The Girl Who Kissed the Sun: (The Death Fields: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller)

by Angel Lawson

  If it’s not a bear, there’s only one thing that can survive a battle like this.

  A Hybrid.

  My insides constrict. They’ve caught up to us at the worst possible moment. We’re injured, bloody, and oxygen deprived. The figure moves out of the woods carrying a blade that glints with blood and fire.

  “Green, leave me—just go. The Hybrids won’t kill me. Not at first.” It’s wishful thinking but there’s a chance.

  “Not happening,” Green says, tugging me away from the man and pushing his body in a protective stance.

  Before he can move me along, two other figures appear, flanking the first. One kicks the recently decapitated head with their boot. I grip my knife and jerk away from Green, gritting my teeth with every move on my hurt ankle.

  “Alex!” he whispers.

  “I’m tired of running, Benjamin. I won’t do it again. Not now.” His wound looks bad. Very bad.

  I step forward, the heat of the fire overwhelming. Sweat drips down my neck. My ankle throbs. The knife grip is slippery in my hand.

  The three figures move toward me and I swallow back the fear.

  A howl splits my eardrum, sending a chill down my spine. I spin too late, stumbling on my stupid ankle, with only enough time to see the Eater charging at me. It has no face—just melted skin--but greedy hands come after me, teeth snapping an inch from my face.

  I get my knife in its shoulder, earning me no more than a second. With both hands, I push the decaying body back with a heave. My feet stick to the mud, my ankle swells. I lost my gun in the hay.

  The figures race for me and I don’t know what’s worse, the Hybrids or this Eater, but it’s the sound of a blade slicing through skin and bone that makes the decision for me.

  The Eater falls, head and body dropping opposite directions. A man stands before me covered in soot, sweat, and blood. His blade is still in the air. Underneath it all, with the fire roaring behind me, I see the light in his eyes--very alive, and very right here in front of me, eyes.

  “Thank fucking God,” Wyatt says, reaching for me.

  His hand touches my chin and I crumble in a mess of tears I didn’t know I’d been holding in. Not just tonight but for months and months.

  “Save the reunion for later,” a familiar voice quips. I turn and see them all. Davis the bear. Jude and Parker. All in bad, but manageable, shape.

  “This way,” Green says, pointing in the direction of the barn. His voice is rough—weak, but he’s still on two feet. With Wyatt’s hand firmly entwined in mine, we escape the inferno.

  Chapter 17

  I’m not the only emotional wreck in the group. Walker nearly cries when she sees them walk in the barn. Her face scrunches into something unfamiliar and I feel the punch in my own gut. Davis grips her in a sudden, engulfing bear hug and I press my face to Wyatt’s chest to hide my tears.

  Even Jane greets each one of her former Fighters with a pleased smile and lays a hand on Wyatt’s cheek. “I never doubted your survival.”

  Benjamin is injured, the wound on his neck bleeding badly. Jane patches him up but there’s a crease between her eyes that makes me nervous about what caused the fleshy, torn wound. I hobble on my weak ankle, Wyatt’s strong arm tight around my waist. The men hoist Benjamin onto the back of a horse and while the house burns behind us, taking the souls and bodies of the dammed, we head back on the road.

  After collecting our wagon and supplies, Finn and Mary lead us to a house a few miles away nestled back in the trees. “It belonged to a member of the community. He moved closer to the town during the crisis. I assume he’s one of the dead now,” Finn informs us as Jackson breaks a back window.

  Jackson carries Benjamin in and Walker clears the long wooden table in the kitchen with a sweeping, impatient motion. Bowls and silverware clatter to the floor. Jane lights a lantern she found by the fireplace and rests it by his head.

  “It’s a bite,” she says, pulling up the blood-soaked cloth. “It’s deep but he’s vaccinated. I’ll stitch it up tomorrow.”

  “Will he be okay?” I ask.

  “Don’t worry about me,” Benjamin says, giving me a comforting but weak smile.

  Wyatt’s hand tightens on my hip.

