Then There Was You Part 14

"Not far enough. Just a little farther," she begged.

"No," he countered.

"Please, Chris." She channeled her most sincere-sounding voice while she rubbed her hand along his shoulder. "It's bad enough I'm going to have to do this in front of you. The least you can do is take me far enough so they can't see."

He hesitated.

She hesitated as well, not sure if what she needed to say would be worth it in the end, but it was the last card she had left to play. "I...um...I'll remember your kindness when we get to camp and make sure you're rewarded." Squeezing his shoulder, she held her breath, waiting to see if he'd take the bait or not.

"I'm going to hold you to that." He moved away from the other men again. "Where?"

"Right there, by those rocks." She pointed. With any luck, the cl.u.s.ter of large boulders would be enough to cover up the evidence she planned to leave behind.

Slipping the knife from its hiding place, she stifled a gasp as the blade nicked the inner curve of her breast. A trickle of warm liquid dripped down her stomach. She refused to focus on the sting of the cut when she had a far bigger problem at hand.

As Chris carried her over to the boulders, she glanced toward the other men. She could barely make them out between the trees and, if what she thought she saw was true, neither watched her journey into the woods with Chris.

Without letting herself think about the task she faced any longer, she gripped the handle of the knife, squeezing it until her knuckles turned white. In one swift motion, she jammed the blade up into his head in the soft spot where his skull connected to his spine. A second later, she lay with the wind knocked out of her-on top of Chris' limp, lifeless body.

The man had dropped like a rock the second her knife had entered his skull, something she hadn't been prepared for.

Struggling to her feet, she gasped in a breath, pulled her knife from the body, and sprinted off into the woods. She didn't look back, didn't stop, didn't think about what she'd done.

Sara ran until it felt like she was treading on broken gla.s.s and her lungs burned. She tumbled to the ground in a heap, tears streaming down her face. Pain rocketed through her body-aching from the initial struggle to get away from the men, her feet an inferno of cuts, and a deep moral remorse at having taken someone's life.

She curled into a ball, letting the tears flow until they turned to hiccups. She didn't know how far or how long she'd run. She didn't know if the other men had found Chris' body or had seen her flee. She had no idea if they'd followed her or not.

She was free of them and wanted nothing more than to get back to Dane. She hoped to find him alive.

Chapter Twenty-One.

Dane rolled to his knees and rubbed the side of his head where it had struck a large rock partially buried in the ground. A lump the size of a Ping-Pong ball throbbed in time to his heartbeat.

He tried to guess how long he'd been knocked out, based on where the sun hung in the sky. An impossible task on an overcast day. It had to have been at least a couple of hours. Way too long to run off into the woods after Sara.

Dane struggled to stand then walked about ten feet into the woods. If they'd hurt her and left her here, she should be close by, just out of view of the road. Or at the very least, there might be a blood trail to follow. But after a few minutes of searching, he found no sign of Sara, nor a path to track.

He sighed with relief. A part of him feared he'd find her body, beaten and left behind. Since he hadn't, he hoped she was still alive. Somewhere.

Surveying the landscape of the woods, he tried to see any semblance of buildings or other places where Sara might have been taken, but all he saw were trees and bushes. They could have gone anywhere. He had no idea what distance they could've traveled during the time he'd been unconscious.

His best bet was to get to the truck, find some gas, and start looking for Sara.

Dane wandered out of the thick tree cover. Stopping on the side of the road, he swore, and kicked at the dirt. His truck was gone along with his plan.

He'd thought the attack this morning had been random, but if they'd known to bring gas with them, then it must have been planned. How long had their attackers been waiting in the brush for them? The thought of strangers sniffing around his truck while he and Sara slept inside sent a chill of unease down his spine. He'd been stupid to think they were safe enough to sleep in the truck at night.

It seemed others made questionable decisions as well.

Dane sat on the edge of the road and dropped his head into his hands. What could he do? He had no idea where Sara had been taken or how to find her. Nor did he have any means of travel, other than on foot. He might be able to find a vehicle with gas in the tank and keys in the ignition, but that would be equivalent of finding the proverbial needle in a haystack.

He saw a few possible choices.

One, he could hang out here for a day or two to see if Sara would manage to find her way to him. But that seemed doubtful. The dense forest in this area meant she could get turned around in it. So even if she found a way to escape whoever had taken her, then she'd also have to figure out how to get to this particular road.

Two, he could head to the cabin or bunker. It would be a long walk. Even driving around constant obstacles like stalled vehicles and highways turned into parking lots had taken them two days to get this far. He faced at least double the amount to get there on foot.

