Sanctuary (the Affliction Trilogy #2)

Chapter 3

Three

“ Q uinn,” Ryland whispers.

I'm not sure how long it's been. Minutes, maybe hours since I've been aware of my existence. I don't even remember how the car we've been traveling in got to this stretch of road, or when it stopped in the middle of an empty country highway. Dark, gray clouds drizzle rain, acting as the backdrop to a dreary day outside the window. It complements the massive trees dressed in green leaves and skirted by lush foliage lining the road. If I were in a better state of mind, I might appreciate the picturesque beauty of it all.

I turn away from the back window and look at Ryland’s hand resting on my shoulder. A simple blue and silver ring adorns one of his long fingers. The piece of jewelry reminds me of the wedding ring the husband wore on the same hand that he intertwined with his wife's. It’s beautiful, yet tragic.

Since leaving the house that is now a tomb for the deceased family, a single thought has consumed my brain—when will the time come that I have to kill someone I love? One day, the Affliction is going to catch up to us. It's going to claim me, or Ryland, or River, or one of the guys. There's no way all of us will pull out of this unscathed, or perhaps none of us will.

It's inevitable. I will have to pull the trigger.

“I need you to get out of the car, Quinn. We have to start walking.”

I look at Ryland for what feels like the first time in hours. His lips are set in a hard, straight line, and his chestnut waves have been finger combed so much that they surpass his shoulders. He looks as haggard as I feel.

In a rush to subside some of his worries, I force a smile, reaching for the door handle.

His hand rests on top of mine, stopping me from opening the rear door. “If you need to talk about it, you know you can come to me, right?”

“Yeah, I know.” I nod before stepping out into the wet drizzle.

Everyone gathers at the trunk of the car and repacks their backpacks to accommodate our new findings from the farmhouse. I join them and robotically set to work adding to my supplies. I rarely carry anything not needed; instead, I bring bottles of water, military food rations, protein bars, a small toiletry pack, and dozens and dozens of bullets. But today, I'm making an exception, cramming a spare set of clean clothes inside of my backpack. It's been over a week since we've adequately bathed. It's disgusting, but unavoidable sometimes. When the first opportunity presents itself, I plan to strip away the residue of this day. I’m going to clean my body until none of this exists.

River comes to stand next to me once we're finished packing. She wraps her arm around my waist and tilts her head to the side of mine. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine,” I say, running my hand over my face to hide my blatant lie.

With a sigh, she pulls me into her tall, slender frame, squeezing me. I love her for understanding that what I need right now is more time to process everything before expressing it. It’s a prime example of why my cousin is my best friend.

“All right, ladies. Let's head out,” Wes calls.

With his tousled onyx hair and bright blue eyes, Wes looks like he's on his way to a day by the pool rather than to search for a safe place for the night. The tank top he wears leaves his tattooed arms exposed to the sun, and he's cut a worn pair of jeans into long shorts. His blue canvas tennis shoes aren't optimal for hiking like the combat boots secured to the strap of his backpack. But none of us bother to say anything to him. Shoes are his thing. It's hard to begrudge a man the simple things that make him happy when they're so few and far between.

River and I fall in line with the guys, and their male instincts kick in. The four of them always find a way to push the two of us in the middle of the group. They have assured me many times it has nothing to do with the fact that we're women who can't fend for ourselves. Apparently, chivalry isn't dead, even in an apocalyptic meltdown.

I reach for the gun tucked into the waistband of my shorts at the small of my back. It's solid, warm, and powerful in my hand. Despite my fried nerves, it makes me feel a little in control. My fingers grip it with such force that my knuckles turn white, and my hand tingles until it’s numb. It gives me the sensation of something real, tethering me to the here and now. It reminds me of my purpose and the never-ending battle I fight to keep my loved ones alive.

Everything around me is commonplace as we move down the road. Ryland and Noah converse in hushed deep voices—a soothing hum in the background. Wes strips the bark from a twig and rhythmically shuffles it between his slender fingers, concentrating on what lies ahead. My cousin periodically sighs as she pulls her wet shirt away from her body, letting the air reach her skin. In the past months, we've become accustomed to moving as one unit through unknown regions, and our typical mannerisms help to calm my anxieties.

