After setting up a temporary camp, Max gave Griffin half of a pain pill.
“We have to ration. I’m sorry,” she said softly.
“It’s better than nothing,” he replied wearily.
“You need to stop pushing so hard. We can’t get there if I’m left to carry you.”
“Sorry, I know. I just hate being the lame duck in this hunting party,” Griffin said, attempting a joke.
“Well, you are lame, that’s for sure,” Max laughed lightly.
She decided to search the area, just in case they were near water. It would never hurt to top off their water supplies. In a strategic search pattern, Max completed a large circle around the trees that hid their campsite. She was disappointed to not find water, but was pleased when she was able to pick another large load of raspberries. When she brought them back, Griffin grimaced.
“I’m going to hate those things by the time we’re done with this.”
“Me too. I’m not sure I liked raspberries all that much before anyhow. But, it’s something in our stomachs and we know we won’t run out of food,” Max replied.
Dinner consisted of a single MRE split between the two of them, chili with cornbread like crackers. They carefully split the dessert, which was a single serving pound cake and Max made a show of licking every crumb from her fingers. They then snacked on berries until they felt full and sated for the evening. Griffin fell asleep mid-sentence and Max couldn’t blame him, she was exhausted and ready to follow him. Her worry was how deeply they would both sleep after the long day. She used the tarp to close them in, hiding them from the living or the dead. When her head laid down on the camp pillow next to Griffin, she fell asleep before she realized it.
Moans woke Max before dawn. She flew into a sitting position, grabbing her tomahawk, prepared for a fight. Her eyes couldn’t pick up much in the pitch black, but she could tell they were still closed in her makeshift tent. The moan came again and she realized it was Griffin making the noise, not an infected horde wandering by. She laid her weapon down, within reach, and found her small lantern. She turned it on, under the cover of a sweatshirt. Without seeing around them, she couldn’t be sure they were alone and she wasn’t about to give anyone a beacon to follow.
“Griffin,” she said softly. She put her hand on his forehead and she was thankful he wasn’t feverish. She was sure to keep his open wounds clean and covered. She wasn’t sure what was happening with his leg, though. When she touched his cheek, Griffin started awake and looked at her in the dim light.
“You were moaning. Are you in a lot of pain?” She asked.
“My leg is killing me. I’m sorry I woke you up.”
“It’s ok. Let’s see what we can do.”
After having Griffin eat a few leftover crackers, she gave him another pain pill half. She then decided to elevate his leg higher and see if that helped with the pain at all. Once she was done moving him around, Griffin fell into a light sleep again. Max decided to leave him to sleeping, as they would be working hard as soon as the sun rose. They only had about an hour and Max knew if she went to sleep again, she would just feel worn down when she woke up again. She slid herself back until she was leaning against the trees. She took the time to stretch and work on her breathing while Griffin napped nearby.
When the sunlight cut into the tarp’s darkness, Max carefully woke Griffin again. She let him know she was going to check the area and ensure they were safe, before taking down the tent. He wasn’t pleased about her going off on her own again, but it was for their safety and one of them had to do it. She didn’t mention that she was the only one with two working legs at the moment. He already knew that. Max changed her socks and slid her boots back into place. Once she was dressed to go, she strapped her weapons to her body again and crawled out of the tarp tent.
Immediately Max noted the footprints that seemed to go right by the camp. Exhaustion had caused both Max and Griffin to sleep deeply, and it seemed they missed what went bump in the night. She crouched and examined the prints. Rafe was a much better tracker, but Max had the same lessons from Mitch Duncan. She could tell a few things from the clear prints she saw. The steps were staggered, not a normal gait. She followed the tracks and decided that one foot was being partially dragged as well. Infected, she thought to herself.
With her head on a swivel, Max completed a large circle around their camp. She could see where the infected passed them, not in a straight line, but nothing about their campsite caught their attention. She followed the tracks for twenty more minutes before she felt satisfied that they weren’t in immediate danger.
