The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither Page 24

  Grabbing my knife from my pocket, he places it in in my palm, his hand trembling as he covers my fingers over it. “Don’t think. Just do.”

  I try to nod, to act tough but inside I’m terrified. I don’t want to fight my way out of here, to possibly suffer the same fate as Victoria. The men I saw at that window may have looked crazed but there was also intelligence still lingering in their eyes. That makes them deadly.

  Cable grabs a wrench off the top of a tall red tool chest and Alex tightens his grip on a couple of flares. It is dark and cool in shop. The concrete block walls keep most of the destruction out. Flames flicker along the seam that runs at the base of the door. I step away, drawn to the cold rather than the heat.

  “They will be waiting for us.” I say, turning toward my two final companions. Along the way we collected and lost more people than I want to count. Staring at the men before me, I realize not all of us will make it, not to the end. To a time when maybe someone can create a cure, to reverse this mess. The odds are stacked heavily against us.

  Cable reaches out and grabs my hand, squeezing it tight. Alex looks down at our embrace. “It has been an honor knowing you two.”

  “Cut the sentimental crap.” I yank Alex into a half hug. He cries out in pain and I release him, realizing I’ve just grabbed his bad arm. He presses against his bullet wound but a broad smile chases away the pain.

  “Isn’t this how they do it in movies? The hero pauses to say a heartfelt thank you before rushing head first into a battle, which he has no earthly chance of winning but somehow lives to have the final word?”

  “Yeah.” Cable wipes at his face. It drips with sweat. I frown, remembering the fever raging within. “I’ve got nothing.”

  “Me either.” I glance toward the two metal garage doors. I see movement beyond. Our escape path wasn’t exactly a secret after we set the front on fire. “But then again...that’s not really our style, is it?”

  Alex grins and lifts the flares. “Cover me until I reach that semi then I’ll create a diversion and meet you in the woods.”

  Leaning up onto my toes, I look through the garage door window to where he points. Sitting parked beneath an awning that houses six diesel pumps are three semis. I glance back at the flares in his hands. “You won’t make it that far. Not in your condition.”

  He puffs up his chest. “I know how to hold my liquor well enough.”

  “I meant your arm.” I jerk my head toward the blood staining through the shoulder and chest of his shirt. “You’ve lost blood.”

  Cable stares hard at Alex. The two men lock gazes and for a moment I feel forgotten, cast aside. Cable nods and pulls me toward the door. “We’ll try to keep them off you.”

  “What? No. You know he will never make it and even if he does, if he gets one of those flares near that fuel it will blow sky high.”

  “He knows.”

  I look up at Cable and see the sorrowful resignation in his gaze. Glancing back at Alex, I see only determination, not fear. “You’re both crazy.”

  “You’re darn right,” Alex grins, winking at me as he grabs the bottom of the garage door. “On three.”

  “Three,” Cable shouts and throws up the door. I only make it half a dozen steps before Cable shoves me aside. I hear the whizz of a bullet passing far too close to my ear before I hit the ground and slide. My back slams into a stack of tires. They teeter overhead. I wrap my arms around my head and prepare to be pummeled.

  “Get up.” Cable yanks my arm and drags me out of the way. I kick at the tires as they spiral around me. He points to the dark, away from the mechanic shop, away from Alex. “I want you to run that way and keep going. No matter what you hear.”

  “No. I’m not leaving you!”

  “I’ll take care of Alex. Just go!” He shoves me away. My arms flap wildly as my legs begin to slip apart on the ice. My footing is precarious as I attempt to remain upright. A bullet tears through my sleeve, nicking my skin as I fall on my ass. My tailbone screams as I roll to the side and pull myself behind a dumpster. Bullets ricochet off the metal and slam into the concrete wall beside me.

  I suck in shallow breaths as I look around me. I can’t see Cable or Alex. There is shouting all around. It’s impossible to tell who is who. Glancing overhead, I spy a brilliant glow near the roof. It won't be long before this whole place goes up in flames. The scent of burning oil stings my eyes and I’m forced to wipe them several times to clear my vision.