  “He hasn’t lost too much blood. I really think he should be okay. I’ll monitor him for fever.”

  I step away from Wyatt, grimacing with pain, and move to the table. I press my hand to Benjamin’s forehead. It’s warm but not too much. The bite is jagged and raw.

  “Don’t die on me, okay?”

  “Not a chance,” he replies but his eyelids grow heavy from the pain medication Jane gave him.

  “Let’s secure this place,” Davis says.

  A hand rests on my shoulder and I glace back. Parker gives me a grim smile. She looks different than the last time I saw her. Hair cut short in jagged angles. She seems harder, but not in a bad way. Just stronger. “I wish the circumstances were better, but I’m so glad we found you.”

  I squeeze her hand. “Me too. And I can’t wait to hear how you did it.”

  “Ninety percent luck. Ten percent bad-assery.” She jerks her head at Wyatt and Davis. “Doesn’t hurt to travel with those two either.”

  “I bet.” The rest of the room clears out, even Wyatt, the only reminder that they were here is the dirt from their boots all over the floor.

  “You need to sit,” Jane says, walking back in the room.

  Parker watches her with narrow eyes. They’re not used to The Director being among civilians. They don’t know how much she’s changed.

  “Davis,” Parker calls. He appears seconds later. “Help Alex upstairs. She needs to elevate that foot.”

  “I’m fin—” He doesn’t let me finish. I’m in his arms like an invalid and he carries me up the narrow stairwell. The first room is open, furnished with a double bed and a small dresser. A blue and pink quilt covers the mattress and he gently lays my filthy body on it.

  “I have a million questions but no idea where to start,” I say, just happy he and the others are here.

  “We’ll talk in the morning. You rest.”

  “Can I at least ask what you’re doing up here? How you found me? Were you looking?”

  “We followed Wyatt. He had a mission—and you know how he is.”

  “Determined?”

  “Stubborn as hell.”

  “What was his mission?” The hesitation at his question tells me enough. The past is catching up to me.

  “Wyatt’s not the same man you left down south. None of us are—things have changed fast. This world is evolving. I don’t know what you’ve been doing for the last three months, but for us it’s been one battle after the other.”

  I think of my warm bed and full meals. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” His face softens as he rests his hand on the door knob. “We signed on for it. But you need to know we followed him.”

  “Tell me, Davis, why is this mission so important to him? Did Erwin send him?”

  He shakes his head. “He’ll tell you, but you’ve got to understand, the driving force behind him was you. Always. Keep that in mind, okay?”

  I nod and he shuts the door, leaving me alone with an aching body and confused mind. Earlier I’d considered the other choices I had in life—beyond the battles and survival. One fiery night took those options away. Davis can say Wyatt came up here for me, but the others only would have followed for a bigger reason.

  They need our help.

  Still, I remember the look in Wyatt’s eyes when he found me. The weight of his hand in mine. Yes, something has changed with him—between us—and I’m equally terrified and thrilled to find out what that is.

  Chapter 18

  Wyatt knocks on my door a short time after Davis leaves. He takes me in, head to toe, eyes lingering on my ankle.

  “I fell off the roof.”

  “I saw.” Perfect. Of course he did.

  “That poor bastard downstairs dropped you and was repaid b
y getting a hunk taken out of his neck.”

  I give him a hard look. “Don’t. He’s my friend and was under attack.”

  He steps in the room, closing the door behind him. He needs a bath—his beard and hair a trim. His jaw and cheekbones are lean, the whites of his hazel eyes red from the smoke. Emotions bubble in my chest; fear, anger, shock. I ignore the way my fingers ache—wanting to touch him, to make sure he’s real.

  “Alex—”he says. His hands are clenched by his side and I’d bet my life he felt the same.

  “No, before anything else, tell me about my dad. Is he okay?”

  “He was safe when we left. Erwin will take care of him—he’s too important.”

  It’s not enough but what else can he give me? There are no guarantees someone we’ve left in this day and age are alive even moments after you separate. But my father is another blank I need to fill. “I hope so. He’s not made for fighting.”

