The Girl Who Kicked Ass (Death Fields 3)

He helps me to the corner so my back is against the wall, and I sit helplessly when he positions a gun in my hands. “Don’t you dare fall asleep,” he warns.

The minutes tick by in a haze of fog. Everything sounds far away, like I’m just outside of the fighting. Occasionally a voice pops through, or a snarl, and I jerk awake, forcing my eyes open. My gun is shaky in my hands. I’m not sure what’s real or not real—shadows creep into the edges of my eyes.

I point the gun.

“I see you,” I whisper. “I’ll shoot.”

The response is silence.

Apocalypse silence.

I get on my hands and knees and walk toward the opening—toward the light. A figure comes into view. A halo of gold.

“You came!” I say, breaking down into irrational sobs. I feel so weird. He moves closer and I squint. “I’m hurt.”

He’s almost to me and I breathe relief, reaching for his hand. Our fingers touch, cold meeting hot. A scream pierces the fog and the world explodes, brick and dirt raining down from the sky. A shadow emerges from the edges and I can’t run to or away from it if I wanted to. The world rumbles beneath my feet and I fall back into an endless cloud of darkness.

Chapter 12

My arms weigh a thousand pounds. My head at least twice that. The ground beneath me is hard—cold—at least under my legs. Under my throbbing head it’s softer. Warmer.

I blink and feel a hand on my forehead. The touch is gentle.

“Cole?” I mumble, trying to remember where I am or who I’m with.

“Hey, just rest,” the voice says above me. I blink again and lift my hand to my face to rub my eyes. A single window high on the wall allows in daylight.

A face comes into view. He’s right above me—or I realize quickly I’m resting on him—his lap my soft pillow. His beard is longer—hair shaggier. His hazel eyes pierce mine and I don’t have the energy to be mad.

“Wyatt? What’s going on?” I groan and close my eyes. Just speaking hurts. “Where are we?”

“Shhh,” he smooths my hair and I flinch when he gets too close to the wound. “Sorry. Erwin’s team got in a tight spot and launched some kind of rocket right at the corner you were holed up in. I pulled you in the back door of the school just before the walls caved in. We’re stuck in a tiny corner of the science wing, but I haven’t found a way to get out without crushing us.”

That’s a lot of information to take in. “We’re trapped?”

“For now.”

I have no doubt that he has a plan but my brain hurts too much to ask about it further. I do have one question, though. “How did you get here?”

“I’ve been stationed here for a couple weeks.”

Weeks? “That’s what you’ve been doing since you tied me up in that house.”

“You didn’t give me much choice. You tried to kick me in the balls. Twice.”

I want to laugh, but my head hurts too much. “If I was stronger I’d kick your ass right now for that shady crap you pulled with my father. You could have just told me. No need for all the games.”

A smile ghosts over his lips. “I know. You can pay me back later, just rest for now.”

My eyes flutter closed in agreement.

*

The next time I wake up, my head is resting on a balled-up shirt. I’m able to get to a sitting position and find Wyatt stripped down to a white tank undershirt, pacing under the window of the tight space. The window is over the door and the faint sunlight streaking through make his dark hair look a shade lighter than it normally does. A thick piece of metal, bent at the top and bottom, seems to be holding the whole room from crashing down. Crumbled brick and pieces of the ceiling pile along the floor. The angle of the light makes me think daylight is fading.

“Hey,” I say, my throat is dry and my voice weak.

He looks back and frowns. “I’ve got some water.”