The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither

by Miles, Amy

  “Stop.” He resists and I tighten my grip. “Stop, Cable.”

  “There’s no time for that,” he grumbles, pulling away. He ducks low and searches under the sink. He grabs a box of matches, shaking it to see if it is full then stretches to reach a half empty pack of batteries that look as if they may have begun to corrode. “We have to be ready to leave the moment they arrive.”

  “Why? What aren’t you telling me?” He goes still, the backpack falling slack at his side.

  “Look, I know you’re upset about Eric. I want to go look for him too, but you’re wasting energy. He’s probably halfway to the Illinois and Kentucky border by now. When Alex gets here we can all help fill the extra packs. Who knows, maybe they have their own supply stash.”

  He rubs his hand across the top of his head, mussing his hair as he grimaces down at the floor. “It’s not Eric that I’m worried about. He can take care of himself better than most people.”

  I duck down beside him, our knees nearly touching. “Then what is it?”

  He swallows hard and focuses on his hands after briefly meeting my gaze. “I think your friends are being followed.”

  “By who?” My grip tightens on my knees as I balance beside him.

  “I’m not sure. I’ve been worried for days that someone will have heard your messages. Worried that if the military did trace the call that they would bide their time. They could have busted in here at any time if they wanted to.”

  “But why would they wait?” Cable stares hard at me and slowly his meaning sinks in. I blow out a breath and sink back onto the floor. “More people. More blood.”

  He nods, looking as sickened as I feel. “So what do we do? We can’t just leave them for bait.”

  “I know.” He grabs a rag from under the sink and wipes his brow. Despite the chilled air in the house, sweat beads along his forehead. His cheeks hold a faint flush. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. To find a way to minimize the damage if there is a show down.”

  “You don’t have to do this on your own, Cable. I know I’m not a soldier, but I’ve been through a lot in my life. I’ve learned a thing or two about taking care of myself when I need to.”

  “I can’t risk that. If it comes down to it, we’re going to have to fight.”

  I glance toward the barn through the kitchen window. The doors are closed, concealing the Humvee within. It won't do us any good now that we siphoned the gas and switched it over to the truck that Eric stole. That was our solution, our way to hide out in plain sight. Now we are stuck.

  I don’t blame Eric for his decision. Not really. I guess, if I stopped to think about it, I might have done the same thing in his position if I were consumed with grief.

  Shaking my head, I know that’s not true either. I couldn’t just leave someone behind like that, no matter how much someone’s death affected me. “Fine. So we fight.”

  “It’s not that easy, Avery. If the military are on their tail then they will come heavily armed and with far more men than we could take out.”

  “So what do you want to do? Leave?”

  This question places a heavy burden on him. Cable is a good guy— almost too good. He places the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one is strong enough to carry that.

  “No. We don’t know for sure that anyone is following them, but I’d rather be cautious.”

  “Agreed.” I nod in agreement. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Hide.” He slowly rises to his feet and turns his back on me. I hear him resume shifting through things on the counter.

  “No way!” I push up from my knees. “I’m not going to just go bury myself in some dark hole while you take all of the risk.”

  He sighs as he turns to face me. “I was afraid you were going to say that.”

  My eyes widen in shock at the flash of silver he swings down in an arch toward my head. Pain splinters at my temple and I crash to the ground.

  When I wake, my head feels as if it’s been smashed in a trash compactor. My nose feels slightly ajar. Dried flakes of blood mat my hair to my temple. My eye is tender and slightly swollen.

  “Why is it always my head?” I groan as I roll to my side.

  A moist cloth falls away from my face. Small chunks of ice patter against the ground beside me. Pressing my palm to the side of my face I feel a chill. “A jerk and a gentleman at the same time,” I grumble as I slowly rise.

  The throbbing in my head increases as I sit up. The air feels cold and thick, making it feel as if I can’t catch my breath. I push back slowly and cry out as I hit a wall. My fingers search about me in the dark. Splinters of wood burrow into my fingertips as I trace along the wall. I ignore the pain and slowly work my way around the small space.

