27. Emily

27

EMILY

W atching my town burn shatters my soul. It’s even worse than when I thought all I had to do was walk away from it. Now, seeing homes and lives reduced to ash, leaving it behind is another whole level of heartbreak I wasn’t prepared for. This town was rebuilt once, but we won’t be able to do that again. Not here.

I’m drained. My energy is waning from all the fighting, and I’m struggling to hold on. Rescuing Josh from the rotters was one thing, but facing this endless stream of enemies immediately after is pushing me past my breaking point. I don’t know how I can keep going on.

My breath hitches and I double over, palms pressing against my knees, trying to suck in enough air to keep going. One moment, that’s all I need. One moment to pause and breathe.

One moment must be too much to ask for, because someone crashes into me, sending us both sprawling to the ground. Reflexively, I go for my knife, ready to strike, but then I recognize him—a familiar face from the colony. Josh. He’s panting, too, looking even more frightened than I am .

“I’m sorry,” he gasps. “They were right behind me. I was only trying to get away from them.”

I don’t have to ask what he’s talking about, because in the next moment, rotters descend toward us. Before I can scramble to my feet and fight, they lift their heads into the sky as though listening to something off in the distance, their dead eyes milky white. Then they move away, leaving us panting on the ground.

Once the rotters are gone, we help each other to our feet, and I look around at all the rotters leaving the town. They were fleeing from the fires and bumping into the walls, but now they’re leaving with purpose. So weird. I strain to hear. There’s a noise in the air I can’t quite make out.

“Something’s drawing them,” I say.

“What?”

Whispering, I motion to the rotters leaving peacefully through the gate. Well, as peaceful as an army of the undead can be. “Something is drawing them away from the town. Can you hear that?”

I haul myself onto the top of a nearby dumpster to get a better view. And there he is.

William, standing in the bed of a pickup truck, guitar in hand, playing chords that echo through the street. The truck creeps ahead of the rotters as they follow, hypnotized by the sound. William pauses mid-strum. I think he catches sight of me, because he lifts a hand to wave in my direction, and I can’t help the stupid grin that crosses my face. He goes back to playing music, and the truck disappears over the hill, with the horde of rotters following after.

“They’re doing it,” I breathe, still watching the spot where the truck disappeared. “They’re getting the rotters out of here. We’re going to be okay.”

A nearby explosion throws me off the dumpster, and I land with my shoulder slamming into the ground .

“Emily!” Josh is back on his feet first, hauling me up again.

I groan from the pain, but it fades when I realize the increasing severity of the situation. “We need to get out of here. The fires are spreading,” I say, rubbing my shoulder and wincing. A new spire of flames shoots into the sky from the direction of the recent explosion. “But I need to find my people first.”

“There’s a clearing outside the east wall. They were moving the wounded there. Your friends might be waiting for you there,” he says with a hopeful expression.

“I doubt it.” Max and Griffin aren’t the type to sit around in a safe spot while others are in danger. They’d be in here, fighting along with the rest of us. But I still haven’t found Zoey. I grab his arm with urgency. “Show me.”

We push through what’s left of the battle in this dying town, weaving through fires and collapsing structures, dodging Nathan’s men who never seem to dwindle, and slicing through stray rotters still wandering through the crumbling ruins on their way to William’s serenade. Finally, we reach the edge of the wall, where a group of colony people have gathered, their faces etched with pain and exhaustion, each tending to various injuries.

My relief becomes palpable when I scan the crowd and spot Zoey hunched over a makeshift medical station. Her hands are steady as she treats would with every scrap of gauze, ointment, and other medical supplies on hand while everyone around her moans in agony. She looks up at her patient; her face smudged with soot and worry.

I drop to kneel beside her. “Zoey, it’s not safe here this close to the wall.”

“It’s no safer on the other side of the wall, either,” she counters, glancing back at the burning colony. “They fought with us, Emily. They’re hurt, and they need our help. We can’t leave them like this. ”

She’s right. Some of these people might not be able to move as fast. Josh, reunited with his sister, has already put himself to work helping his sister tend to someone with deep gashes in his leg.

I scan the area, searching, but my worry grows. “Have you seen Max and Griffin?”

She shakes her head, already moving to wrap a bandage around a woman’s burned arm. “They haven’t come through here. Last I saw was when Nathan stormed in with his crew. They could be anywhere.”

“Shit. I need to find them.”

