Chapter 22
Twenty-Two
T he sun is high in the sky above the Rove River. The massive steel bridge over the body of water allows for a perfect view of the cluster of high-rise buildings making up the Hudson skyline. The city used to be sophisticated and hold the promise of excitement and opportunity, but now, it’s utterly terrifying. The dense landscape of steel and cement is the ideal hiding spot for Zs.
The six of us sip at our water bottles in total silence, keeping an eye on the city. We abandoned our final safety net over an hour ago and continued our journey on foot. We knew the SUV wouldn’t take us all the way to Caprielle, but we had hoped it would make it past this last major city. We’re now at the mercy of the elements, people with devious intentions, and Zs.
Whatever happens from here on out will require fast thinking, and in many ways, be left up to chance. We’re relying on our limited resources and ingenuity. Our lives are so intertwined that one false move is the difference between life and death.
River is the first to come to terms with our fate. She doesn’t falter while securing her quiver onto her back and taking a step forward. I admire how brave she is. Not once has she given any sign that she regrets our decision. She never looks back or drops a remark about our situation. Even if it is all for show, I wish I could find an ounce of the bravery she exudes right now.
It’s not only the change from vehicle to foot that has me frazzled, but the events from the night before. Ryland and I are finding it difficult to fall back into the swing of things. I’ve spent the day searching for the right words to say to set us back to how we were before, but it’s to no avail. We’ve crossed a line, and now, my emotions and body are waging a war against me. I can’t forget the feeling of his fingers inside me or quit replaying how it felt to kiss him. I want more, to kiss him harder, to touch him the way he did me.
God, I hate myself for being so pathetically enamored with him.
“Don’t go drifting off now. Stay focused,” Ryland says from beside me, gazing at my fidgeting hands.
I release my mood ring and cross my arms. “I’m focused.”
“Good. Keep it that way, Ellery.”
“Will do, Shaw ,” I say, rolling my eyes.
Our group holds a tight formation as we enter the city square, weaving around the tall buildings and using them to hide us. My palms sweat and my heart beats out of control as the skyrises close in around us. Our movements are precise, and the weapons in our hands are lifted and ready to fire at any sign of trouble.
After what feels like hours, the scenery shifts from elaborate skyscrapers to storefronts. Striped awnings shade the open doors of local markets and clothing boutiques. Graffiti covers the sides of red brick buildings and trash litters the sidewalks. It’s clear that these streets were desolate and forsaken long before the quarantine.
The sound of hollow clanking stops us in our tracks. Four sets of hands reach out to River and me, holding us in place. No matter how hard I try, I’ll never talk our companions out of their need to protect women. I step to the side, looking in the direction of the noise. A green bottle rolls out from one of the alleyways and crosses the street several yards ahead of us. It hits the curb with a clink, and we jerk in unison. River moves next to me, positioning her bow and arrow between the shoulders of Noah and Wes, aiming for the alley. We hold our breaths and stand completely still, waiting for something or someone to reveal themselves.
When nothing happens, the tension subsides, but we all still hold firmly to our weapons. I don’t even complete a step when a gravelly screech pierces through the quiet followed by a sprinting Z. Dressed in rags with long brown hair trailing behind him, the Z races for us. The sound of cutting wind and a snap join the ruckus he makes. As fast as he appeared, the Z drops to the ground with an arrow protruding from the middle of his chest.
River rolls her shoulders and glares at the dead body with a satisfied grin.
Our relief is short-lived. As if he had rung the dinner bell, the wailing cries of Zs saturate the dead city. We’re officially under attack.
Ryland glances at me from over his shoulder. “Are you ready?”
“Don’t worry about me. I can handle myself.”
“I know you can.”
As a small horde comes around the corner, I widen my stance, take aim, and fire along with the others. Two of the Afflicted stop dead in their tracks and hit the ground upon arrival. The others give little consideration to the deceased and push forward. They have their sights set on us as we scurry to land fatal blows to stop them.
“Behind us, Quinn,” River says.
At least a dozen Zs come up on us at our rear.
I press my back to Aiden’s for cover and pull the trigger of my gun. Fear courses through me and my arms shake, making it difficult to steady my aim. Every shot must count, there’s no time for miscalculations. We’re outnumbered, in an unfamiliar city, and the odds are quickly stacking against us.
