16. Emily

16

Pushing out from beneath the heavy metal ladder, I slide underneath the large van. I would much rather be on top of it with William, but my luck isn’t working out that way today. I should have listened to him and gotten inside of the van instead. Being on the ground like this makes me feel far too vulnerable, and I don’t like that feeling. Like when I was stuck in the tree without a weapon. Or when I tried to escape during my first night with them and Max pushed me toward the rotters. And the night when that asshole stole our supplies and let the rotters in after I’d cried myself to sleep beneath the willow tree. No matter how many close encounters I survive, it never gets easier.

The sounds of shoes scraping along the asphalt get louder and I hurry to get myself hidden and out of their way. My foot is the last part of me to get free, and the ladder clangs against the ground when it does. Some scuffles pause and change direction, getting closer. After letting out a brief curse, I cover my mouth with one hand, afraid to so much as breathe.

My heart pounds in my chest so hard it hurts. Knives of varying size and sharpness cover my body, but I can only fight off so many at once. I hope it won’t have to come to that. I can’t even outrun them. I’m trapped.

Dirty shoes and muddy, graying bare feet come into view. Most of them keep scuffling along, but a few show interest in the van, pressing against it. I remain as quiet as I can manage and pray to whatever gods are listening that they keep moving.

The more rotters that pass by, the better. It’s a lot. Like a lot, a lot. Feels sort of like I’ve been dropped into the city. Almost. Cities have a lot more, but I’ve rarely seen them move through the world in a herd like this. It panics me, because I know from experience that if one of them gets a whiff of something living, then the others will know.

The herd is slowly passing by when one of them bumps into another that seems to paw at the van and gets knocked to the ground. A graying face with patches of missing flesh winds up being eye level with me, and I press my hand harder against my mouth to keep from crying out.

This rotter only has one eye because the second eye popped out of its head on impact and rolled over to me, landing barely an inch away. I want to vomit. Instead, I swallow it down with a small accidental cough. Oh no.

The rotter reaches out for me and I slide away, straight into the legs of another that’s standing on the other side of the van. Two rotters tumble down on top of me and I reach for the only thing I can grab: the knife necklace. Pulling it free from the chain, I shove it through the neck of one rotter, and then the other, putting enough force behind it to sever the spinal cords. It doesn’t take as much as it normally would, and I silently thank Max for his sharpening skill. The corpses fall on top of me and I think it might be over, until dead fingers scratch at my legs, and then pulling on my hair. I’m surrounded.

A scream erupts from me. I’m done for. Buried beneath a pile of rotters with no way out and no way to reach my weapons. I try, but the corpses on top of me are blocking me from them. The weight of them pinning my hands and arms so I can’t reach for any of the other weapons that I’m covered in. All I can do is swing my necklace knife around in a small circular space to buy myself as much time as possible.

The weight of the rotters piling on top of me gets heavier. I struggle for air as they crush my lungs. Their writhing bodies pile on more. I don’t even care about the stench; I need air. Closing my eyes against the gnashing teeth, I stab more, harder, in every direction I can manage.

A tear runs down my cheek, and my hope diminishes.

The weight on top of me lessens, and air fills my lungs. I suck in a deep breath. Rotten air never tasted so good.

I open my eyes and see Griffin looking down at me in a fit of rage and bewilderment. He looks like a madman, tossing corpses around like rag dolls, his hands covered in blood while he does so.

William is on the ground nearby, his bloodied shirt trampled on the ground and his bleeding arm held upright. He whistles and shouts to get the rotters’ attention and then runs to draw them away. All I can do is to be angry that he hasn’t fixed himself up yet. I even threw him the first aid kit before this mess happened. Almost as though I risked my life to get him that kit for nothing.

Griffin reaches down and pulls me to my feet. He screams in my face, but I can’t understand him through the ringing in my ears. My heart hasn’t calmed down yet. If anything, it’s beating even faster. Harder. He pushes me up against the van and grabs the head of the nearest rotter, twisting hard and severing the spine. It drops to a heap with the others.

