giddy, slightly psychotic run.
She’d been picked out of all of them. Yeah, so there was a lot at stake. Her life, for instance, but still. This was what she’d been training for. What she’d sacrificed her comfort for. She had to celebrate with someone!
Nelson was out. He was going to be pissed when he found out and would slurp the wind right out of her sails. She’d deal with that tidal wave tomorrow. Right now, she needed a friend who would actually be happy for her.
She’d just have to wrestle Eloise away from Laney for the night.
Chapter Four
ELOISE DIDN’T KNOW she was being hunted yet.
Vanessa eyed her and Laney’s deep conversation with narrowed eyes. They talked with conspiratorial smiles, and their foreheads tipped forward in a triangle of secrecy. Did she look that dumb when she talked to Eloise?
“Hey, El, sorry to break up the gab-fest,” Vanessa said as she approached the picnic table they were tucked into.
Laney gave a short laugh. “The smile on your face says you’re not sorry.”
“Yeah, I’m not sorry. Can I talk to you a minute?” she asked Eloise.
“You know you could give Laney a chance, and then you guys wouldn’t have to split custody.”
“Nah, I’m not into three-ways.”
“It’s fine, El,” Laney said with a patient look. “I’m going to grab a shower. Been looking forward to hot water again.”
“What’s up?” Eloise asked as Laney plodded off.
“Guess what?”
Eloise opened her mouth, but Vanessa held up her hand. “You’ll never guess, so I’m just going to tell you. I was picked for the supply run on Sunday!”
After trying to lean forward, Eloise seemed to give up, apparently realizing she was still growing the moon in her stomach. “And you wanted that?”
“Yes! And before you pooh-pooh this, know that I came to you first out of everyone because I knew you’d be happy for me. It’s something I want. It’s a big deal for me to get to go.”
A beatific grin spread across her lightly freckled face. “Well if you’re happy, I’m happy. Let’s go get a drink at Ricky’s to celebrate.”
“El, I love you for offering, but in case you’ve forgotten, you’re about thirty-seven months pregnant, and bathtub booze isn’t recommended for fetuses.”
With an eye roll, Eloise heaved herself up and waddled toward the trail that would lead to the moonshine shack at the back of Dead Run River. “I’ll drink water,” she called over her shoulder.
“I believe the menu specifically says they only have rot gut or bathtub wine.”
“Are you going to come up with problems all day or solutions?” Eloise called over her shoulder.
“Okay then,” Vanessa murmured and followed her friend. She could use a Ricky’s schnockering. After all, this could very well be one of her last days on earth.
It wasn’t a spinning room or splitting headache that kept Vanessa awake that night. Sure, she drank too much as a sober Eloise laughed and looked on. And she’d danced on the rickety bar top and sung terrible karaoke minus the karaoke machine. But she’d been lucky or unlucky enough to become violently ill in the woods on the way home, and now the only remnant of her wild night was pain behind her eyes. As she lay there in the comfort of her bed with the crackling wood-burning stove sending waves of heat behind her, it wasn’t a hangover that kept her eyes from closing.
Imagination could be a terrible thing. Before the end of the world, creativity was cultured and nurtured, fleshed out until a talent was revealed. In current times, imagination was a tiny, pin-less grenade lurking deep within the brain tissues in the darkest hours of night. So morbid were her imaginings, she couldn’t close her eyes against the world if she tried. Scenes of Deads clawing at her legs, or of hiding in a small, dark place as moaners scuffled just outside, or of the team being taken and leaving her all alone played across the backs of her eyelids any time she blinked. No way was she inviting the kinds of nightmares that danced just beyond the edges of sleep.
The knock on the door in the middle of the night would’ve pissed her off a lot more if she’d been anywhere near hibernation.
Thick, flannel pajamas shielded her from the offending bite of the wind as she opened the door. Finn stood there, a stark and giant silhouette against the star-cluttered night sky.
“No thanks,” she said blandly. “I’m trying to cut back on my booty calls.” She tried to close the door, but Finn shoved his foot in front of it.
“Vanessa,” he growled in a hoarse and sleep-filled voice.
“Fiiine,” she groaned. “But no kissing. I can’t have you falling in love with me.”
She couldn’t be positive in the dim moonlight, but she was pretty sure his eye twitched.
“Grab your weapons,” he said, pushing his way into the room.
“Ooh wee, you like it rough. You’re dangerous and I approve.”
“Vanessa! Stop trying to be a pain in my ass and get ready. I have something to show you.”
“All right, all right, don’t get your panties in a twist.” She cracked an uncontrolled grin. “Do you want me to undress fast or slow?”
“I’ll meet you outside,” Finn muttered through her cackles.
“That was the last one, I swear!” Vanessa called as he slammed the door.
Five minutes, one pair of cargo pants, a thermal sweater, a jacket, a pistol, a rifle, and a pocket full of ammo later, and Vanessa was filling her lungs with frigid front porch air. Finn looked like he was asleep in one of the rocking chairs, so she thoughtfully kicked his boot until he lurched awake.
“Let’s do this. I have PT in three hours.”
