10. Max

10

MAX

W e don’t stop running. My legs are pounding, muscles burning. I welcome the pain as something I deserve. Something I’ve earned, since people I care about keep leaving me like they do.

It’s a shame the world went to shit, because at this point, I could dominate in some of those marathons that seemed so popular back when the world was alive. I probably wouldn’t even trip anyone on my way to the finish line, because I wasn’t an asshole back then. Now I might, though. Not because I’d win, but because it would be fun to watch my competition fall flat on their faces. Blood spurting everywhere. The wounded crying out while I leave them in my dust.

I would even bypass the medal they’d try to drape around my neck, because the only trophy I’d want would be my pet. With blood splattered across her hands from taking out dregs, and a smile on her face from her killer car dancing. She would be there waiting for me and cheering me on because she wouldn’t have had a reason to run.

The feeling of abandonment and betrayal seep into my bones and I run harder. Faster. My fingers clenching around the air, desperate for something solid to hold, to stab or to strike. My hand skims over Debbie’s handle, slung on my back, vibrating like she can sense the bloodbath I want her to partake in.

A gunshot rips through the night ahead, cutting through the rain, and my thoughts of spilling blood. My fingers snap around Debbie’s handle before I even register the source of the sound.

“There.” William points to the tree next to Griffin’s head, where bark splinters have flown, freshly pierced by the bullet moments ago.

No hesitation. I draw my knife in one hand. Debbie’s going to need some backup if she wants to partake in a gunfight. Griffin pulls out a long dagger, and William brandishes a gun, aiming it in the direction the shot came from. We’re wide open here, the perfect target, and I don’t like it. “Show your faces, you filthy cowards,” I bellow into the darkness, my pulse spiking.

A force slams into my back, knocking me forward so hard that my chin bounces off the ground. I run my tongue across my teeth, but to my surprise, none of them chipped. Yeah, this fucker is no match for me.

Someone pushes my face into the ground until mud goes into my mouth. A weight on my lower back holds me down while a voice sneers in my ear, “Stay down, dogs.”

A hand wrenches my pack off my back, and pain explodes in my shoulders as they’re yanked out of their sockets. I buck up, twisting, but I can’t throw the weight off. The pain, though. I can’t decide if I want to end it, or if I want more of it.

I flail around like a helpless bunny to get my shoulders to go back into their sockets, but a heavy boot lands between my shoulder blades, halting my progress, but not before one goes back into place. Ha, I half-win that round.

Another gunshot goes off, and I’m able to turn my head enough to see William wrestling with someone trying to take his gun. What a waste of a bullet. That should be in someone’s skull. Or groin. Right now, I vote for the groin. Not mine, though. Maybe the one belonging to the guy holding me down. I don’t quite like being held down. Unless maybe it was Emily. Oh, that would be fun. I’ll have to show her how to dislocate my shoulders. Really get into character.

William lets out a grunt of frustration, and I realize he’s still fighting to maintain ownership of his gun. I don’t know why he didn’t simply shoot him; he’s a better shot than this. The guy must’ve caught him off guard, too. I wonder if he will also get to experience dislocated shoulders. Make it a whole group activity. Inclusivity and all.

The assailant pries the gun from William’s hand. Well, so much for that.

Griffin is locked in his own brutal struggle, his dagger clashing against another blade. Did these two guys really bring a knife to a gunfight? I mean, that’s what I did too, but come on. It’s not like they had their own Debbie.

Eventually, both Griffin and William lose their own battles, and it doesn’t take long for them to end up beside me, kneeling in the mud, pockets looted as our attackers rummage through our belongings. It’s their lucky day, because we’re not carrying anything other than weapons. Even the bag that was on my back was empty.

My gaze falls on Debbie, lying in the mud a few feet away. If she can remain undetected, they can get away with anything else they want to. I can’t lose my second-best girl tonight, too.

“This is pathetic. Thought you’d have more,” one guy sneers, flinging our knives around like they’re worthless. I grit my teeth when I see the blades scraping against rock and dirt. I just sharpened them, too. They’re going to pay for that. I should be afraid like Willie probably is, but I find this whole situation rather annoying. What a grand waste of time.

“We’ll give you whatever you want. Please, leave us be. We have a girl to find,” Griffin begs. The plea is odd coming from him, thick with desperation. I’d expect him to be a stone statue, always standing up against dregs. Instead, mud is dirtying his knees, and his eyes are those of a broken man. Fascinating. This is the first time he’s ever tried to give shitheads like this what they want. “Please. We’re wasting time.”

