Survival (14 page)

Noah had sacrificed his safety for hers.

She’d pulled him from the forest, saved him from being hunted and killed, and in return he’d put himself in a position of danger. It was a karmic cycle, a trade of good deeds, but it was a cycle that was coming to an end for both of them.

There was no way she could save him now.

Noah was on his own.

Noah hunkered down behind the bed, his mind reeling. He’d been in danger before, but he’d never felt so trapped. In his previous encounters, he’d always been out in the open. And though things might have looked futile, there’d always been a place to run.

Now he was trapped in a corner, forced to fight.

The walls of the room seemed to be closing in, threatening to compact him into a pile of bones and skin. He could discern the outlines of things he’d barely noticed before—posters, boxes, folded piles of clothing. He aimed over the top of the bed, waiting for the door to open, anticipating his cue to fire.

He had no idea how much ammunition was in the rifle he’d taken, but he hoped it was enough to give him a chance.

After the firefight in the hallway, he’d expected his attackers to charge after him, but he’d yet to hear any noise. The silence made him nervous. It meant his attackers were calculating their next move.

He wondered if they were suppressing their emotions or if they didn’t care about their fallen companion at all.

Noah blinked back a trickle of sweat. He didn’t dare wipe his face. To do that would be to take his hands off the rifle. He couldn’t do that now, not with the men in close proximity. He’d hold his position until he was sure they were dead and gone.

Or until they killed him. Whichever happened first.

But then what would become of Caddy?

Once Noah was disposed of, the men would search the house until they found her. Guilt washed over him.

He thought back to the salvage yard, the place he’d been just a few days ago. What would’ve happened if he’d stayed? Could this entire situation have been avoided? He circled back to choices he’d already made, pretending he could select a different path. He’d do anything to go back and do it over again. If there were a way to make that happen, he’d take it…

His arms tingled; whether it was from the adrenaline or his cramped position, he wasn’t sure. His ears were still ringing. He couldn’t trust them to warn him of impending danger. He’d have to rely on visual cues.

He kept his eyes fixed on the door, waiting for it to swing inward. At the first sign of movement, he’d fire.

After another minute, he heard something through the ringing. This time it wasn’t the sound of gunfire or feet, but the sound of a voice.

“Come out and we’ll let the girl live.”

C
addy was still hiding in the corner when she saw the man’s head appear. At first she thought she was imagining things, but the longer she stared, the more she was certain of what she was seeing.

The scrape of boots on wood confirmed her fears.

Someone was joining her in the attic.

The person grunted, straining as he lifted himself up. At the moment, the figure was little more than a silhouette. Was it Noah? Had he found his way back up?

For a split second she considered calling out, but quickly rejected the idea.

Instead, she tucked herself into a ball, wishing she had something better to hide behind. In her current location, the only thing she had going for her was distance. She squinted into the darkness. The man was breathing hard and heavy. It didn’t sound like Noah. She held the knife at arm’s length away from her.

Whoever the person was, she wanted him to know she was armed, that she was willing to fight. She wouldn’t allow herself to be victimized.

She wouldn’t be shot down like her mother.

The man had made it into the crawl space. She saw the shadow turn and survey the attic. The person was holding a rifle. Her hands quivered. If it were her companion, he would’ve called out to her by now. She was sure of it.

Caddy held her breath as the man turned on a flashlight. The beam splayed from left to right, illuminating the raw boards of the ceiling. She watched as it played off the cardboard boxes. The man was still winded, his breath coming in short gasps. She could see his outline in the backlight. It wasn’t Noah, but a man several years younger.

The young man—
boy
—had blonde shaggy hair and a thin frame, and his eyes swayed nervously from left to right.

Caddy covered her mouth with her hand. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected their attackers to look like, but she certainly hadn’t expected this. The boy searching for her could’ve been one of her neighbors or one of her younger classmates in school. In fact, although she didn’t recognize him, he looked familiar, as though she might’ve seen him before.

Perhaps he’d eaten at her diner; maybe he’d even played for an opposing sports team in one of the neighboring towns.

And now he was trying to kill her.

Caddy had trouble processing the thought. How could the events of the new world have changed this young man so much? Had he always been troubled? A part of her thought about calling out to him, about trying to reason with him. Could he really kill her in cold blood? She didn’t see how that was possible.

Even if she’d wanted to speak, fear had a firm hold on her tongue, and she knew she should remain quiet. There was no telling what this kid might do.

The flashlight swiveled closer.

Caddy buried her head in her arms, as if she could make herself invisible. The knife wobbled in her grip. She had the brief and unreasonable thought that if she couldn’t see him, he couldn’t see her. Why couldn’t it work that way?
Please don’t let him see me…

She held the position for several seconds.

She peeked over her forearm just as the light stopped its search.

The young man was staring at her.

He remained quiet, studying her in the bright beam. Because of the light, she could no longer see his face, and his silence filled her with terror. Should she get up and run? Should she lunge at him? The young man was between her and the entrance. There was no getting around him.