Back at the tent, Griffin had gotten himself out of the tent, but was now breathing heavily. Max shook her head at him. Without talking, she got him some crackers and a pain pill.
“What did you find?” He asked a moment later. Max had begun to untie the ropes holding the tarp up as a tent.
“Infected footprints. Glad I closed us in last night. They didn’t see or hear us and moved on without stopping. I didn’t see any close by, so we should be good to go if they just keep wandering in the same direction.”
“If they come back, you leave me and take care of them. Got it? Don’t try to hold me up and fight at the same time.”
“Feeling morbid this morning? I’m not leaving you. We’ve already decided on that. You can still shoot, so you aren’t completely useless,” Max replied.
Griffin didn’t answer, only leaned his head back and closed his eyes. Max continued the breakdown of the camp, letting him rest for another few minutes. Once she had everything packed up, they snacked on raspberries for breakfast and sipped water. Max helped Griffin lean against a nearby tree so he could relieve himself. He forced her to walk away, embarrassed by the amount of help he seemed to need. When he called to her, she ran over to help him before he tried to limp on his own.
“Why can’t you just let me help you? You’re injured. There’s no shame in accepting help,” Max said.
“This coming from you is comedic gold, truly. I wish Alex and Rafe were here to witness the words coming from your mouth,” Griffin said.
“Sure, use sarcasm to deflect the point.”
Griffin did nothing but crack up laughing. And Max knew she was the butt of his laughter.
“Ok, smarty. You better shape up, or I might just leave you for the infected to chew on. You would deserve it,” Max huffed.
Using Max and the branch crutch, Griffin worked hard to keep them on a decent pace. They stopped often to evaluate their direction and to drink water. She didn’t say anything, but Max knew they would run low on water if they didn’t make it to the truck within the next day. She could only guess they were about four miles away. But they couldn’t rush Griffin’s progress. Every time she felt herself getting frustrated, she had to take a few deep breaths and remember it wasn’t his fault.
“Do you smell that?” Griffin asked.
Max stopped and held him up while she looked around. She could smell the decay, but she couldn’t see where it was coming from yet. Are we walking into a trap? Max wondered to herself. She disagreed with herself pretty quickly, knowing the infected didn’t have the brain power to set a trap. However, that didn’t mean they couldn’t walk directly into them without warning. Griffin tried to look around as well, but his view was limited.
“I don’t see anything. I think we keep moving, until something shows itself,’ Max whispered.
Griffin nodded and limped forward. They moved in silence, choosing their steps as carefully as possible. Any loud noises would call to whatever was in the trees with them. Max wasn’t prepared to fight a horde on her own. She paused and double checked their weapons, making sure everything was loaded. Griffin swung his rifle onto his back and Max slipped her 9mm back into her holster. They nodded to each other as they continued to move. The loud snap and then curse from Griffin as he came down on his broken leg wrong, was all it took for the moans to begin.
Max tried to catch Griffin, but he tumbled
to the ground away from her. His face was screwed up in pain and Max fell to her knees next to him. She looked down at his leg and confirmed the splint was still securely in place. She tightened some of the wraps and tried to help him up. He collapsed again and the moan that came from him told Max he wasn’t moving on his own for a while.
“I need you to get up. I can’t fight a horde by myself,” Max hissed.
“Leave me. I told you, if it comes down to it, do not risk yourself,” Griffin said.
The sound of the infected was growing louder. Looking up, Max realized they were coming from behind them. She could see the denim of jeans and a bright yellow sweatshirt between the trees. She tried to count heads, but could only see three as they moved with others possibly bobbing behind the front line. Max guessed they had about five minutes before they locked onto their prey and made it to Max and Griffin.
“I’m not leaving you. You’re gonna have to help me here. We can’t be far from the road and the truck,” Max said. She the bent and grabbed Griffin from under his arms. He looked up at her, his face alarmed and full of pain. She yanked him hard and he slid with a moan.