After a stretch and an under-the-breath oath, Finn led the way down one of the winding paths. The further they got away from the cabin, the more the sense of wrongness sent little, tinkling warning bells off inside of her.
The woods of Dead Run River were magic at night. Small solar lights dotted the edges of the trails and could be seen through the trees like fairies sleeping on flowers. The closer they got to the front gate, however, the fewer lights there were to guide them.
“Finn, where are you taking me?”
“You’ll see. It’s show and tell. First I’ll show you. Then I’ll tell you.”
She threw a baleful glance at the quiet woods behind her. This was a bad idea, following Finn, the mysterious Yeti, into the forest at night. If she weren’t still battling the remnants of a moonshine headache, she would’ve remembered to ask for an explanation before she’d left her cabin.
It wasn’t until Finn led her all the way to the front gates of Dead Run River and ripped the engine of a small four-wheeler that she balked completely.
“Aw, heck no am I getting on that thing and zipping around Dead infested woods with no protection. Heck. Freaking. No.”
He held his hand out and commanded, “Get on.”
Crossing her arms, she refused. “This is the part where you’re pissed Mel went over you on the supply run decision, and you’re going to drop me in the woods in some effed up game to see if I can make my way back to the colony. Screw you, Finn. I’m not playing.”
“For the billionth time, Summers, you can’t talk to your commanding officers like that, or it affects your graduation score. I swear I won’t leave you in the woods. Now get on, or there won’t be a supply run. This little test was approved by Mel, and we both have final say.” His hand hung in the air between them, inviting her to hop on. Quiet steel laced his voice as h
e said, “Now, Summers.”
She denied his offered palm, her fists clenched in anger, and slid onto the back, holding onto his taut waist. “I swear if you leave me in those woods, I’ll kill you.”
“I won’t. Besides, it’s not me who needs killin’ tonight.”
How could words chill her blood to ice in such a way?
Two guards opened the gates and closed them again as Finn pulled the ATV down the road. She hadn’t been outside of the colony gates, besides the short walk to the gardens, since she’d come to Dead Run River eighteen months after the outbreak. Now she felt completely stripped naked against the elements and unprepared for the fear that bathed her like arctic rain water.
On and on they drove through shallow springs and frozen marsh, through overgrown thickets and piney woods. Limbs whipped at her face as if they were begging her to turn around, but on Finn drove as Vanessa scanned the uneven terrain fearfully for Deads. It was dark, and sight distance was severely limited. Time and time again, she imagined a movement just beyond the beyond.
Finn hit the brake and cut the engine. “Now listen up, because I’m not explaining this twice. For some reason, Sean has taken it upon himself to vouch for your abilities out in the field.”
“Sean? What’s he have to do with dragging me out into the woods?”
“Listen! Your success affects him in two ways. One—his word is very important in Dead Run River and with the troops. He doesn’t need you proving him wrong and dying on the supply run.”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“Two—he’s now volunteered to go on the supply run, probably to save you from yourself, and I can’t have you getting him hurt, do you understand? I’ve been a personal guard for Sean and Adrianna for a long time. They’re like family to me, and I’ll be damned if you’re going to get your first shot at a Dead in a situation where it really matters. Where Sean’s life is dependent on you not freezing up and jerking the trigger wide. So, tonight you get practice to ease my mind. Tonight you’ll kill your first Dead.” He pulled a gleaming buck knife from a leather sheath on his belt and grabbed her arm.
“What are you doing?” she screeched, heart pounding into her throat. Snatching her arm away she scrambled off of the four-wheeler and rounded on him. “You were going to cut me!”
“It’s cold now, and there aren’t as many Deads in the mountains this time of year. They can’t move very well in this climate. We need something to draw them in. Your hollering will work fine, but we’d do better with blood.”
“Oh, my blood is what you want? All right, Mr. Sensitivity. Have you ever had someone drag you from your bed in the middle of the night, drive you out in the woods, and pull a freaking saber on you? Hmm?”
A long sigh escaped Finn in a cloud of cold smoke. He clicked a tiny flashlight on and rolled up his sleep to reveal a long, silver slivered scar across his forearm. “Yes.”
“Well…touché, but you’re still a megadick, Finneas.”
His eyes narrowed to slits in the dim illumination of the flashlight. “Don’t call me that.”
She shoved her arm toward him. “Do it fast,” she breathed over the hammering of her heartbeat.
And he did.
One swift motion was all it took. The touch of cold metal cut through layers of skin and she gasped as warmth trickled out of her arm. She held it to her chest like it would ease the pain, but it didn’t help.
“Don’t waste it, love. Go be a good little hunter and spread the bait around.”
“This isn’t the bait,” she growled. “I’m the bait.”
“Good girl. This is a rite of passage, you know.”
“Oh goody, so the other rookies have their turn next?”
“No. They’ve all killed a Dead before and know how it is.”
She dribbled crimson droplets over a giant fern and leveled him a look. “Boris hasn’t.”
“He’s not making it past training, and you know it.”
“Or you’re using this as an excuse to try and scare me off the mission. Am I getting warmer?”
