Noah ran through the forest for what felt like miles. The punishing rays of the sun made him feel light-headed; his legs felt like dumbbells. His throat was parched and sore. He needed water. He needed rest. But he couldn’t allow himself to stop.
Not until he was certain he was safe.
The forest was a multitude of hiding places, and any one of them could be fortressing the men. He hadn’t heard them for miles, but he wasn’t convinced he was in the clear.
He’d killed two of them. That meant others would be coming.
He was sure of it.
Tears streaked his face as he relived what had just occurred. The memory of the man’s impaled neck was imprinted on his brain. He’d already added it to his collection of memories: an image of bloodshed and savagery stockpiled for eternal playback.
The images shuffled like flashcards.
Overhead, the caw of a bird startled him, and he aimed the rifle at the sky. Calm down, Noah. It took several minutes for his heart rate to settle. He wiped a stream of sweat from his forehead and took a deep breath.
It wasn’t just the men he was afraid of. It was also the infected.
It’d been half a day since he’d seen one of the creatures, and he was long overdue. At any moment, he expected one of them to pop out and attack him. If he ran into one on foot, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. Discharging his weapon would give away his location.
If he fired, the men would find him.
He continued through the forest. Each passing minute felt like an hour. After walking for miles, he heard the distant sound of an engine. His heart thundered. Had his pursuers circled around on some unseen road, intending to flush him out?
He halted.
The engine increased in volume. Whatever it was, it was getting closer. He peered through the forest until he could make out an object through the trees. He saw a blurred shape—an outline of doors and tires—and his body went rigid.
To his surprise, the vehicle wasn’t the Ford pickup that had chased him, but a vehicle painted black and green.
Camouflage. Was it an army truck?
Noah’s legs wobbled, and he clung to the bark of the nearest tree to keep his balance. If it was indeed an army vehicle, he needed to get to the road. Perhaps the men inside could assist him. At the very least, they could bring him somewhere safe.
He forced himself onward. The vehicle was out of sight, but he could hear the roar of others.
Hurry!
He weaved through the underbrush, doing his best to follow the clearest path. Several times he tripped, but each time he caught himself and managed to keep upright. The trees slipped by like silent sentinels.
He was almost to the road. He could see pavement through the trees, the yellow lines that marked the street’s center.
“Over here! Help!” he shouted.
He emerged from the forest, heart brimming with hope. Over the past few days, he’d seen his best friend die, his former comrades wounded, and a slew of people infected or killed. Through it all, he’d held out hope of rescue, even though it had seemed futile.
And now here it was right in front of him. All he needed to do was get to it.
He ran up the road, his shoes slapping the pavement. His lungs heaved, his vision blurred. Even if the men were behind him, the presence of the military would stave them off. Right?
They wouldn’t gun him down in the open. Would they?
He continued up the road until he’d run several hundred feet from where he emerged. His head was still throbbing.
It took him a few more seconds to realize the noises had faded. If there had been more vehicles, they’d already passed. He looked in all directions, but the road was desolate.
Had he been seeing things?
He didn’t think so, but the longer he waited, the deeper his doubt became.
For several minutes he stared up the road, waiting for the vehicles to return. But there were no more noises and nothing in sight.
The prospect of rescue, if it had ever been there at all, was gone.