The combination of the dog's appearance and pimp-daddy’s screams stun everyone for a few seconds. But then all hell breaks loose. Gun shots blend with cries, telling me Kingsley is finally making his move. About time. It's enough to distract the two assholes holding me down and I take advantage. Yanking my arms from their grasp, I swing my heavy boot into Thing One's nuts and bolts. He doesn't appear to be wearing a damn cup because he bends over in pain and drops straight to the dirt.
Without losing stride, I grab Thing One's rifle and whirl around, slamming the butt into Thing Two's face. His nose breaks with a sickening crunch as his screams mingle with the others. He staggers back a couple of feet, his hands covering his bloody face. I aim the weapon, ready to finish what I started. I slam the bolt home and squeeze the trigger, bracing myself for the recoil. Nothing happens. I squeeze again. Nada. You gotta be kidding me. The fucking gun is not even loaded?
Thing Two realizes my situation and barrels at me like some running linebacker. I hadn't noticed how big he was before. Shiiiiiit.
"Doc, grab his gun," I yell at the blonde, pointing to the weapon he had dropped practically at her feet. She doesn't move. She remains as useless as a condom to a nun, staring at me like I'm speaking some foreign language.
I think fast. Dropping the useless weapon, I meet the advancing bull head on. Grabbing two fistfuls of shirt I fall like a lead weight down to the ground, as close to his feet as possible. My unexpected drop places his body weight completely off center, and his momentum makes it easy for me to flip him straight over my head with my knees.
He lands on his back with a loud grunt. Rolling quickly to the side, I leap back to my feet, knowing every second counts. He's winded, but not down. He pulls himself up to his knees, glaring at me with his bloodied face. That look tells me one thing. If he manages to get his hands on me, I'm a goner for sure. Without giving him time to get back to his feet, I lift my leg and kick him right in the solar plexus. He flies backward, landing in a winded heap.
Thing One seems to be made of sterner stuff than Two, since already he’s stumbling to his feet. I pivot on the heel of my left foot as my right leg swings straight out and smashes into his throat. His hands wrap around his collapsed windpipe, strangling his scream. Choking on his own blood, his eyes bulge in pain.
Those two down for the count, I search the mayhem in front of me for Luke. Christ! I can't tell who's who in the mash up. Where is he?
Then I see him. Pinned by a ravager, he’s fighting frantically with his tied hands to keep the bastard's knife off of his throat. Shit, he needs my help big time.
A howl of pain from the mangy beast reaches my ears just before it flies across my path. Nearly tripping over the stupid dog, I swerve to avoid it only to have my ankle suddenly encased by a steel grip. I hit the ground face first, landing on my stomach and get yanked backwards across the wet grass. I feel pimp-daddy's weight press down between my shoulder blades as he straddles me. He jerks my head back so hard I hear my neck snap. The tip of his huge blade presses against my temple.
"I fucking knew it. I knew you'd be trouble. I should have killed you right from the start, bitch!" he hisses in my ear.
What happens next seems to move in slow motion, even though I know it must only take a few seconds. The dragon necklace lying on the ground between my spread hands gleams brightly in the firelight, like some omen of hope. Amy, you sweet, beautiful angel!
Grabbing the necklace, I yank the small, sharp blade out and aim blindly for the head next to my ear. I know I've made contact when my eardrum almost bursts from the shrillness of his scream. The knife at my temple drops away, giving me my opening.
Letting go of the blade, I claw at his face, my fingers coming into contact with cold steel. Yanking on the chains, I'm splattered with blood and flesh as the piercings detach from his nose and ears with a satisfying rip. The knife drops from his grasp now at this new assault and lands inches from my face. I heave my body up with my arms, flipping us both over. Straddling him now, I bring my knee down on the bloody, mangled arm the dog had used as a chew toy earlier. He screams even louder. It's like music to my ears. Swooping up the knife, I hold it to his throat and he stills underneath the blade, his screams dulling to a whimper.
"You scream like a little bitch," I say with a hard smile. I know I shouldn't enjoy his fear so much, but the frightened eyes staring back at me tell me he is remembering every word of my earlier threat. He stops whimpering and tries to get himself under control. The fear slips from his face, replaced by a mask dripping with blood and hot with hate. My little knife sticks out of his cheek like some morbid decoration, and I take way too much pleasure in yanking it free.