She remained in place, contemplating her next move, if there was even one to make. Whatever she did next could determine the duration of her short life. Before she could act, the young man spoke.

“I see you,” he said simply.

His voice was monotone, devoid of emotion. As if Caddy were of no more interest to him than the boxes or the ceiling. She opened her mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words.

Noise rang out below her, and she strained to see past the flashlight. Despite her efforts, everything behind him was a glare.

“Stay away from me,” she managed. She could hear shouting from downstairs, the scuff of boots in the hallway. Her voice grew frantic. “Get out of my house.”

“I can’t do that,” the young man said. “My father died because of you.”

He lowered the flashlight and started to advance.

“D
id you hear me?” the man yelled through the door.

Noah didn’t answer. Instead, he let the words sink in, certain the man was lying to him. Even if he gave himself up, there was no way this man would let Caddy live.

Things had gone too far.

The world had succumbed to lawlessness and disorder. There were no more rules, no more accountability. Once Noah was dead, these men would do what they wanted, regardless of the promises they’d made.

He was uncertain of most things, but Noah was sure of this.

He pictured the men’s faces as they’d beaten him down, the bob of Theresa’s head as she’d fallen forward in the car. In all likelihood, the man was standing clear of the door, out of harm’s way. But Noah would test that theory.

He gritted his teeth and fired off a round.

The bullet slammed into the door, cracking the wood. He heard the rustle of movement, but heard no indication that he’d hit the man on the other side. He adjusted his aim.

Giving up wasn’t an option.

He just hoped he could ward them off long enough to keep his companion safe.

A gunshot exploded from the hallway, impacting the other side of the bed. Noah ducked down, grateful the bullet had missed. He’d keep them at bay as long as he could.

He glanced behind him at the window. The shade was drawn, but he could see moonlight creeping around the edges. For a split second he pictured himself jumping through it. But he was on the second floor. The fall was sure to injure him, and besides, he couldn’t strand Caddy.

He couldn’t leave her here. Not with these men.

He crept to the edge of the bed and peered around. To his surprise, the door had creaked open, allowing a partial view of the hallway. The last bullet must’ve knocked it loose. There was no one in sight. He steadied his rifle and aimed it around the side of the mattress just as something struck him in the head.

Noah’s face bounced off the wood floor. He was immediately hit with a wave of dizziness, and he lost his grip on the rifle.

“You mother fucker!” a voice yelled.

He struggled to see in the darkness. A man was standing over him, pinning him down with his boot. Deafened by the gunfire, Noah must not have heard him enter.

The man had gotten the jump on him, and now he was going to pay the price.

The man brought his rifle down on Noah’s forehead. Noah was immediately overwhelmed with pain. His vision blurred; he struggled to maintain consciousness.

He’d failed himself. He’d failed Caddy.

Hands dragged him across the room. He tried to struggle, tried to fight back, but his fingers clawed at the air, useless and without direction. Blood dripped from his forehead into his eyes, dulling his senses even further.

The man pulled him toward the doorway. Noah’s eyes fluttered. In the hallway, he could make out a dozen shapes, shadowy figures trudging toward him. There were more of the men than he’d thought. Even if he’d managed to outlast his attacker, the man had a small army behind him. There was no way he could’ve won.

The thought brought Noah little relief.

His last conscious thought was of Caddy.

I’m sorry I failed you…

When Noah awoke, gunfire was all around him. He was lying on the floor of the bedroom, and his head was throbbing. He had no idea how long he’d been out. He tried to crawl, but his strength was sapped.

The man who’d hit him was firing at something in the hallway. He’d dropped the flashlight he’d been holding, and it turned on and rolled back and forth on the floor, illuminating bits and pieces of the room.

What was happening? Who was he shooting?

It took him a second to recognize the shapes in front of him. What he’d thought was a small army of men was actually a cluster of creatures. He was able to decipher it now, though he was still disoriented.

The house had been flooded with the infected.

They must’ve heard the gunshots and been drawn from the surrounding area. When they’d entered the house, the men must’ve left something open. A window. A door. Whatever it was didn’t matter anymore. What mattered was that there was no longer one threat, but two.

Noah had to get to safety.

He pulled himself along with his elbows, ignoring the pain in his skull. He needed to get underneath the bed. He could see his attacker in his peripheral vision, but the man was preoccupied. It looked like he’d pulled a knife and was using it to stab the things in front of him. Noah slid along the floor, his T-shirt bunching up against him, until he’d reached the bedframe.

The man cried out behind him. For a second Noah thought he’d been spotted. It took him a second to realize the man was screaming in pain. Noah kept his eyes in front of him, kept crawling. Soon he was sliding underneath the bed frame, his skin chafed from the effort. He pivoted with his hands until he was facing the doorway.

The house was a chorus of noise. Groaning. Crashes. The sickening sound of metal against flesh. And through it all, the infernal ringing in his ears.

Noah heard the man grunt. Had he been hurt? Bitten? The bed skirt was blocking his vision, and he knew better than to peer out. If he looked, he’d expose his position. He couldn’t afford the risk.