  Ducking my head out, I try to get my bearings. The open garage door is about fifteen feet behind me. Just beyond that a long low ledge of concrete stands, its purpose to funnel cars into the bays. I see a shadow of a man leap over and crouch behind that and pray that it is Cable making his way toward Alex. I peer out again, pressing my cheek close to the dumpster. Where is Alex? I never saw him after Cable and I ran out.

  Three men approach from beyond the wall. They slide more than step. Their guns are poised. My fingers ache as I grip the edge of the dumpster. I try not to breathe in the foul stench within.

  In less than a minute they will converge on Cable’s last known spot.

  He’s a soldier. He’s been trained for this sort of combat, I try to remind myself as I back up to follow his last order: to run.

  Fingers dig through my tangled curls from behind. I scream as I’m hauled to my feet by my hair and dragged out from behind the dumpster. “Got you.”

  I kick and fight against the man’s grip, tossing my elbows back and wide in an attempt to wound my captor but he remains just out of reach. Blood trickles from my scalp as the fistful of hair begins to release from my scalp. Pain darkens my vision.

  His thick soled boots punch through the thin layer of ice as he leads me toward the side of the building where darkness gives way to the flickering of flames. An abandoned car sits with its doors open wide. It has been stripped of parts. The tires are missing. The cloth seats ripped away. The headlights busted out and the bulbs stolen.

  “Ain’t you a pretty little thing?” The man whispers in my ear, leaning in close as he pushes me toward the car. His free hand winds around my waist and tugs me close to him. He presses his length against my back. “I always did have a thing for red heads.”

  His breath grows ragged as his hand slides down my hip and dips between my legs as we stop in front of the car. “Seems wrong to waste something so fine.”

  Pulling me to the side, he keeps a firm grip on my hair as he passes the driver’s side door and hauls me toward the trunk. At first I think he’s going to shove me inside, but he angles me away and rummages around. I hear metal clanking as he tosses things out of the trunk, items useless to his pursuit. I glance around me, forced to look from the corner of my eye. I can’t see anyone. Can’t hear anything beyond intermittent gunfire. Are Cable and Alex still alive?

  The scent of burning rubber burns in my nose as I try to look back the way I came but the man’s grip on my hair is too firm. I cry out as he grabs my arm and yanks it behind me, pinning my hand with his knee. He releases his grasp on my hair and fights to gain control of my other hand. I stretch it out before me, flapping it in an attempt to resist, but he digs his teeth into the meat of my arm and latches onto my hand when I flinch back.

  “Good girl,” he croons in my ear. Tears burn in my eyes as he binds my hand with what feels like a bit of rope. His fumbling fingers lash the binding.

  With a hard shove, he forces me toward the front of the car and presses against my back. I’m forced to bend over the side of the hood. His hips rock against me, his hands holding me in place. His breath is rank as he bites at my ear over my back and I try to turn away.

  “I like it when they struggle.” He yanks on another clump of hair and I cry out. The muscles in my neck twang as I fight against the pain. “Like it when they scream a little.”

  Using his hips to keep me in place, wedged against the car, he fumbles with his pants. Terror seizes me as I twist and turn. “Get the hell off of me!”

  My hea
d rocks forward and slams into the hood with a blow from behind. My cheek burns as it sticks to the ice coating the hood. I taste blood in my mouth from a split lip.

  The man releases my hair and grips my waist with both hands. He tugs at my pants, grunting as they slowly begin to fall. “Stop!”

  “Oh, no,” he chuckles as his hand slides down my waistband. I clench as rough calloused hands glide over my backside. “There will be no stopping.”

  “Cable!” I shriek. “Help me!”

  A filthy hand covers my mouth. My eyes clamp shut as I feel him press against me. The sound of my heartbeat thrashes in my ears. My legs feel weak, my nostrils flare as terror and rage mingle.

  “Don’t you fucking touch me!” My shout is muffled by his hand. I try to bite him, to shift or twist out of his grasp, but he has me subdued.

  “Hey!” My head rears back at the sound of a voice. My cheek burns as it peels away from the ice. “Whatcha got there?”