He opens the door of the van and pushes me inside before climbing in after me. Before the door closes, I see his knife on the ground nearby. What’s it doing over there? He needs it with him. I can’t believe he left it out there. He turns to face me again and he winces. He’s hurt. My panic rises even more.

“Were you bit?” I strain to hear him through the ringing, so I keep repeating my question. I can’t even hear the question myself, but I can’t stop asking it, not until I get an answer.

His hands appear on either side of my face. His eyes are wide, gray and empty, like the souls outside this van. His lips move. I try to explain, to shake my head, but he holds me still, pulling me in until our foreheads are touching together.

The ringing clears a moment later, and I can hear our heavy breathing. “I can hear again.”

“Thank fuck. You scared me.” He tilts his head up and his lips brush against my forehead before pulling away.

I study his face, looking him over as best as I can at the moment. “Were you bit?”

He shakes his head. “No, were you?”

“No. But you’re hurt.”

He breathes a sigh of relief. “Cut myself getting out from underneath that damn car to get to you. It’s no big deal.” He staggers forward and falls onto the seat next to me, his gaze latched onto my face. Then his expression turns dark. Angry. “What the hell were you doing?”

Rotters pile up outside the door. The van groans beneath the weight of them as they push, trying to get in. “We need to get out.”

He pushes me down against the seat and lies on top of me. It’s not a crushing feeling like with the rotters. It feels surprisingly safe and protective. He places a hand over my mouth and presses a finger to his lips to indicate silence. But it doesn’t matter. They’ve heard us. They’ve smelled us. They know there are living people in here that need to be torn apart and infected.

The van tilts. There are so many rotters piling up outside that they’re going to push us onto our side. Roll us over and over again until we’re dead, too. We need to get off the seat and to the other side, or we’re going to be hurt when it tips over. I shift to pull his hand away from my mouth when my fingers brush against something wet on his side. I raise them to the light streaming in through the windows and see the sticky red liquid coating them. He presses his palm harder against my mouth to keep from telling him how injured he really is.

Griffin lowers his mouth to whisper in my ear. “It can be dealt with later, princess. Right now, we need to be as quiet as possible and hope they go away.”

My hand falls back down to his side and I press my palm against the wound to apply pressure. He lowers his head and groans against my neck. My other hand lifts to rest on his back and I grasp his shirt, holding onto him as tight as I can.

“I’m sorry.” His voice is so low and muffled that I’m not sure I heard him right. “I’m sorry I forced you to stay with a monster like me when you could have been back with your friend by now.”

The moans outside the van multiply. The van rocks harder and every second gets us closer to tipping over. I look behind me and there are rotters outside the window there, too. They’re everywhere. We’re surrounded. Even if we do tip over, we won’t be able to climb out of the top. At least they can’t get to us in here…for now.

Griffin’s hold on me loosens as his strength wanes. I hold my hand against his wound as hard as I can and hope the bleeding has stopped. I can’t move, and I can’t look down to check. All I can do is close my eyes and hope for a miracle.

Music blasts from somewhere far away and the van falls back down onto four wheels again. My eyes pop open. The rotters that were pressing against the van move away toward the sound.

“Come on out and dance for me, pet!” Max’s voice rings out, filled with laughter. Griffin’s hand falls away from my mouth.

“He did it. Max got them to go away.” I push against Griffin, but he doesn’t budge. “Griffin?”

He doesn’t answer me. I push against him as much as I can until I’m able to slide out from beneath him. Holding his face between my hands, one of which is covered in his blood, I lean in close. His eyes are closed and he looks like he’s asleep.

“Griffin, answer me,” I urge.

I look out the windows. The rotters are gone now, chasing the music that Max put on. He probably found a working car radio somewhere down the road. Griffin isn’t at risk of getting infected and his friends will come for him soon. The path for me to flee is wide open. After all, isn’t that what he’d said? That whole you’re not leaving me unless I’m physically unable to follow crap he’d spouted not long ago. But this isn’t what I had in mind. I was thinking more in terms of locking him in the trunk while I drove away. I can’t leave him after what he did. Not now. Not after there’s a chance he could die, all because he exposed himself to save me.

