Waterfall

by Amber Garr

  “And armed,” Max added.

  “And armed.” Jackson didn’t sound defensive but there was still a slight warning tone in those words.

  Max looked at me. “What were you doing in the streets?”

  I swallowed and prepared myself. “Getting supplies.”

  “I thought I told you not to leave that block.” This time, Max’s glare found Zach.

  “We needed more supplies,” Zach said, lifting his backpack now bulging at the seams.

  “You needed to listen to me.”

  I had no response to that, and neither did Zach by the way he kicked at one particular stand of weeds. Max was right. But we weren’t children anymore. I adjusted my new coat and stared at the ruined city below us.

  No one spoke for several moments, making the whole situation that much more uncomfortable. Finally, Max spoke again. “He can come with us,” chin jutting toward Jackson. “But we’re moving fast. We need to get back by morning.”

  “Did you find any medicine?” Zach asked.

  “A small amount,” Max replied with a sigh. “There wasn’t much left.”

  “Well anything will help,” I said.

  Max narrowed his eyes at me, apparently still unhappy about us ignoring his orders. I glared right back at him, suddenly feeling tired and not in the mood to argue anymore. I think I saw a slight smile creep over his face before he turned and walked toward the trees and back to our camp.

  “I guess you’re stuck with us now,” I grumbled when Jackson walked passed.

  He stopped and looked down at me. “That’s not so bad,” he said with a smile.

  I couldn’t help but return the gesture, until I noticed Zach glaring at me from over Jackson’s shoulder. Raising my brows, I silently questioned the angry look. I was certainly allowed to smile at other people. Besides, it’s not like that happened very often.

  The first half of the trip back to camp felt like it took three years. Perhaps I was anxious to see something familiar, or maybe I just wanted to sit down for a little while. But really I think it was because the only vision that kept creeping through my mind was the sound of the soldier’s forehead splitting open when Jackson shot him with the crossbow. I’d felt his arms tense as he’d threatened to shoot me—the soldier was fully ready to pull the trigger. My life meant absolutely nothing to him.

  It made me wonder if I could be that cold. Could I ever kill someone? Would I be able to pull that hypothetical trigger when the time came? Could I choose myself over them? The thought that I might be able to do that turned my stomach. I didn’t want to be like them. I still valued life…at least I think I did.

  I didn’t even know how long I replayed the scene and my follow-up commentary in my mind before Jackson cleared his throat beside me. “You all right?”

  Noticing that I’d fallen behind Max and Zach, I forced myself to focus on Jackson. “Yeah,” I said, shaking my head. “Just thinking.”

  “Beef jerky?”

  “What?”

  “You want a piece of beef jerky?”

  I looked down at Jackson’s extended hand and finally noticed the piece of dried meat he offered. Chuckling at it all, I accepted and enjoyed the taste of salt as it danced across my tongue.

  “Good?” Jackson asked with a small smile.

  “Yes,” I said, mouth full of deliciousness.

  He continued to walk beside me in silence, until we reached the halfway point of our trip back. “You know, it’s not your fault that soldier is dead.”

  I turned and looked at him in surprise. “I know.”

  “He would have killed you.”

  “I know.”

  “Sometimes we have to kill too.” Jackson’s voice lowered to a whisper. Not because we were in danger of anyone hearing us, but because he seemed to be struggling with the same dark thoughts I was.

  I didn’t respond. I had nothing to say. At least I didn’t have the right thing to say. So instead I chewed on the beef jerky and reminisced for the next hour about all of the foods I missed from before the war.

  I’d daydreamed myself into a better mood by the time we got close to camp. But when Max had us stop suddenly, terror gripped my heart. Instantly, my mind drifted to bad news. Something was wrong. Someone was hurt. Why else would Max be so on edge?

  The scream that rushed through the trees like a bullet answered my worst fears.