  From above, a rectangle of light can just be seen. The light darkens. I raise my face toward the ceiling and cough as dirt rains down. My fingers guide me along a set of wooden steps that lead up. I can feel cold seeping through the space beyond the steps and hurry to sink into the dark hole behind. Earth presses against my shoulder. I lean my head against it to ease the pounding as shouts reach me for the first time.

  Overhead, I hear the grinding wheels of the barn doors sliding open. My pulse thumps in my chest as I listen.

  The voices above are muffled. I strain to hear what they are saying, to determine if they are familiar to me. What if it’s Alex and he doesn’t know we are here? What if they haven’t been followed and they think we’ve left them? What if Cable is hurt and can't tell them where I am?

  Indecision keeps me stalled in place. I want to see, to find my former group to make sure Eva is safe, but something holds me back. In the distance I hear the ping of gunfire and shiver.

  “Shit.” The person standing overhead shifts away and the light reappears. I crane my neck to see, listening to the return fire.

  Cable was right! They were being followed!

  Chaos erupts around the farm. Gun fire fills the air. I hear screams of pain drowned out by the roar of engines. The scent of smoke slowly begins to filter into my hole. I press my sleeve to my face, taking only shallow breaths.

  I can’t see repeats through my mind as panic begins to overwhelm me. The dark is thick and suffocating. It’s a big room with windows. Lots of doors. A high ceiling.

  I used to do this when I was a child, when fear of small spaces would seize me. My mother never locked me up. She may have been a crap mother but she wasn’t cruel in that way. No, my captivity was self-inflicted. I would hide to be alone, to escape the crushing fist of one of the jerks she brought home with her after work. Some of them weren’t too bad. Others...it was better to be afraid of the dark than be within their reach.

  I duck at the sound of a loud thud overhead. I hear footsteps, slow and controlled. Something heavy is rolled over, dragged a few feet.

  “No. Please!”

  A close range gunshot covers my scream as I cower back. Something wet slaps my forehead. I reach up and touch the warm liquid. It is thicker than water. Blood.

  Holding my stomach, I double over and try to block out the sounds of a struggle overhead. Grunting. Swearing. The repetitive thuds of blows landed.

  Please don’t be Cable!

  More shouts rise in the distance. I raise my head and listen, realizing that the rapid gunfire has lessened. Have we been overrun? Have they called a ceasefire to hunt for me? It was all over far too soon to have been the military, but who else could have attacked? Maybe survivors from a nearby town looking for supplies?

  I hear the snapping of bone above and hold my breath. There is a long, pained groan and then silence. The victor stumbles back and the wooden trap door creaks underfoot. The person halts. The thrumming of my pulse against my neck intensifies as seconds pass. Then I hear it. The sweeping of a shoe against the ground. Someone above me searches for the edge of the door.

  As the creaking of the wood comes again I dart from my hiding place, rising to my full height, arms stretched out before me as I head toward whe
re I think the far wall is. My fingers clash with rubber tipped handles, the metallic clanking of tools sounds loud and echoey in the small space. I know the person above heard.

  I grab wildly at a handle and yank but it doesn’t budge. Raising my foot, I press back against the wall, tugging with all my might. Release, dammit!

  The wall emits a loud wooden groan a second before the tool releases and I’m thrown to the ground.

  “Hey!” I freeze at the shout overhead. “There’s someone down here!”

  I press back into my hole just as the trap door is yanked open. Unnatural light spills into the hole. I cover my eyes until I adjust to the sudden brilliance. Heavy steps descend into the dark. The earth crumbles against my shoulder as I flatten against the wall.

  “Hello?”

  I hold my breath, clinging to the tool with sweat slick hands. The dual handles feel heavy in my grip. I run my finger along the wooden handle and down the long length of the metal head and realize I grabbed a pair of pruning shears. The metal feels gritty, worn. Most likely so rusty I won't even be able to open them. I have the shittiest luck ever, I silently bemoan.

