6. Griffin

6

GRIFFIN

T he crackling fire keeps the rotters at bay. Their distant groans drift through the woods, a grim lullaby, but they won’t come near the flames. Which is a shame. I’m tempted to throw dirt on the fire and let the party in. Have a slash fest. Anything for a distraction.

Otherwise, it’s quiet. Almost too quiet. Not even crickets are chirping, which makes everything in my head that much louder. It’s a fucking apocalyptic symphony of epic proportions hammering around in my skull. If only I could turn it off or smash it against something. Like a tree. Or Max’s morning star. He would love to do the honors, I’m sure.

I’m supposed to be sleeping. That’s the whole point of stopping for the night and resting up so we can pick up her trail again at the crack of dawn. However, I can’t sleep. My mind is too busy for that. All I can do is turn the broken rose sculpture over in my hands, running my thumb over its jagged edges in the moonlight streaming in through the canopy. The memories rush back in, and I welcome them, even though all they do is bring confusion and pain. The mistakes, the regrets, and the one question that lingers: why didn’t we give her a chance to explain ?

At this rate, I’m never going to get any sleep. I’m pretty sure William and Max aren’t sleeping, either. Likely for the same reason as I. A night full of self-torment for the three of us. I’ve never felt so useless before. Her trail is right here, but we can’t find it in the dark and it’s too dangerous of a risk to blindly keep going.

Seeing Emily drive off into the night and breaking the sculpture in the process that I’d worked so hard on for her cut through my heart more than the secret she’d been keeping. It’s not even about the sculpture. I can always make another.

She’d known about my deep desire to be part of a colony, yet she let me believe she was on her own. Every time I talked about wanting a place to belong, she kept her mouth shut. I believed I could save her by creating a colony of my own. If she’d stuck around, she’d know that the only reason I mentioned starting a colony from scratch was because of her. Clearly, though, she never needed saving. She already had everything she needed. Unfortunately, that didn’t include us.

Before her, I didn’t care about starting my own. I didn’t have it in me to build something solid with so few people. It was pointless with only the three of us. Then I found her, and suddenly I had someone I wanted to protect. To keep safe. Now I’ve got nothing.

“I can hear your mind working from over here,” William says from the other side of the fire, breaking the silence. “It’s deafening.”

“Can’t sleep either?” I glance over and see him lying on his back with his eyes wide open.

“No wonder none of us took first watch,” Max chimes in, lying with his eyes shut and fingers laced over his stomach. “We all know damn well none of our sorry asses were planning to sleep. At this rate, we might as well keep moving. I saw some fresh footprints earlier and almost followed them without you sorry bastards.”

I bolt upright and glare over at him. “You found her trail, and you said nothing?”

Max shrugs and keeps his eyes shut tight. “Didn’t feel up for it. Felt more fitting to lie on the ground here with my old friend, self-sabotage.”

His voice is quiet, pained. He’s been hurt more than any of us. The original betrayal from his brother cut him so deep, I wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to climb back out of that dark hole again. He’d finally started doing better, especially when we found Emily. Until Nathan came back into the picture and exploded everything all over again. This time, the shrapnel hit all three of us. No matter how deep my cut is, I know Max was stabbed with a double sword.

Part of the reason I want to find Emily is so they can work their shit out. I know we’re missing something, and that’s her side of the story. We didn’t give ourselves a chance to hear her out, and now I won’t be leaving her again until we do.

Her face appears in front of me. I can almost feel her hand tracing the scar on my face, the gentleness of her touch, the sad look in her eyes, and the softness of her lips when she asked me to trust her. She didn’t elaborate, and she didn’t phrase it as a question. She told me to trust her. I need to know why.

William stands, stretching his arms over his head. “Well, I’m going to find a tree, then I guess we’ll get moving.”

“There’s an entire forest full. Hope you can find a bougie one,” Max says.

“A private tree will do fine,” William responds, before ducking behind a nearby oak.

I kick dirt over top of the fire to put it out, and then double check my weapons. I wish I would have grabbed something from the cars before taking off. We’ve never been this unprepared before. This is the first time we don’t have a First Aid kit on us, and if I’m right about Emily being hurt, she’s going to need it. I hope she grabbed one before running off.

There isn’t anything else for me to do now, other than wait on William, so I look around when something catches my attention. “Hey, up there.” I point to the sky where a thin plume of smoke catches my eye, curling up through the canopy. “Someone’s got a fire going.”

Max’s eyes burst open, squinting at the distant haze above. “Think it’s her?”

“Only one way to find out,” I say, already on my feet.

“Let’s go,” William says when he reappears, his face serious and his gaze locked on the smoke. He reaches down, grabs hold of Max’s shirt, and drags him off the ground until he’s standing.

I turn to Max. “Where did you find those tracks?”

With a nod, Max leads us into the brush, back toward the spot he’d scouted earlier. If this is from Emily, I could strangle him for not telling us sooner—we could have caught up to her by now. All this wasted time, when I could already have been getting answers from her. No. I let that thought go. What matters most right now is finding her. Everything else can wait.

Unable to contain my desire to find her again, I quicken my pace. The trail heads toward the smoke. If she stopped for the night like we did, we could catch up. We still have a chance.

I break into a run, seldom glancing at the ground for tracks. My gaze is fixed on the smoke. That’s the only compass I need. It’s her—I know it is. I can feel it.