  Max swore and took off at a pace none of us could keep up with. In the distance, I saw the campfire burning—the orange glow lighting up our pathway ever so slightly. Shadows darted around the flames but when the first gunshot went off, I stopped admiring the beauty of fire.

  “Shit,” Zach mumbled, running faster now.

  I stayed next to him, Jackson close on our heels. More screaming and yelling guided us toward our camp. The camp that once held comfort and now was being attacked. Max made some kind of war cry off to the side, but I still couldn’t see what was happening. Not until we jumped through the last of the tree line and took in the sight before us.

  No one moved in the area where we’d kept our sick. I didn’t have the courage to check on Josh—most of me knew he was gone. Because if he’d been alive, he’d be here fighting the other deserters who had just invaded our camp.

  Sasha screamed off to the side and jumped on the back of a man reaching for Hunter. The large deserter swung an elbow, then a fist, trying to claw her free. But she held on like a tick, not giving him the opportunity to knock her away. Off to the other side, Max wrestled someone to the ground and proceeded to punch him in the face until the body stopped moving. He wiped his brow for just a second before running over to help Sasha.

  Zach made a noise beside me and then dropped to the ground like a corpse. But I hadn’t heard a gunshot, or saw what hit him until Jackson fell on the other side of me. The small stream of blood briefly reflected in the fire’s light, showing me that Jackson’s forehead had been cut open. I’d just turned toward Zach and bent over to check on him too when a large rock sailed over my shoulder and into the woods behind me.

  Someone had good aim.

  Without a second’s hesitation, I rolled to the side, avoiding a blow to the head by the person chucking rocks at us. And then I heard Hunter yelling at the other deserter. He dashed forward, apparently hiding somewhere on the edge of camp, knife raised and face contorted in a rage no one his age should ever comprehend. Where did he get a knife?

  The rock-thrower stepped out of the shadows and simply grabbed Hunter by the shoulders when he got close enough. Expecting a man with large arms and professional athlete height, I was shocked when I saw a woman not much taller than me. She held Hunter in her arms, his back pressed against her chest, and a rather large rock waiting in her hand.

  “Let him go,” I growled.

  She grinned in a way that sent my skin into a rage of shivers. The sheer malicious and soulless look in her eyes told me only one thing—she would kill anyone in her way. “I don’t think so.”

  “Take what you want, just let him go.” Off to my left, Max and Sasha continued to fight with two deserters, another one coming from the woods as I’d turned. “He’s just a kid.”

  Hunter kicked out trying to get free. When his movements didn’t help against the deceivingly strong woman, he bit down on her arm. She screamed out in pain and lifted the rock above her head. Hunter didn’t even see it coming.

  In slow motion, I pulled out my gun and cocked the hammer. Everything slowed to a crawl. The click on my gun, the snarl forming on the woman’s face, the way her arm pulled back like a pitcher’s…I noticed it all. I even felt my eyes narrow on her head while I let out a slow breath and increased the pressure on the gun. She never looked at me as I took aim. She only looked at a boy’s head while she focused on smashing his skull. I didn’t even call out to him. I didn’t even give her a warning.

  I simply pulled the trigger.

  The shot rang out like an alarm. Time sped back up and
Hunter continued to fight. Until her body went limp and she fell on top of him. Hunter’s scream was muffled when she crushed him against the ground, but a second later I was there helping him back up.

  “Vivienne!” he cried out, slamming his tiny body into mine.

  I held him close, afraid to look at the woman I’d just killed. I killed her. Me. My gun. And I didn’t even feel sorry.

  “I’m so glad you’re back,” Hunter continued to cry against my chest and I continued to soothe him in a daze. I’d just killed someone.

  “Vee?” Zach’s broken voice tore me from my thoughts.

  With Hunter wrapped tightly against my side, we headed over to Zach and Jackson. Jackson began to stir, groaning when he touched his forehead.

  “Zach, are you okay?” I asked. Reaching forward, I brushed the side of his face in concern. It was too dark to see how bad the cut was.

