24. Lucas #2
“But what about Beck?” She was looking through the rain, frantically, trying to see if he had made it out of the barn.
“Beck, I’ve got Taryn!” I roared over the thunder and rain.
Faintly, we heard him reply. “Keep her safe!”
A rotter came through the broken wall behind us. I released Taryn, drew my hatchet from my belt, and swung it hard enough to bury it in its temple.
Its body jerked, but it didn’t fall. I planted my boot against its chest and ripped the hatchet free. Black blood sprayed across my arm and face.
Taryn brought the bat down and crushed its skull.
“Move,” I commanded her.
We had to get the fuck out of here.
She looked toward where Beck had been standing once more, but he was gone. We were the last two left in the barn, and it was time to leave.
A rotter lunged from the fog, and Taryn swung. The bat struck its jaw, and the bottom of its face disappeared.
He kept coming.
Her second swing was slower, and the rotter grabbed her. I caught it from the side and drove the hatchet into the base of its skull.
It dropped. “If I have to tell you again, I’m throwing you over my shoulder! Now let’s fucking go!”
She glared at me but kept that beautiful mouth shut for once.
We burst through what remained of the side wall and into the storm. Rain hit hard enough to sting. The field beyond the barn had turned to mud, and Taryn slipped almost immediately.
I caught her arm, and she jerked it away. “I’m fine.”
“Stop being so stubborn and let me help you!” I was desperate to get her to safety. The look on Finley’s face when he realized Harper was dead kept replaying in my mind.
Rotters flooded into the barn, drawn by the noise of collapsing beams. It might have been everyone’s only chance to find shelter until the weather cleared and daylight arrived.
As we resumed running, a shape emerged from the trees ahead.
“Left,” I warned her.
Taryn turned before I finished and her bat cracked across the rotter’s face.
Its head snapped sideways, but it kept coming.
“Shit!” Taryn swore, pulling her bat from bone and gore.
I stepped in, hooked an arm around its throat from behind, and pulled it back, driving the handle of my hatchet into its temple.
We both turned at hearing a moan nearby, then another right behind it.
Then another… and another.
I grabbed her arm, and we ran. Branched whipped across my face as the mud we were running through tried to keep us captive.
I couldn’t hear or see anyone else. It felt as if we were completely alone.
We kept moving.
Another rotter stumbled between two trees.
Taryn swung, but it was too high. Her bat glanced off its throat, and it came for her.
I hit it from the side with the hatchet, and the blade lodged above its ear, so it twisted for me.
Taryn drove the end of the bat beneath its chin, and its neck snapped back.
I yanked my hatchet free. “Keep moving!”
I heard Taryn’s breathing grow more labored.
Thunder cracked overhead, and she flinched. When she looked back at me, her eyes widened in alarm. “Down!”
I dropped immediately.
Her bat sailed over my head and connected with a rotter that had come up behind us.
I saw her sway and knew I had to find shelter immediately. I couldn’t risk losing her by staying out here another second.
Then, like a signal from God, lightning flashed again.
For one second, a black shape appeared through the trees ahead.
A chimney.
The burnt-out shell of the farmhouse was nearby.
We pushed toward it, and the ruins emerged slowly through the rain. A stone chimney, half a wall. Blackened beams collapsed into what had once been a kitchen.
The storm had soaked the ash-dark wood until it gleamed.
“Maybe the others hid near here?” Taryn glanced around hopefully.
“Possibly.” I didn’t want to disappoint her, but I was certain they had run in the opposite direction from us.
We circled what remained of the house, and that’s when I saw it. An old Ford sat half-hidden among the ruins, its nose buried in weeds. A rear tire was missing, and the axle had sunk into the mud.
I looked at the remaining tires and the faint ruts leading away from them. “Colson’s tracks.”
Taryn followed my gaze. “I guess the hope of finding a working vehicle is dashed.”
“Maybe we can’t drive it out of here, but it should keep us safe until the storm is over.” I grabbed the handle.
A shape rose from behind the hood. I let go of the handle and grabbed Taryn, pulling her back.
The rotter lunged.
I grabbed its neck and slammed it repeatedly against the side of the truck until only slime and black blood remained. Fuck these things. I’d had enough for the night.
Taryn whispered in my ear, “I think it’s dead.”
I nodded and threw the thing aside. “Get in.” I grabbed the handle again and pulled the door open, the rusted hinges protesting with a loud, piercing screech.
Taryn got in and crawled across the old, torn upholstery. I followed, slamming the door shut behind me. Inside, it reeked of mildew, old vinyl, and smoke.
Rain hammered the roof, but for the first time since the barn collapsed, we were safe… relatively.
The silence inside the cab should have been tense, but a wave of contentment washed over me instead. I was keeping Taryn safe, and there was nothing in this world I’d rather be doing.
I remembered her yelling at me earlier to drop, and I didn't hesitate. Subconsciously, I trusted her completely.
I turned to look at her as she rested her head against the seat. She closed her striking gray eyes, and her dark lashes settled heavily against her pale skin. Her face had shifted from the gentle softness of a girl's features to the sharp, defined contours of a woman.
Granted, not eating regular meals probably had something to do with that.
Taryn had grown more mature. While she remained ruthless, I now valued that quality because it was crucial for our survival. She was intelligent, and her father’s teachings had saved us multiple times.
Maybe it was long past time I forgave her and embraced Adrian’s proposal with both hands?
Taryn opened one eye. “You’re staring.”
“Yes.”
She raised her head. “Why?”
“Because you’re exquisite.”