Chapter 23 #2
I want to argue with him, but he’s right, even though I hate the idea of him walking blindly into danger.
He doesn’t have the ten plus years of experience I have of walking onto battlefields, but there’s nothing I can do about that.
I have to trust that his own experience and my training are enough to keep him safe.
I press my lips into a grim line and nod before moving back to stand beside Ollie and Harlow.
Theo glances at Ollie, his eyes lingering on her for a moment before he turns and steps through the door.
Gunshots and shouts follow, causing Alex to hurry after him with his gun up and ready to fire.
More gunshots ring out as Ollie and I emerge from the cottage last.
And straight into fucking hell.
Bodies litter the back garden and blood stains the stone patio area that extends outward onto an overgrown lawn.
Several infected are running around, their predatory eyes gleaming eerily in the moonlight as they chase after gang members who are frantically trying to shoot or stab them.
Bloodcurdling screams of terror and pain rend the air as gang members are bitten and ripped apart.
Theo and Alex are in the middle of the fighting, shooting at anything that comes close to them. But we’re heavily outnumbered by both the living and the dead.
“Holy shit,” Ollie breathes in horror next to me. Harlow growls, her hackles raised and her fangs bared, ready to attack anything that gets too close.
Movement out of the corner of my eye catches my attention. I swing my gaze and my gun and put a bullet into the brain of a gang member sneaking up on us. Several infected emerge from the overgrown bushes at the side of the house and lurch toward us, but they’re easy to deal with.
Until I’m tackled from the side.
I cry out as a hard body slams into my injured shoulder and arm, causing white hot pain to rip through me.
My vision blackens for a moment as me and the person who tackled me crash to the ground.
My good shoulder thankfully takes the brunt of the fall onto hard concrete slabs.
In seconds, my pistol is knocked from my grip and hands wrap around my throat.
“Die, you cocksucker!” a masculine voice shouts from above me as the pressure around my throat increases.
With my pistol gone, I grab the knife from my belt and slam the blade into the neck of my attacker. Blood explodes from the wound as I pull it free, bathing me in hot liquid. The hands slip from my neck as my attacker gurgles and clutches at his ruined throat before collapsing, dead.
Shoving the body to the side, I stagger to my feet, breathing hard and sweating from my blazing shoulder and arm.
I glance around, my eyes locking onto Ollie as she dispatches a zombie with a swift stab to the head.
However, her knife lodges in the zombie’s skull and, as she struggles to pull it out, it gives the gang member behind her the chance to aim his shotgun at her.
I leap into action and tackle him to the ground.
The shotgun goes off, missing Ollie, who ducks and turns at the sound.
Another body slams into me from behind and powerful arms wrap around my neck, cutting off my airway.
I grit my teeth against the white hot pain tearing across the entire left side of my body and kill the gang member below me with a slice across their neck.
With one assailant dealt with, I turn my attention to the one holding me in a headlock. But whether it’s from blood loss or pain, I’m sluggish as I fail to get out of his hold. My lungs burn for air and my vision grows darker as I struggle for breath.
Fuck. Is this really how I’m going to die? Straggled by some unknown asshole?
Until the pressure from my neck releases and the guy behind me collapses on top of me. I suck in a deep lungful of sweet, sweet air as something hot and wet pools on my back.
And then my blurred gaze looks up to find Ollie standing above me. She has a bloodied knife in her hand, and a look of pure shock and horror on her face as she stares at the corpse on top of me.
Holy shit. She killed for me.
Her body trembles, and the knife slips from her hand in a flash of silver from the moonlight. I need to get to her before she loses it. With a grunt and a pained gasp, I shove the body from me and stagger to my feet.
“Ollie.”
She doesn’t look at me, her eyes fixed on the body at our feet. Beside her, Harlow whines and nudges her with her snout, but still she doesn’t react.
“Ollie,” I say again in a louder voice.
She still doesn’t move.
“Princess. Eyes on me,” I order and her gaze shifts to mine. “Good girl. Don’t move your eyes from me.”
Her throat bobs as she swallows and nods jerkily. I keep my focus locked on her as I crouch down and pick up her knife from the ground. Her gaze flicks to the bloodied blade and her eyes glaze over as the trembling in her body gets worse.
“Princess,” I warn and her eyes fix on mine again, still clouded with shock, but at least she’s no longer trembling. I wipe the blade on the clothes of the dead man and stand up. “I need you to take your knife back, sheathe it, and then get your horse. Do you understand?”
Her bottom lip wobbles as she nods hesitantly.
“Words. I need to hear you say that you understand.”
She licks her lips. “I understand,” she croaks.
“Good girl.” I hand the knife back, hilt toward her, and she takes it. “Sheathe it and go.”
Ollie blinks, her mind struggling to comprehend what’s happened in the past minute, but she finally does as she’s told. She slides the blade back into the leather sheath at her waist, turns, and surges toward her horse.
Harlow’s hot on her heels and I follow several metres behind, eyes scanning for anyone coming close to them.
Several infected try for her, but I put them down before they can get near and the gang members are too busy either fighting for their lives or dying in the dirt.
Theo and Alex are no longer shooting, having resorted to stabbing the infected as they get close while ignoring the cries of the dying gang members.
By the time the last infected is put down, Ollie’s put the saddle on her mare and is on her back.
She still looks pale, horror-stricken and on the edge of a panic attack, but there’s nothing I can do for her right now.
Besides, we have bigger problems. Like the fact that I’m swaying on my feet, my entire body is on fire, and our shelter for the night is uninhabitable.
I open my mouth, intending to order us to move out, but before I can, the dirt rushes up to meet my face. The last thing I hear is Ollie screaming, “Rhys!” before everything goes black.