“Push with your good leg,” Max said between gritted teeth as she pulled again.
The moans were a symphony of hunger and desire throughout the trees. Max looked over her shoulder and she swore she saw a bright spot where the sun was coming through the trees more, an open spot that could be the road. When she looked back toward the infected, they were just becoming visible, with fewer trees between them. The black eyes of the first fell on Max and she felt a chill go through her body. The infected’s head snapped toward the living and as a group they seemed to move faster toward Max and Griffin.
“Christ, let me go, Max,” Griffin said.
He yanked his rifle around and took aim on the first infected. His first few shots went wide or were body shots, only slowing the progress of the infected. Max pulled her 9mm out and was successful in stopping the bright yellow sweatshirt infected.
“I do not have enough ammo for this,” Max said.
Panic began to settle into Max and her mind raced to find a solution to their plight. She looked back and again was convinced the road wasn’t far. Griffin squeezed off a few more shots, taking down one of the infected before his rifle clicked empty.
“Get up, Griffin,” Max said, pulling under his arms again. “I am not leaving you. I am not telling Jack that you died. She’ll never forgive me. She’ll never forgive you!” Max yelled as she struggled under Griffin’s weight.
Griffin pushed his good leg under his body, propelling him into Max’s arms. She stumbled before catching her balance and slinging Griffin’s arm around her neck. She turned with her gun and squeezed off two more rounds. One more infected went down. Too many followed. Max swallowed hard as she turned toward what she hoped was the road. Griffin hobbled next to her, his arm heavy and secure around her shoulder. Max’s breathing was jagged and labored as she did the best she could to keep them ahead of the horde.
They broke out of the trees and Max was happy to see the embankment and road. When she looked toward her left, she saw the shine of the sun off of metal. She immediately knew where they were and that it was their truck. She dragged Griffin up the embankment, him using his crutch to push along with his good leg. When they reached the top, he fell to the asphalt. Max could see his color had gone completely pale and he was soaking with sweat.
“No, no, no. No giving up. Get up,” Max said, crouching down to put his arm around her again. With a grunt of strength, Max pushed up with her legs and forced Griffin up. He cried out in pain, but it was quickly swallowed by the noise of the infected crashing through the last of the brush.
“We need to get to the truck,” Max said.
“You...have...the...keys?” Griffin stammered, attempting to smile at his joke.
“Of course. Now move your ass, Griffin!”
They stumbled and limped down the road. The sounds of the infected climbing the embankment pushed Max to move faster. She turned again and immediately wished she hadn’t. Some of the infected had climbed to the road, but others had taken the path of least resistance and were trying to pace them in the small ditch. Max imagined the infected taking them over and then climbing up into their path to their vehicle. Max took careful aim and took down the first infected in the group. It didn’t make Max feel better, as three more just took the place of the one that fell to the dirt. She turned her attention to the truck and planned on how they were going to get into it without the infected reaching them.
As they approached the vehicle, Max immediately saw a problem. The hood of the truck was propped open. Something Max and Griffin didn’t do. The truck was pulled off the road on a flat spot next to the trees. Max hadn’t thought to hide it, as they hadn’t planned on being gone for days. None of the windows were broken from what she could see, and she guessed it was due to the fact that they hadn’t left any supplies visible in the cab. Or whoever had started messing with it had gotten surprised by the same group they were running from now.
Once they were a few yards from the truck, Max dug the keys from her cargo pants pocket. She hit the unlock button and thanked god when the lights blinked, indicating the door locks still worked. Aiming straight for the back door, Max flung it open and started shoving Griffin and their packs into the back. Griffin cried out as he pulled himself across the bench seat, trying to get his entire body inside, without bending his broken leg. Max tried to be patient, but she shoved his uninjured leg in and slammed the door shut.