Finn sighed and scrubbed his hand down his face. “No, actually. I want you to succeed, but I can’t take you out there on a mission untested. I just can’t. You have to show me you can fight Deads. The cut helps prove you can fight one while distracted and hurt. That shit will happen daily out the supply run, and you need to be prepared. Whatever you imagine it’s like out there, it’s not. Tonight we’ll be lucky to attract one, maybe two Deads in this kind of weather. It’s a controlled test, and I’m right here with you. You aren’t the first one to go through this kind of trial, Summers. Quit belly-aching and just get it done.”
Finn was awfully chatty tonight, which was a new and unwelcome trait. Usually he was level-headed and a man of few words. Tonight he was just seven shades of annoying. A controlled test? Sure there weren’t many moaners walking around the woods right now, and sure Finn was sitting behind her with a small arsenal to assist her. And yes, she hadn’t ever killed a Dead and probably should tackle that little fear before she went out on a mission. But they were out in the woods in the middle of the night to fight a real, wild Dead. Why couldn’t he just cage one up and feed it for a while, tame it a little, and let her shank it through the bars of its little zombie prison? That sounded way less scary than bleeding her and drawing one to her.
Unless he was trying to toughen her up.
The Deads they would face in the ravaged fallen cities wouldn’t be caged. They’d be running at her team in droves. If the packs were small in the mountains because of cold, or altitude, or whatever pattern Finn had noticed in his years of hunting them, they would be milling around in hordes in the warmer cities nestled in the valleys.
She understood it. Killing a caged Dead wouldn’t prove her battle-readiness or boost her confidence in her abilities. Hunting, waiting, and adapting to the terrifying situation she was in right now would. Maybe Finn was right. Maybe she needed this.
Her breath shook, and she clamped her jaw and gritted out, “Is this the part where you leave me?”
“I told you I wasn’t going to do that. Teammates don’t leave their men behind. Now stand a little further into that clearing so you don’t have trees right at your back.”
Her traitorous voice shook to match her hands. “Are you going to help me?”
“Yes, but not with weapons. You’ll shoot the Deads that come your way or we’ll both die. My survival depends on you, Vanessa. Protect us both. Clear your mind, and ready your Glock. If you run your clip down, switch to knives, and then to your rifle. The guns will be loud and draw more in, so use knives when they’re close enough. Don’t panic. I’m right here, so listen to my instructions, okay? They aren’t quiet or stealthy, and the grass is dry. Listen. Use your senses. Mother Nature will warn you when something doesn’t belong in her forest.”
The tremor in her body had reached her lips, and she clenched her jaw to keep her teeth from clacking together. Fantastic. Zombie Miyagi back there was telling her to find her inner chi, and all she really wanted to do was hop on the back of that little ATV and zip on back to safety.
Grass crackled behind her, and she spun, pulling her Glock out of its holster. The light of Finn’s flashlight followed where she aimed, but nothing was there. Nothing but the laughing wind. Another movement sounded from behind, and she spun with a pitiful whimper. It was so hard to breath and getting more difficult by the moment. She was going to suffocate long before she ever saw a Dead in the dark.
“Settle down, and take a deep breath. You can do this,” Finn said from the comfort of the ATV seat.
She heard the moaning long before she heard the running. At least two Deads were hunting her, but in her panic she couldn’t decipher the direction they were coming from. The groaning became louder, and Finn pulled his flashlight to the left. All she could see was deep, black darkness, and then, on the blue edges of the pitiful light, two Deads appeared. Their faces were sunken in, and one of them didn’t
have lips to cover his gnashing teeth. Filmy gray eyes focused on her, and their emaciated arms and clawed fingers lifted and reached for her.
“Vanessa, what are you waiting for? Shoot now.”
She stood frozen in place, reliving that horrid moment a year ago when the Dead had crashed through the woods toward her, Eloise and Nelson. Her finger sat useless on the trigger as they ran for her. Thirty yards. Twenty yards. Ten.
“Shoot now!”
Finn’s command scared her into pulling the trigger, and the first Dead dropped. With no time to aim, the other was on her, and she fell backward. She hit the ground hard as the clammy skin of the creature’s hands clawed at her back, and she pushed his chest just enough to keep his mouth from the tender flesh over her jugular.
“Finn!” she screamed.
“Knives!”
With her bleeding forearm pinned against the monster’s chest, she reached for the knife she kept stashed in her boot. She was losing strength in the arm, and her own blood splattered against her neck. Grunting with the effort, she pulled the knife and screamed as she sank it into the Dead’s temple. The cold body went limp as he died his final death, and she pushed him off her and scrambled away.
“Jerk!” she screeched, rounding on Finn with the fury of an erupting volcano. “You were going to let me die and not lift a finger to help.”
Finn shook his head slowly back and forth. “You’re wrong.” He pointed the flashlight at three felled Deads near the ATV. “I was helping.” He jerked his head to the side, listening. “Vanessa, what is the first rule you learned about Deads from your training?”
“Uhh…” Think, think, think. “They travel in groups?”
“Yep. Where’s your pistol?”
“Crap.” She searched the ground near the knifed Dead. “I must’ve dropped it in the scuffle.” Adrenaline surged through her body, making it difficult to focus on anything other than fleeing.