5. Emily

5

EMILY

B uddy and I dart through the trees, his paws pounding beside me as we dodge the rotters scattered through the woods. There are too many of them to risk slowing down, so we keep running, weaving through the brush, my heart racing as we press forward. I stumble over an upraised root, crashing into the dirt, my palm slamming against a rock when I land, and I let out a cry of pain.

It’s fine, though. I’m fine. We’re going to be fine.

A rotter lunges for me, its mouth open. Rolling over onto my back, I plunge my knife into its skull, freezing its face forever into a grimace. Shoving the body aside, I feel Buddy’s teeth latch onto my jacket and tug until I scramble to my feet. We keep moving, sprinting, dodging, hoping we’re heading in the right direction.

I don’t know how long we can keep this up for. I could eventually climb a tree and wait it out, but Buddy can’t. We need to find somewhere safe to rest, and soon.

At least Buddy looks like he can keep going for ages. All I have to do is keep up with him. No problem.

Up ahead, a small structure breaks through the line of trees—a cabin concealed in the overgrowth. “Woah, boy. Over here.”

I turn off our path and make a beeline for the little cabin in the woods. Relief floods through me when I find the door unlocked. Maybe luck is on our side tonight after all.

The door creaks when I ease it open, and we slip inside, shutting it softly behind us. For once, silence greets me. No moaning, no groaning of the dead. Nothing pushing against the door trying to get to us. Pressing my back against the door, I finally let myself breathe. It’s been nonstop since I left the guys in the dust, and now, for the first time, I can rest.

My body aches, and my calves are on fire. My palm hurts from slamming it against a rock, and I’m pretty sure I have shards of glass in my skin. These are things I’ll have to wait to worry about until we reach the colony.

With my back still against the door, I slide to the floor, pulling Buddy close and burying my face in his fur. The solid feel of the ground beneath me, even this old concrete floor, is fantastic. I forgot how amazing the simple act of sitting could be. A concrete floor has never felt so soft.

Leaning back, I let my eyes drift closed. Outside, the night settles back into muted silence, save for the faint crackle of a nearby fire. It’s dead quiet. I chuckle at the thought. Dead quiet. I think we’ve lost the rotters. We can stay here for the last few hours of the night, rest up, and start fresh in the morning.

“Get some sleep, Buddy,” I murmur, reaching down to ruffle his ears. “We’ve got a long day ahead of us.” My voice slurs when my head drops downward and I can’t keep my eyes open, exhaustion seeping into every bone. “Only need a few minutes…”

I’m drifting off to sleep when Buddy tenses beside me and a voice cuts through the silence. “You’re alive.”

My eyes snap open, and my fingers fly to my knife. Scanning the darkness for the source, I can almost make out a silhouette in the dim firelight. “Hello?”

The figure shifts, a hand raised as if to calm me. Buddy takes a protective stance in front of me. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I need some help.”

My grip on Buddy tightens as he presses against me, a low growl vibrating through his body. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s my wife. She—we haven’t eaten in days. I’ve been trying to bring her something.”

Releasing my hold on Buddy, I reach into my bag, fingers grazing the cool metal of a can. I pull it out, standing on my aching feet, and step forward, offering it with a hesitant smile. “It’s not much, but it’ll help. Here, take it.”

The man takes it with careful hesitation, his face still obscured in shadow, but his relief is almost palpable. “Thank you. Come, will you meet her? She would love to thank you for your kindness.”

His voice sounds so pained. So desperate and helpless. I hesitate. It’s an odd request, but something in his tone makes it hard to refuse. I know what it’s like to be hungry in this world without an ounce of kindness.

“Sure,” I agree, stroking Buddy’s head to calm him. He stays tense, his ears flicking. This is the least I could do after bursting my way into their home like this. “Actually, in return for the can, could my dog and I stay the rest of the night here? We’ve been running for hours and are exhausted. I promise we won’t be any trouble. A spot on the floor for a few hours is all I ask.”

Buddy follows me when I follow the man, and we step deeper into the cabin.

“Of course,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him into a small room. “She’s still in bed.”

“Oh, I don’t want to wake her.”