  The man reaches the final step and pauses. I watch from beneath the stairs as he ducks down and surveys the room. He raises his hand to try to peer around the light spilling over his back. “I know you’re down here. I’m not going to hurt you.”

  I reaffirm my grip. Beads of sweat drip from my brow and land on my nose. Despite the cold, heat flashes through my body, setting me on edge.

  “It’s safe to come out,” the man calls again.

  I raise my sheers and poise the curved metal end through the stairs, aiming for his upper thigh. Soon he will move and I’ll lose my chance.

  I allow myself a brief inhale and hold it, wishing that time could slow so I would have more time to think, to plan, but it doesn’t. It speeds up. The muscles in my arm constrict and I draw back my arm to strike.

  A shout from overhead startles me. The shears slam against the wooden step as I recoil. A shadow hurtles down from above. “Get away from her!”

  I crawl out of my hiding place at the sound of his voice. When I rise, I find Cable on top of the man, pummeling him with his fists. I feel paralyzed as I watch the muscles in his back constrict with each swing. The scream of pain snaps me out of it. “Cable!”

  His arm pauses, cocked back as he turns to look at me. His face is flushed and glistens with sweat. His hand is bloodied, his face covered in scratches and dirt. His hair is matted with blood but I can’t tell if it’s his own. “You...ok?” he grunts.

  The man beneath him groans. His leg shifts, bending at the knee before it falls still against the ground.

  “I’m fine.” I look down at the man’s torso. Though it rises and falls with breath, I can tell he’s badly wounded. “I could have taken him.”

  Cable wipes at his face, managing to smear the blood rather than clean it away. “I know. The thing is, I didn’t want you to need to.”

  “Still trying to save the world, huh?” The erratic beating in my chest slowly abates as he stares at me. I feel an odd flush rises along my neck under his intense gaze. It feels intimate.

  He nods and a small twitch tugs at the corner of his lips. “Yes, Ma'am. One pretty gal at a time.”

  A tell-tale blush betrays the impact his statement has on me before I turn away, dipping low to retrieve my shears. Cable looks down at my weapon. “Haven’t seen that one used before.”

  I shrug. “I improvised.”

  “That’s good.” Cable grunts as the man beneath him begins to stir. “Why don’t you go on up? There’s someone waiting to speak to you.”

  I look toward the light as hope flares in my chest. Eva!

  I set my shears down, propping them against the wall and rush for the stairs. I’m nearly topside when I hear a grunt of pain and turn to see Cable crashing to the ground. The man kicks out at him as soon as he falls.

  “No!”

  “Stay there,” Cable grunts as the man throws himself on top.

  The two men roll side over side, their legs entangled as they disappear into shadow. I peer into the dark, ducked low, desperate to see. “I can help.”

  “No.” Cable’s voice sounds strangled. My legs go weak at his howl of pain. Standing there, knowing that he is in trouble, that I could help, is maddening, but there is little room down there. If I were to go back down I might take away any advantage Cable may have of getting the upper hand, so I obey.

  Another cry of pain brings them back into view. Two pair of feet kick out. A low punch strikes at someone’s kidneys.

  “No!” My heart stops in my chest at the plea. A piercing cry cuts off and silence falls over the space. One set of legs collapse to the side. Only the sound of heavy panting can be heard.

  “Cable?” My call is too soft to be heard so I try again. I watch the survivor roll away, knees bent, chest heaving with exertion. I close my eyes at the sound of vomiting. The scent wafts toward me, turning my stomach.

  “Cable? Dammit, speak to me!” I grip the edge of the trapdoor as my mind flies through escape scenarios. If the other guy won I’m in a world of hurt!

  “I’m here,” comes a hoarse response.

  My shoes clatter against the wooden steps as I rush down and find him curled onto his side and pull him toward me. My grip falters on his arm as my hands become slick with blood. “You’re hurt.”

  “Not...mine,” he rasps, clutching his ribs. I spy his glock lying on the ground beside him.

  “I don't remember hearing a gunshot.”

  He coughs and rolls, grimacing. “Out of ammo. Took out a few of the raiders outside.”