The guttural groan of a rotter snaps my focus away from the smoke. A figure stumbles out from the shadows, its jaw hanging at an unnatural angle, one arm clinging to its body with half the flesh rotted off. It groans and snarls. I rush past it, unwilling to slow down for even a second.

Another rotter appears.

And then another.

More rotters shuffle into our path, and I hear Max’s triumphant yell when he cuts them down, each swing followed by his manic laugh.

I keep going. More rotters appear and William joins Max in taking them out, too, clearing the path.

Still, I keep going.

The deeper we go, the thicker they get, until the forest swarms with them. I’m forced to draw my knife and plunge forward, my frustration and anger fueling each strike. They’re slowing us down, blocking us from her, and I’m done with them. Every stab, every swing, carries the weight of my frustration, the pain of her leaving, the anger at how we left things. It fuels me.

The more rotters than present themselves as obstacles, the faster I move. I feel a twinge in my side, but I ignore it.

A cabin finally comes into view, a thin line of smoke curling from its chimney. My heart thuds painfully against my ribs. Is she in there, or did we follow the wrong trail, leading us straight into someone else’s home? I don’t think I can handle getting so far off her trail. My fist clenches at my side and I push away that doubt. I shouldn’t have stopped paying attention to the tracks. If I followed nothing but the smoke and I got this wrong…

“There, on the ground.” William points at a pair of footprints in the dirt, alongside the paw prints of a dog.

“She’s here.” The words hardly escape my mouth before I lunge forward and throw the door wide open. The unlocked door is reckless, but I’ll berate her about that later. Right now, I only need to see she’s alright. To hold her. Maybe chain her up so she can never escape again. Damn it, I should have kept those handcuffs .

I have to cover my mouth and cough. Smoke billows through the open door and I take a moment for my eyes to adjust.

Inside, darkness cloaks the room, save for the fire in the stone hearth. The flames blaze with life, threatening to overtake the cabin. It looks like someone overfed it, which is likely how we saw the smoke the way we did.

Once the smoke clears, the glow from the fire casts an eerie glow over a few pieces of rough furniture and shadowed photos on the mantle of a couple, smiling and carefree. Muffled sobs drift from another room. Following the sound, I run the short distance along the concrete floor until I reach the room she’s in. I need to know why she’s crying. I need to help her. Please, don’t let her be hurt.

I push through to the next room, feet scuffing against the rough floor. The first thing I find is the figure, bent over on the floor with shoulders shaking. Relief fills me and I rush forward, desperate to help, desperate to know she’s safe. “Em—” I start, but then the figure raises a tear-streaked weathered face, and I stumble back. “You’re not Emily.”

The crushing disappointment that washes over me is so strong it’s paralyzing. We came all this way for…what, this? Some random human I couldn’t care less about? Some guy crying alone in a dark cabin?

The tracks, though. They led us here. Emily has to be here. I try a new tactic.

“Hey, I say, stepping closer to the man huddled on the floor.”

“She needs help,” he quietly sobs, his voice thick with tears.

My spine goes rigid. “Who?” I scan the room, frantic, until my gaze lands on the figure lying in the bed—a human-shaped form, motionless and covered with a blanket. My stomach plummets .

The man sniffles, wiping his face, and he points. My gut clenches. No.

The only light in the room comes from a window above the bed. I take a step forward to get a better view in the light and I see he’s crying over…a rotter?

“Emily.” I sink to my knees. Agony courses through me like a free-flowing stream. We’re too late.

“Grif,” William chokes out, standing behind me. His legs shake against me, but somehow, he remains standing.

A decaying hand, complete with pink-painted nails that are chipped, stretches out toward me from beneath the covers, reaching for my face. Wait a minute. With a frown, I pull the blanket back to reveal a face that’s so decayed that the rot must have set in months ago. “What the fuck is this?”

The man’s tear-filled eyes flash with anger when he looks up at me. “Her name is Mae. She’s my wife. That’s all anyone needs to know.”

William whistles low behind me, and Max mutters something about Debbie, but I don’t break my stare from the man. Emily was here. I need to know what happened to her. If he did something…

“Where’s Emily?” I demand, getting to my feet.

The man swipes his wrinkled hand across his face to dry his eyes. “I don’t know any Emily. My wife is the one who needs help.”

Max lets out a low chuckle. “Buddy, you’re the one who needs help, and none of us are qualified to give it.”

“Max, shut it,” I snap at him, then turn back to the man. “Look, I don’t care what twisted arrangement you’ve got going on here.” The rotter in the bed groans, its chains rattling as it struggles against them. At least the fool had enough sense to restrain her. I’m surprised she hasn’t bitten him yet. “All I want to know is if you’ve seen a woman. Mid-twenties, brown hair, dog by her side.”

He glances at the bed, the barest flicker of annoyance crossing his face. “A woman came through earlier, had a dog with her. She planned to stay the night, but Mae gave her a scare when all she wanted was a midnight snack. Instead, she ran away and nearly set my cabin on fire.” He sneers at the memory. “Your girl seemed fine. She has that protective dog with her.” He grumbles out the last part.

“Emily, that’s Emily.” William shoves me aside. I catch myself when I stumble and then watch him while he runs out of the room. I’m too surprised by his departure to think of following him.

He’s always been the most rational one, never acting on blind instinct like this. But right now, his hair is a mess, and his eyes are wild and desperate. The man has snapped. It’s as though every cell in his body has been altered. He wants to find her as badly as I do.

Emily, what have you done to us?