That’s when the tunnel, the building and the earth trembles like an earthquake. I freeze and feel the others stiffen around me until Richardson commands, “Keep moving.”
We keep moving.
Chapter Fifty-Two
~Before~
? Days Ago
We wait out the night in the woods. This is the first time, actually, that we’ve stayed outside without some kind of shelter, for this long. It’s dark and muggy as hell. I realize now how so far we’ve really lucked out. Places to stay, vehicles to provide a barrier between us and the elements. I just need our luck to hold out a bit longer.
I spend the night on edge. Gun in one hand—hatchet in the other, freaking out over every sound or movement coming from the dark woods. We found a small stream of water for Mom to soak her foot in that also had enough rocks around it to provide coverage for our backs.
Once we settle in and eat, Mom drifts in and out of sleep. Her ankle looks bad. It’s swollen and bruised. I wrapped it in a wet t-shirt and she took some painkillers. Hopefully it will be better in the morning. I do know one thing—we can’t spend another night out like this. We’ve got to get moving. My nerves are shot.
A bullfrog calls in its deep voice downstream, looking for a mate. The crickets chirp and the stream gurgles. The noises drive me into my own head, looking for some quiet. One of the weird things about being alone like this is that my mind has time to wander…think about so many things. Regrets. Friends. Liza, Matt and even Paul. I think about trivial things like going to get tacos or swimming at the pool. Crushing on a boy or studying so hard for college.
All things that don’t matter anymore.
The problem is that with so much time is that there is nothing to shut off these thoughts. No new things to focus on. The only new things are terrifying things that I don’t want to think about either. Eaters. The military. Crazy post-apocalyptic crazy people. My dad. My sister. What to do next. Where to go…
It’s easier to think about before, when things were better even if it does make me sad.
A stick snaps across the creek and I freeze. It’s just an animal, I tell myself. A raccoon or an opossum. Something nocturnal. A rustle follows and I clutch my weapons tight to my chest, which is hammering like crazy. For real, I’m completely unsure if I will make it through the night without giving myself a heart attack.
I hear another movement nearby—and another. The old-world rational part of m
e wants to call out and see who is there. The new-world one wants to shoot first and ask questions later. I do neither. I hold my breath and pray to a God I am not entirely sure exists that we make it to live another day.
The movement comes my direction, padding softly on the wet sand on the bank of the creek, and then slowly splashing in the water’s edge. I hold up the gun with a way too shaky hand and wait. Just wait. Because all I want is for it—whatever it is—to move on.
I reach for my mom, about to shake her awake and scream for her to run when it finally comes close enough for me to actually see in dim moonlight. Two wide brown eyes and a black nose poke in my direction and I breathe out in shuddering relief.
The deer jumps back, stumbling in the water, before running down the creek noisily and disappearing into the night.
“Alex?” Mom asks sitting up. “Is everything okay?”
“Just a deer,” I tell her. “Get some rest.”
She curls back up but I can see her eyes reflected in the moonlight. Neither of us sleep.
Chapter Fifty-Three
~Now~
We emerge sometime later through a creaky trap door in the floor of a garage. The room is grimy and a big all-terrain truck with a canvas, camouflaged top sits in the middle flanked by a couple of guys in fatigues—all black—not the kind Erwin’s soldiers wear. They look like ninjas. Walker’s face breaks into wide grin.
“Took you long enough,” the guy closest to us says. He offers Walker a hand and she gives him the backpack and to my absolute surprise and interest, a passionate kiss.
“Okay then, I guess this is the right place,” I mutter from the hole.
Cole helps me out, his fingers searching to check the wound at the back of my head.
“I’m okay,” I promise, fighting off a howl of pain near the tender spot.
“Yeah, sure,” he says but stops fussing. He shifts his attention to Chloe.
“Did they inject you with anything?” Cole asks. He grabs her arms and looks them up and down. “Give you any medicine? Pills?”