  “And my pistol?”

  “Gone. I used everything.”

  Cold dread washes over me as I look to the light above. I don’t blame Cable for using what little ammo we still had to protect us. It was the right call. I’m just worried about what happens once we hit the road without any bullets.

  As I lower my gaze, I notice the dark pool growing beside him. I tug Cable away, disturbed by the idea of it touching him. He grunts in pain as I fight to prop him against the wall.

  I turn to look at the other guy. Now that my shadow no longer conceals him, I spy the set of shears plunged deep into the man’s chest. “Oh, God!”

  Cable grips my arm, keeping me from moving forward. “Don’t.”

  “He could still be alive.”

  “Avery…”

  The waiver in his voice breaks through my growing need to see, to check that we are safe. I hear his grief and stop resisting. Cable killed a man in cold blood. I can't begin to imagine what must be going on inside his head.

  “He’s not wearing a uniform,” I whisper, staring at the pair of white tennis shoes lying in the light. I turn to look at Cable. “He’s not military.”

  Cable shakes his head. “It wasn’t them.”

  My voice catches in my throat. I yank out of his grasp and dive toward Cable’s attacker. His face is buried in shadow but when I reach his side I see his dark skin and the gold nugget ring on his finger.

  I close my eyes and collapse back onto the floor. My breathing catches as I recognize the ring. “You killed Devon.”

  Cable coughs, his feet digging into the ground as he fights to stand. I turn away from Devon and throw my arm around Cable’s waist to help him rise. “Couldn’t see,” he rasps.

  “Shh,” I whisper, easing him toward the steps. His limp is pronounced, making it hard for me to help from my shorter height. He is much heavier than he looks. “It was an accident.”

  His grip on my shoulder tenses and I pause. “I thought he was trying to attack you.”

  I don’t tell him that Devon tried to coax me out, claiming that I would be safe if I did so. I also don’t tell him how close I came to taking Devon out myself. “It was dark. There was no way you could have known.”

  Cable hisses as I squeeze his side to help him up the steps. “I should have known. Should have stopped. I just s
ort of lost it…”

  “No.” I grunt as we take each step at a time. He is hurting. His steps move with exaggerated caution. “It was my fault. I should have recognized his voice. Should have come out sooner.”

  He pauses, forcing me to halt. I look up to find him glaring down at me. “You are not to blame. It was my job to protect you, not the other way around.”

  I ease Cable down onto a stack of wooden crates. They were filled with sand and carrots when we first arrived, making me think that the old folks who used to live here probably had intentions of turning that trap door space into a food cellar. Maybe that’s why there were so many empty wooden shelves down there.

  “I told you earlier that I’m not your job.” I step back and cross my arms over my chest, watching as he clutches his stomach. Blood seeps from his nose. His eye has already begun to swell. His lip is split. Who knows what other injuries lie beneath his shirt. “You don’t have to always come to my rescue.”

  A slow breath whistles between his teeth before he responds. “Maybe I want to.”

  I start to speak, to tell him that I’m just fine on my own, but I hesitate. If Cable hadn’t come to my rescue it would have been me with blood on my hands, with remorse that could never be removed. I would be tainted. A killer. Devon was innocent. I may not have liked the guy but down in that dark room, I would have done whatever it took to survive. If Cable hadn’t come for me, I would be the murderer.

  I look toward the barn door and realize the light flooding in comes from the remains of four large vehicles. I raise my hand to shield myself from the firelight and spy bodies prostrate on the ground. Smoke filters past the door. An orange glow flickers off to the left as well.

  “You set the house on fire?”

  Cable slowly nods. “It was a distraction.”

  “That’s why you were so anxious to gather the supplies.”

  He nods again, wincing as he coughs. I sigh and sink down beside him. “I forgive you for knocking me out.”

  “Really?” His eyebrows arch in surprise. “Figured you’d hold onto that grudge for quite some time.”

  “Don’t you think for a second that I didn’t consider doing just that.” I grin and place my hand on his knee. “I know you did all of this for me.”