The Girl who Saved the World (Death Fields 6)
“Desperately.”
He gives me one last look, his eyes dark and intense. He heads over to Wyatt and the others. I know in my heart that my words are true. I also know that his are too. I have Wyatt. A family that is still alive. I have hope for something better.
Cole has none of that.
*
We start the final trek to Winston-Salem loaded with weapons and ammo from the Birmingham troops. Davis loads and reloads his magazine, testing the feel of the gun. I took what I needed. Another gun, two flash grenades, but my trusty hatchet hangs by my side. The weight is familiar. The handle is smooth and worn from my hand.
“I can’t believe you still have that,” Cole says, walking up to me. His voice is quiet. We’re scouting the same side of the road together. Davis and Wyatt are shadows on the opposite side. Occasionally I see the flash of Davis’ massive frame as he leads the way.
“I’ve lost it a few times but it always manages to come back to me.”
“Like Indiana Jones’ hat.”
I blink, having no idea what that means. My reaction gets a smile from him though and he shakes his head before wandering off. The scenery slips from suburbia to the bu
rned-out section of town Wyatt and I escaped through earlier. The idea is to go back in the way we came out—through the guard entrance in the back. It worked once and Wyatt figures it should again. Wyatt and I will go back in and try to get a meeting with Perez and the council. Davis and Cole will return to get the others.
There’s another hour before nightfall so when Davis points out the charred remains of a steel-beamed building, we agree it’s a good spot and find a shadowy front room to hide in.
“You think this will work?” I ask for the millionth time. The plan seems weak. Perez holds no value in any of us and she may earn points with Hamilton if she just kills us all. It’s not like Chloe who kept us alive out of a sick need to torture me and Cole.
“We have to give it a shot,” Wyatt replies. We’re each tucked in one of the room’s four corners. Eyes are trained on the windows and doors. If Cole and Davis don’t return by morning, Paul and the troops will attack.
The wait seems to take twice as long as it should. My butt grows cold and numb on the cement floor. I have no desire to fight through winter. Last year we lucked out by being in Catlettsburg the whole time. Living in the house with Walker, Jane, and Avi seems like a lifetime ago.
I glance up at Wyatt and find him staring at me, his eyes shining in the fading light. I raise an eyebrow but he doesn’t flinch. That’s when I hear them; footsteps on the street. Cole is already standing. Davis pulls his gun.
I’m a second behind, which gives me the sinking feeling the EVI-3 has run its course. Shadows fall over the open doorway, lingering for a second but not stopping. Broken glass lines the streets and every foot fall crunches.
It’s as though they aren’t even trying to disguise themselves. Or maybe they can’t. I glance at Cole and mouth, humans?
He nods.
We can’t kill any of Perez’ people. It’s imperative that we enter the city on positive terms. I make the decision instantly—no hesitation, only holding my hands up to the others to stand back. Wyatt shakes his head. Davis trains his gun on the doorway. Cole watches with narrow eyes and nods encouragingly. My final words to them is a whispered, “Go! Now!”
I step out of the doorway and look around. I can’t find anyone so I dig deep and call out. “Help! I need help!”
A shout, then a flurry of footsteps follow and before I can back out I’m surrounded by a dozen soldiers, guns raised.
“It’s me. Alexandra Ramsey. I escaped from Winston-Salem last week. I’d been under direct orders by Councilwoman Perez to stay in my quarters.”
One of the men lowers his gun and says. “Where is your partner? Why were you calling for help?”
I hold up my foot. “Hurt ankle. I’ve twisted it one too many times. I need a medic.”
His eyes go from my foot to over my shoulder. His gun is back on target a second later and when I hear the crunch of glass behind me I don’t have to look to know who it is.
“I’m here. Wyatt Faraday.”
“Anyone else?”
“No. Just us.”
A figure pushes past the crowd of soldiers and I realize instantly I’ve made a mistake. Walker emerges, fierce and angry.
“Giving up? That doesn’t seem like you, Alexandra.” She glances at Wyatt. “It’s definitely not like you.”