"You just remember you said that." His glare was piercing.
She swallowed, nodding once. That seemed to be enough for him, because he was already moving. She shrank back, until she realized he was shrugging out of his hunting jacket. He handed it to her roughly, once again not meeting her gaze. Then he was focused on the kid again, like Willow wasn't even there.
He picked up the girl's pack, his broad shoulders flexing under a faded green button down that was already sticking to him in the downpour. She was frozen for a moment; unsure whether to trust the gesture, but already shivering so hard her teeth chattered. She shifted to put the coat on, looking down and seeing herself for the first time since leaving her room.
Blood dripped from her palm and knees, red against the white cotton of her clothes. Clothes that were all but useless, soaked through and clinging to every inch of her skin. The outline of her bra and underwear were clearly visible, and humiliation washed over her. Her cheeks heated, and she ground her teeth together as she shoved her arms into the coat sleeves.
It dwarfed her, longer than her flimsy hospital shorts. She was immediately cocooned in warmth, the scent of leather and gunpowder wafting up around her. It felt wrong to be wearing this stranger's clothes, and smelling him on them, but she didn't exactly have a choice. At least he didn't reek of body odor.
"Don't go losin' your bag, cause we ain't goin' back if you drop it. Now get on up, time to- Jesus Christ." At the sudden distress in his tone, Willow spun on her heel in time to see the scanner he'd picked up from the ground.
"Marlene set me up? Why the hell am I smugglin' an infected girl?"
Red. The screen was red. Shit. Ice cold fear flooded her. Fear of infected, of turning- and an older fear.
small hands on the steering wheel
chipped silver nail polish and white knuckles
don't worry, we'll go back for mama
"No!" The kid's plea snapped Willow back to the present. "No, no, I'm not infected!"
"No?" the man spat, tossing the scanner to the ground beside her. "So was this lyin'?"
"Look at this!" She yanked up the sleeve of her sopping hoodie, revealing a bite mark on her arm. A few distorted veins bubbled out from it, but it seemed to have scarred over somehow.
"I don't care how you got infected."
He stepped back, putting his back to the girl as he pinched the bridge of his nose, but Willow's eyes zeroed in on the rifle slung over his shoulder. She'd just seen him wield it like an expert; if he decided to shoot this girl there would be nothing she could do to stop him.
"It's three weeks old." The kid insisted. Her eyes were wide, and honest.
The man snapped his gaze back to her; sharp and searching. A muscle by his eye tightened briefly, before he gritted his teeth and shook his head, backing away again.
"I ain't buyin' it."
"It's three weeks!" Desperation climbed in the girl's voice. "I swear. Why would she set you up?"
Willow's vision moved in slow motion, blood rushing in her ears. She watched the man begin to turn, his hand shifting. She dove. Launching herself right between him and the child, she put her hands up in a feeble attempt to keep him from shooting. Her eyes squeezed shut and she gasped out,
"Wait! Don't kill her!"
An instant passed, then another. She opened her eyes to find him staring at her, brow furrowed. His hand, which she'd thought had been reaching for the gun, was now planted firmly on his hip. The girl was gaping at her too, in confusion and something like awe.
The man opened his mouth to say something, when another shaft of light began to filter between the crates. His head swiveled, eyes flaring at the approaching FEDRA truck, before gesturing to both of them with hurried hands.
"Oh shit, run. Run!"
He rushed past them, jerking his head for them to follow as he ducked into an old semi trailer. Willow ran after, throwing an arm around the girl on instinct to keep her close. She didn't resist, shrinking into her as they hurried inside. Part of the roof was flayed open, letting the rain in, and through it she could see the bouncing glow of the flashlights that searched for them. Thousands of raindrops shimmered in the air each time the beams cut across.
She heard a door slam, then two sets of boots squelching through the mud. The man beside her was utterly silent, his breathing slow, and his eyes narrowed on her as he brought a finger to his lips. Quiet. No shit, asshole. The soldiers' voices floated past, muffled by the metallic drumming of rain against the roof.
"Holy shit."
A crackle; radio static.
"I got a dead uniform. I repeat, I got a casualty in sector twelve. Requesting immediate backup."
"They got Ramirez! Motherfuckers. Those stragglers are out here somewhere. Let's split up and find 'em."
One set of footsteps began to migrate away, but one approached; slowly, with measured steps. Her stomach dropped like she'd swallowed a lead weight, but the stranger crouched down, inching forward until he was poised at the mouth of the trailer. Willow held her breath, pulling herself and the kid flat against the wall as the soldier rounded the corner. His rifle was up, aiming left and right as he surveyed the area.
Before she could react the man had moved in behind him, and locked an elbow around his throat. The soldier barely had time to make a sound; a single gasp escaped him, silenced swiftly by the muted pop of snapping bone. His body crumpled to the ground, and the stranger barely spared them a glance before stealing his way across the trench. Willow released the girl, ushering her forward as they both bent low to run after him.
"Oh man." The kid was muttering under her breath. "Ohh man."
Willow stayed behind her, head snapping in the direction of every sound. Before long, more soldiers began to line the edges of the trench above them. Flashlight beams crisscrossed over the only path forward, swaying in the grips of a dozen men.
"Keep close to me, and stay down." The man's words were barely audible above the rain.
And what other choice did she have? She swallowed to repress another surge of hysterical laughter. The man was tall and sturdy, built for hard labor, but he was still faster than he looked. He stayed in the spaces between where the lights touched, ducking quickly from one side of the trench to the other. Willow was hot on his tail, with the girl between them.