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he moaned.

  Hunter jumped forward and grabbed Zach in a tight hug, making him laugh. While they enjoyed their reunion, I focused on Jackson. He’d already pushed to his knees and was using his sleeve to stop the bleeding on the front of his head.

  “What the hell just happened?” he asked.

  “We got attacked,” I said, unsure if I should touch him or not. “Other deserters.”

  Jackson took a minute to observe our camp behind me. “This happen often?”

  I smiled and shook my head, not needing to respond. I had a feeling Jackson was going to fit in well. Sasha and Max walked over to us, both limping a little.

  “We need to move,” Sasha said. Then she spotted Jackson. “Is he one of them?”

  “No, he’s with us,” Max answered before I could.

  “Okay, then he can help pack up.”

  I had a feeling Sasha would ask more questions later, but Jackson’s sudden appearance and Max’s confirmation appeared to be enough for her right now. “Where’s Josh?” I asked, jumping to my feet and focusing on Sasha’s back.

  She stopped walking but didn’t turn around. “Gone,” she whispered.

  Even though I’d had my suspicions, it still pained me to hear about his death. Josh didn’t deserve to die from sickness. If anything, he should have died fighting for the rest of us. That’s what he really liked to do.

  Wiping my eyes, I stepped away from Zach when he moved next to me. I didn’t want him to see me crying over Josh. I didn’t want him to see me crying at all right now. What kind of person was I to cry for Josh but not for the woman whose brains now decorated the ground? I’d killed her. Just like that soldier was ready to kill me.

  “You did the right thing,” Jackson said, suddenly by my side and somehow knowing what I’d been thinking about.

  “Killing is never right.”

  “You did what you had to,” he amended. “You saved Hunter.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered, tears falling down my face again. I bent forward to start gathering what supplies remained at our camp, focusing on something to keep me from having a complete breakdown.

  Jackson’s warm hand rested on my shoulder and he squeezed once before dropping it again. “It’s an unfortunate world we live in now.”

  I nodded while still looking at the ground. Unfortunate indeed.

  “Hey, do you know where the—” Zach’s voice cut off and I glanced up to see what had happened. He stared over the top of my head, behind us where my victim lay in a heap.

  “What the hell,” Jackson mumbled as he raised his cross bow and fortified his stance.

  Sasha and Max noticed the intruders at the same time, jogging over to us with guns aimed. “Who are you?” Sasha demanded.

  I stood, finally seeing what all of the commotion was. On the far side of camp where Sasha and Max had subdued two deserters, a group of four held their hands up in surrender. Two men and two woman. Three of them were rather young, but the oldest man took one step forward and spoke to us.

  “Please don’t shoot. We don’t mean you any harm.” His stout body and mountain-man beard implied he’d been surviving off the grid for a while, but by the way his voice shook told me otherwise.

  “Are you with them?” Sasha asked, head tilting to the deserters on the ground.

  I watched the man bite his lips and contemplate his answer. “We were.” He lifted his hands higher in the air when Max stepped forward. “But we didn’t want to attack. We begged them not to.”

  “Bull shit,” Zach said. I agreed.

  “I swear, I swear.” The man reached toward a strap on his back and Max ran a few more steps closer. His gun pointed directly at the little man’s head. “Whoa! I just wanted to offer you this.”

  Max jerked his chin and the guy removed a shot gun from his back. “Here, a token of our truth. We don’t want to harm you.”

  When no one moved, I finally jumped forward and yanked the gun out of his hands. He stared at me for a full minute before focusing again on Sasha. “We don’t have anyone left.”

  “Not my problem,” Max spat.

  The guy sighed and gestured to the three deserters standing behind him. “We’d only found that group a week ago. We stayed with them because we had to. But they were violent and we’re not.”

  “I doubt that,” Zach said.

  “I swear. Look, we have some food and water. We’ll share anything you want.”