  “I call dibs. You can have her next, Gentry.” He runs his hand down my side, dipping around to pinch my breast. I buck and knock his hand away. “She’s a real fighter. You’ll like her.”

  The approaching heavy footfalls sound hollow in my ears against the rushing of my pulse. I can feel the onset of a panic attack nearing as I try to see the second man. His voice is low and gruff. When a second hand, larger than the first, wraps around my hip I thrash.

  The man behind me hollers and shouts in approval. “She’s a wild thing,” he crows as he slaps the side of my hip.

  I fall still, terrified of assisting him in his plunder. The new hand tightens on my hip. “Brian will shit bricks if he hears you took her.”

  “We,” the man says with voice slick as oil. “You and me, Gentry. Boss man don’t gotta know about it. We can do away with her after. No harm done. Just a bit of sport while they wrap up that mess back there. What do you say?”

  The tension in the fingers at my hip increases. Tears spill from my chin, pattering against the hood of the car as the man named Gentry brushes his thumb along the rise of my hip. He’s considering it.

  “You got two minutes.” The hand pulls away and I yank against the rope, knowing that I’m out of time. The fibers eat into my flesh as my captor tries to force my legs apart.

  A sudden blaring of a car alarm startles my attacker. I grunt and shove back, thrusting my head. It slams into something solid and I celebrate at the sickening crunch from behind.

  “Bitch!” I try to duck the swinging blow but move a hair too slow. His fist grazes off my side and slams into the hood. He hops back, howling. I turn and kick wildly, aiming for anything I can reach.

  The man buckles before me. The sound of running reaches me and I know Gentry didn’t go far. Probably waiting for his turn.

  I wiggle against the car, desperately trying to shove my pants up. About five inches of my skin is still bare when I’m tackled to the ground. I hit the pavement hard. There is no slide this time. Glancing up, I realize the flames have come around the side of the building and are heading straight for us.

  “If you don't let me go we’re going to die,” I rasp. My lungs feel bruised. My entire left side splintering with pain.

  “Shut up.” A fist slams into my side and I inhale sharply, realizing for the first time how potent the scent of gasoline is. I press my nose to the ground and sniff. The car must have had a gas leak. That’s why they left it behind.

  “The flames,” I try again. “Look at the fire!”

  For a second the man does. He falls still overhead and I allow myself a second to hope. “We are lying in a pool of gasoline. I know you can smell it.”

  He shifts on top of me, glancing around. He tugs at my rope bindings. “When that fire reaches that car we all burn. Am I really worth dying for?”

  “Shit, no.” He shoves me into the ground and rises. “I’m outta here.”

  “Gentry!” I turn to see my initial attacker for the first time. A thick beard covers his face, dark and overgrown. It’s obvious by the length of it that his beard was already well in place before the world sank into hell. His cheeks are sunken with patches of angry red, flaking rash cover his cheeks.

  “You son of a bitch! You’re infected!” I hurl myself at him, yanking with all my might against the ropes as I head-butt him in the stomach. The ropes give slightly. I yank again, rearing my head back and slam my forehead down onto his chest.

  My vision blurs under the impact and for a second I nearly pass out. The feel of the rope slipping over my hand brings me back. I slam my fist into the man’s arms, raised to protect his face. I tremble as I beat against him, the rope dangling from my left hand with each blow.

  “Never. Fucking. Touch. Me. Again.” An odd numbing sensation falls over me as I land punches, hitting ribs, stomach and the side of his head. Wherever he lowers his defenses. I don’t feel the skin over my knuckles split. Don't react when an enormous explosion from behind me rocks the ground and sends a fireball high into the night sky, casting its orange light across the ground.

  I stare into the terrified eyes of my attacker and feel something snap. I beat him till I’m panting and drenched with sweat. His pleas fuel my rage. There is no mercy, no pity to be found within me. Only a thirst for revenge that has yet to be quenched.

  Smoke hangs thick in the air. I can feel it’s scorching heat and know I’m running out of time, but it doesn’t matter anymore. All that matters is that I hurt this man.

