13. Rosie
Chapter thirteen
Rosie
M y heart pounded in my chest as I wedged myself tighter into the corner of the storage locker. If they came closer, they’d hear it drumming against my ribs. I was sure of it. Somewhere, Wilder hid too, and all I could do was wait while I waited for something to happen. Light shone into the locker, dividing into moats of dusty air, before it slid away. I’d managed to gently close the door, but it was obvious that the lock was missing. Shame washed over me at the realisation I’d left the keys in the door.
So stupid, Rosie.
My hands trembled as I pressed them against my lips. I’d been ecstatic to find two heavy red jerry cans of what I guessed was fuel. Seconds after I called out to Wilder about my treasure, the door to the storage room swung open. Now I was wedged tightly between a stack of boxes and an ancient metal fan.
The younger of the two intruders, he couldn’t have been more than fifteen, set his flashlight down nearby, taking one knee to look at one of the boxes from the locker with all the magazines.
“No way,” he said, lifting out a colourful comic. “These are special editions!”
A shadow formed behind the boy. Wilder. A blade glinted in his right hand, held steady at his side, while he crept silently toward him. Fear shot through my veins. He wasn’t going to kill this kid, was he? I didn’t have any more time to wonder. He was on him a second later, his left arm wrapping around the boy's mouth and he pulled him up to standing and pressed the sharp knife to his throat. He turned them in the direction of the other man, completely oblivious to the fact his young companion was in mortal danger.
Wilder kicked a pile of books, drawing the attention of the other man.
“Jonesy?” he said, rounding the corner. “What the fuck?”
The man with the round belly fumbled at his waistband for what looked like a gun, but dropped it before he could barely get it in his grasp. An ear-splitting explosion wrenched a scream from my mouth. A metallic clang echoed, a stray bullet ricocheting off the metal fan blades only inches from my thigh. Three more shots rang out. My breaths came in ragged gasps as I patted myself down. I couldn’t feel my arms or my legs and my ears felt like I was underwater.
“Rosie! Rosie! Answer me, damn it!”
“I-I’m okay,” I sobbed, squeezing out from my hiding spot on wobbly legs.
I bent down, scooping the bolt cutters off the floor.
“You can come out,” he called to me.
I wasn’t sure I wanted to. Did Wilder just kill both those people? Kill that kid?
“ Stop struggling.”
On autopilot I followed the sound of his voice. Wilder had a knee on the kid's lower back, holding his wrists together in one of his hands.
Wilder’s eyes flashed over my body, full of concern and wild with adrenaline. “Rosie.”
“I’m good,” I told him as I leaned heavily against the wall a moment before my legs gave out.
My sneakers slid across the floor until I landed on my butt.
“I can barely feel my legs,” I told him.
“You’re in shock. Just stay seated, okay?”
He turned attention back to the scrawny teen.
“Do you have other people in the building?”
His cheek was pressed against the cold concrete. “No, I already told you.”
“Who was he to you? Was he…” I watched Wilder's throat bob. “Your father?”
“No. He’s just a guy from our camp.”
“What camp?”
I could tell his patience wore thin.
“Not too far outside the city. We c-come here for supplies. Are you going to kill me too?”
I dared a brief glance at the man lying several metres away. A dark stain covered his chest, a puddle of blood blooming out beneath him. In the centre of his forehead? A hole.
“I killed him because I had to. Because he’s a fucking idiot who didn’t know how to keep the safety on his weapon on.”
My voice sounded soft and far away. “He’s a kid, Wilder.”
“I know.”
I could practically see the gears turning in his mind as he weighed our options.
“If you go back to your camp…are you going to say anything about this place?”
The kid shook his head so forcefully that it dislodged the toque from his messy hair.
Wilder swore under his breath. “Fuck.”
“If you send more people back here…you won’t like what happens. I took out your friend quickly…but I know ways to make death a whole lot less…efficient.”
I knew he had to do it. To make us seem like the greater threat. But it didn’t mean it was easy to hear him talk that way. Wilder eased off him, moving to put his big body between me and the boy as he scrambled up and straightened his hat.
“Can I have his gun?”
“Not on your fucking life,” Wilder said, his hand loosely on the firearm at his hip.
The kid leaned to one side.
“Don’t even look in her direction. Go on. GO!”
He ran, stumbling over his sneakers without ever looking back, out the door he’d come through mere minutes ago. This time alone.