“Emily, wait,” Zoey pleads, her face uncharacteristically vulnerable. “These people need our help. They’re dying, and right now I’m all they’ve got. We can’t abandon them.”

The truth in her words hit hard, and I’m torn between the urge to run back into the fray and the pleading eyes of the wounded all around us. There are so many people hurting. Dying. They didn’t deserve any of this. Guilt eats me alive at the fact that I led Nathan right to the gate.

Giving one last look around at everything I can see—the smoke, the fire, the carnage and the struggling survivors—I can’t turn my back on them. Even if they turned their backs on me. Still, I need to find Griffin and Max.

The urge to find them is strong, but the weak fingers that wrap around my ankle are stronger. “Please,” the woman with the pale face drawn with worry, her voice thin, pleads. “My husband. He’s been stabbed.”

The desperation in her voice is enough. I hurry over to her husband, who’s lying on the ground a little farther away, and work to patch him up as best as I can, using my limited medical skills. His breathing steadies and I control the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay,” I assure him.

Turning back to Zoey, I’m about to ask for more supplies when I catch a shadow moving behind her. The figure steps closer, and my stomach twists as I recognize one of Nathan’s men I’d fought against. His face is pale, his eyes glassy.

“Zoey—” I call out, but she’s busy wrapping someone’s burned arm and doesn’t hear me, oblivious to the threat.

The man stumbles again.

Raising my knife and wondering where I dropped my gun, I stand ready for a fight, my legs shaky from exhaustion. There’s still a sea of injured townspeople between us. “Go away.”

He coughs. He looks like shit. “I need help. I’m dying.”

“Go away,” I warn again.

He stumbles forward, and I see the glint of the blade he’s holding. I try to call out a warning, but I’m too late. Zoey turns around at his request for help. He lunges, stabbing her in the side before staggering back. His knife falls from his hand, staining the dirt red.

“Zoey!” I scream, scrambling to throw my knife at him. He dodges it, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already by Zoey’s side, cradling her while she collapses.

Blood seeps between my fingers when I press down on the wound on her side, desperate to stop the flow. A tear runs down my cheek.

“Stay with me, Zoey,” I beg, my voice cracking. “You don’t get to leave me like this.”

I stuff a pile of gauze against her wound and wrap it up, forcing her to arch her back so I can move the wrap all around her.

She winces, trying to speak, but I shush her, refusing to let her waste any energy on words. The mass destruction around us fades, replaced by the terrifying struggles of her shallow breaths. My calls for help go unanswered. Josh looks at me with pity. If he leaves his patient’s side, then he’ll bleed out, too. We’re all helpless.

“Emily,” she whispers. Her voice is faint, but I can’t listen to her. I won’t let her go .

“Don’t. We’re going to figure this out.” Movement to my left catches my attention, and I realize that asshole is still breathing. Nobody likes a breathing asshole. Anger boils up, raw and visceral. “You’re going to pay.”

Lowering Zoey to the ground, I turn my focus on taking out the largest current threat in the vicinity. I won’t let him get anywhere near Zoey. Or anyone else, for that matter. He’s not getting out of here alive.

Wrapping my fingers around the hand of the knife that hurt Zoey, I turn to face the man who attacked her. He’s still there, shambling, his eyes now milky and blank. As vacant as the dead who haunt the apocalypse. His skin discolors before my eyes, and when he shifts his body, I notice the bite marks on his forearm that I missed earlier.

Shit.

Of course. The rotters must have gotten to him. Unfortunately, they didn’t finish the job and eat him clean to the bone. What a shame. Well, I was right. He isn’t getting out of here alive. So, without further hesitation, I plunge my knife into his skull and silence him for good.

I hurry back to Zoey and crouch beside her. Each time she attempts to sit up, more blood coats her bandage. After scolding her, I sift through the supplies in search of anything else that might help, ignoring the cries of everyone else around me.

“Emily…” Zoey reaches for my arm.

“Not now, Zoey. Remember that day we were running for our lives in the pouring rain? I was injured, and I almost lost you. We promised each other that we’ll never give up. I swear on the lives of every living person on earth, you better not break that promise.”

She lets out a faint chuckle and shakes her head. “You always were the stubborn one.”

“I’m going to save you and if you try to stop me, then I’ll kill you myself.”

“Fine. That’s a hell of a threat, but I’m trying to tell you to look behind you.”