“A girl, you say?” Another man snickers, and every muscle in my tenses when I realize their interest has shifted. The hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. My fingers curl. A flash of red creeps into my vision, and I grip the mud like I could tear it apart.

“I take it you haven’t seen a girl since the dead rose,” William taunts, earning himself a brutal punch to the face. Blood spatters across the ground. Willie-boy sways, but he stays upright, kneeling in the mud, his jaw tight. I’ve gotta hand it to him. That soft boy has found himself some balls.

Taking advantage of the distraction, I struggle against my assailant, but his grip on my wrists only tightens. The bastard pressing me down digs his knee harder into my spine, pressing my face deeper into the mud. I think I’m chewing on a cricket at this point. Huh, that’s actually not bad.

It’s not until one guy picks Debbie off the ground that my amused annoyance turns into anger. A sharp, violent need takes me over. I swallow the cricket. “As much fun as this is, I think we’ve had enough play time. Now it’s time to die.”

“Play time?” A man questions with a chuckle, mocking my words. I grin. They won’t be laughing for long.

With a twist of my body, I flip onto my back, so it squishes against the mud with the guy on top of me now seated over my crotch. Oh, hell no.

Before he can react, I grab the front of his shirt and yank him down. His brief look of confusion turns to twisted pain when I slam my forehead into his.

Beautiful pain sears through my skull and blinds me for a moment. The kind that makes me feel alive. I let my mouth hang open while I watch the stars dance away, and then let out a laugh. It’s been a long, long time since I’ve done that. I forgot how much of a rush it gives. The addiction to the pain. I slide the guy off me and watch him hit the mud, stunned.

Another one runs toward me. Perfect. I get to my feet. “Help me out, will ya?”

The guy stops in front of me, confused by my request. I grab his hand and place it against my shoulder, then use force to shove it back into the socket. A coolness runs through me, and I know it worked. The dreg watches me in horror. “What are you doing?”

“Fantastic. Thank you.” Reaching out, I yank Debbie back into my grasp—she practically hums at my touch—get to my feet, and swing. Another lunges at me, Debbie hums as I swing her around, catching him below the jaw. Blood arcs through the air, mingling with the rain and mud, painting the scene in wild, swirling patterns. My movements are pure instinct now—swing, thrust, spin. Repeat.

The next one falls, then another, their groans fading into wet gurgles. In mere moments, I’m standing over their broken bodies, their blood staining the ground like a dark, twisted victory flag.

I spit on their beautifully bruised and broken bodies. “That’s what happens when you touch what’s mine.”

They don’t flinch. They only groan and curse me out under their breath, which brings a smile to my lips.

Griffin doesn’t waste a second. He’s already moving, running ahead. Dude has no chill, but he’s determined to be the first to find Emily. He ought to be at this point.

William wipes a streak of mud from his face, smearing it with the back of his hand. “You good?”

Grinning, I roll my shoulders and flex my fingers around Debbie’s handle. “I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling refreshed after that mud massage. I didn’t realize it was spa day in the apocalypse. What a luxury treatment. Remind me to put it on my calendar for next year.”

He rolls his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching as he holsters his gun and glances over his shoulder toward Griffin, who’s already disappearing down the trail.

I scoop up what’s left of my scattered weapons, my boot grinding down on the fingers of the guy who dared to touch Debbie. He cries out in pain when his fingers crush, and it only makes my grin widen. His hand spasms when I step back, and I admire the scene for a second. Weapons, blood, and pain. Perfect. The trifecta of a good time.

William and Griffin already have a lead on me. I’ll have to sprint in order to catch up. Hmm, maybe I carry too many weapons.

Nah. If anything, I have space for more. Actually…

I double back and strip the assholes of their weapons, too, then push off into a sprint. The extra weapons don’t even slow me down. It’s as though I was destined to be a mobile armory.

The world blurs around me as we sprint through the night, shadows stretching across the earth in dark, twisted shapes. I mistook a few shadows for rotters and ended up beating Debbie against a tree here and there before I realized my mistake. I’ll have to make it up to her with some dreg blood later. She’ll be alright.

We’re exhausted, but somehow, we have newfound energy after that confrontation. Griffin leaves behind drops of blood on the fallen leaves, but he refuses to let up. Emily is going to kill him when she sees the state he’s in. Maybe I can convince her to wait until I find some popcorn.

After what feels like hours but could be mere minutes for all I know, we reach a cliff edge and skid to a drop, sending a dust cloud flying up around us. We look down.