Laying his head back onto the seat, I press two fingers against his neck. There’s a faint, but steady thrum of his pulse. He’ll be fine, but not without help.

I stand and look at him, lying there on the seat so helpless, one whole side of his shirt now stained with blood. I mutter a curse and climb on the seats to pull myself up onto the roof of the van.

The first aid kit I’d thrown up to William is still up here, still unopened. I look out in the direction he ran, but I don’t see him. Worry gnaws at me, but I can only worry so much in a single moment, and right now I need to deal with the only thing I’m able to. So I reach out, grab it, and drop back down into the van, ignoring when Max calls out to me.

I tear through the kit and then cut open Griffin’s shirt to expose the wound. Blood coats his skin like a macabre painting. There’s so much blood. I scramble around the van, searching through everything until I find an unopened bottle of water. I try to twist off the cap, but I can’t get any friction with how slick my hands are from the blood. There’s so much blood.

The door crashes open with such force that I’m surprised it doesn’t tear clean off, and William stands outside looking like a blood-covered shirtless savior. Why is everyone covered in blood right now? Oh, yeah, that’s right, he’s hurt too. Everyone’s getting hurt because of me. Blood drips from the cut on his arm, but he does nothing about that. Instead, his eyes zero in on my hands.

“How bad is it?” His concern is misplaced.

“I’m not bit.”

Relief floods his face, and he grabs the edge of the door before pulling himself inside. Buddy dashes in behind him. I’m thankful he let him out of the car. “Let me look at your hands. Where does it hurt—” He sees Griffin passed out on the couch and then drops to his knees at his side, running his hands over his body. He sees the wound on his side. “Is he?—”

“No, he’s not. At least, I don’t think so. He said he cut himself on something when he was getting out from underneath the car to get to me.” I wipe my hands on my pants leg, then try opening the bottle again. I don’t have a rag, so I hold my knife to the bottom of my shirt and cut off enough fabric to use as a rag, then douse it in water.

William makes space for me to kneel beside him, and I clean Griffin’s wound. I wipe away the blood from around it in order to see what I’m working with. I hope it’s not as bad as I fear. “We can’t stay here. That music drove them away, but it’ll only draw in more of them from farther out.”

“I know, but he’s in no position to move right now. And look at you, I still need to patch you up, too. You’re both a mess.”

William rummages through the first aid kit, avoiding my eyes. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He snorts. “I’m in much better shape than Griffin is, at least.”

“Doesn’t mean you still won’t bleed out on me. I can’t hold off all the rotters with both of you passed out from blood loss and open wounds.”

“You’ve got Max out there.”

“He’s probably too busy playing.” Now that the wound is as clean as I can get it, I hold the rag against it and look up at William. “He’s fine out there on his own, isn’t he? I don’t think he realizes that the two of you are down.”

“One of us is down, and it’s not me.” He uses a second water bottle to clean off his arm and show me the cut. It doesn’t look as bad as I feared, but it’s still an open wound. Get some rotter blood mixed in there and he’ll be a goner in no time. I can’t lose both of them, too.

“Do you think you’ll need stitches?”

William nods toward Griffin. “Stitch him up first and then we’ll see what we have left to work with. I can get away with none, but I don’t think he can.”

Footsteps sound from outside, and we both pause what we’re doing and look at each other, neither of us daring to make a sound. When the door flies open, I jump and lose my footing before landing in William’s lap, my hands still holding the cloth to Griffin’s wound. William’s good arm wraps around my waist, holding me against him, while his other hand brandishes a knife out in front of us.

“You didn’t want to invite ‘ole Maxy to the party? I even played music for you.” The hurt in his expression fades when he sees Griffin lying on the seat. “Is he…”

“No, he’ll be fine. It’s a cut. A deep one, but once I stitch it up, he should be alright.”

Max glances over his shoulder. “Think you can stitch him up in about fifteen seconds?”

William’s arm turns to steel around me, his voice low and threatening. “Why?”

“See, the rotters destroyed that car. No more music. It also drew in a whole dead party dance club, so now we have to get out of here and we don’t have a car, unless someone has finally learned how to hot-wire one.” He rushes over to the driver’s seat of the van and then curses when he can’t find a key.

