“Shit,” he says, looking around frantically.
I finally see what made him stop. Two dead Eaters, separated from their heads, lay on the ground. The cuts are clean. Three feet away is another body—this one human. A Fighter or Mutt from Erwin’s army. There’s a bullet wound in the center of his forehead.
“Who did this?” My heart pounds in my ears and I’m not sure I speak loud enough for him to hear me. “Do you see any others?”
“No, but we’ve got to get to the bunker.”
The horses are spooked and I try to get mine under control. Luckily Jude is more skilled and he gets the animal to push forward, charging down the side of the road. Mine follows.
It’s not hard to see that someone has been here before us, but it’s hard to tell if they are human or Eaters. The unkempt grass is flattened in places, pressed down by the weight of a body. My heart rate doesn’t settle until we’re past the stretch of abandoned vehicles.
“That was weird,” I call to Jude. He slows enough so that we’re side by side.
“Definitely weird.”
“I mean, those were fresh kills, right?”
He nods, but there’s nothing but land in front of us to give us a clue. Just never-ending useless highways and overgrown forests, creeping slowly toward the pavement.
“How far are we?”
He scrunches his forehead. “Maybe a mile.”
“Let’s go—”
A scream—a very human scream—pierces my thought.
Our reaction shows how jaded we are. We look at one another for the excuse to stay on our path. I almost tell him to forget it, that we have orders, but another cry echoes through the trees followed by three close gunshots.
“Fuck.” Jude tightens the reins and I’ve already got my horse on the run.
We push through the tree line, which is my least favorite place to be when Eaters are around. Things get confusing and I never know if I’m going in the right direction. Fortunately, it’s not a real forest, just a copse of trees buffering the once-busy highway and a stretch of farmland.
Unfortunately, the instant we cross onto the land all hell breaks loose.
In the middle of the field, stacked end to end, are bales of hay. Three people stand on top. Dozens of Eaters spill from a large barn at the top of the hill, headed straight toward them.
I don’t even know where to begin but the decision is made for me when one fast moving Eater notices us on the side of the field. He’s going full speed, dressed in jeans and a surprisingly clean T-shirt. I clench my hatchet in my hand, landing a solid blow to his head, splattering blood across his chest.
“We need to charge them,” Jude shouts. “Get to the people and ride out of here.”
My horse is already panicking, jerking at each gunshot from across the field. My arms ache from trying to control him. “That’s not going to work.”
“Maybe they should run for it,” he suggests.
“Or maybe we should lead them away, then they can run for it.”
That idea seems to stick and I take a deep breath for courage. I hold up my hatchet and tighten the reins, praying I don’t fall off the horse.
“Hey! Face munchers!” I shout to the Eaters. “Over here!”
I let the horse go wild and I just simply try to hold on as he runs like the wind around the field. Jude does the same but goes the other direction and I won’t lie—there’s no method to our madness other than distracting the Eaters. It works and at least half lumber in our direction, tripping over the too-tall grass and one another. I’m halfway around the field when I get a better look at the people on the hay.
“Alex!” Jane calls, waving her gun in the air.
“Jane?” I realize then that the others are Finn and Mary Alice. How they got to that hay bale alive is a mystery. Nearly as much of one is what the hell are they doing out here in the first place?
The whole field is in chaos and after a flurry of gunfire from the others my horse finally has had enough, bucking me off into the grass. I land at the feet of a group of Eaters. Their shoes are clean and scuff free. Their howls rattle my ears and I curse the fact I’m back out here again. That this fight will never end.