11. Max

11

This is exciting. Thrilling. It makes me feel alive. Although, looking at Emily, I don’t think she agrees. It confuses me. I miss my car music dancing rotter-killing crazy woman. I don’t know what else to do to make her smile. She didn’t even seem pleased with my little massacre earlier. It was a small one, too, only about seven of them. Nine, I guess, if she counts the two outside. No, make that ten. I had to get her a hat.

Still running on an adrenaline rush from the recent slaughter, the intruder alarm excites me. It means play time isn’t over yet. I swing Debbie around in my hand. She gets to drink a lot of blood today, lucky gal.

Emily’s panicked eyes meet mine, and she looks even more terrified than she should. I don’t like that. Seeing me should calm her. Or make her want to swing her knife around, too. Maybe she can’t swing her weapons around. I’ll have to show her how to do that when we get back to camp. It doesn’t accomplish much, but it adds a little flair to the kill.

“Hey, pet.” Her eyes narrow at my favorite nickname. I knew she’d like it, too. “Whatever happens, get to safety and don’t look behind you. I know I might look slightly unhinged with all this fun?—”

“Slightly? Dude, you need a mirror.” I don’t know what William thinks he’s doing, but he’s not helping.

“Slightly, yes, and I know that I’m covered in blood, but don’t you worry. We’ve got your back.” I should kiss her. Share some of this dreg blood with her that’s still smeared across my face. It could be a hello kiss that doubles as a goodbye kiss. Her lips part and I think she might think the same thing. Until she speaks.

“You will not sacrifice yourself like this. Nobody gets to die because of me.” She pushes me back, spins around, and shoves her knife straight through the heart of the first man who enters the room. What a lucky bastard.

Whoa, impressive. If she doesn’t have a name for that knife yet, she really should. I’ll even name it for her. Natalie. No, too many syllables. Francesca. Wait, same issue, but I like it. Hmmm. Clark. No, I don’t like her knife having a guy’s name. That doesn’t feel right. Does that mean she doesn’t like Debbie? I swing Debbie through the air and connect it with the skull of another dreg again and again until he falls to the ground, and then a few times more. Then once more for fun. I could change Debbie’s name to Clark. The morning star slips down my hand and I have to readjust my grip. Okay Debbie, you’ll keep your name. I get it, girl.

I grin at Emily, who’s still standing by her kill, watching me with a curious expression. “It’s on.”

The four of us—five, sorry, the dog counts as a person, too—fly through the long winding hallways from where we came. With me and Emily leading the way in the same uniform as the rest of the dregs, it’s easier to take them out than it otherwise would’ve been.

“Hey Grif, dressing up like these assholes to infiltrate this place was a brilliant plan.”

The dregs nearest to us turn their attention—and their weapons—on us. Griffin glares at me. “You couldn’t have waited until we were out of here to tell me that?”

I shrug and then swing Debbie around. “Thought you’d appreciate the compliment. My bad.”

Griffin and William slice and dice those who come at us from behind, and even Buddy gets in on the action, taking down a dreg here and there to make it easier for Emily to finish them off. Of course, Griffin moves like he hasn’t been hurt, the stubborn bastard. Good thing William shoved his bag and pockets full of extra bandages that wouldn’t fit in Emily’s bag. We’re going to need them. As long as Griffin doesn’t pass out from blood loss before we get out of here, we should be fine.

I love working as a team like this. The carnage, the gore, and the way the dregs scream when they realize they’ve lost their final battle.

Emily thrusts her knife at a dreg’s neck but he sidesteps her and punches her in the face. Debbie is ready to taste his blood, but it’s Griffin who gets there first, throwing his body in front of hers. He grabs the front of the man’s shirt and pulls him toward him before sliding his knife slowly across his throat, then watches him choke on his own blood.

Savage. I knew he was my friend for a reason.

Amusement dances on my lips. When the dreg falls to the ground, Griffin looks behind him at Emily, who’s cradling her cheek with her hand. He pries her hand away and rubs his thumb down her cheek. His empty gray eyes darken when she winces. Fascinating.

I want to watch them more, but when he places himself at her side, effectively stealing my spot, I want to introduce him to Debbie. I consider it until we reach the place where we came in and discover that the alarm has attracted all the rotters in the area. Whichever dreg designed that must have had a death wish. Did they not realize that rotters are most attracted to noise? What a dumbass. It’s a wonder how they survived this long with an alarm system like that.

Oh well, more fun for me.

I don’t want to waste this opportunity, so I shove past Griffin until I’m standing next to Emily. “I’m in the mood for a dance party. Anyone got any music?” I look at William, who rolls his eyes. Party pooper.

