An owl hooted above her head, its head swiveling to watch her flight. A small animal scurried across her path, and once, the silken strands of a cobweb caught her hand. None of it fazed her. Snakes, spiders, mosquitoes, and bears. It was all part of nature, and she’d spent many a night out in the wilds, hiking, camping, and hunting.
At first, she’d gone out with her father and Alex, eager to be counted as one of the boys. Despite Alex’s youthful resentment, her dad welcomed her presence. He taught them how to shoot, track game, set snares, make a fire, and dress a kill. He even taught them about the local vegetation: which plants were edible and useful for healing. Nothing was wasted, and they cultivated a deep respect for the wild.
Once they were old enough, it was often just her and her brother. By that time, he’d outgrown his boyish dislike of little girls and took over their father’s role as a teacher. They’d play war games and try to outmaneuver each other. Often they’d pretend one of them was a bank robber on the run and the other a sheriff in pursuit.
These games now stood her in good stead, Amy realized as she picked her way across a patch of stony ground. Her feet left no tracks on the barren rock, and she left no other signs of her passing. Red and the two soldiers were falling ever further behind, their voices growing faint in the distance.
She’d traveled another mile or so before pausing to rest for a few moments. She was growing tired, and the cold was affecting her despite the constant movement. Her hands and feet felt like blocks of ice, and the tip of her nose was numb to the touch. Still, she’d made excellent progress, and her enemies were far behind. All I need to do now is find a road, and after that, a house — shelter of some kind.
With growing optimism, Amy picked her way between a couple of berry bushes, their branches bare of fruit in the winter season. Her foot came down on the ground only to find there was nothing. With a startled cry, she tumbled forward, and her stomach lurched as she fell down a steep incline. Her body rolled and bounced over the rough earth, and she flailed about with no control.
Her head slammed into a stone, and a flash of agony flared behind her closed eyelids. Pain shot through her torso as her already injured back twisted and turned in the air. Tufts of bush and clods of dirt followed her descent, dried leaves crunching beneath her body.
Amy came to an abrupt stop at the bottom and lay sprawled on her back like a starfish. She stared at the sky above, struggling to catch her breath. A groan escaped her lips as she raised one shaky hand to her forehead. Her palm came away wet with blood, crimson in the faint light.
“Ow,” she muttered, pushing herself upright. Every bone in her body ached as she climbed to her feet. A few tentative steps showed her that speed was out of the question. Each movement sent a flare of fiery pain lancing up her spine, reducing her to an agonizing shuffle. Then she heard voices in the distance and froze to the spot.
“What was that?” a man called.
“It sounded like a scream,” another man replied.
“It came from over there, you idiots,” a rough voice shouted. “Move it!”
Red!
Horror flooded her veins. They’d heard her cry when she fell, and now they knew where she was.
Despite the pain, Amy broke into a stumbling run, spurred on by fear. It drove away all rational thought and nipped at her heels until she thought the hounds of hell were after her.
Branches whipped across her face, and blood flowed from the cut on her forehead. She grabbed the rough tree trunks for support, her aching back refusing to carry her body weight. Several times she fell, her feet tripping over stones and branches. Her clumsy body was leaving a trail that even a two-year-old could follow — a swath of broken twigs, bruised leaves, overturned stones, and muddy footprints.
After a while, Amy slowed as fear gave way to rational thought once more. She’d never be able to outrun Red. Not with her injuries. If she wanted to escape, she’d have to outsmart him. Pausing to catch her breath, she took a moment to calm herself. Think, Amy. Think.
With fresh determination, she assessed her surroundings. A patch of silver light indicated a break in the canopy overhead, and she hobbled to the spot with eager steps. Tilting back her head, she stared up at the heavens. The moon stared back with a cold eye, remote, and unfeeling. No longer a friend but a spectator.
A cold shiver wormed its way down her spine, and each breath puffed out in a white cloud. Tiny beads of ice formed on her upper lip, caused by condensation. With brisk movements, she rubbed her hands over her upper arms. It didn’t help much. I have to get out of here. The longer I stay in these woods, injured as I am, the sooner I’ll die.
