4. Wilder
Chapter four
Wilder
I woke disoriented and clutching the pillow next to me like it was a life preserver and I was lost at sea. Breathing deeply, I focused on systematically relaxing the muscles in my body, starting with my neck. I slept, and based on the weak light surrounding the bedroom window, it was my first full night in weeks. Stretching out on the bed, I patted myself down to feel for my gear. Knife? Check. Backup knife? Check. I reached down to where I placed my rifle next to the bed. Icey fear shot through my veins when my fingers grazed the bedspread and the empty air beyond it.
“Shit,” I hissed, leaning over the edge to see if it fell over onto the floor.
I’m certain I placed it next to me, but maybe I left it in the bathroom. That would have been a rookie fucking mistake, but I should cut myself some slack after the shit I’ve experienced. My brows furrowed when I shook the empty water bottle on the nightstand. I’d left it half full, but only condensation clung to the plastic now. Probably drank it in my sleep. God only knew I was thirsty enough.
But all my rationalising came crashing down when I heard the familiar, ominous click of my rifle. My jaw clenched as I turned my head toward the sound, a deep sense of foreboding settling into my chest. I was fucked. A small woman stood in the open doorway to the bedroom, my own gun trained directly on me. Her blue eyes were bright in colour, accentuated by her denim jacket, but they had a haunted, hollow quality to them. Dark shoulder length hair hung loose over one shoulder, a sharp contrast to her pale skin.
“You know how to use that?” I asked, more concerned about her shooting me accidentally than anything.
She shrugged, her only reply the obvious wiggle of her right index finger next to the trigger.
My own fingers twitched as I rested my hands in my lap where she could see them. Behind her, the dresser remained unmoved. No way could she have come in from outside, which meant she was here the whole night. God, I was an idiot.
“I didn’t know anybody was living here. I just needed a place to sleep.”
Her voice was hoarse. “You got rid of the…person.”
Shit.
Was that her relative? Her mother?
I spoke slowly. “She was dangerous. I had to.”
“Thank you,” she whispers.
I nodded, somewhat surprised by her thanks.
“And you blocked the door.” I glance over to the dresser for a split second, watching her gaze drift over me.
“Also, something I had to do,” I mutter, my hands clenching tightly in my lap.
“Let me out,” she demanded.
She wanted out? I’d never keep her here against her will, but being alone out there wasn’t a good choice.
“I can do that. If you’re sure,” I start, trailing off to give her a chance to change her mind.
I wished I could say I didn’t flinch when she took a step toward me, but I did. I’d faced certain death a few times in my life but having your own firearm taken from you while you slept and pointed at your chest from six feet away was a whole new level of reality. The woman lowered the stolen weapon, laying it at the foot of the bed mere inches from my boots.
“I wanted to do those things,” she sighed, still eyeing me warily but visibly more relaxed than she’d been before.
The thought that she might have had that gun trained on me for hours while I slept made my guts turn.
“What things?” I asked, sitting up torturously slow and reaching out toward my gun.
I paused before I touched it. She nodded, gesturing for me to take it back.
“Get rid of the dead woman, secure the apartment…sleep in that bed.” She sat down on the edge, bouncing lightly like she was testing out a new mattress at a department store.
“But I was too scared.” The rasp in her voice echoed exhaustion, a deep rooted feeling I know too well.
“That’s…perfectly understandable.”
I tried to imagine how she would have cut down the undead woman, yet every scenario ended up with her being bit. The thought of the beautiful woman being killed at the hands of one of those creatures injected hot fury into my veins. The reaction was swift, automatic, and it shocked the ever-loving hell out of me. Even if she did manage to get the woman down from the ceiling and cut off its brain activity, hauling a lifeless body down the hall would have required a massive amount of energy from her. I highly doubted that she’d been eating MRE’s like I had these last few weeks. Again, I noticed her pale skin, the dryness of her lips, the rasp in her voice. Replacing my fury was the fierce urge to care for her. To nurse her back to health. This city wasn’t a place for anyone, let alone a sole woman on the run. Except, what did I know about taking care of others? I’d failed that mission when I lost track of Addams.
“How long have you been here?”
She blinked. “Two? Three nights?”
I hung my head. Where the fuck had my years of training went? I fell asleep in an apartment I hadn’t even properly cleared. I should give the rifle right back to her. She fucking deserved it.
“I’m Wilder,” I told her.
“I know. I read it on your uniform. I assume that is your uniform?”
I didn’t have the energy to be insulted. Besides, I knew what she meant. All it took was a bit of chaos for people to start playing dress up.
“It is definitely mine. Been wearing it for longer than I care to admit.” I considered how much I stunk. My little bird bath with the pink washcloth probably didn’t cut it.
“What’s your name?”
“Rosie.”
Of course it was. Of course the pretty girl would have a pretty name that didn’t at all fit into the terrifying reality we faced.
“Well, nice to meet you, Rosie.”
I stood, noticing how she craned her neck and watched me. Everyone was a threat these days, and that’s exactly how Rosie looked at me. It hurt. Even though I was 6’4” and clocked in at two hundred and twenty pounds, a woman had never looked at me with fear in their eyes before. I hated it, and I wanted that to change. Purple circles rimmed her eyes and even though she sat on the bed, her entire upper body swayed. Rosie let out a soft moan and her eyes rolled a second before she pitched forward. I lunged, catching her well before she hit the carpeted floor.
“Fuck,” I cursed, adjusting my grip on the unconscious girl. “Rosie? Rosie?” I shook her slightly.
I didn’t know a thing about her. Did she have medical concerns? When had she eaten last? Her wrists bore no sign of an alert bracelet and her clothing showed no hint of blood. Rising up with her against my chest, I transferred her gently to the bed. I placed two fingers on her wrist, holding my breath as I searched for a radial pulse. Fast and weak, Rosie was likely on the verge of being dangerously dehydrated.
I’d come into this building in search of a place to sleep, but what I found was a whole lot of trouble. I couldn’t leave her like this, and that voice in my head told me I didn’t want to anyway. I guessed searching for my friend would have to wait.