The Girl Who Broke Free (Death Fields 5)

Alex’s hatchet rests by my leg, as well as the black backpack she’s managed to carry with her since we first met. Two small black guns lay on the coffee table. I can’t shake the paranoia from the ambush or that only one random stray Eater found its way here and that there isn’t a horde following behind him, but it?

?s quiet outside. The doors are locked and windows boarded up. I’m also so exhausted I can barely see straight, and any battle I fight right now will have to take place from the couch.

“They left me for dead in the yard.” I hold up the red stained cloth I have against the back of my head. “Not sure what they took me down with but it hurts like a mother. I woke up with an Eater sniffing around my face.”

“It’s been hours since they left. Where do you think Chloe took them?” he asks.

“She mentioned a new headquarters or something, but nothing specific. Going after them right now seems like suicide. We’d be better off with a different plan.”

“What are you thinking?” His color looks a little better now that he’s off his feet.

“Ideally we should try to catch up with Davis and Walker, but they’re a moving target. I hate to jinx them but it’s likely they could get captured at any time by Chloe’s Hybrids.”

“It may be a risk but I think we should try to get to Catlettsburg,” he says.

“You don’t think it’s compromised?”

“It’s possible but if Chloe followed you up here maybe she got to Alexandra before finding the settlement? It’s worth a shot. The town is fortified and well stocked. They aren’t prepared for combat but that’s another reason we should check in on them.” He looks thoughtful. “They’re good people. It would be devastating to lose them to the Hybrids.”

“How far is it again?” I ask, and Green describes the distance and route we would need to take. I look him over. “When will you be ready to travel?”

“With you as my companion? I may need at least a few days’ rest.” He jerks his head toward the bedroom. “I’m not sure when he’ll be ready.”

I rub the increasingly long beard on my chin and nod. My stomach rumbles and I unzip Alex’s backpack.

“You looking for food?” Green asks.

“Yeah, she’s good at cramming stuff in tight.”

He laughs. “On the way up from Augusta we got cornered by a pack of dogs. Like, skinny, snarling, hungry-as-hell dogs that were looking for their next meal. We were up on this embankment and it was pretty obvious they were going to take us in the next few minutes. Walker wouldn’t let us use our ammo but no one wanted to kill a dog with their knives or whatever. I mean, a couple still had collars on their necks. Everyone was freaking out—no one wanted to get mauled by a dog after everything we’d gone through, you know? But Alex just unzips her pack and starts pulling out shit. She’s got can of food and packages of tuna and jerky. It’s like a whole pantry in there.”

I smile at the image. “She feed it all to the dogs?”

“Yep. Just tossed it at them like they were her pets. One followed us for three miles. I think he thought he found a new owner.” He leans back into the cushion. “What’s she got in there?”

I unzip the bag, feeling a little guilty about invading her privacy, but moral issues like that disappeared when people started eating other people. I pull out her hoodie and the three extra pairs of socks she insists on having at all times, the small bag where she keeps toiletries zippered away. I find four sticks of greasy store brand jerky she’s probably had hidden for months and three cans of soup in the bottom of the pack. My fingers dip into a small pocket and brush against a small circular piece of metal. I hold it between two fingers but keep it in the pack. I know exactly what it is. I’ve seen Alexandra look at this ring dozens of times over the last year. It’s her mother’s wedding ring, taken from her finger the very night we met.

“I’ll go heat some water,” I tell him, shoving the ring back in the pocket and swallowing past the lump in my throat.

*

Jude wakes long enough to get some water and salt into his system. He’s not fully coherent so I don’t tell him anything that’s happened. He calls me a bastard when I check the wound on his head, so at least he recognizes me.

At nightfall, I tell Green to take a nap and I’ll take a modified first shift. I’m too injured to do much but sit at the kitchen table in a straight-backed chair. It’s just uncomfortable enough to keep me awake.

Alex’s backpack rests on the table in front of me. My purpose is to repack it like she’d had it before I rummaged through for food, but I find myself taking out each item, one by one, trying to get a glimpse of the woman I’ve lost.

I’ve only got the moon for light, but it’s bright enough for me to see how her belongings are an organized snapshot of her life. I stack socks and a tightly rolled pair of jeans. Zip lock bags filled with panties and bras that I’m man enough not to open. I find a baggie of squished gummy vitamins and another with carefully separated pieces of toilet paper. A small tool kit and a handful of bullets, unmatched and not for any of the specific guns we carry.

One section reveals three books, including one she picked up at some point about edible plants in the wild. Another is a hardback about the Civil War, focusing on land battles in the North Georgia mountains. I feel a swell of pride as I realize she’s been studying up. She’s serious about kicking ass.

The final book is a paperback novel with cheery, quirky lettering on the front. Something with a happy ending, I guess.

A thick envelope sticks out of the inside pocket and I pull it out and peek inside. It’s a stack of photos. Random images she probably printed off her phone when she realized her sleek little smartphone and computer were about to become dinosaurs. I stare at the one of Alexandra hugging on a friend. She looks so young, literally bright-eyed and curious. Two pig-tails hang down her shoulders and she has on ridiculous striped knee-socks and a familiar kitty cat T-shirt. I flip it over and read a hand-scribbled date of two years ago with two names.

Alex and Liza

She looks so young, but she was already seventeen. Too young for this shitty life—too young for a guy like me, who’d already seen the world and fought in wars and helped tip society on the brink.