Raising her hand to the sky, she located the Big Dipper and traced a straight line to Polaris, the North Star. That showed her which way was north. Not only would it take her back to Fort Detrick, but also the nearest town, Manassas. Moss was another indicator. It usually grew on the northern side of tree trunks, but it was less reliable and hard to spot in the dark.
Amy walked toward the bright star on the horizon, noting its position and that of the moon as well. Even when the trees closed in above her head, she kept moving in the same direction, using a tall pine tree as a landmark.
As she went, she cast about on the forest floor for a branch or a stick. One sturdy enough to bear her weight. She found one not long after and gave it a few whacks to rid it of possible insects. After stripping away the excess leaves and twigs, she gripped the top and used it as a walking stick.
The relief on her sore back was instantaneous, and she was able to move faster. Even so, her pursuers were gaining on her. She could hear them shout to each other, their voices growing stronger by the second. Red was the loudest, the venom in his tone palpable. She could only imagine what he’d do to her if he caught her, and it took every ounce of self-control she had not to panic again. If she did, all was lost.
Instead, her mind winged back to the games she’d played with Alex. One of the tactics she’d used on him came back to her, and a faint smile graced her lips. It’s a long shot, but it’s the last thing either Red or his friends will expect. Especially from me.
Amy found a stretch of open ground covered in mud and dead leaves. She then walked across it, dragging her feet to leave a trail. She took a different direction, heading due west instead of north. Halfway through, she knelt and scooped up handfuls of the muck, which she smeared across her face and hair. Her hands, feet, and pajamas got the same treatment until she resembled a featureless brown blob. It had the added benefit of plugging up the wound on her scalp.
Afterward, she continued along the path while leaving behind as much sign of her passage as possible. Once she’d created a clear trail for Red and his men to follow, she doubled back.
At the midway point, a ridge of stony ground abutted a thick stand of thorny bushes. Stepping with care, Amy crossed the stones without disturbing them before pushing her way into the bushes. The thorns cut her skin and tugged at her clothes, but she used her walking stick to push back the worst of it and create a small clearing. Once tucked inside her hidey-hole, she curled up into a ball and covered herself with dead leaves, twigs, and foliage. With her camouflage completed, she settled down to wait.
It wasn’t easy.
Thus far, a combination of fear, adrenalin, and sheer grit had kept her going. Now, there was nothing to do but pray that her plan worked. Before, the constant movement had kept her from freezing. Now, her body began to shake and shiver with the early onset of hypothermia.
She knew the symptoms well. Her father had drilled them into her head on numerous occasions: Shaking, followed by shallow breathing, confusion, drowsiness, slurred speech, lack of coordination, and a weak pulse. Not long after that, unconsciousness and death. A person could die before realizing how far gone they were.
Amy had no choice, however. She had to try and stick it out. Burrowing deeper into the ground, she attempted to cover herself with dead leaves and debris. But the earth was damp and cold, providi
ng no insulation or warmth.
The shivering worsened until she had to bite down on her walking stick to keep her teeth from chattering. Her body shook so badly she was afraid of being spotted, and after a few minutes, she couldn’t feel her hands or her feet at all. Even her face was stiff like a mask frozen over her bones. Closing her eyes, she wrapped her arms around her legs and prayed for it all to be over soon.
It wasn’t long before Amy heard a rustle of leaves followed by heavy footsteps. A second pair sounded soon after. Harsh breathing sawed through the air, followed by a grunt of annoyance. “God damn it, I nearly broke my ankle again.”
“Shut up, will you?” another voice said, not far to her right.
“What for?”
“The girl might hear you.”
Amy shook in her nest. The soldiers had caught up to her at last. In her mind, she dubbed them Soldier One and Soldier Two. The question was, where was Red? He was the one that terrified her — the one with death in his eyes when he stared at her.
“Who cares about one fucking girl? She’s long gone, I tell you. That kid is fast. Too fast for the likes of us,” Soldier One said.