  “No, but he’s resourceful. And so is the General.”

  “Tell me why you’re here. Please tell me everything that happened after I left.”

  He sighs and grabs the chair from the corner of the room. He moves it closer to the bed and scratches his forehead.

  “Start at the beginning,” I prompt.

  He does. He tells me in explicit detail about taking the kids back to Erwin and their subsequent journey toward Savannah. About training Jude and scouting for the army. He tells me about killing Hybrids, spying as they made their plans and trying to thwart their ultimate intent to overtake and absorb Erwin’s troops. He tells me little things, like how the sound of the ocean is as peaceful as always, and how the kids smiled as they ran down the sand. He smiles himself when he says that—his eyes softening. But then his voice changes and hardens when he tells me about a mission to save a farm and a surprise waiting for him. What comes next I’m not prepared for.

  My back stiffens. “Cole was there?” The last time I’d seen him he’d gutted himself with my hatchet, giving me time to escape. I wasn’t sure if he’d even survived the wound.

  “Waiting for me,” he says. “He saved the children in that home, and their parents. We met the following night.”

  I’m aware Cole is no longer human and I tell him so. “He saved me when Chloe took over the Fort.”

  “I know,” he replies. “He told me.”

  A strange knot builds in my stomach. “You’re here—alive—does that mean he’s not?”

  “We had a meeting,” Wyatt says, watching me closely. “Not a fight. It was peaceful. Cole isn’t a Hybrid—not exactly. He’s more like Paul. It’s the result of being given the two different vaccines, Jude calls them Mutts. If he told me the truth, then he’s working inside Chloe’s operation.”

  “To what end? One person can’t stop her.”

  “No, he can’t.” He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “But if we don’t do something she’s going come here next, and if she gains control of the South and Northeast there’ll be no stopping her. Ever.”

  “It feels impossible.”

  He reaches for my hand and intertwines our fingers. Our skin is dirty, covered in blood and soot and you can barely tell where one ends and the other begins. I’m struck by the gravity of his voice when he says, “I need your help on this.”

  I think about the snow-covered village waiting for me a couple of hours away. The pristine white and peaceful nights. The place that allowed me to sleep with my boots off and eat three meals a day. “Do I have a choice?”

  “With me?” he replies. “Always.”

  “But?”

  “But she’s coming and I’d really like you by my side.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m not sure it’s a battle we can avoid.”

  His eyes tell a different story—there’s longing—something more. Fate didn’t bring us together. Perseverance did, and this man traveled through hell and back for me to stand by him.

  “Can we talk in the morning?” I ask. “I need to think about some things.”

  “Of course.” He drops my hand, but brushes his fingers over my forehead. “Get some rest.”

  I nod and he moves to the door. “Wyatt?”

  He pauses.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  *

  I wake when the sun hits the window, my ankle throbbing painfully.

  I sit up and touch the hot skin and wince.

  “You’ll need to stay off that for a few days.”

  “Holy—” I nearly jump out of the bed before my brain registers Wyatt sprawled across the small chair in the corner of the room. “You scared the crap out of me.”

  “Sorry.” He stretches on the hard chair, his back cracking. He cleaned up overnight. A pile of dirty clothes sits near the dresser. He managed to scrub most of the ash and grime from his body, which revealed the cuts and bruises near his eye and jaw. Some new, others fading. He changed shirts. From the looks of the blue and black flannel, I guess he took it from one of the closets in the house.

  I glance down at my filthy hands and can’t imagine what my hair and face look like at the moment.

  He notices and says, “I brought up some soap and water for cleaning. It should still be warm.” He jumps up and shoves his hand into his pocket. “Oh, and Jane gave me some pills for the swelling.”

  I see the bowl on the dresser and a stack of washcloths. He drags the chair over and places the bowl on top. I sit up, scooting my back against the headboard, and he drops the pills in one hand and hands me the rag in another. After taking the medicine, I lean over and dip the cloth into the bowl, but the chair is too low and all I do is get the water dirty and make a mess.