“Don’t worry about that. She’ll be glad to see you. We don’t get many visitors, you see. ”

The room is dim, moonlight filtering in through a single window. I spot a bed in the corner, and the shape of someone lying beneath the covers. Buddy growls low in his throat, his body pressed against my leg. “Sorry about him,” I say with a strained laugh. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

The man ignores my apology, moving to the bed and drawing the blanket back with a gentle grace. “Come closer,” he says, his voice a soft plea. Then he turns his attention to his wife. “We have a visitor, honey. A young woman and her dog. I found you some food.”

I clear my throat, ignoring the strangeness of his last line. “Thank you, ma’am, for letting us stay,” I begin, stepping forward with my hand extended. “I apologize for the intrusion. The area is swarming with rotters out there, and we didn’t have anywhere else to—” As I reach her, the moonlight catches her face, illuminating her decaying, rotted skin. My heart slams against my ribs and a strangled gasp escapes me. “She’s?—”

The can of food I’d handed over drops to the floor when the man lunges, grabbing me. Buddy leaps between us and sinks his teeth into the man’s leg. He lets out a howl of pain and I push him away, sending him tumbling to the floor. I draw my knife, ready to fight, when the most unexpected sound stops me.

He sobs. Tears stain his cheeks. He’s sobbing so hard, his words come out gargled, his voice choked and broken.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. She’s still her. She only looks different. I promised to take care of her, in sickness and in health, and she’s sick. That’s all it is. She’s sick right now, so I’m taking care of her.”

“What the…” I take a step back and watch in horror. The rotter on the bed lets out a low, guttural hiss, its hand reaching for him, its movements slow and uncoordinated. My features soften into sadness. Not only for the woman, but for her poor husband, who won’t let himself grieve. I at tempt to plead with him. “Sir, she’s already gone. That’s what this virus does.”

“No,” he insists, his eyes filling with heartbreaking denial. He strokes what’s left of her hair, a tangled and grimy mess. He reaches for the hairbrush on the nightstand. “Not her. It does that to others, but not her. She’s still my Mae.”

He brushes two strokes of her hair before she turns her head and bites into the brush. He sighs and watches her chew on it.

Well, damn. That’s the sweetest, most horrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve seen a lot since the dead rose.

My mind flashes to the guys—Griffin, William, and Max—and I wonder, if things had been different, would I have done the same for them? Well, if the events of tonight hadn’t happened, and we had the time to care about each other in this way.

If it were Zoey, would I have the heart to let her go before she lost herself completely? I’d like to think I would. I think I’d have the strength to give her peace, no matter how much it would hurt. She and I agreed to make that decision if the opportunity arose, but there’s no telling if either of us would have been strong enough to do it.

“Please,” he whimpers in front of me. “Please don’t kill her. I can’t keep doing this, though. I’m going to join her. Then she won’t be alone like this.”

I take a slow step back, with Buddy pressing against my leg, still growling. This is too much. “I don’t…I can’t,” I stammer. “There’s nothing I can do besides end it for both of you.”

His shoulders slump, and he lifts a trembling hand, holding out an old fire poker toward me. “Please. I don’t care anymore. Make it quick.”

The rotter woman moans. My gaze shifts to her. A nail detaches from her finger when she scratches at the wall. A chain rattles with the movement. I hadn’t noticed before, but now I see the metal links rattling with every twitch of her hand. “You chained that thing up?”

In a sudden flash, the man swings the poker at me, and I jump back. Buddy lunges between us, snarling. The man drops the weapon and covers his face with his hands and resumes his sobbing. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to take care of her. Why won’t anyone help us?”

I take a step back, horrified by the sight in front of me.

Then I take another step, and another.

I’ve killed countless rotters, but I’ve never faced one like this. I’ve never walked away from one. Then again, this is the first time I’ve encountered a situation such as this. His love for her binds him to this nightmare. He’s unable to see she’s no longer there. She’s already long gone.

Turning away from the chilling scene, I pat my leg to get Buddy to come with me. “Come on, Buddy. Sleep can wait. Let’s get back to running.”

We burst through the door and out into the rest of the small cabin. I trip over something and slam my already-bruised palm against the concrete floor. Heat engulfs me and I cough through the smoke before rolling away, and I realize I’d tripped over the box of Firestarter, half of it spilling into the fire. The space fills with smoke and I keep a hand on Buddy’s back until we find our way to the front.

We slip out the door and into the cool night, relieved to find the forest empty of rotters, and once again disappear into the darkness of the night.