“A dead end. Are you kidding me?” William mutters, peering over the edge with distaste.

The drop stretches far and steep, craggy with rocks and roots twisting out from the rock face. It’s dangerous—my favorite kind of terrain—but as always, I’m alone in the thrill. I don’t see a single path that would be Griffin-approved. Or even William-approved. Unlike me, they turn up their nose at danger. They’ll never understand the thrill of fresh air and jagged rocks beneath them.

“It’s not a dead end if we keep going,” I point out.

“How do you expect to do that? Don’t tell me you’re willing to jump,” William says, though his tone has more concern than doubt.

I press a hand against my heart in faux hurt. “It’s almost as though you don’t know me at all. Let me tell you, Willie-boy. Sanity’s a luxury I’ve long left behind.”

“Maybe she didn’t come this way…” Griffin’s words trail off when he looks around in desperation.

Ignoring him, I scan the ground for any sign, any little clue that might tell us where she went. If she took a turn to avoid the cliff, or if she embraced it like I want to. Though, it wouldn’t surprise me if we lost the trail somewhere in the rain-soaked mess we’d come through. The rain washed away most of the tracks, so doubling back might be nothing more than a waste of time.

“No, she did. She came this way.” William drops to a crouch, tracing his fingers over a faint paw print next to a single human footprint left behind in the damp dirt.

Wondering if my pet had the same adrenaline rush as I have right now, I nudge Griffin aside and look over the edge. It’s a long drop, but there’s nothing other than rocks and small trees growing out of the side of the cliff. Huh, I guess trees can grow anywhere. Dirt, rock, maybe even the bones of my enemies. “I don’t see her body.”

“Talk like that again and I’ll make sure it’s your body down there,” Griffin grits out next to me. Oh, touchy fella. His fingers dig into his palms, his eyes wild, frantic. I understand his agony, because I feel it, too. When I run my hand through my hair, I feel the spots where I pulled my own hair out.

It’s awful what we do to ourselves when we’re hurting. It’s also unfair to have a head of such magnificent hair only to torment it. Too bad neither of us can find a more beneficial stress tic to adopt. Like baking. I wish I could bake when I’m stressed. Well, in a way I do, if burning rotter corpses counts.

“Griff,” William gasps, his voice a rasp whisper when he points out into the distance, his hand shaking. “There.”

My eyes follow his line of sight, and I see it. Well, I see her. Illuminated in the thin ray of morning light. Standing on the open ground, a battered bag slung over her shoulder, her silhouette outline in mud-streaked exhaustion. Her figure sways, and I can sort of see Buddy in the distance, a small, blurred shape dancing with a rotter. She looks like she’s been through hell, her clothes covered with as much mud as mine are. I wonder if she ate a cricket, too.

She’s too far away for her to notice us, but seeing her standing there, alive, is…well, I don’t even know what.

Relief crashes through me, but it’s mixed with frustration, anger, and the sharp sting of what she’s done. I’m at war with wanting to scream and yell at her for abandoning me, and also wanting to touch her face and grab her ass.

Elation swirls into the numbness of my body and I let them battle it out. I want to hit something, yet I also want to hold her again. I want to play music with a piano made of dreg teeth, but I also want silence while I make a bloodbath .

“No.” The single word from Griffin is so odd, considering he dragged us through the plains of hell to find her. I figured he’d want to write her a sonnet or get down on bended knee with a rose in his mouth. His reaction is rather underwhelming.

Then his face morphs into terror and my gaze snaps back out to my pet so hard that I’m surprised I don’t break my neck. That’s when I see it. Just behind her, two rotters stagger close, stumbling with their hands outstretched, teeth bared in death’s version of a twisted smile. She doesn’t notice them, oblivious to them closing in with every step.

Numbness, my old friend, spreads through me, while panic claws at my throat, replacing every other emotion in an instant. I’m forced to watch helplessly as the rotters get closer and closer to her with each staggered step until finally, I do the only thing that I can do right now. None of us will reach her in time, no matter how quickly we move. I cup my hands around my mouth, but the warning dies on my lips halfway through when the ground beneath my feet gives way, gravel and stone crumbling as I lose my footing.

My arms pinwheel through the air while I drop, the world tilting and spinning, sky becoming earth and then sky again as I tumble down, crashing and rolling, pain exploding in my ankle. My hands claw for anything to slow my descent, fingers scraping against stone and thorn, but it’s useless.

The last thing I see before I hit the ground is her silhouette in the distance, the rotters drawing ever closer.