Three, he could head into the woods in the direction Sara had been taken and hope by some twist of fate he would be lucky enough to find her. But that would be about as random as finding a car with keys and gas in it.

Or four, he could go the rest of the way to the bookstore and hope like h.e.l.l Sara would choose to do the same thing if she could.

His stomach growled as he contemplated his options, and he reached for his pack then realized it hadn't been on his back when he jumped from the truck. Having no vehicle also meant having no supplies. Even the holster he kept strapped to his leg lacked his trusted weapon. Whoever had knocked him out had also liberated him from his gun.

No food. No safe water. No weapons. The throbbing in his head increased as he stood. No first aid supplies either.

"s.h.i.+t," he muttered to himself. Any of his options were more difficult with no supplies.

His choices clear in his mind, he saw one feasible plan. The bookstore could be another day by foot, maybe less if nothing slowed him down. It was the most probable place to find supplies and help-and with any luck, he'd find Sara too.

If not, then maybe he'd at least find her family and could recruit them to go out and look for her. Of course, he'd first have to convince them he wasn't a scavenger coming to raid their stockpiles. He had to try since it was the most reasonable place to find Sara. He'd never forgive himself if he didn't.

It wasn't much of a plan, but it was all he had.

Sara forced one foot in front of the other, counting the steps to ten then repeating the process again. To say she was exhausted would be a gross understatement. On the verge of complete collapse would be closer to the truth.

But she had to keep going.

How far? So tired. Keep going.

Time and distance were immeasurable. She'd counted to ten for about the millionth time, or at least it felt like it, and she'd gone off in the opposite direction of where she thought she'd left the men. If she guessed right, she hoped she headed toward southeast and the river.

How had the world fallen to s.h.i.+t so fast? Everywhere she went, people wanted to hurt her or strip her of her supplies. Or worse. How had humanity fallen into such a state of depravity?

Hadn't she stolen property from vehicles without knowing where the occupants were? Hadn't she lied to keep her secret bunker safe instead of sharing with those who had less? Hadn't she killed to protect her own skin?

She was just as disgusting as the rest of the human race.

Without time to dwell on such thoughts, she focused on moving forward, putting one foot in front of the other.

Just ahead of her, something reflected into her eyes, blinding her. She squinted, holding her hand up, and crept forward, making sure to stay as quiet as she could.

A few minutes later, she reached a break in the trees and found sunlight reflecting off the metal frame around the windows of a vehicle. A road.

She stepped onto the pavement, and daggers shot through her feet. In the forest, she'd forced herself not to focus on a problem she could do nothing about, but with the possibility of shoes or medical supplies in every car, the pain flared to life.

The first truck sat empty with its doors hanging open as if its occupants had left in a hurry. She popped the trunk to find it empty as well. The next three were more of the same. Her breath wavered as she limped to the last vehicle nearby. Peeking in the window, she spied a duffle bag.

"Please, please, please," she whimpered, pulling on the door handles until she found an unlocked one. Crawling onto the back seat of the car, her body clenched with waves of pain from the stress of her journey.

She felt like a child opening a Christmas present-the antic.i.p.ation of the unknown lying in her lap and the hope it would contain what she most desperately wanted. Or in this case, needed.

The duffle bag gave off a pungent smell of something familiar yet strange. Inside, she found gym clothes. The s.h.i.+rt resembled the size of a blanket. If it hadn't been for the stench of old sweat and a gym locker room, she might have even considered using it. But the smell of filth spoke of too many possible germs to risk using the s.h.i.+rt for any purpose.

Tossing the bag and all its contents to the floor, she closed the car door, curled up on her side on the seat, and cried. She was screwed. She couldn't walk on the scratchy pavement with feet this cut up, and going into the forest again wouldn't help, either.

She couldn't even bring herself to look at the condition of her feet. By the throbbing, she knew they were bad. Bad enough she risked infection if she didn't get them cleaned and protected soon.

A knock against the gla.s.s window sent her bolting upright. She looked around frantically. Every window had a person staring at her. She reached for her knife.

"Get away from me. Leave me alone," she shouted.

"We can help you," the person in the driver's side window said.

Yeah, sure, right. She almost believed him. None of the people she'd run into so far had wanted to help her. She wouldn't fall for their trick.

"You look like you need help," the one behind her added, her eyes flickering down to the stickiness making Sara's s.h.i.+rt cling to her body. Blood. She'd been trying to ignore it, but it probably made her look gruesome. She didn't want to think about how it'd gotten there or whom it belonged to. Hers... Chris'.... She prayed the cut on her chest had stayed clean.