As I scan the tree line, I catch Aiden's eye. He gives me a smile and winks, sensing my unease. I'm sure everyone can feel it, but it's him who it affects the most. It's like when someone is off it messes with his inner peace.

I roll my eyes and shake my head at his flirtatiousness. It’s a small attempt to show him I’m all right.

“God dammit!” Wes yells.

I turn in time to see him skid across the asphalt on his back. His thin legs frantically kick at a mud-covered Z who holds onto his ankle. Its fingers are deformed from where it fed on itself when it was first Afflicted, digging into Wes's calf. It screams a bone-chilling screech, thrashing on the ground and trying to sink its sharp long teeth into flesh. Wes lands his foot on its forehead. It whips back, giving him a clear shot. He fires a single bullet, landing it between the Z's eyes, and it faceplants into a puddle on the street.

Wes scrambles to his feet and stares at his shoes, soaked in dark-purple Z blood. “Fuck, I loved these.” With a running start, he kicks the dead body. “You, asshole!”

Attempting to brush the mud from his clothes, he returns to the five of us. “The bastard came out of nowhere.”

Ryland pulls on his lower lip with his index finger and thumb, scanning the tree line. “It's impossible to see through the forest. We're a sitting target.”

“We can't stay out in the open tonight. There's no way we'll be able to see what's coming for us,” Noah adds.

An animalistic shriek rings throughout the quiet woods. All of us freeze, eyes darting in the direction it came from. No more than a few seconds go by, and there's a response—another discernible cry of a Z. I wouldn't deem it clear communication, but there's something intelligent about the way the others answer the call, like a warning making its way through a horde.

They know fresh food is in the area.

“Let's get moving,” Ryland orders. “Quinn, you watch the rear with Wes. Aiden, you're upfront with me, and Noah and River keep a lookout along the sides of the road.” His eyes are full of uncertainty as they briefly lock onto mine. His tongue slides over his teeth behind his lip before he gives me a quick nod meant to remind me I got this. I think it's as much for his peace of mind as it is for mine.

With Wes by my side, I pivot my body, keeping an eye on what's behind us. Our group moves at a fast pace, guns at the ready and completely silent.

A flash of light is followed by a deafening boom. I jump and my heart pounds inside my chest threatening to break through. Yards away, the top of one of the pine trees crashes to the ground as several of its branches go up in flames. Like the clouds have been slashed open, they release large drops of rain that pelt down on us.

Wes places his hand on my shoulder. “Come on, Quinn. Are you really going to let a little thunder and lightning get the best of you?”

I tilt my head to the side, my mouth gaping. “We were nearly electrocuted! How is it that nothing ever bothers you?”

“I just remember it can always be worse.”

“Worse than this? How?”

Wes runs his palm over his mouth, studying the road. He cracks his neck side to side and says, “My dad battled cancer on and off for years. Every time he went into remission, and we thought he was in the clear, it would resurface stronger. My mom had found out she was pregnant when he was diagnosed as terminal. He died three weeks later, leaving her to care for my three younger sisters and an unborn baby.”

“I'm so sorry.” I squeeze his hand.

His lips lift with a sad smile. “This vacation with the boys was going to be my final. I was going to be there when she had the baby, so I could care for my sisters. I have a sibling I've never met.”

“Why didn't you go home when you had the chance?”

Wes stops walking and looks me straight in the eyes. “I'm never going to leave the people I care for when they need me the most again.” He bumps me with his shoulder. “Besides, you all would've been Zs a long time ago if it weren't for me.”

Noah's voice cuts through my laughter. “We've got company!”

The Afflicted emerge from both sides of the forest and join in the middle of the road, forming a barricade in front and behind us. As a unit moving at superhuman speed, they charge forward. Neither the festering wounds from where they've fed on each other, nor the raw flesh crusted in dried blood hinder their movements. Broken bones, missing limbs, and an inability to see have no effect on them. Only a death blow to a vital organ will stop them from attacking.