  An unseen blow rocks me backward as the man retaliates. My head spins and I fall to my side. The rough concrete tears at my palms. My fingers land on something cold and I retract them, before falling still. There, lying partially hidden beneath the car is a tire iron.

  Without thought I grasp the iron and swing. My captor screams as I hit his raised hand. He curls in on himself as I stagger to my feet. With his feet he pushes away, slowly inching his way up the wall. Flames lick the wooden siding not far from us. The ground less than twenty feet away begins to ignite.

  There is terror in the man’s eyes as he watches me approach. I grip the tire iron, my hands feeling steady for the first time. “Please,” he raises a hand.

  Cocking my head to the side, I smile. “I like it when they scream...just a little.”

  I swing the tire iron with all my might. Blood splatters my face and arms. His screams rise above the crackling flames. His attempts to protect himself diminish. I swing until my shoulders grow weary and the fire nips at my heels.

  The tire iron hooks on the remnants of the man’s skull. I place my foot on his chest and yank it free. Thick globs of slick matter cling to my skin as I raise my arms overhead for another blow.

  Something solid tackles me from the side. I scream as I slam to the ground, bucking wildly. “Shh,” Cable soothes, his firm grip stilling my fight. “It’s me.”

  “Cable?” The tire iron slips from my hands. My fingers are sticky as I reach out for his face, unable to comprehend that he is here. That he came for me.

  I try to blink away the smoke stinging my eyes. Blood mats my eyelashes together. My stomach heaves as I glance down at my attacker. “Oh god.”

  “Don’t look.” Cable shields me but I know the horror that lies at my feet. I did this.

  “We have to get out of here.” He grunts as he hauls me to my feet. I try to skirt the edge of the flames, but my legs give way beneath me. Cable scoops me into his arms and runs full out toward the overpass. He doesn’t slow to duck behind the cars or weave among them. He follows the railing and flees.

  Wrapping my arms around his neck, I look behind us. What was once a single fire has become a raging inferno. Flames engulf the last section of the truck stop before we reach the other side. Cable’s footing is sure on the newly melted road. The scorching heat races after us as we escape into the woods.

  I cling to him as the trembling finally comes. As the realization of what I did sinks in. He carries me deep into the forest but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back. I lay my head on his shou
lder and know in my heart that Alex is lost to us forever. Cable would never leave a man behind.

  TWENTY-THREE

  I shiver at the edge of the cave, my teeth chattering and my fingers clenched into fists in my armpits. A rain has fallen steadily for several days. The bite to the wind has shifted slightly, just enough for me to hope that spring might be on the not too distant horizon. The damp is a welcome change to the ice, though it keeps us trapped. Not that we have anywhere else to be.

  Cable says I’m in shock, that it will pass. I don’t feel in shock, not like the first time I killed a man. This time was different. Yes, my life was in danger. Yes, he had hurt me, but I could have walked away. Could have left him for the fire to consume, but I didn’t.

  I wanted to finish that monster off myself.

  At Cable’s cough, I turn away from the outside world and hurry back to his side. He lies near the back of the small cave we discovered not an hour’s hike from the burning truck stop. Too close for comfort, but he couldn’t go any farther. He was spent and I welcomed the small shelter.

  The dim light escaping through the thick blanket of cloud overhead is not nearly bright enough to allow me to see well, but I don’t need to. I can feel the heat pouring from him, hear the moist wheezing in his chest. Cable took a turn for the worse shortly after we arrived in the cave.

  For the first two days after Cable brought us here I held on to the delusion that maybe he really did just have the flu. I was sick when he first found me and look at me now. Healthy, albeit a bit worse for wear, but I didn’t turn. I survived.

  He hasn’t slept in nearly three nights. At first I thought he was just wanting to keep a watchful eye in case there were any survivors from the fire. Then I began to realize it was because he couldn’t sleep. The light began to hurt his eyes yesterday. Now he spends most of his time curled up into a ball, shivering and moaning from random body aches, his face turned away from the light. I try to talk to him, to give him something to think about, but we both know it’s a wasted effort, but we are too stubborn to admit it.