2. Emily

2

My head pounds with the force of something fierce. I scrunch my eyes together and try to remember what happened. I remember brick walls, wooden floorboards, and a low fire. Holding Zoey’s hand and promising her I’ll find her medicine and return. Finding a shopping center that should’ve been untouched enough by survivors due to the drastically increasing amount of rotters, that I should’ve had a chance at finding what I needed. A man turning off the music and putting all of us at risk.

My eyes pop open, but I’m met with pure darkness. I reach out and feel a felt interior beneath me and around me, and a cool metal above me. I’m boxed in.

There’s a jolt and then I’m thrown to the side. Low murmurs come through one wall. The roar of an engine as we pick up speed. I’m in the freaking trunk of a car.

Everything comes rushing back to me. How I was drawing the rotters all to one location so I could have a free run of the shopping center, but then some dipshit ruined that. I was so stunned to see him standing by my car staring at me that something—or someone—must’ve knocked me out. Judging by the murmuring voices, there are at least two of them. Maybe more.

I roam my hand over myself. My clothes are intact. My knife is…no, it’s not here. Neither is my spear. I could’ve dropped them when I passed out. I reach down to my boot and feel inside, but the one I hid there is also gone. So is the backpack I had. Panic surges through me and I paw at my chest, subsiding only when my fingers feel the circular shape of the compass I keep on me. I pull it out from beneath my shirt and I think I’m looking down at it, but it’s too dark to see. At least it’s still there. They didn’t take that, too.

Turning to face the direction of the murmured voices, I pound on the wall as hard as I can and scream. The voices cease and only the low hum of the engine can be heard. I scream and shout. “Let me out of here or I’ll kill you all!”

Okay, probably not the best way to smooth things over with my captors, but I’m angry and scared.

Fear runs through me as a chill settles over my skin. They could have killed me, even left me for dead among the rotters, but they went through the trouble of stripping me of my weapons and supplies and bringing me with them to wherever it is they’re going. That last part scares me more than being left behind and unconscious. I have better odds against the dead than I do against the living. This new world has brought about the worst in people. I’ve met many who I never want to cross paths with again. Whoever is on the other side of this wall I’m banging on has added themselves to that list.

“Let me out of here.” I shift myself around so I can kick. There’s usually a latch that folds the middle of the seat down to reveal the trunk to the rest of the car. Maybe if I can kick it hard enough from this side, it’ll come undone and free me. Then I can take out my captors. I don’t know how, with no weapons, but I’m sure as hell not going down without a fight.

There’s a chuckle followed by a low, soft timbre. “Careful, sleeping beauty. Don’t want you to hurt yourself. We’re not in an area that we’ll be able to stop and help you if so.”

The car speeds up, and we run over a big bump. And then another. There’s a chorus of moans. No, those aren’t bumps. They’re straight up running over rotters.

“Your screaming has gotten us a bit of an audience, so be a doll and stay quiet for a little while longer. We’re almost there.”

My heart hammers in my chest. Where is there, exactly? I give one last powerful kick before letting my head fall back in defeat. If they die, then I’ll never get out of this trunk. I’d much rather die fighting than to starve to death in a box.

Resigning, I flip my body over and crouch as much as the space allows me to, and wait. I refuse to die here. I’ll kill every single one of these people who took me, weapons or not. There are people counting on me to return with the supplies I promised I would get.

The car rumbles to a stop.

Doors open and close.

Leaves crunch beneath footsteps that are getting closer.

My heart pounds.

The world feels so still that for a moment I’m not sure if I’m still breathing.

Someone messes with something on the other side and then daylight nearly blinds me. It was the early morning hours last I remembered, so I’m not sure how many hours I’ve been out. Is it still the same day?

Not wasting any time, I leap from the trunk and sail through the air with all the grace of a drunk seagull before landing crouched in the dirt. I throw my leg out at the same time I spin around, kicking out and knocking someone to the ground beside me. Success.

When I get up to run, he wraps his hands around my ankle and I fall face first into the dirt, slamming my nose and chin onto the ground.

“You’re hurting her more than the rotters would have,” a gentle voice says before a man matching the voice crouches down in front of me. He has blond hair pulled back into a bun, exposing a kind face. His pale blue eyes study my face when he reaches out to touch my chin. I wince, and he sighs. “I apologize for my friend here. He’s doesn’t make the best first impression.” He glances off to the side, then back at me. “Neither of them do.”

I swat his hand away from my face and am dragged along the dirt before being flipped over onto my back. I suddenly regret changing from jean pants to jean shorts before leaving home. I thought it would make it easier to run around in, but the tiny sharp rocks in the dirt seem to have transformed into piranhas.

Hands plant themselves on either side of my head. The sun disappears when a large man hovers over me. The empty gray eyes that were the last thing I saw before waking up in the trunk of a car. The dark gray shirt stretching over a muscled torso belonging to the man who turned off my music. I hate him. I hate everything about him.

