Chapter 46
Kate
I clutch my stomach, my hand stained red from my blood-soaked shirt.
“Help,” I moan to no one in particular. “Help, somebody.” I stagger into the silent road, forcing myself forward. “Anybody.”
I hunch over myself and wince as I keep going, trying to reach someone who can save me.
Stumbling down the street, I look around hopelessly, desperate for anyone—
“You lost, baby?” someone shouts to me.
I look to find three men down the street, all eyeing me. I let out a sob of relief and drag myself toward them.
“Thank God,” I cry, my hand not leaving my midsection as I get closer. “Please, help me. I’ve been shot.” I gesture to my stomach, to the red seeping through my fingers.
Peeking up at them, I notice a shift from one as he saunters toward me, his gun lowering as he takes me in. He smirks at me. “Poor thing. What are you doing out here, all alone?”
A hunger enters his eyes and the men behind him snicker.
I pull myself toward him anyway, almost collapsing against him. His arms wrap around me and hold some of my weight as I sag against his chest.
“Whoa, it’s all right, now.”
I can hear the monster in his voice. His grip on me tightens. He doesn’t recognize me. How many innocent women has he threatened, or worse?
Finally removing my hand from my stomach, I press my gun hard enough into his gut that he lets out a pained gasp. I lean my head into the crook of his neck and croon into his ear, “Move and I fucking kill you.”
He freezes in the embrace, but he doesn’t alert the others. They’re far enough away that they wouldn’t be much help to him once I lodge a bullet in his abdomen.
Good.
“Now,” I purr, “how many men do you have stationed out here?”
I hear him swallow before answering, “Just us.”
I press the gun into him harder, making him wince. “There’s no need to lie,” I chastise.
“Should we book you guys a room?” One of the men hollers, wolfish grins on their faces.
“How many?” I push.
“There’s six.”
“Where?”
“It’s shift change,” he stammers. “It’s us three and three across the street, in the old bank.”
“Any on roofs?”
“No,” he whispers. His hands tremble against my back.
“Where are the others?”
“They’re out—chasing a new government drop. Please, I have kids.”
Not so mighty when the roles are reversed. “That’s nice. Now drop your gun.”
He doesn’t move.
“Do it,” I demand, forcing my weapon into him harder.
The gun clatters onto the concrete. The other two men grow suspicious, walking toward us now.
“Thanks for your help,” I offer before pulling the trigger.
The man falls to the floor with an ear-piercing scream, clutching his abdomen. The other two don’t have time to react before I fire, critically wounding them before firing the killing shots. They drop like flies as I pivot to the old bank, where I see Jordan slink in the front door.
The last one is crying on the street, his sniffles agitating me. I crouch in front of him and give him a cold smile. “You don’t remember me, but I remember you. I remember what a piece of shit you were, killing my partner.”
Confusion shines through the pain in his eyes. My smile drops, showing him the monster that lurks under the surface, before I stand. “It’s only fitting I’m the one to send you down to hell.” The bullet lodges in his skull.
I don’t offer him a second glance before racing over to the bank. Jordan stands before me, covered in blood, with three mutilated bodies at her back.
“Was that really necessary?” I gesture to the corpses.
Jordan wipes her lips with the back of her hand, nonplussed. “They had it coming.”
We stride through the empty bank lobby, searching for any surprises, but don’t find anyone else. I peer behind the desks, looking for any supplies, ammunition, anything.
“I’m not seeing—”
Like nails on a chalkboard, Jordan is all but ripping the vault door off its hinges until it gives, the steel buckling under the pressure and swinging open. My hands cover my ears against the onslaught until it stops, a smug Jordan peering over her shoulder at me.
“A vault is a perfect place to hide your treasures,” she notes.
I grumble a few choice words under my breath before stalking forward and peering in. Sure enough, a whole host of weapons, food, ammunition, and money are piled into the room. We step through and disgust colors my vision.
“They don’t need all this shit,” I growl.
“I agree,” Jordan replies as she picks up a machete. “I think they can bear to part with this, don’t you think?”
“You should take a gun instead.”
She gestures to the stash of guns. “Why not both?”
I roll my eyes and begin loading food into my backpack and snagging as many bullets as possible. Once we’ve packed and are ready to go, we move out, stepping into the street, the sun high in the sky.
“We’re nearly at your zone,” Jordan comments.
Anxiety twists my insides at the realization. “Yeah,” I mumble, not really sure how to manage these warring emotions. I’m supposed to go back, to help fix this world.
But do I really need to? How much do they really need me? Taylor is brilliant, Dr. Parker has been leading the charge.
I think back to Jordan’s questions about what we’re working on, about how there’s been no real success in creating a vaccine. It has my stomach souring. The doubt that’s been planted in the back of my mind has bloomed, taking over my thoughts.
Should we be further along? Why, exactly, has it taken so long? Parker always has some reason, but as I think over it, were those really just excuses?