Chapter 40 #2
“Stop them!” Luke shouts from somewhere behind us, followed by the thud of several heavy footfalls and panting.
This only spurs Rhys and me on, pushing ourselves to our limits.
But running has never been my forte, and I can feel Rhys having to hold himself back, practically dragging me behind him as I struggle to keep up.
My feet and legs scream in agony, causing me to stumble and only narrowly avoid stepping on a smashed glass bottle on the pavement.
We finally make it to the end of the street and throw ourselves down a dark, narrow alleyway between two houses.
With the moonlight blocked by the buildings, it’s almost impossible to see, and I end up scraping my arm across the rough brick wall.
From the curse in front of me, Rhys has done something similar.
The Scourge are hot on our heels.
We hear the moment they enter the alleyway, their heavy footfalls and panted breaths echoing ominously off the walls.
The hair on the back of my neck stands on end as icy terror shivers down my back and my heart pounds against my rib cage.
Everything in me screams to go faster, to push harder before they catch us.
Rhys’s grip tightens on my arm, grounding me even as panic flutters in my chest. The end of the alleyway looms ahead of us, tantalisingly close.
A hand closes around my hair and yanks my head back. A scream tears itself from my throat as pain sears across my skull, momentarily blinding me. Another hand grabs my shoulder, sending me careening into the wall as Rhys’s hold slips from my arm.
Rhys snaps his head around, his eyes flashing dangerously when he catches sight of the goon’s hold on me.
Without hesitation, he whips out the Swiss Army knife and slashes the man’s throat with shocking precision.
Blood spurts from the wound like a fountain, dousing the three of us in the hot, thick liquid.
My stomach clenches in revulsion as the goon gasps and gurgles while clawing at his ruined throat.
With his grip gone, Rhys grabs my arm again and drags me to the mouth of the alleyway and onto the street beyond.
Behind us, several Scourge thugs gasp and curse as they come across the dying man, some even sounding like they trip over him.
That’s followed by the desperate groans of zombies, their shuffled footsteps echoing off the walls and causing several men to scream and shout in alarm.
It’s the perfect opportunity for Rhys and me to slip into a nearby garden.
My heart thunders in my ears as we crouch behind overgrown bushes and hide in their shadows, unable to see anything aside from the skeletal branches of the foliage in front of us. Footsteps echo around us in various directions, along with calls and shouts.
“Put down that zombie before it bites us!” one man orders, which is swiftly followed by a sickening squelch and the thud of a body hitting the ground.
“Where the fuck did they go?” another man says, sounding far too close for comfort.
A twig snaps to our left, only a few metres away.
My eyes widen and my body stiffens as I press my hand against my mouth to quiet my breathing. Rhys's hand tightens on my arm and he palms the bloody knife. His body is coiled and ready to strike.
Another twig snaps, even closer this time, followed by heavy breathing. He’s right next to the bush we’re hiding behind, his clothes snagging on the branches as he inspects the area.
Please go away.
Seconds drag by as he lingers next to us. He’s so close that I could reach out and touch him. But neither Rhys nor I dare to move. My body is tense and ready to spring into action the moment he spots us.
There’s a shrill whistle from across the street that catches the goon’s attention.
He whirls around, almost slapping me in the head with his hand. I duck away just in time, and the guy hurries off toward where the whistle came from. The tension drains from me, and I blow out a small breath, although Rhys remains coiled like a snake by my side.
It’s only when we can barely hear their shouts that he finally relaxes.
“Come on,” he says, pulling me along as he picks his way through the bushes. “We should put as much distance between them and us as we can before we find shelter for the night.”
My muscles are painfully stiff from the cold and from crouching for so long, the blanket doing little to keep me warm.
Rhys looks similarly frozen, his body covered in goosebumps and his skin red beneath the bruises mottling his flesh.
But neither of us complain as we run down the street and deeper into whatever city or town we’re in.
The roads are littered with half-rotten corpses, burned-out cars and the crumbling remains of buildings.
While it’s not the worst I’ve seen, it doesn’t fill me with hope that we’ll be able to find somewhere safe to spend the night.
The deeper we go, the worse it gets. More and more buildings are nothing more than piles of rubble, and the stench of rot thickens in the air.
Every now and again, I hear a moan or groan that has the hair on the back of my neck standing on end.
We need to find somewhere off the street. Now.
Rhys must come to the same conclusion because he slows to a stop and scans the area, cursing when none of the buildings look suitable.
And then his eyes snag on the lone Range Rover with tinted windows sitting across the pavement, slightly rusted but in decent condition.
And more importantly, one of the back doors is ajar.
My heart sinks. Oh no.
He turns to me. “It’s our best chance,” he says grimly.
I eye the car, my body trembling as panic tightens in my chest like a vice. He might see it as our best chance, but all I see is a metal coffin.
“Princess.” He grabs my chin, forcing me to look at him. “Whatever happens, we’ll get through it, but we can’t stay out here.”
“I know that,” I whisper, hating how the mere idea of spending the night in a car has me falling apart.
All I want to do is keep running and hope we find somewhere else, just like last time.
But I know that’s not an option. It’s night, we’re freezing to death, with no food or water and a tiny weapon between the two of us.
Moving on only increases the chances of us coming across a zombie or worse, a horde.
No, I need to put on my big-girl underwear and woman up. This won’t kill me, it’ll just suck. A lot.
I swallow hard, grateful that Rhys isn’t pressuring me. He simply stands there, allowing me to gather my courage while silently offering his support.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Just… when we’re inside, can you hold me?” It’s the most vulnerable thing I’ve ever said to anyone and while a small part of me braces for Rhys to refuse or laugh at me, the rest of me trusts him.
The grip on my chin softens. “Whatever you need,” he murmurs while leaning in to press a chaste kiss against my lips. “I’ve got you.” He pulls away and holds out his hand for me to take.
I’ve got you. Those three words are enough for me to summon the bravery I need to slip my palm into his grip and allow him to lead me to the car.
Each step has my heart rate skyrocketing and my breaths stuttering in my throat. The trembling in my body gets worse, although it’s hard to know whether it’s terror or the cold that’s causing it. I feel like I’m walking to my own execution.
By the time we reach the vehicle, my throat is almost closed shut, and I’m barely breathing. But I grit my teeth and practically shove myself inside, barely registering the freezing leather against my skin. Rhys slides in after me and slams the door shut.
That’s when the panic truly sets in.
Rhys immediately wraps his arms around me and pulls me into his lap. “Shh,” he croons into my ear while gently rocking me side to side. “You’re safe, princess. I’m here. I’ve got you.” He repeats the words over and over, one calloused hand rubbing my back while the other cups the back of my head.
While it does little to soothe the jagged edges of my panic and fear, I’m grateful that he kept his word. That even when I’m falling apart, he’s holding me together and keeping me safe.
It’s the last coherent thought I have before nightmarish images of blood, crumpled cars and ravenous zombies overrun my mind.