"You won't kill me, darlin'. I know your type. All talk, but no action. You've lived behind walls. You have no idea what it's like to try and survive out here...in the real world. You're soft."
I push my knee down harder on his mangled arm, making him yell out once more.
"Soft? You think I’m fucking soft?" I ask harshly, his words pissing me off. How dare he tell me I have no idea? Let's see what tune he will be singing after I'm finished with him.
"Hey!" Doc Blondie seems to have finally come out of her comatose state and starts yanking at my arm.
What the fuck? Now she decides to interfere? I try to shake her off, but she pinches my arm even harder.
"We have to go!" her voice is shrill with panic. Without letting the knife move an inch from pimp-daddy’s throat, I follow her pointing finger.
Jesus! A horde of leeches, most likely drawn by the noise and smell of blood, are advancing out of the trees at an alarming rate. Fantastic. Just what we need.
Hatred still burns hot in my gut for the piece of shit pinned below me, and the voice in my head is whispering at me, Do it. Kill him. He was going to gut you. But for some reason, I don't listen. I resist the urge to plunge the knife straight through his heart. Instead, I aim for the outstretched hand underneath my knee. The huge blade slides through his palm like butter, pinning him to the ground. His ensuing screams tells me it must hurt like hell. Good. I lean in not caring about his stink anymore.
"Let’s see how much you enjoy being on the menu, asshole," I whisper in his ear before leaping to my feet.
"Leeches!" I scream. It catches everyone's attention. All heads in the mass of fighting bodies turn in unison with fear. The horde approaching us doesn't care if you are hunter or ravager. All they see is a waiting buffet.
Christ. There has to be at least forty or fifty of them. There's no way we can take down that many. Especially since all my guys are still hog tied and weaponless. We’re so up shit creek without a paddle.
The ravagers waste no time. Whatever beef they had with us is forgotten, as well as any sense of loyalty, apparently. Pimp-daddy’s screams for help go completely unheeded as his men hightail it out of the field as fast as they can. We need to do the same.
"Move it, kid!" I yell at the girl in the dirt, giving a hard yank on her arm. It seems to do the trick. She blinks a couple of times then leaps to her feet, falling into step beside me as we get the hell out of the field, the overgrown mutt not far behind.
We run through the field like desperate gazelles trying to escape a pride of lions. The grass is slick under my feet, causing me to slip and slide. I figure the boys must be having as much trouble since I hear a couple of muted profanities as they fight to stay upright, but with tied hands it’s not an easy task.
"LEFT!" Luke bellows from behind, and we turn immediately on his command. Smart move. The turn will break us off from the ravagers and the trajectory of the horde. I hope it works, or at least leads us to some sort of shelter. We can't run all night. But they sure as hell can.
Our left turn brings us out of the trees surrounding the field and onto the moon lit road. We don't stop to see if we’ve lost the leeches, or even to see if we all made it. We don't have time. The wet gurgling behind us tells us all we need to know. At least some of them are still on our tail. I curse myself for letting my emotions get the better of me and stabbing Gunner with his own knife instead of keeping it. It would have come in handy right about now.
"This way," the girl says.
I look over, surprised to see the young girl keeping up with my pace. The whites of her terrified eyes gleam luminously in the moonlight. "What?" I yell at her.
"Follow me. I know…a...safe place," she gasps between words. Like the rest of us, she won't be able to keep up this pace much longer.
"Guys, follow me!" I bellow, and I let her lead the way.
She leads us further down the road and then suddenly veers off into a grove of trees. Stumbling through the low hanging branches and raised roots, we bring up abruptly into a solid wall of darkness. A dead end. Shit. I’d just been stupid enough to let her lead us into a dead end...and straight to our deaths. But then the night comes alive with the sound of scraping and creaking.
"Get in," she yells.
In? Into what? I can't see shit in this murkiness. But given a choice between going in and standing outside waiting for the leeches to catch up, I go in. I trip over a raised step and literally fall into what I can feel is a confined space. A few more grunts and groans follow my descent as the rest fall in behind me. I hear the scraping again as the feeble sliver of moonlight is suddenly obliterated by total blackness.