William curses and lets me go. “Grab the kit and any water or other supplies you can grab.”

“We can’t just leave Griffin here.”

He bends down and scoops up Griffin like the large muscular man weighs nothing. “I’ve got him. Stay in front of me. Max, you lead the way, head for the trees.”

Max salutes William before grabbing my wrist and pulling me out of the van behind him. I barely snatch up the first aid kit first. Rotters are everywhere, the sight nearly enough to freeze me in place if I wasn’t being dragged away.

We move quickly and silently, keeping low and out of sight while weaving between cars until we can make a beeline for some tree coverage. There’s a small town on the other side which we have to step over a pile of rotters to get to. I assume the ones that William lead away from the van before coming back for us.

A rotter pops out at us from the side and I swing my knife around, stabbing it through the skull. It falls to the ground as quickly as it had appeared. Max winks at me before swinging his morning star in a circle through the air in front of him and moving toward the town. There isn’t a single other rotter in sight. At least not now.

Griffin, looking so helpless lying on top of an abandoned general store counter, is something I wouldn’t have minded seeing several days ago. But now, I hate it. I wanted to get away from him so badly, from all of them, but now I can’t imagine walking away while any of them are in such awful shape.

He still hasn’t woken up. William carried him all the way to this little abandoned town, and he was out like a light the whole time.

“I’ve only ever seen this many rotters on the outskirts of cities before. I didn’t even know they could travel in herds like that.” William sets down an armful of bottles on the counter behind Griffin’s head. He scoured the store for supplies—especially pain killers—while I worked on stitching up Griffin’s side.

“How’s your arm?” I ask while I lay out the supplies I’ll need.

He holds up his arm to show me the horrible bandage job he did. He’d grabbed a random shirt on the ground and wrapped it around his arm before doing a lap around the exterior of the general store to make sure there were no rotters lurking about. “I’ll go gather some more. I don’t know what all we’ll need, but we’re not leaving anything behind.”

“Sit.” When he does nothing but raise an eyebrow at me, I place both my hands on his shoulders—which is impressive considering he’s at least a foot taller than me—and push him down until he’s sitting on the small rickety stool that groans. I suck in a breath and wait for the stool to fall apart beneath his vast frame, but it doesn’t.

“Don’t worry about me, Emily. Griffin needs taken care of first.” I barely hear his words. His shoulders are so broad, his chest so defined. His knees open up, drawing me in between his thighs. My palm slides down to his peck, beneath which his heart beats forcefully.

“He’s stable. His pulse is strong.” I look into his pale blue eyes that seem to light up when they look at me. “Can I trust you to stay put while I stitch him up, and then I’ll take care of you?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up. “Stitch him up, Em. I can bandage myself. Don’t worry about more than you need to right now.”

“I worry about everyone. It’s what I do.” Pushing away from his intoxicating closeness, I turn around and get to work, threading a needle. Max is outside digging holes to build fires in, as a barrier to keep the rotters out, so I know we’re safe in here for the time being. Though I can’t help but worry about Max out there alone. Not that any of us can go help him. I could, but not until I patch up Griffin. Asshole as he is, I still don’t want him to die.

As if summoned by the thought, Max shouts out. I lift my head to look out the window and smile when I see Max chasing Buddy around with a stick hanging out of his mouth. When Max finally gets the stick back, he tosses it into the hole and kneels down to get a fire started, but then Buddy takes another stick out and runs with sparks from the stick, shooting out behind him. Max curses and chases him again.

“Everyone, huh?” William asks, and I pull myself from the sight and continue my work.

“Yup.”

“Even those who hold you hostage and keep you from your friends?”

“Well, when you say it like that.”

“We never wanted to keep you from them, Emily. We only wanted to help you.”

I begin the stitching. “And you have nothing better to do than to escort me through rotter lands and dreg hideouts?”

“Actually, no. We literally have nothing better. Even this is more exciting than sitting around with my friends and waiting to die.”

I glance up at him over Griffin’s chest. “You seemed to have a pretty nice setup from my point of view. A small close-knit group of friends willing to do anything for each other.”