  “Can I help?” he asks.

  I sigh and hold up the cloth. “Please?”

  He gestures to the bed and I slide over. He’s careful about my ankle, sitting close to the edge. He soaks the cloth and wrings it out. He looks at my face but takes my hand and starts the tedious process of wiping the dirt and grime from my fingers.

  “Your sister is different,” he says. His closeness bothers me and I’m thankful for something to fill the air other than touch.

  “Very,” I agree. “You know how the road is. It either kills you or makes you stronger. Jane came out stronger after a couple of tumbles.”

  He drops the cloth in the water, wringing it out and turning the contents a murky brown. He isn’t done though, and picks up my left hand. “Tell me about this town you’re living in. What’s it like?”

  I watch his hands work, more gentle than I could have expected. He’s calmer than I’ve ever seen him and it makes me nervous. I’m used to the pent-up anger—the lethal stance. It’s confusing.

  “Catlettsburg has been nice. I mean, if you’re into that whole quaint, small town thing.” I smile and he lifts an eyebrow. “It’s weird to be somewhere that feels calm and separate from the rest of the world. The snow helped. Obviously it gave us a false sense of security. The danger was out there—just held back by Mother Nature.”

  He reaches for my arm and pushes up the sleeve of my T-Shirt, exposing my bicep. “You’ve kept up your training.”

  I flex, showing off. His hand is warm. “Jackson spent the winter attempting to teach me ju-jitsu.”

  “Is Jackson the one on the table downstairs?” He stands suddenly and picks up the bowl, walking it over to the window. His body is all hard lines. His shoulders are wide, making the plaid of his shirt tight across the back. The hair on his neck and over his ears is little longer than he likes to wears it. It softens him, just a bit. He dumps the dirty water outside and returns to the dresser, where he uses a pitcher to refill the bowl.

  “No, that’s Benjamin—Green. We all trained together. Walker and Jane, too.”

  “How does your peaceful town feel about that?” He returns, taking a clean cloth, wetting it before reaching for my face. With one hand he cups my chin, and with the other he carefully wipes along my jaw.

  “They don’t know.”

  That statement hangs b
etween us as he washes my face. He knows me well. Even in a time of peace, I waited for the next battle. Patiently training—gaining skill and muscle.

  He knows me, I consider, as he lifts my hair and rubs the dirt off my neck. He knows I’ll come with him, as if there was another option. I’ll fight with him. We both feel the tug of obligation and justice. My skin tingles, cooling as the water meets the air. He’s close enough that I feel his breath and wonder if he can hear my heartbeat thundering in my chest.

  He returns the cloth to the bowl but his hand lingers on my neck and he just looks at me.

  “What?” I ask, finding it hard to form words.

  He licks his lip. “I didn’t know if I would find you. It’s a big fucking world out there, Alexandra. It was like looking for a needle in a haystack. Cole gave me a destination but what…” he swallows, “what if you weren’t there? What if it was a trap? What if you never made it?”

  “I’m here.” I reach out and brush his cheek, then the spot above his heart. “And you made it.”

  He pulls my head to his, our foreheads touching. “I’m not the kind of guy that asks. I’m the type that goes for it but this is different.” His mouth is close to mine—his lips a whisper away. “You’re different.”

  That’s when it clicks. He’s been waiting on me this whole time. He waited though Cole. He gave me room to trust him. He followed me from the depths of the south, through the snow and a fire storm, to this little farmhouse.

  I close the distance and kiss him, shocking him even though I know it’s what he wants. I grab him behind his ears, pulling us closer together. I don’t know what to expect but a shiver races down my spine, into my legs and sets my whole body on fire. I feel his heart pounding, or is it mine? It’s probably mine, but it may be his and I don’t know if it matters.

  We kiss and it’s as good as I’d hoped and even dreamed about. I exhale as his feathery soft lips separate from mine and the heat leaves my mouth. His forehead leans against mine and I remark, “You wouldn’t stop talking,” as an excuse for what just happened.