“Don’t tell that to Red,” Soldier Two cautioned.
“Don’t tell what to Red?” a harsh voice demanded almost right above her head.
Amy nearly jumped out of her skin, and a spurt of pure terror rushed through her veins. She pressed one trembling hand to her lips. Red!
“N…nothing, Red,” Soldier Two mumbled.
“Keep it that way,” Red replied. “If I hear one more peep out of either of you, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Yes, Red,” the two soldiers muttered.
“Now keep quiet and follow me. She went that way,” Red said.
“How do you know that, Red?” Soldier One asked.
“Are you blind?” Red asked with a low growl. “She left a trail, you idiot. Probably got scared and made a run for it.”
Soldier Two laughed. “She won’t get far, that’s for sure.”
“She will if you keep blabbing, you moron. Sound travels at night. Now for the last time, shut up.”
“Sorry, Red,” Soldier Two mumbled.
With Red in the lead, the trio followed the false trail Amy had made. One by one, they walked past her nest, so close she could almost reach out and touch them. Her heart bounced in her chest like a frightened rabbit, and her jaws ached from biting down on the stick.
Amy watched until they were long out of sight before she dared to make her move. She uncurled from her thorny nest like a beast emerging from its lair. Her skin and clothes were caked in mud, and bloody scratches adorned her arms and legs. She couldn’t feel them. Her limbs were dead pieces of flesh that flapped around without purpose.
On her hands and knees, she crawled out from underneath the bushes. As she went, the feeling returned to her arms and legs in a painful, tingling rush. Nevertheless, she was grateful. Using the walking stick as support, she managed to get to her feet. There she paused for a few seconds to regain her bearings. North. I need to go north.
Somehow, she located the tall pine tree she’d been using as a landmark and stumbled toward it. Every step was a battle. Her joints ached, and she’d stopped shivering. That was a bad sign. It meant she was progressing to the next stage of hypothermia.
Shaking her head to clear away the fog of confusion that kept creeping in, Amy set her sights on the way ahead. With her jaw set in a determined line, she pushed forward. Keep moving, and you’ll make it out alive. If you don’t, you’ll die.
Chapter 8 - Dylan
Dylan had both hands pressed to the towels she’d placed over Alex’s wounds. Despite the tape and gauze she’d applied underneath, he continued to bleed, and she was afraid he’d never make it to the infirmary. His breathing was labored, and bloody foam beaded his lips. “Come on, Alex. Hold on.”
He didn’t respond.
Dylan raised her head and called, “Damn it, Nick. Where’s that transport?”
“It just got here,” he cried from the doorway. “We’re moving him now.”
“Thank God,” Dylan muttered, relief flooding her veins.
Nick and Saul appeared with a stretcher, and together they rolled him onto the canvas material. Alex grunted with pain but remained still otherwise. His skin was pale, the color and sheen of a wax candle.
“Turn him on his side,” Dylan ordered when he began to choke. “He can’t breathe otherwise.”
The two men obeyed, and she used a couple of pillows to prop up his head and hold him in position. “Alright. He’s ready.”
With haste, Nick and Saul carried the stretcher out into the night. They loaded it into the backseat of a double cab truck, careful not to jostle Alex. Dylan squeezed in beside him while Nick took the wheel.
Saul handed Dylan a couple of blankets before stepping away. “I’m staying.”
“What?” Dylan asked.
“I’m joining the search party. King can’t have gotten far,” Saul said. “I’m going after them.”
“Okay, but don’t take any unnecessary chances. Tomorrow is another day,” Nick replied.
Saul nodded, his expression blank. “I know.”
“Be careful,” Dylan said, worry eating at her insides. She would’ve preferred the three of them to stick together. They were the ones being hunted, after all. But Saul’s mind was set. He was going after Tara, and nothing would stop him.
Saul closed the door, and Nick drove off without delay. He tossed a quick look over his shoulder. “I’ll try to be as careful as I can, but it’ll be a bumpy ride.”