“Now would be the perfect time for a great idea,” River states, releasing an arrow into the horde and landing it into a decaying chest.
I don’t have a single clue how to get out of this. The shops lining the street pose as much of a threat as our attackers do. There’s no way to tell if a building is a trap or offering asylum, but staying on the street is turning dangerous. As soon as we pick off a few Zs, more come to take their place. Every second, they grow closer, and we have mere minutes before we are surrounded with no way out.
Over the blasts of rapid gunfire, Wes yells, “See that restaurant to the left? We need to move to the alley beside it and get the horde to follow us.”
The weight of my panic lifts from my shoulders. Thank God at least one of us devised a plan.
“Do you mind elaborating, Mac?” Noah asks, continuing to fire his weapon.
“Yes, I do mind, Noah. I’m gutted that after all this time you don’t trust me. ”
Ryland looks in the direction of the alley. “Why do I have the feeling your plan entails an explosion?”
“Because you and I both know blowing shit up is the best way to gain the upper hand,” Wes snaps.
I flashback to the last time Wes blew something up. He could have killed us, but it worked.
With nobody else offering a better alternative, we inch our way across the street. We can’t afford to aggravate them, so we refrain from any sudden movements. And with each passing second, the continuous stream of ravenous bodies closes in on us.
We slide along the outside wall of a red brick building and pass a huge, white propane tank that gives us a little cover. The trek to the rear corner is nerve racking. A thoroughfare with several dilapidated dumpsters runs along the back of the building. They are the only obstacles between us and a major street.
Wes moves to the back of our group and patiently waits for the Zs to file into the alley. He pushes us around the corner and says, “Get ready to run and don’t stop.”
As we move out of sight, the Zs go mad, quickening their efforts to reach us. Using the corner of the building to shield himself, Wes opens fire on the propane tanker. The first shot is a direct hit, but nothing happens. Panic rages inside of me, and I bounce on the balls of my feet. There may be nothing in the tank, in which case, we’re screwed, but it’s our best bet. Wes releases another shot, but this one isn’t meant to create an explosion. It stops a Z who has broken free from the horde and is within reaching distance of us.
Unable to step out of the safety that the wall provides, I squat behind Wes and slide my arm around the corner. I clip off the Afflicted as he focuses on the primary target. Again, he shoots, and nothing happens besides the sound of the bullet hitting metal.
“Come on, Wes,” I plead.
He fires again and heat flashes across my face. I’m dragged along the ground by the collar of my shirt while I scurry to my feet. A ball of fire is hot on our backs as we sprint through the alley. Zs cry out, but not because they’re being burned alive; their long-awaited fresh dinner is on the run.
My lungs burn and legs ache, and I silently urge them to continue to move. I’m at the back of the group, fighting to close the gap between my friends and me. I push forward, upping my pace, but my feet slip out from beneath me. I land hard on my back, knocking the air from my lungs. My head rolls to the side as I struggle to pull in a breath, but my efforts are cut short.
Barreling toward me is a crazed Z, shaking its head side to side with thick saliva stringing from its mouth. Wanting to close the distance between us, it leaps into the air. I raise my gun and shoot it in the middle of the face. Purple blood showers down on me, and its body skids to the ground.
Someone grips me under my arms and yanks me onto my feet.
“Nice shot, but watch where you’re going, all right?” Ryland says, playfully scolding me.
He doesn’t give me time to reply. Taking my hand, he pulls me behind him. When we emerge from the cover of the brick buildings, we’re not greeted with the sight I was hoping for. Although Wes’s plan immensely decreased the number of Zs pursuing us, many made it out. Burnt flesh hangs from their exposed bones and angry lesions ooze with blood. They’re utterly grotesque times a thousand .
Our group disperses into pairs, Aiden and Wes, Noah and River, and me with Ryland. The Zs also break off into clusters, each zoning in on particular pairings. Yet again, we are outnumbered.
It’s unnerving the way the Afflicted snap their teeth and flail their arms. They desperately want to grip anything—hair, clothing, or a limb—and pull us to their mouths. They reply with grunts and aggravated screams when we avoid their advances, and they’re sloppy and unorganized in their quest to subside the unquenchable hunger driving them.