“No. Now be quiet and we can probably get up the ladder and down the other side of the building without issue. They’re after the alarm, not us.” Emily moves quietly down the exterior wall of the building to where the ladder is. I don’t like that. Yeah, I told her to be safe and get out of here. Not dying was implied, but I want her to fight. I want her to kill. I want to do all of those things with her, especially since I’m all wound up right now.

William carries Buddy up the ladder behind her, which is an impressive feat because that’s not exactly a dog he could fit in his pocket. He has him slung over his shoulder with one arm around him, using his free hand to climb up the ladder. Buddy’s single eye moves around frantically. Griffin follows them, kicking in the head of a rotter who tries to follow. She’s protected. Me? Well, I’m going to kill everyone and everything that could hurt us. Hurt her.

Without further hesitation, I swing Debbie around and head straight through the center of the horde. There’s so many of them that I need to add a dagger to my hand because this is too much for poor Debbie to handle on her own, though she’s a brave and strong little killing machine.

Someone curses nearby and I see Griffin fighting along with me while William holds Emily back, urging her to keep climbing when she stops to watch us. She says something to him and it looks like she’s arguing. The sight makes me grin and I almost forget to keep killing. Almost. Until a rotter stumbles into me and I need to thrust the dagger straight through the eye socket. The eyeball stays on the end of the blade when I pull it free and I’m mesmerized by the sight, turning it around to see how the sunlight glistens off the weird liquid substance attached to it. Fascinating.

Griffin grabs my arm and pulls me away, while rotters continue to pile through the entrance to the hideout. Any dregs left inside are going to be in for a treat. It’s their fault for making the shittiest alarm system. It makes me want to find the guy who programmed it that way, lecture him to the edge of sanity, and then have Debbie finish the job.

“The women,” Emily gasps out. She points at the ground where women are running out of the building and dodging rotters, weaving in and out of them until they’re through to the other side. Some of them grab knives from fallen dregs and take down a few more of them before running after their friends.

“They’re free,” William says. “We didn’t get what we came for, but at least we helped someone else.”

A few rotters turn and hobble after the running women, but then gunfire erupts from within the building, unintentionally drawing the rotters back toward the building instead. I tip my head back and let out a laugh. This is so much fun.

Emily has fire in her eyes when we meet them on the other side of the building. The area here only has a few dead stragglers. All the rest are concentrated on the other side where the alarm blares the loudest. The stragglers are easy to take out, clearing the way to where we left the car. Emily looks like she wants to say something, probably yell, but it’s not safe enough for that yet. William keeps a hand wrapped around her arm, holding her close to his body while Buddy trots along on her other side.

We reach the car and there’s one rotter passing by. It’s slow moving, dragging the stump where its foot should be along the ground. It’s following the alarm, but then turns its rotting face toward us. Decaying skin hangs from the jaw, quite a grotesque sight. I take it out with a single swing from Debbie, then stop halfway through the second swing when I see Emily looking at me. She doesn’t have the look of awe and fascination that I hoped she would. It’s something else in those deep amber eyes. Something I can’t recall ever seeing before in my life. It’s not pity, that’s a look I’ve seen more than enough times. But this one, I think it’s something closer to understanding. I’ve never seen that look aimed at me before. From anyone. My guys understand me, but not like this.

She steps up to me with the little bag tucked under one arm, and I swallow hard, not sure what to make of this proximity. It’s different from yesterday when I pulled her close to me after a rotter grabbed her leg. This is more potent.

Lifting her hand, she runs her fingers through my bloody, ragged hair, and she looks at me. She really, really looks at me. As though she’s seeing me for the first time, and she’s not even horrified by what she sees, even though she absolutely should be. If she could see me right now, and I mean really see me, then she should run away in the other direction and never look back. And I would even let her go, too. But she parts her pretty pink lips and says words that shock me to my core.

“What they were saying back there, in that room…that really got to you.” It’s not a question. She knows it’s not a question.

“Yes,” I rasp out. “It did.”

“I won’t pry, but I’m here for you.” Her fingers untangle from my hair and slide down my face until they’re cupping my cheek. I lean into her palm and raise my arm to clasp her hand with my own, holding it there, relishing in her gentle touch.

The sentiment is sweet. Her words are heavier than she might realize. Being here for me means she won’t leave, even though she tries to run from us every chance she gets, and I encouraged it. But she says that she’s here for me. Then the strangest thing happens with an organ I didn’t realize still worked. My heart skips a beat.