“Are you going to behave?”

“Depends on what you’re going to do with me. At least give me my weapons back before you try to kill me.”

His brows furrow. I want to cut off those brows. They’re stupid brows. “What are you talking about? We saved you.”

“Saved me?” I scoff. “You nearly got me killed, then you drag me out to the middle of nowhere, strip me of my weapons, and pin me down.”

His features harden, and the lines around his eyes deepen. “You nearly got us killed, pulling a stunt like that.”

“You’re delusional.”

“You’re reckless.”

“Can I play with her yet?” We both look to the side to see a third man crouching down, his elbows resting on his knees while he twirls a dagger with the pointy end in the dirt. His side-swept jet black hair looks like it hasn’t been combed since before the dead rose. It’s sticking up in random directions, but it’s the grin on his face that sends a shiver running through me. Until my gaze shoots back to the dagger.

“Hey, that’s my dagger.” I reach out for it, but he pulls it out of my reach.

“Tsk tsk. Boss man says I have to keep this safe from you.”

“That’s not what I said, Max.” The man above me scowls but then looks down at me. His gaze flicks to my compass before looking back at my eyes. “I want answers from you, but first we need to set up camp, and you’re helping.”

“I don’t want to.”

“If you want Mr. Pointy back, you will,” Max taunts.

“You named my dagger?”

“Of course I did. He’s a beaut. He’s seen a lot of action, too, but he’s gotten dull, so I’ll sharpen him for you first.”

“That’s because you’re grinding it against the dirt, you dumbass.”

He holds his free hand against his chest, feigning hurt. “I’m offended. But I’ll forgive you, don’t worry. We’ll become best friends, like Mr. Pointy is with Debbie.”

I can’t even begin to think of a response to that.

The man above me disappears and the blond man steps up, holding a hand out to me, which I hesitantly grab. He pulls me to my feet. Not rough, like the gray-eyed asshole would have, but gently. He even steadies me on my feet before pulling his hands away. “Don’t worry about them. We won’t hurt you.”

“What makes you think I won’t hurt you?”

One corner of his mouth tilts up into a half smile. “You probably will, but we’re not the ones who’ll make the first strike.”

I wipe sweat from my brow with the back of my hand and feel something odd. My fingers trace the foreign object up to my temple. I think it’s a Band-Aid, but why?

“You hit your head when you fell,” William says, answering my unspoken question.

“I’ve fallen a lot since meeting you.”

A sad but kind smile graces his lips. “I mean the first time, when you realized we were there. When we got to the car, I fixed up your head before he set you in the trunk.”

“He put a hurt, bleeding, unconscious girl in the trunk. Doesn’t seem like a wise choice.”

“I agree.” He pounds another stake into the ground, and I look around me at the campsite. It started off as a clearing but now has two tents set up and bare spots in a circle around them that Max cleared the grass out of to make a fire in each. The man in question throws a smirk at me over his shoulder before disappearing into the tree line to collect more wood. I’ve only been held captive by these men for half a day, but something about him both fascinates me and terrifies me at the same time.

“There should still be another bag in the car with the third tent. Want to grab that, Em?” William asks, smoothing a strand of sweaty blond hair back along his head and standing up. He’s been the kindest to me. He was even the first one to ask me for my name. Yet the surly one who seems to be the leader here, I still don’t know his. Not that I plan to stick around long enough to find out.

“Sure.” I turn to head back toward the car and dig around in the backseat for the bag with the tent. When I tug it toward me, it knocks against another bag that isn’t closed all the way, so the contents spill out. Cans of beans, vegetables, fruits, pieces of carved wood, and more spill out all over the place. But it’s the Ziploc bag with bottles of medication that catches my attention and I dig through it without a second thought, then toss them down in frustration when they’re not anything I need.

I left my little safe community with the promise to return with the medicine needed to help Zoey. It’s been near impossible to find since all the typical places have already been picked through in the last two hundred and sixty-five days that the world changed, but I haven’t given up hope.

Shoving the fallen contents back into the bag they fell out of and then reaching for the tent bag, I raise my head and look around. Everyone is busy setting up camp. They’re all focused on their tasks. Nobody is paying attention to me. I don’t know where I am or how far we’d driven, especially since I was unconscious for part of it. Not to mention locked away the whole time.

I look over the seat and see the key still in the ignition. Light beams down from the sky and I’m pretty sure I can hear angels singing. I can’t help the smile on my face. I also can’t believe they were dumb enough to leave the key in the ignition when they have a hostage. It’s almost as if they expect me to do it. If I was a better person, then I wouldn’t, but today I’m not. I have people relying on me for their survival, so before I can go over the pros and cons, I climb between the seats until I’m in the driver’s seat and turn the engine.

