The Girl Who Kicked Ass (Death Fields 3)

Jude nods and suddenly turns to Parker and asks, “So you decided to cut all your hair off, huh?”

Parker and I both skip a step and glance over at Jude.

“What?” he says. “I noticed. I mean, it was really long in those neat little braids and now it’s like—gone.”

She touches the top of her head and I know she’s focusing on the small bald spot she earned the other night fighting the horde. She came to me with a pair of scissors right before we left Fort Arnold, asking me to cut off as much as I could. The result is a mess of short, curly hair that covers the bald spot, and a softer look to her face. I’m not surprised Jude noticed.

Neither of us acknowledge him. He finally mumbles, “Well, I like it.”

We round a gentle curve in the hilly roads and spot two figures down the barren road. I grab Jude by his rock-throwing arm.

“You think they’re from the rest area?” Cole asks.

I shrug. “Maybe. Stick to your roles.”

The two people are walking in the same direction we are and do not seem to be in a hurry. Unfortunately, we’ve got a time limit, so it’s not long before we catch up and our ultimate goal is to get in the Center. There’s no reason to hide. Plus, there are four of us. We should be able to handle it, although, as we get closer, it’s clear they are not soldiers, but a man and a woman who look like they haven’t had a shower or good meal in days.

A slight wind picks up as we approach an overpass bridge, blowing their stench in our direction. Parker tugs a handkerchief she has wrapped around her neck over her nose. It’s that bad.

They seem totally unaware that we’re so close by, and I’m trying to figure out how to carefully approach them when I hear the tell-tale sound of a shotgun registering from overhead. We freeze, but a quick look up reveals five other people, all armed, crouching in the small space just underneath the bridge. All just as filthy as the two we followed. The barrels of their guns are pointed right at us.

“Weapons down.” This comes from the man we followed. He’s wearing a dirty yellow trucker hat and his voice echoes off the concrete. He’s got a ratty beard separated into tiny braids, and I’m not sure if oral hygiene was important to him even before the Crisis.

“Easy,” Jude says. “We’re just passing through.”

The guy holds his gun steady. “I said, weapons. Down.”

I place my gun and hatchet on the gr

ound. Jude and Parker quickly do the same. Cole hesitates for a brief moment but reluctantly sets the new compound bow Erwin gave him on the ground.

“Thought you could sneak up on us?” the woman we’d followed says. She scurries around us, collecting our weapons from the ground. Her hair slips away from her face and I see jagged scars down her gaunt face and neck.

“No,” Cole replies. “We’re just in a hurry to reach our destination.”

“And exactly where were you headed?” Trucker hat asks.

There’s no reason not to tell the truth and they may have information we need so I tell them, “We heard there’s a medical clinic down the road—they’re handing out vaccines.”

Trucker hat looks at us, then over at his friends, and all at once they start laughing. Hysterical, bounce off the cement walls laughter that makes me feel like I’m trapped in a mad house, until they stop and the world turns eerily silent again.

“We’ve seen that so-called clinic. You really think they’re handing out vaccines?”

Cole answers for the group again. “Yes.”

Trucker Hat nods at the girl. “Josie, show them.”

She walks in front of us and tugs up her tattered sleeve. Her arm is skinny and pale. It’s also covered in festering scabs and scars. I lean forward and make out something else. A reddish-puckered scar in the shape of a half moon.

It’s a bite.

“You’re infected?” I ask.

“Those doctors, or whatever you call them, shot me up with their miracle cure and then locked me in a room with one of those monsters to see what would happen. They left me for dead, but God didn’t show me that much mercy.”

Parker steps forward and every gun barrel pointed at us follows her. “So the vaccine worked?”

The girl lifts her eyes up and it’s clear something inside her is very wrong. Her pupils are dark black and her skin pale and sallow. I nervously glace around at the others and see that they have a similar appearance.