The few seconds of suffocating silence is followed by a whisper. "Does anyone still have their flashlight?" I think it’s Gordon, but I'm not sure.
"Quiet," the girl hisses. "Be still."
She's right. Being inside may mask our scent, but they can still hear us. A couple of thunks echo against our sanctuary. Not sure if they are actually trying to get in, or just stupidly running into the walls of...whatever we’re in. So nobody else makes a sound.
After what seems like forever, the noises finally fade out as the infected wander away. Their frantic need to feed is diminished now that they have no scent to agitate the parasite inside. All that remains is our own shallow breathing.
Something furry brushes by my leg, and I almost scream in sheer terror before I realize it's just the dog. I mean, I hope it's the dog. I think it’s in here with us. My luck, she brought us into a cave and that's a momma bear wanting to rip my head off.
A little more scraping and then mercifully light. The old looking oil lamp in the girl’s hand gets brighter as she fiddles with it, spreading light into every dark corner of the space we find ourselves in.
I start doing a head count right away as I button my coat, covering up my shredded t-shirt and exposed skin.
"Do you have a knife?" Luke questions gruffly to the girl as he, too, looks around. He’s doing the same head count as me.
Two missing. Wentworth and Kelly. He sends a look my way as the girl starts sawing through his zip tie with what appears to be a meat cleaver.
"We're missing some," Gordon says in a quiet voice.
"Yeah. They probably got separated back at the field. They'll just head on to our main objective and wait for us there. They know that's where we’ll look for them," Luke says as the girl finally frees his hands. Shaking his wrists, he pulls the meat cleaver out of her hands and starts working on setting the others free.
Now that she has nothing else to do, the girl looks around in bewilderment. The dog sticks its nose into her face and she wraps her arms around it, holding on for dear life. Knowing she’s probably going into shock, I approach her.
"Hey," I say, my tone gentle. She looks up at me. Up close, she appears older than I had first thought. What I thought was eleven or twelve is probably more like sixteen. "Thank you. You saved our lives. What's your name?"
"Evie," she says.
"Nice to meet you, Evie. I'm Bixby. And we've already met Scruff." I rub the dog’s ears in gratitude. It’s another reason I’m still alive. Maybe we won't eat it after all.
I look around at where we are. Now in the glow of the oil lamp, I can see we’re inside what looks to be an old shipping container. The metal walls contain no windows, but every inch is covered with colorful flags, pictures of varying size, and an array of old calendars. Two mattresses run along the back and are piled with a mountain of blankets, a ratty old couch stretches along the opposite wall, and a woodstove sitting in the corner tells me this is her home.
"You live here?" I push.
"Yeah, me and Gramps..." she trails off at realizing what she said. “I mean, Gramps used to..."
Tears fill her dark eyes as she bites her lip to stop it from trembling.
"It's okay. What happened really sucks, and I know it hurts like hell. I’m not gonna lie. It's going to hurt for quite a bit longer. And you’re going to cry—a lot. But that's okay. You did real good out there. It's because of you that we’re still alive. Your Gramps would be proud of you."
She doesn't answer me, she simply nods. A tiny sob breaks free, and she buries her face deeper in the dog's fur. But at least she’s crying—and aware, not in a total state of shock. She’ll be all right. I squeeze her shoulder reassuringly as I leave her to her grief.
By now Luke has freed the others. His eyes search me out across the small space and lock onto mine. My pulse races and my heart starts doing these crazy flip-flops at the look. He steps with purpose toward me; two long strides are all it takes. He stops right in front of me, and my breath catches in my throat as a rush of adrenaline shoots through my veins. I have no idea what he’s about to do.
To my complete and utter shock, he grabs both my shoulders and pulls my body tight against his. His head dips toward mine, and he plants this loud, wet smack on my lips. In front of everyone! Even more surprising...I don't object. I ignore the catcalling and the disgusted “Get a room" because to be quite honest, I don't care about everyone watching us. Not in the least. The kiss is primal and possessive—and makes me feel so damned alive.
Finally, our lips part but his hand stays on my back, keeping me close.