  “In exchange for what?” Sasha asked. She hadn’t lowered her gun, but I noticed her shoulders had relaxed. She believed them.

  “Safety in numbers.”

  “Do you have any weapons,” she asked.

  “Only that gun there,” the man pointed to my hand. “But we’re resourceful. Daric knows a lot about the local vegetation. And Carrie is an excellent cook.”

  Somehow, that didn’t feel like a fair offering. We could cook and we’d survived off of what the land could provide. But we’d also lost so many in the recent days. A group of ten would have a better chance than a group of six…

  “Max?” Sasha asked.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know.” But at the same time he lowered his gun. It took a moment before Sasha, Zach, and Jackson followed his lead. “I think I believe him.”

  “What’s your name?” I asked the man.

  He smiled at me, relief evident in his brow. “Trevor. And this is Alicia.” The petite woman standing next to him nestled closer to Daric but gave me a polite nod.

  “Give us your bags,” Max demanded.

  With only a slight hesitation, the four of them complied. Max passed them out to those of us standing behind him. “We’ll hang on to these until we make our next camp.”

  They didn’t argue. I would have, but they seemed content to have joined another group.

  “We need to leave now,” Sasha said. “Pack up everything you see.”

  “Where are we going?” Hunter asked before I could.

  Sasha let her arms fall to her sides and shook her head. “Tennessee maybe?” She looked at Max who quickly wrapped his arm over her shoulder. “We need to keep moving south.”

  Zach grabbed my hand, his fingers weaving through mine. Without saying a word, I squeezed him back. We’d keep moving south. Just the ten of us.

  I glanced one last time at the woman I’d killed. Shadows from the fire jumped across her lifeless body, making it look like she was still moving once in a while. Shivers snaked their way over my skin, a realization taking hold. I was no better than her. I would kill when necessary. We all would. It was the reality of our life.

  As I stood there, in our broken camp wondering what the next day would bring, I knew that no matter what, we would make it. We had each other. And we would survive.

  Continue reading for a sneak peek at

  Waterproof - Book Two of The Water Crisis Chronicles

  Now Available!

  Waterproof (Book Two of The Water Crisis Chronicles)

  Dying of thirst is the new reality.

  Five years after the las
t drop of clean water disappeared, global societies collapsed and nuclear war shattered all hope of recovery. In a place now only a skeleton of its former self, survivors fight to avoid capture by the government. Forced to work in factories that produce the only drinking water available, those who go in, never come out.

  Zach and Vivienne have lived as deserters since they were teenagers. Fighting amongst their own and scrounging for the necessities of life, they’ve learned to rely on each other in every way. Yet when tragedy strikes and the true objectives of the government facility are revealed, their world is ripped apart.

  A fate once thought to hold their demise may be the sole answer to their survival. Who can they trust? Who can they believe?

  In this life, it pays to be waterproof.

  Ten more steps.

  My legs ached with every jarring move, growing heavier the closer I got to my destination. The weight of my bounty pulled against me like a prisoner’s chain. If I dropped it, I would be safe. The idea taunted me as I ran through the abandoned junk yard, dodging large pieces of scrap metal and sliding over the rusty hoods of skeletal cars.

  “Drop them or I’ll shoot you dead,” a gruff voice yelled behind me.

  I didn’t dare turn back. Something whizzed past my ear and slammed into the side of an old van blocking the path in front of me. A reddish dust full of steel splinters exploded in my face as the unmistakable sound of tearing metal pierced the dusk air. I’d gravely misjudged this group of deserters.

  Heart hammering in my chest, I slid to a stop before crashing into the bullet hole meant for my head. Two bottles slipped from my arms and rolled underneath the van before I could stop them. Shit. There wasn’t enough time but I couldn’t go back with only those left in my hands.

  I braved a look behind at my pursuers. The three men tearing after me had nothing but revenge in their eyes. If the two sawed-off shotguns didn’t represent their intentions, then the man firing the military rifle at my head made it very clear.