The Girl Who Kicked Ass (Death Fields 3)

“What do you mean you’re out?”

“I’m out.” He looks at the group over my shoulder. “Good luck, guys.”

“Cole—“ Paul says, but in a flash, Cole has his cross bow in his hands.

“Don’t follow me.”

He leaves through the front door and I chase after him, willing to take an arrow in the chest. I catch up to him at the bottom of the step and grab his arm. He only stops when I jerk him back.

“What the hell, Cole. What are you doing?”

“I’m going after her.”

“Chloe? We’re all going after her. Together. You don’t have to do it alone.”

“Yes, I do,” he says, swiping a hand through his hair. To my surprise he reaches for my shirt and pulls me close. His breath is warm on my face. “I’m not letting her hurt anyone else. I’m going to take her down myself.”

“No. That’s not what you want to do. I know this—my sister is hurting people, too. ”

“Yeah, and maybe you should have done something about that when you had the chance. If you’d had the guts to take care of her months ago we wouldn’t be in this situation right now.”

I tug away from him then, disgusted by his words. “Shut your mouth, Cole. We’re not in the game of murdering people.”

He shakes his head and looks at me with the most painful, sad face. “Maybe we should be,” he says before gripping the bow in his hand and stalking toward the tree line.

Chapter 16

Rain starts to fall twenty minutes after we leave the antique shop. We’re packed tightly in the dry SUV, but the visibility is low traveling down the steep mountain hills.

Although we came to an agreement about how to proceed, the car is tense from the argument earlier in the day and we all feel the loss of Cole’s presence. I’m in the passenger seat next to Davis and my eyes haven’t left the road since we started moving. Parker has her face pressed to the window, fogging up the glass. Jude finally nudges her and says, “What are you doing, Park?”

“Looking for him.”

Me too.

“We should have gone after him,” I say for the fifteenth time.

Davis stares out the window, both hands gripping the wheel. “We’re on a timeline and already behind. The other teams will be in position and we’ve got to meet up with them before they’re exposed. This whole mission is much bigger than just our team and certainly more than one man.”

“Have you considered that we may be better off without him?” Paul asks. “Clearly, he’s struggling. Maybe it’s for the best.”

My heart tells me otherwise but I know they’re both right. Other than the occasional moment like the one in the shop the day before, Cole’s frustration has been obvious. We should have left him in the lab—deep down he’s not a soldier.

It takes two more days to get down near Augusta. We stop only to refuel and stretch, taking turns driving the car along flattened stretches of farmland. We avoid all of the larger towns and only have to get out of the car twice to clear the roads of Eaters, most like the ones we found in Eater Town—listless and near death. Humans are scarce but as we get closer and closer to the cleared areas, spray-painted signs with directional arrows pop up on the sides of buildings and barns, encouraging survivors to head to the Vaccine Center.

“Like leading lambs to a slaughter,” Jude mutters, clutching his gun.

Davis is finally forced to abandon the SUV in a sketchy area on the edge of the Death Fields. From here on we’ll be on foot, and hopefully within a day we’ll hook up with the other teams. A small part of me hopes that Cole will be there when we arrive.

Outside the car Parker pets the hood and says, “We’ll miss you, hopefully we’ll see you again someday.”

“Really?” Jude asks, tightening his backpack straps. “I’m hoping for a lift back to Fort Arnold on a helicopter like last time.”

“That would be nice,” Paul agrees.

We’re loaded down with packs and supplies, everything evenly distributed just in case we’re separated. I walk over to Parker and say, “I need to go to the bathroom. Cover me?

She nods and it’s nice sometimes to have another girl out here. This area makes me more nervous than most—it’s urban, which gives humans and Eaters plenty of places to hide. It clearly wasn’t the nicest part of town before all hell broke loose. I follow an old dirt path, stepping over piles of broken glass and debris, around the side of what was once a corner shop. Two old cars are in the back and I squat between them, taking care of business. From my spot between the cars I see the houses that line the street. Old bungalows with rotting porches and peeling shingles.