"I'm sorry," he whispers in my ear.
I pull away an inch, so I can look into his face. "For what?"
"I promised nothing would happen to you on this run, and you almost died. I broke my promise."
What? He thinks he let me down? After I was the one to put us in danger? "How do you figure that? I'm still alive, aren't I? Besides, you were in more danger than I ever was. Just couldn't keep your mouth shut, no matter how many times that ravager smacked you in the head." I gently touch the bloody cut above his temple and wince. "Looks painful. Good thing you have such a hard head, Whitman."
"Amen to that." His eyes devour me hungrily, like he can't get enough of looking at me. That same look that used to bother me so much before is now sending waves of heat flooding through my body. I must be more shook up than I thought.
"Ahem," a slight cough sounds at my ear. "If you two are done, we have some figuring out to do?"
Kingsley's interruption sends a different kind of heat flushing over my face. I had forgotten about the spectators. As embarrassed as I am at their witnessing my weaker moment, it doesn't seem to bother Luke at all. He just grins at my embarrassment, the jackass.
"Right. So where do we stand," his question is brisk, and I slip out of his grasp. "Do any of you still have your weapons? Radios? Kingsley, the C-4?"
There’s a defeated chorus of “no's.” All but Kingsley. "Yeah, I still have my weapon. But not the ammo or C-4. I left it all in the backpack somewhere in the woods."
"Really?" Dom says. “You left the C-4 behind. A stupid move, dude. We kinda need that to do what we came here for in the first place."
"I'm well aware," Kingsley grounds out. "Forgive me for misplacing the backpack while I was trying to save your stupid asses from becoming fricasseed."
"It is what it is," Luke interjects before their tempers get out of control. "No sense whining about it. Straight up though, we won't get far without weapons."
"We can go back," I suggest. "I'm guessing those ravagers left in too much of a hurry to worry about our shit. The leeches won't bother with it. It's probably still just sitting there."
My skin crawls at Dom's snort of derision. "Great plan. Go back. Now that the place is crawling with leeches and only one gun between us. Almost as good as the plan to rescue that stupid kid—and looked how well that turned out."
As much as I would like to slap Dom silly for his snarky words, I actually agree with him at the moment. I haven't exactly been the Einstein of our group lately.
"No, Bix is right," Luke says, surprising me once again. "We have no choice but to go back. Not like we can contact the Grand and sit on our asses waiting for rescue. We need our guns and that C-4. Going back is the only alternative. Besides," he picks up the cleaver he had used to cut their zip ties. "Who says we don't have any weapons?"
"We have knives. And there's an ax out back," Evie pipes up in a clear, even voice. I hadn't even realized she was listening to our conversation. The kid surprises me. She’s tougher than I gave her credit for.
"There you have it," Luke says with a huge grin. "Knives, a cleaver and an ax. We're all set to save the world again."
Yeah, somehow I don't quite share his optimism on that.
As it turns out, we don't need the collection of medieval weapons in our arsenal. We don't encounter one single leech or ravager on our way back to ground zero. Weird. Maybe it has to do with our choice to wait until early morning to retrace our steps, giving them time to dissipate. Or maybe for once, lady luck is on our side. Whatever the reason, the walk is eerily quiet. Almost like we’re the only people left on the face of the earth.
Our luck holds as we find our pile of weapons and backpacks right where the ravagers had left them in their mad dash. And from the exuberant "YES!" echoing out of the trees, Gordon and Kingsley have found the stash of C-4 as well. At least things are starting to look up.
I make my way further into the field, glad I had convinced Evie to help Gordon and Kingsley look for the pack. Leaving her at her home, no matter how well camouflaged that shipping container had been, wasn’t an option. The ravagers already found them once. They will again. She did need a little convincing to see that, but she finally agreed to come with us.
What she doesn't need to see however, is the remains of her grandfather. Even though he’d already passed on from his grievous wound last night, the leeches hadn't given a shit that his blood no longer pumped through his veins. It had still been warm enough for their taste. They had sucked him dry, his frail body shriveled and pale, and his missing leg seeming more of an atrocity in the pre-dawn light.