“You’re not wrong, but all the rotters and dregs we’ve fought have become mind-numbingly dull. We’ve gone through the motions for months now, keeping each other safe and alive. We’ve survived, but it was a long time before something more exciting danced into our lives.”

My stomach flips and I continue stitching. I’m almost done now. Oh no, I stabbed him in the wrong spot. I glance at Griffin’s peaceful, sleeping face. He’ll never know.

“I can’t speak for them, but I know that’s why I didn’t want to let you go so easily.”

“Didn’t?” I repeat the word, noticing how he used it in the past tense.

“Seeing you struggling with that many rotters piled up on you all because we wouldn’t let you leave us, it made me realize that I’d rather let you go than force you into an early grave. So if you want to leave before Griffin wakes up, I won’t stop you.”

I pause and meet his gaze again. I’m only two stitches away from being finished. “What about Max?”

“He won’t stop you, either. I’ll make sure of it.”

“How?”

“Don’t worry about that.”

I finish up the final two stitches, tie it off, and cut the thread. “I don’t know how you can expect me to leave you on your own to take care of your friend when you can’t even let me patch up your arm.”

He raises his arm with a grin to show me the bandage he’d done while I was busy stitching. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Em. I’ve had more important people to take care of first.”

“You know how on airplanes they tell you to put on your own oxygen mask first before helping others? There’s a reason for that.” I clean up the mess before repacking the first aid kit to include some of the fresh supplies William brought over. It’s stuffed to the max. We’ll be taking this with us for sure.

“I’m not much of a rule follower.”

“You follow Griffin’s rules.”

“He’s earned that from me.”

I sigh and lean forward on the counter, dropping my head down to my forearms. The stool creaks when William stands and a few moments later he’s pushing on me to stand up. “What are you doing?”

“There’s a room with a couch back here. You should rest.”

“There’s no time for rest.” When I sit down on the couch, I notice a small pile of water bottles and some fresh clean rags perfectly folded in a pile.

William kneels down in front of me and wets a rag before holding it up to my face. He starts at my cheeks and slowly wipes away the dirt and dried blood that I’m covered in, but isn’t mine. “At least let me clean you up before you leave.”

I smile down at him, his dark hair a mess that falls just above his pale blue eyes that study every inch of my skin as he wipes away the grime. I’m not going to leave them right now. Not like this. Not today. “Why are you so good to me when the world has become so cruel?”

“You’re not part of the cruel world. If you were, then you would’ve left Griffin for dead and ran to save yourself. You took care of Griffin. Now let me take care of you.” He grabs a new rag, wets it, and uses one hand to hold my hair back while he uses his other hand to wipe down my neck.

“We can’t leave Griffin out there alone. I didn’t do all that stitching just to bait him for rotters.”

“Max and Buddy are out there guarding the place, and I’m right here. No one, and nothing, is getting in here. You’re as safe as can be.”

He wipes down my collarbone, moving the rag down to get the top of my chest, and then hesitates. I see the moment he sucks in his breath. Then he wets the rag again and starts at my stomach where I tore off the bottom half of my shirt.

Once my stomach and lower back are clean, he grabs a fresh rag and starts at my hands, then moves up my arms to my shoulders until my shirt stops him. “It’ll be pointless to do all of this and not do it right,” I say before lifting what’s left of my shirt over my head.

William says nothing. He runs the wet rag over my ribs and I shudder beneath the chill. “You okay?”

“Water’s cold,” I say, my voice low.

He leans in and I drape my arms over his shoulders. I don’t know why I do it, other than it feels right. “I’ll keep you warm, Em.”

He moves the rag to my breasts, gently wiping across the exposed skin to the edge of my bra. His Adam’s apple bobs. “We seem to have reached another barrier.”

“What do you think we should do about that?” I whisper, my voice growing thick.

With his other hand, he reaches behind me and unhooks my bra in one swift motion, then lowers one strap down my arm. His mouth places a fervent kiss on my shoulder. Heat shoots through me. “Told you I’d warm you up,” he says before placing the cool, wet rag against my nipple.