A thrill shoots through me when I feel the rumble of the car coming to life and I put it into drive. I should dump their supplies out first, otherwise I’ll be stealing it.

On second thought, they owe me.

Slamming my foot against the gas, I run over a bump in the ground and then gasp when Max runs out in front of the car. I actually believe he’s crazy enough to let himself get run over. Instead of stopping, I press down harder on the gas, and then my door flies open before the car can move faster. A pair of hands pull me out of the car right as Max jumps up onto the hood.

My back slams against the side of the car and the angry leader guys’ face gets close to mine, his hands fisted in the front of my shirt, holding me in place. His expression and the way he pushes against me tell me he’s pissed, but his empty gray eyes tell a different story which catches my focus. This isn’t the first time he’s been this close, but it’s the first time I notice the scar running down the side of his left cheek. It happened some time ago so it’s healed, but looks recent enough to have happened after the world changed. Curious, and without thinking, I raise my hand and run one fingertip down the length of it, feeling the raised ridges beneath my skin.

His eyes narrow, not leaving my face. “What are you doing?”

“This looks like it hurt once upon a time. Do you still feel it?” I tear my gaze away from the scar and meet his that’s watching me with curiosity and a slight annoyance.

“Only when I sleep.”

“That’s when I feel my scars, too,” I whisper.

He tugs my hand away from his face and I expect him to drop my hand, but I feel a cool metal band clasp around my wrist instead. Looking down, I gasp when I see that I’m now handcuffed to him. “What are you doing?”

“I save your life and you repay me by stealing my car and destroying my food.”

“What destroyed food? I put it all back in the bag,” I argue.

He motions with his head toward the ground a few feet away and I see the contents of a few busted cans spilling out over the ground. Oh, so that’s what I ran over.

“Oops.”

“You can repay it by helping us replace it. Luckily, that wasn’t everything we have.”

“So I’m just going to be handcuffed to you for…”

“Until I see fit. Now come on, we have another tent to finish setting up.” He reaches inside the car for the tent bag and then tugs me behind him as he leads the way back to the clearing. William stands in the middle of the campsite, watching us with his arms crossed over his broad chest, a look of interest on his face. He probably got a fun show of my failed escape.

“This is ridiculous,” I mumble.

Max falls into stride beside me, twirling around his morning star on his other side with a grin on his face and a few strands of his pitch black hair framing his vibrant green eyes. “Next time you try for something fun like that, give me a heads up, will ya? I want to see if I can fly all the way over the car next time.”

“You’re insane,” I say, but that only makes him grin wider.

“Collect enough firewood yet?” The surly one asks, and Max slinks off with a disappointed sigh.

Setting up a tent while handcuffed to someone is a level of difficulty I never want to experience again. This is ridiculous. Absolute insanity. Once the task is finished, I raise my wrist that’s connected to his and wait.

“Waiting for something?”

“I did what you asked, so now can you let me out of this thing?”

“Nope.” He tugs on the short chain between us, forcing me to follow him inside the tent. He busies himself by setting up a sleeping bag with blankets and pillows. I’m really just along for the ride at this point.

“Can we go into town so I can replace your precious cans and get out of this thing?” I try again.

“Nope.”

I yank on the cuffs connecting us, forcing him to look at me. “Is there anything I can do to get out of this for the night? At least hide the car keys from me so I can’t escape. It’s not my fault you left them in the ignition.”

“Like that’ll stop you. So far, the only thing I’ve seen from you is putting yourself in danger. You’re now stuck with me for your own safety.” He goes back to laying blankets down.

My own safety? That catches me off guard. I don’t even know how to respond to that. Surely he can’t be that concerned over a complete stranger. I’m certainly not that concerned about them.

“Think that’ll be enough blankets for you, princess?”

“I have a name.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself.” He walks out of the tent, forcing me to follow behind him. What is that even supposed to mean?

“Do I not get my own tent?”

He laughs and shakes his head as though I’ve said the funniest thing he’s ever heard. “Absolutely not.”

“So I’m staying chained to you the entire night?”

“Now you’re catching on.”

Holding up my free hand in the air, I make a motion like I’m strangling him. I doubt I could get my hand all the way around his neck. I’ll figure out another way to get out of this mess while he’s sleeping.

The sun is lowering toward to the horizon by the time we’ve sat down in front of the fire. Max made it a pretty pleasant area and I’m impressed. There are four large logs in a square surrounding the fire in one of the small holes he’d dug in the ground, and he stacked a nice little pile of wood to last us at least a few days. He also dug smaller holes that make up a circle around the campsite, each with their own little wood pile next to them, to keep the rotters at bay. So far, the only thing effective against them, other than a knife through the skull or decapitation, is fire.

We used to do the same thing back in my community until it backfired on us. The fires repelled the dead but attracted people, and not all the living that are left are good. Many of the living are even more dangerous than the dead. However, none of the living has confused me more than the three in front of me.