Savage (The End 1)

“It’s fine. Everything is fine.” She closed her eyes. “It was a bear.”

“A bear?”

Sasha placed her hand on the door. “Yeah. Just a bear. But I have to clean it up. I killed it.”

Tears fell down her cheeks.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, honey, I’m fine. Totally fine.” She wiped off the tears that had slipped from her eyes, needing to be strong.

She was far from fine but talking to Lucy wouldn’t help.

“Just stay in there until I came back, okay?”

Lucy stayed silent for a second. “Okay,” she finally whispered.

Grabbing a blanket and flashlight out of the closet, then making her way outside and to the woodshed, she grabbed a shovel. Then she went back to the porch and stood staring down at him. The sight of his lifeless body nearly had her throwing up, but she swallowed her nausea and straightened her back.

Get this done.

Laying the blanket flat, she rolled his body onto the material, holding her breath, feeling her gag reflex rise up. She tried not to think about the blood that coated her hands, or the fact he was missing half his face.

Once he was on the blanket, she wrapped him up in it, the scent of blood so strong it was like she sucked on a mouthful of pennies. And then she started to pull the body down the porch steps.

Sasha dragged his ass all the way to the woods, having to stop multiple times as his weight was immense. Tears fell down her cheeks.

So, in the dead of night, she dug a shallow grave away from cabin, away from where her sister was, and buried his lifeless body.

This new world had not only taken her parents, but also made her a murderer.

Chapter Eight

Nightmares

Cleaning up brain matter had been a new experience for Sasha. The days after her near rape were some of the worst of her life. Every single noise filled her with fear. She had to take care of Lucy, who kept looking at her as if she was going crazy, or maybe snap at any moment.

A week after the incident, she left Lucy back at the cabin to see the shallow grave, as if she wanted to relive it for some morbid reason.

When she got to the spot she’d marked, the grave had been dug up. The only evidence left was that of the torn shards of the blanket she’d wrapped him in. An animal had dug him up, dragged him away … devoured him.

Closing her eyes, she tensed as she recalled the feel of his hands on her body, the scent of his blood in the air after that. The way he’d clawed at her … how she’d hated it.

Hated the feeling that built inside her.

Stepping away from the spot, she walked back to the cabin. Lucy stood in the doorway, looking at her strangely.

“You okay, Sasha?” she asked.

“I’m fine. Just tired.”

“The nightmares haven’t gone away?”

“No. It’ll be fine. You know me. I’ll get through.” It’s what she did.

She stepped onto the porch and went inside, closing the door and turning to look at her sister.

“Are you getting hungry?”

“A little bit.”

“Then let’s get some food in you.”

Cupping Lucy’s cheeks, she smiled and feigned strength. She moved to the cupboards and took down a couple cans of soup.

“How do you feel about eating outside? I’ll build a small fire. We can use the saucepans to heat up some soup.” She looked at Lucy.

Her sister’s eyes lit up as if she’d offered her candy.

Candy. She would give anything for a sweet treat right now.

She held the two cans of soup and paused.

Murder.

Before the virus hit, what she’d done a week ago would have sent her to prison.

Now no one would care, or even blink, that she’d killed a man, blown his head right off, or that she’d cleaned it all up and pretended it was a bear.

So much had changed so quickly and she hated it. Hated the world she lived in.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of her mind, she forced a smile to her lips for her sister and followed her outside. Gathering up some sticks, they set them in a small circle. She kept them trapped inside with some stones and then set about lighting the small fire.

It took her a couple of attempts to get it.

Thanks to her father she’d learned how to do this. That had her smiling genuinely.

Once she got it done, she sat opposite Lucy. In the waistband of her pants was the heavy metal of the pistol she now took everywhere with her.

“You okay?” Lucy asked.

“You keep asking me that. I’m starting to think it’s the only words you know,” she teased.

“You’re having a lot of nightmares lately. I don’t want you to be upset.”

“I’m not. Seriously, I’m not.”

She opened the soup cans and poured the contents into the small saucepan. When the flame was burning hot enough, she rested it above the flame, showing Lucy what to do.