Once he’s cleaned away the last of the dirt on my breasts, he moves the rag down my abdomen, ever so slowly. My core clenches. His mouth moves down to my breasts, his lips trailing a heated path along my skin. I arch into his mouth. “William,” I whisper.

“I’ll stop if you want me to.” He kisses each breast, and when I don’t answer, he kisses a trail up my body, then my throat, until he’s hovering over my lips. “Tell me stop, Em.” His voice sounds pained. When I still say nothing, he cups my jaw with his hand, tilting my head up. “Tell me you want this.”

“I…I want you, William. Please.”

His lips slam down on mine, his kiss so forceful, so hungry, that all thoughts escape my mind. All I can think about is him. How his large frame wraps around mine, how his strong arm bands around my back, lifting me up only to lay me down along the couch without breaking contact.

He pushes my legs apart with his knee and settles between my thighs, laying down on top of me and making love to my mouth.

My fingers curl against his back and slide down the hard muscles while his own fingers curl into my hair, tugging gently. I lift one knee and rub it along his side. He responds by pushing down against me, his hips adding a slight pressure that makes me crave more.

When he pulls away, I whimper. I’m not ready to be done. I want more. I crave more.

He smiles down at me with a drunken look on his face and runs a fingertip along my cheekbone. “You’re fucking gorgeous, you know that?”

“I don’t even have all my clothes off,” I breathe out.

He looks at me with that drunken look, in a way that no man before has ever looked at me before. There’s more than pure lust in his gaze. It’s animalistic. It’s hungry. It’s William. “You could wear four pairs of sweatpants and a fucking parka and you’d still be the most beautiful woman alive.”

I buck my hips against him and reach up to pull him back down, sealing my mouth over his. “I love your words, but I’m not ready to stop kissing you yet.”

His hand buries into my hair again. “I won’t stop kissing you until the moment you walk away.”

His words are like an ice bucket. I push my palms against his chest and he raises up, a confused look on his beautiful face. “Is something wrong?”

I sit up and pull my knees to my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. “Em, I’m so sorry. I got carried away. I can fix this.”

Shaking my head, I let out a laugh. “That’s all I am? A quickie and then you’ll send me packing? I’m not opposed to it or anything. It’s not like we’ve got many options, but at least be honest with me.”

He looks absolutely bewildered. “No, not at all. I just mean that I know you have to go and when that time comes, we can’t follow, so I won’t hold you back. But that doesn’t mean that I won’t savor every moment I can get with you and then hope that you’ll come back.”

He reaches out and lifts my chin up to look at him. “You dancing into my life is the second best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“What’s the first?”

“Finding Griffin, but that’s only because he got to me before you did.”

“I don’t want to leave you guys. I really don’t.”

“Then don’t.”

“I don’t have a choice,” I whisper, the pain I feel bleeding out through my words. The worst of it is that I can’t even tell him why.

“Everyone has a choice.”

I let out a strangled laugh. “Yeah? What do you choose?”

He leans in and places a gentle kiss on my lips. “You, Em. I choose you. No matter how many times you run away, I still choose you.”

Reaching behind his head, I pull him toward me again. I need him closer. I’m a puddle in his arms that needs to grow into an ocean.

I unbutton my jeans and guide his hand down my pants, beneath my panties, gasping when he cups my core. He presses his palms against my clit and slides a finger inside while my own fingers curl around his shoulders.

“You feel so good. I slide right in,” he groans out against my mouth.

My back arches, and he doesn’t stop kissing me. Not when he adds a second finger, not when he finds my bundle of nerves inside of me, and not when he strokes me through my orgasm.

I always thought the next time I do something like this, it would be fast and dirty with a stranger I didn’t care about. With someone just passing through, and then I’d be gone before we could learn names. Instead, I somehow found the most attentive man alive who makes me feel beautiful even when I’m covered in someone else’s blood, and he’s fast becoming someone I don’t want to turn my back on.

But my colony will never accept new people, not so soon after we were so deeply betrayed. They’ll kill them all on sight, and then probably kill me, too. I can’t bring them back, no matter how badly I want to. It’s for their own safety.

How am I supposed to still walk away?