Ryland and I stay close with our backs pressed together. As quickly as possible, we pick them off one at a time, but they’re unrelenting, giving little mind to being the next to die by our bullets.
A lithe male pulls ahead of the group, racing for me. I prepared to meet him head on when a terrifying wail resonates through the chaos. River. My head snaps in her direction as a Z drags her to the ground. His hands wrapped around the braid at the back of her skull, and her bow and arrow lie beside her just outside of her reach. Noah curses trying to get to her, but he can’t break away. The Z barreling toward me rams its body into mine, pushing me back into Ryland. He stumbles forward but keeps his footing. I tumble to the ground with the Afflicted landing on top of me. My gun is jolted out of my grip, and I thrash my arms and legs, making it difficult for the Z to pin me down.
With no other choice but to fight hand to hand, I swing my fist as hard as I can at the monster. My blow whips his face to the side for an instant. It’s long enough for me to grasp the greasy, black hair lying across his forehead and hold him at arm’s length. I use my leverage to look in River’s direction and find her in a similar predicament, only her efforts to hold off her attacker are failing. The Z pins her to the ground, and her arms are wedged between their bodies with both her hands on its chest. She vigorously pushes it away, but it is massive compared to her.
“Ryland!” I scream over the chaos. “River needs your help.”
With a significant part of my focus on my cousin, I begin to lose my own battle. I give a swift tug on the strands of hair and regain an inch or two of space. With my other hand, I reach frantically for my gun. My fingertips brush the warm metal barrel, but I’m too far away to get a firm grip. Again, I glance at River. Strings of the Z’s saliva drape across her neck as she turns her face to the side, putting as much distance as she can between her and it.
“Please, Ry, she needs you!” I beg.
The Z on top of me uses my moment of panic to his advantage. Without warning, he jerks his head to the side, loosening my grip on him. On pure instinct, he dives his teeth to my cheek. I don’t want the last thing I see to be his face charging at me for the kill, so I close my eyes. I don’t give up on reaching for my gun and stretch my arm one more centimeter. All the while, I brace myself for the pain of my flesh being ripped from my bones.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
With a jolt, the weight on top of me is gone.
I open my eyes to find Ryland standing above me with his gun aimed at the Afflicted who was attacking me. I don’t bother to thank him or avoid the purple, gooey blood seeping into my clothes, but instead, I look for my cousin.
The Z lies draped over her body, it’s face pressed against hers. I rip the Afflicted off her, expecting a fight, but its mangled head falls limp to the side with a bullet hole blown through its temple. I shove it to the side, and my hands move of their own accord, brushing the blood from her face and neck. I feverishly search her skin for any signs of a bite. It’s not until she blinks that I feel a wave of relief wash over me.
“I’m fine,” she says, struggling to sit up.
I pull her into my arms and hug her so tightly she’s unable to breathe. I have no clue how she is still alive, but the how doesn’t matter right now. She is still with me and that is all I care about.
Shots continue to blast around us, and a hand encircles my bicep, pulling me to my feet. “This is our chance to get away. We have to go now,” Ryland says.
Noah pulls River into his arms and brushes back the curly wisps of her hair to examine her face before he presses his lips to her forehead.
Our group is a bit worse for wear, but we’re all alive. We stay bunched together and alert while jogging down the road. Every so often, the blast from one of our guns echoes in the deserted city, ridding the world of one more of the Afflicted.
In the distance sits an endless body of water. We continue to trudge on until we’re standing on its boardwalk. The men take a moment to survey the area, looking for a safe place to recoup for the night. I can’t even think that far ahead. Something in my gut tells me all is not well. I think we’ve been lured into some type of trap, so I scan the area for anything out of sorts. For the first time in hours, we’re alone. I check myself. Maybe I missed something, and the Z who attacked me did more harm than I thought.
I do a quick self-assessment and find nothing. Bewildered by the feeling I scan the faces around me until I land on River. She stands against one of the metal posts, holding the thick rope that acts as a barrier to the lake. All the color has drained from her face, and her gaze moves to her hand clenching her side. Red liquid soaks into the material of her shirt and seeps out from in between her fingers.
“Riv,” I say, my voice not sounding like my own.
She lifts her hand to stare at the blood staining it. Terror washes over her features before her eyes meet mine.