The feel of fingers grabbing at her shirt had Max spinning and pulling her tomahawk. An infected man was on her, reaching out to rake at her skin with broken nails that were caked with dirt and dried blood. Max didn’t hesitate as she dodged the next attack from the infected, slashing down with her tomahawk. The blade cleaved into the side of the infected’s head and it fell at her feet. She bounced away from the body as another moved in behind it. She cursed under her breath, just wanting to get into the truck and away from the threat. She slashed at the outstretched hands, infected fingers flew, but it wasn’t a deterrent for the infected.
Max spun an elaborate dance as she spun out of reach. She assessed the situation in front of her before stepping forward and embedding her tomahawk into the head of the nearest infected. She pulled her 9mm and shot the next infected in the eye. The bodies fell where they stood. When Max squeezed the trigger again, nothing happened and she knew she was out of ammo. Holstering her 9mm, Max ran to the other side of the truck, realizing she couldn’t get the driver’s door open with the infected attacking. Banging on the window slowed her, but she realized Griffin was trying to pull the infected to his side of the truck while she ran. She rounded the bed of the truck only to slide to a halt as a small infected woman attacked. Max kicked out a booted foot, colliding with the nearest knee of the infected. Though there was no pain to stop it, a crushed kneecap caused it to collapse. The woman tried to crawl and get back to her feet. Before it could be successful, Max swung down with her tomahawk.
Blood and black gore flew as Max yanked her blade free. She didn’t have time to pause and wonder if she was clean enough to get into the truck. The front passenger door was almost blocked by another infected. Max ran at it and lashed out with a front kick, planting it into the chest of the infected. The dead fell backward off its feet, just long enough for Max to slam the hood down on the truck. She then jumped back and yanked open the passenger door. She dove into the truck, slamming the door behind her. Sliding to the driver’s side, she slid in the key and turned. Nothing. She turned it back and tried again. No noise, no sputter, no starter at all.
“Let’s go, Max” Griffin’s weak voice called from the back seat.
Pieces started to move around in Max’s mind. She hadn’t fully thought out what the popped hood meant. The truck had been locked. No one had broken the windows to get in. As the last piece slid into the story, Max began to bang her hands on the steering wheel.
“What?” Griffin asked.
“Someone took something out of the truck. I think they took the gas. The truck isn’t going to start.”
Max looked over the seat at Griffin. His head had fallen back on the seat back. His eyes were closed and she could see his breathing was extremely ragged. She climbed over the seat and crouched on the backseat floor. She could see Griffin’s hurt arm wasn’t in a sling any longer. The splint on his leg had shifted and she could see she was going to have to untie it and refasten the wood to keep his leg straight. Max knew when she did it, the pain he would feel would be unbearable. She dug into her pack and pulled out the first aid kit Charlie had created for them. She shook out what was left of the pain pills. One pill landed into her palm and the bottle was empty. Max sighed, trying to think. The banging on the windows pulled her attention.
All around the truck, infected faces looked into the windows. Streaks of black gore were left behind as the infected banged their hands on the windows, trying to get to their prized food inside. Max slowly looked from window to window. Dread began to build in her stomach, as she realized with the truck not starting, they were sitting ducks. The truck was going to be their coffin if the infected were able to get in. That thought had Max leaning over to the front door and hitting the door locks. She hadn’t seen one of them open a door yet, but she didn’t want to take the chance now. Griffin’s hand found hers as she crouched back next to him.
“What’s the plan?” He croaked.
Max didn’t answer. Her mind was running through scenarios and none of them worked with Griffin’s broken leg and both of them making it out alive. The pounding on the widows was constant, albeit not strong enough to damage the windows. She knew the infected wouldn’t leave until something better caught their attention. They weren’t close enough to town for anyone random to walk by. If she opened a door to get them out, she knew hands would be grabbing at them before they could fight back. In the matter of seconds, Max began to feel despondent.
Sundown Series | Book 5 | Vengeance Page 10