River pulls an arrow from her quiver, places it in her bow, and sends it on a trajectory to impel the nearest Z's head. The Afflicted stumbles to the ground, and she repeats the process.

With Wes by my side, we open fire on the line at the rear. We work from opposite ends, picking off our pursuers one at a time. The decrease in their numbers does little to discourage them. In fact, it seems to do the opposite; each of their fallen comrades is only more flesh for them to devour when they are done with us.

They're rounding us up, packing us in tighter. It won't be long before we're within their reach. I take a step back, putting some space between us when my back presses against a solid form. I glance over my shoulder to see Ryland. The number of Zs pressing forward on him is more significant than what Wes and I are fighting. His brows furrow in concentration, and the rain plasters his hair to his face. With both hands, he holds his gun and takes aim at his targets.

Wes curses from beside me as his gun makes a metallic click; it's empty. He hurries to reload, leaving me to hold off the threat moving in on us. With a firm grip on my gun, I pick off the Zs as fast as I can, but it's not good enough.

A female takes the lead of the horde. Her hair is a matted mess of dark curls, and her clothing has dissolved into almost nothing at all. She lunges for me with her arms outstretched, using her long, gruesome nails like claws, hoping to sink them into me.

My mind flashes with the horrid picture of the family lying dead on the floor of their home, and something inside of me clicks—a firm resolve ignites within me. I won't let it happen. It won't be my family who falls victim to the Affliction today. With speed comparable to hers, I pull my hunting knife from the sheath at my hip as the Z's hands circle my neck. I raise the knife above my head and plunge it into the top of her skull, pushing her dead weight to the ground.

Spinning around, I find that our group is no longer together. We’ve been forced apart. I conduct a rapid evaluation starting with River. Thankfully, she's not alone. Noah is by her side, taking out anything that so much as looks in her direction. Wes and Aiden hold their own, but I can't account for Ryland. I run into the conflict, killing whatever steps in my path. My stomach ties into a knot when I face two Zs in a fierce game of Tug-O-War with Ryland as their rope. One holds his left leg as the other pulls his right arm. His gun lays abandoned on the ground while he curses and fights back with his free limbs.

Sprinting forward, I aim my gun at the Z holding Ryland's arm and pull the trigger, nothing. I'm out of bullets. Without missing a beat, I drop my empty weapon to the ground, and as I pass River, I reach for the revolver she keeps as a backup in the waistband of her pants, pulling the weapon free.

My chaotic world flips into slow motion.

The first bullet hits its target square in the forehead. I don't wait to see the Z release Ryland, but I tackle the second one, pushing it to the wet street as I bury my knife into its chest over and over. When the Z's body goes limp, I spare Ryland a quick once over, but I don't stop to help him up. I'm tired, achy, and above all, pissed.

Ryland yells my name, but it doesn't stop me from throwing myself into the middle of what's left of the horde. I place the barrel of the gun to the head of the first Z I come in contact with, killing it. The next one, I plunge my knife into its gut and yank up, slicing it apart. My actions become a blur of stabbing, slicing, and shooting until it all runs together like a black endless void until the darkness is all I remember.

It's the sound of Ryland's voice that brings me back to myself. “What were you thinking? Never do that again.”

His chest presses against my back, and his arms pull me close. My lungs hurt from the erratic inhale and exhale of wet, warm air. In my bloody hands rests my knife and gun, and my arms hold my legs to my chest with my head resting on top of my knees. As my surroundings piece back together, I try to remember when the fight ended, and how I came to be wrapped in Ryland's arms in the middle of the road. The memories aren’t there.

“It's almost sunset. You have to get up and move, Quinn,” River says from above me.

I lift my head, looking at the carnage scattered along the road. Every single one of the Afflicted that came after us is dead. I should feel relieved. We won another battle and live another day. But it is complete anguish that overwhelms me. Day in and day out, this will be our norm for the rest of our lives. Fighting, killing, and merely surviving.

We have no choice. I have no choice. I refuse to let them win. These are the people I love with every fiber of my being. They stayed behind for me, so we could find a way out of this together. I have to keep fighting for them. I just pray I don't lose my sanity in the process.