“Just hurry. We don’t have time to waste,” Dylan said as she wrapped the blankets around Alex’s form. He’d begun to shiver. Either from the shock, cold, or both. She leaned closer and placed her arms around him, hoping her body heat would help keep him warm. “Please, don’t die.”
His breath whistled in and out of his lungs, and she closed her eyes, listening to its rhythm. At any moment, she expected it to stop. He’d been shot four times in the torso. Two of the wounds didn’t look too bad. One was situated low down to the side. The other had cut a groove through the flesh on the ribs.
It was the remaining two injuries that bothered her. One bullet had punctured a lung, while the other was still lodged inside his chest somewhere. She’d spotted the entry wound but had found no exit wound. That meant surgery was needed.
Dylan chewed on her bottom lip. He’s lost so much blood. Is he even strong enough to survive an operation?
She didn’t think so, but who was she to say? “Ethan is one of the best. I’ve seen him work. If anyone can save Alex, he can.”
“What’s that?” Nick asked.
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Dylan replied, not wanting to awaken Nick’s latent jealousy against Ethan. “Just talking to myself.”
“Well, we’re nearly there,” Nick said.
“You hear that, Alex?” Dylan whispered. “We’re almost at the hospital.”
Seconds later, Nick drew to a stop in front of the infirmary. He jumped out and ran around the truck to open the door. “We’re here. We made it. Is he…?”
Dylan breathed a sigh of relief. “He’s still alive, but barely.”
Ethan waited at the entrance with a team of people, prepped, and ready to go. They rushed forward as one to assist. With swift efficiency, they loaded Alex onto a gurney and wheeled him inside.
Dylan followed them inside with Nick close on her heels. There was no way she could leave without knowing whether Alex would be okay or not. As much as she wanted to chase after Tara and Amy, he needed her too. For now, she had to trust that Saul would do everything in his power to find the kidnapped girls.
They ran down a long hall of gleaming white tiles, white-washed walls, and bright white lights before turning left into an annexed room that led to an operating theater. A set of double doors swung open and shut as staff rushed back and fro, each of them engaged in a specific task. One nurse hooked Alex up to a hear
t monitor while another checked his blood pressure. Yet another sucked the blood from his mouth with a gadget while two more cut the clothes from his body.
Dylan moved toward the doors, but a middle-aged nurse with wiry, black hair stopped her with stern authority. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but you can’t go inside. You’ll have to wait out here.”
“I know. I just need to tell him something,” Dylan said. “I’ll be quick, I promise.”
The nurse shook her head, her lips set in a straight line. “I cannot allow that. Please, wait outside until someone calls you.”
The nurse turned to leave, but Dylan persisted. “Please, you don’t understand. He’s my friend. I need to speak to him, and this could be my only chance.”
“Certainly not.” An annoyed frown graced the nurse’s brow as she continued, “I must insist that you back away and let us do our jobs.”
Dylan gaped as fiery heat rushed through her veins. Black spots danced in front of her eyes, and her ears sang. Before she could stop herself, her arm shot forward, and her fingers closed around the nurse’s throat.
Slamming the woman into the wall, Dylan lifted her until she stood on the tips of her toes. Her fingers squeezed the woman’s delicate flesh until her eyes bulged from their sockets, and her face turned puce.
With bared teeth, Dylan said, “Who are you to tell me what to do, you little worm?”
“I…ack, argh,” the nurse gasped, unable to form a coherent word.
“Dylan, stop,” Nick cried, grabbing her arm. “What are you doing?”
Dylan stared at the nurse, her entire focus on the woman she was about to strangle to death. “I’m teaching her a lesson.”
“Are you crazy?”
“Maybe, but you heard her. She wouldn’t even let me have a few seconds with Alex. What if he dies tonight? What then?”
“I realize that but this is not the way to go about it, Dylan,” Nick insisted.
“Why not? She deserves it,” Dylan growled in low tones.
Nick tugged at her arm. “Let her go. I’m sure we can sort something out.”
Rise of the Undead (Book 4): Apocalypse Z Page 5