Thing One and Thing Two didn't fare so well either. Their waxen faces stare blindly up at me from the grass, as if accusing me of letting them become fodder. I squash down the pang of guilt I feel at seeing them there. My mother always told me, you reap what you sow. They brought this on themselves. I'm not the bitch in this circumstance. Karma owns that title today.
To my great relief, we don't find any sign of Wentworth or Kelly. The only other bodies in the field are a couple of unlucky ravagers, which meant our guys had at least made it out of the field. Like Luke said, with a little more luck there’re waiting for us at the target site.
One thing does unnerve me a little. By the pile of ash that had been last night’s campfire, there’s no sign of pimp-daddy. No body, not even his skank ass fur coat. All that remains is a puddle of rust brown where his blood had dried into the dirt and his gold cane, which meant he too, had made it out of the field alive. Crap. I don't like the sound of that. I should have finished the job last night. I hope he got taken down on his way back to the hole he had crawled out of. Evie and her grandfather at least deserved that justice.
Doc Blondie joins me unexpectedly as my worried gaze stares into the still smoldering, black ashes. Even though I see her glancing at me in my peripheral, I don't acknowledge her. She clears her throat a couple of times. I still ignore her. I have nothing to say to her. She doesn't seem to get the message, since she starts talking anyway.
"I...um...I want to apologize for last night. I don't know why I didn't go for his gun and help you. It was like I froze and..." she trails off. "I'm so sorry."
I finally turn my head to look at her. I'm not quite sure how to respond. I want to slap her silly for her stupidity last night. Or at least rip her a new one. She should be damned sorry. She almost cost me my life. There is no room for hesitation and cowardice in the field. She shouldn't be out here if she doesn't know that. But I say none of that. Instead, I swallow the angry retort on my lips and sigh.
"Have you ever seen a ravager before?"
She shakes her head, a tiny shudder convulsing her body.
I nod. "Yeah, that's what I thought. I get why you froze up. They can be pretty fucking scary and intimidating. But know one thing. Being captured by them means certain death. We were damn lucky last night. Not many people tangle with them and walk away. You can't hesitate when there’s a life on the line. They sure as hell won't. I was given this piece of advice years ago, and now I'm going to share it with you. Be brutal, be tough. War means fighting, and fighting means killing. Learn this, or you will not live to see another year. Got it?"
She stares at me like I've gone stark raving mad. I guess I could have phrased it better instead of repeating it in Cookie's harsh, no nonsense manner. A slight nod of the head tells me she gets it, though.
"Good. Because you won't ever hear that pass my lips again. And if you tell anyone that I quoted Cookie, I will deny every word."
"Cookie? Are you talking about that crazy lady who gave us all the evil eye at our interrogation? She scared the crap out of me. I think she froze my blood at one point with just a look. I don't think she likes new people much."
I give her a humorless laugh. "Oh, you ain't seen nothing yet. Wait until you catch her on a bad day."
She offers a weak smile. "Maybe I'm better off taking my chances out here with the leeches and ravagers?"
Who would have thought it? Lady Doc has a sense of humor. I laugh at her words, and she joins in. Our laughter draws Luke's attention, and he breaks off his conversation with Mike and Dom, staring our way curiously. He catches my eye and lifts the corner of his mouth in a slight smile. I can't help the quickening of my heart, or the thrum of desire that jets through my veins. Just thinking about the way he kissed me last night and that look in his eye—I give him a stupid smile back. But as soon as it began, I squash my silly reaction. What the hell is wrong with me? This is not the time for acting like some horny teenager. I drop my gaze like a hot potato, but Blondie doesn't miss it. She raises a perfectly arched brow.
"Hmmmm, you two seem to be quite...intimate. And that kiss last night-very hot. So? Does that mean you two are an item?"
The instant denial is on my lips. No we’re not an “item.” And seriously? Who the hell says that anymore? We are so not a couple, or a thing, or any of that romantic shit. And it pisses me off that she's even asking. We're on a life and death mission. We don't have time for idiotic questions. Besides, why should she even care? But the answer that falls from my lips surprises the hell out of me.
"Yeah. Yeah—I guess we are."
Even more surprising? I think I actually mean it. Dammit. So much for the no-strings-attached approach.