The skeletons of decrepit buildings and old highway signs created ridges along the edges of the trench. Places to hide. With her oversized boots, Willow was the slowest of the three. This was the first pair of shoes she'd worn in fifteen years, and they felt clunky and far too heavy. Voices filtered down from above, shouted over the droning rain.
"You got a visual?"
"Negative. I got fuckin' nothing."
"Spread out! They can't be far."
A voice in Willow's head began to whisper. Singsong, mocking.
you should turn yourself in
you deserve whatever they'd do to you
if they hurt the girl it will be your fault
She balled her hands into fists, biting her tongue to keep from making a sound. She couldn't react, couldn't let it get to her. It will pass. I am fine.
She closed her eyes briefly and opened them to find the stranger staring at her, suspicion evident in the tight crinkles around his eyes. She didn't meet his gaze, gesturing him onward and following without a word.
Shadows, darker than the night around her, crept into the edges of her vision. Her breaths came faster, head swimming like she couldn't get air. Fingernails pressed into her palm, the pain focusing her mind a bit. One breath in, one breath out. One foot in front of the other.
The too-big boot she'd stolen off the soldier caught in the mud, tripping her and sending her sprawling to her hands and knees. The kid stopped, spinning on her heel and running back. She took Willow by the arm, yanking hard to drag her to her feet. Fighting back her surprise, Willow stumbled forward. The two of them pressed to the wall of the trench just in time to avoid a passing flashlight.
Her breath puffed out from her chest in a huff of relief, but the man's disapproving glare simmered over her. A hot surge of anger spiked in her gut, and she bit it back. They couldn't afford a confrontation, no matter how much of an ass this guy was being. It wasn't exactly her fault she was out here without proper footwear.
He crept ahead of them again, to a place where the trench branched into a fork, but turned neither direction. Instead, he nodded to the opening of a cement pipe Willow hadn't even seen. It was large enough to accommodate their bodies, but the darkness inside receded past the reach of the moonlight. Fear threatened to lock her in place as he padded into the cramped space.
The girl didn't hesitate before walking into the dark after him, so Willow steeled herself and pushed on. Immediately she began to feel pressure in her chest, and struggled to take a full breath. The blackness overtook her, and she could only barely see the silhouettes of the pair ahead of her.
trapped
stuck
can't breathe
can't escape
The pipe ended with a three foot drop into a pool of muddy water. She gasped, quietly but still audibly, and the man's eyes snapped to hers. It would've stoked her annoyance, but what she glimpsed there didn't look like anger. It looked like panic. She mouthed the word 'sorry' but he was already surveying the top edges of the trench. It was lined with soldiers, and strung with razor wire.
"God damn it," there was breathlessness in his whisper. Fear? "They're everywhere. Just stay back."
Willow nodded, keeping herself close to the wall beside him. The kid's hands were wrapped around her knife in a vice-grip.
She silently pleaded with her body not to betray her, not to drop her again. She was so close to freedom. So close. One by one, they darted around another corner, pulling themselves into an alcove beneath the remnants of a sign for Tobin Bridge. Shouts echoed across the gap above them.
"They must've gotten through! Check the trenches."
"I don't see anything down there. Are we sure they came this way?"
"Unless we're told otherwise, just keep looking."
The man led them into a second pipe, which was blissfully brighter than the first. It widened out into the bones of an old house. The walls still stood, though the roof was all but gone, opening up to the sky above them. The voices seemed to muffle, as though they were putting distance between them and the soldiers.
They trekked through the ruin, stepping over rubble that used to be someone's property. The remains of a desk sat crushed beneath rotting beams, a shattered monitor still perched on its surface. Peeling pink fingerpaint on the side of the desk spelled the name Isabel in a child's messy writing. Willow let her gaze drop, ignoring the ache behind her ribs.
small hands on the steering wheel
chipped silver nail polish
Another voice cut through the rain.
"Fuck it, let the clickers get 'em. Fall back!"
Relief rushed over her before she'd fully processed what was said. Wait. Clickers? She'd heard stories, but they couldn't be here. Not so close to the QZ… right? A new anxiety stirred inside her; and she wasn't alone. The kid was looking from the man to Willow, and back again. Worry made a crease between her eyebrows.
He didn't look at either of them, just found a place where the roof was caved in enough to climb up onto it. He jerked his head, summoning them over, and leaned against the crumbling wall. Locking his fingers together, he braced them on his knee. The kid stepped forward, hooking her foot into his hands and letting him hoist her up. The movement was practiced, like they'd done it at least a few times before.
His eyes landed on her next, and he inclined his head. Her hesitation must've showed, because the kid called down to her from the rooftop.
"Hey, don't worry! I'll help pull you up."
A smile ghosted across Willow's mouth. Of course, this kid didn't know the real reason for her apprehension. The way her skin crawled at just the thought of being touched by a man. She was just kind, and simply wanted to help. Willow swallowed her instincts and allowed the man to give her a boost.
She scrambled up as fast as she could, grabbing the girl's hand, to avoid having to touch him any more than necessary. And then, she was out. A city street stretched before her, split by massive cracks that weaved through the cement like spiderwebs. The carcasses of stuctures leaned into each other, dripping ivy and moonlight. It was as beautiful as it was terrible. For a moment she was glad of the rain, so no one could see the tears she knew were rushing from her eyes.
She was free.