"I said leave me alone. I don't need your help." Sara scooted into the middle of the seat, trying to stay out of grabbing distance of any of the windows, even though she knew she was trapped.

The door opened.

"I'm not afraid to use this!" She thrust her knife out in front of her, swis.h.i.+ng it side to side in jerky movements she hoped would scare them off.

A man with a gentle smile and dark hair reached out to her. "I'm a doctor, and I can see your feet are in serious need of medical attention. I a.s.sure you, my friends and I mean you no harm."

"I don't believe you. What do you want from me? I don't have any supplies." Her voice broke, giving away vulnerabilities she didn't want to confess. "I have nothing you could want."

Another person poked his head into the door. "We just want to help you. We don't need anything from you. We have enough already."

Sara eyed them suspiciously. If they wanted to attack her, wouldn't they have done it already? Was it possible she'd found people who hadn't lost their minds when their society started to collapse?

The guy claiming to be a doctor reached into his pocket and pulled out a couple of bandages still in their packaging. "I only have a few things with me, but you're welcome to them. At least they will help a little. Or if you want, you can come with us to the colony. It's not a far walk, and I'll be able to clean up your injuries with sterile water and ointments."

She bit the inside of her cheek, debating. It seemed reckless to go with strangers, but also impractical not to take the opportunity for medical help she desperately needed. What would Dane do if he were here? What was the smart choice?

"If I go, I can leave whenever I want?"

His brow creased as if he was surprised and a little disturbed she'd think anything else. "Yes, of course. You can stay as long as you need to or leave as soon as you want."

Sara hesitated a moment longer before s.h.i.+fting toward the open door. At this point she had nothing left to lose. Her feet needed medical care, and these people, whoever they were, had offered some. She had to trust their intentions were good.

She still held her knife at the ready, just in case.

She cringed, wobbling unsteadily and leaning against the car for support, when her feet touched the pavement. Her body felt heavy, weighted down by injury and stress. Hunger gnawed a hole in her stomach as she realized she hadn't eaten anything since sometime the day before. A lot had happened since then, and she felt as if she'd expended all her stored energy.

The doctor put his hand on her arm, but she jerked away from him, forcing herself to stand upright despite the agony.

"We can carry you." His voice was so kind it almost brought tears to her eyes. How long had it been since she'd heard someone other than Dane speak this way to her?

As much as she wanted to trust them, to allow them to carry her, provide her with help, comfort, and caring, she couldn't. Medical care might be a necessity, but trusting these people wasn't.

"I'll walk." She took a shaky step to prove her point. Fisting her hands, she pressed her fingernails into her palms to distract herself from the pain in her feet.

The doctor nodded then started off toward wherever they were going. Sara counted to ten in her head again. She'd made it this far. She could make it farther.

She'd make it as far as she had to until she reunited with Dane and her family.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

Sara eyed Travis, the doctor. He smiled up at her from his place at her feet. He'd been working on them for a while, longer than she'd expected. Seemed her feet were in worse shape than she'd realized, or maybe worse than she'd wanted to admit.

He'd cleaned her cuts, removed a few splinters, applied ointment to help prevent infection, and applied a thick layer of bandages, hopefully allowing her to walk with more comfort than pain. She doubted it would.

Sara looked around. They didn't have any kind of medical facility set up, just a bed in the corner of the room and a table with supplies. The rest of the warehouse was divided into other areas: blankets and pillows in rows to make a sleeping area, a table and chairs near a wash basin, and a collection of canned goods for a kitchen.

She looked at the other people in the room. "Why isn't anyone wearing masks or gloves?" she asked. She hadn't been able to find out much information about the infection but maybe these people could give her some. "Is it true the infection only spreads through bodily fluids? Shouldn't people here still be careful?"

"The virus is only spread through blood, which is why I'm wearing gloves. Otherwise, you're safe."

"Then why hasn't life gone back to normal yet? Why is everyone still acting like it's the apocalypse?"

"Because it sort of is. If you get the virus, you almost always spread it before you die. You start bleeding from your mucous membranes, coughing up blood. It looks like something out of a horror movie."

Sara's head swam with the new information. "Disgusting."

"The problem is they haven't figured out what to do once the person has it."

"So what happens?" she asked, not sure she wanted to know the answer.

"Quarantine them until they bleed to death. And if that isn't sad enough, the mess they leave behind is the very thing to infect the next person. Clean-up is a b.i.t.c.h without the right precautions."

Sara shuddered. "Have, um, have you had to clean up the mess here?"

"No. We've been lucky so far. You're the first stranger we've seen in a long time and you're bleeding. I know it's made some of our people nervous, which is why you're down here with us instead of with the rest of the colony."