The Last Legacy (Season 1): Episodes 1-10 (8 page)

His teeth chomped with a loud cracking sound as he crawled along the floor. Black smoke clouded his face, the room lit up in oranges from the flames near the desk.
 

He reminded me of an animal, crying and screaming at me. Nothing in the eater’s eyes made me think he was human. They were empty, emotionless. They saw nothing. I kicked the eater in the face, his jaw dangling from the rest of his head. But he wasn’t deterred at all. He spun back towards me and moaned. He was unstoppable.

“Jim!” I screamed as I kicked again. I couldn’t even get up, my tied hands like an anchor to the floor. My eyes darted around the room, looking for a weapon I could utilize, but there were none.
 

My rapist smiled from the doorway, standing there with his arms crossed over his chest, a dead eater at his feet. He didn’t move to help me. He wanted me to die right here. He wanted this eater to eat me alive. Our eyes clicked, and I held him, glaring. If I was going to die, he didn’t deserve to see my fear.
 

A sound from beside me made me cut my connection with Jim’s brother. Jim landed in front of me after bouncing over the bed. He grabbed the eater by the back of its neck and pushed his face into the stained carpet. Jim dug his boot into the eater’s face, stomping it over and over. The skull collapsed in on itself, squishing. Blood seeped from the broken head onto my bare feet, making my insides squirm.
 

“Are you all right?” Jim lifted me into his arms and hugged me. He pushed me back away from him and spun me around. In a beat, my hands were unbound. He gazed down at me for one second and faced his brother.
 

I coughed as the air in my lungs filled with smoke. Half of the room was now engulfed in flames. My heart leaped in my chest. We had to get out of here or we’d burn alive.

“Look what you’ve done.” Jim’s brother shook his head with disgust as he leaned against the door frame. “You’ve fucked up the one thing we had going for us. We can’t make it a day without a shelter!” He laughed manically, gesturing around the room. Jim stepped backwards, his hand on my forearm.
 

“We can find another.” Jim raised his hands in surrender, speaking to his brother like he was a wounded animal. I hung onto the back of Jim’s shirt. I glanced to the side, inching towards the front of the room. We had to leave. Now. There wasn’t time to waste.
 

“It’s not over, John. We can fix this. Don’t do anything rash. Eaters are all over the front gate.” Jim’s tone was melodic, soothing even—like a lullaby.
 

“I hope you burn before the eaters finish you.” John held out a key, smiled, and ran. He slammed the door shut. My breath caught, the smoke making my throat scratchy. Something banged on the other side of the wall. Jim ran to the door and jiggled the handle.

“What the fuck?” he yelled as he kicked and punched it. He ran into it with his shoulder, trying to pry it open, but with each attempt, I knew we were trapped. I covered my mouth with my hand and tried to breathe, but the air was too thick. I coughed again, my lungs struggling to hold clean air.
 

“God damn it!” Jim ran past me into the bathroom. He shouted something I couldn’t understand. Drawers opened and slammed as I stood with my hands over my face, trying to come up with a plan. He exited the bathroom with his arms full of random things. I glanced at the opposite side of the bed, where the fire now spread onto the sheets. He grabbed a bag from his closet and pulled out clothes from his dresser.
 

“Jim?” I touched his back, not knowing what to do. He whipped around, staring at me with wild eyes. I jumped back, turning my head in case he hit me.

“We’re going to have to jump out the window and run. If we don’t, we’ll burn or be eaten alive. There was a hoard of over twenty eaters by the front gate. Luckily, this room faces southeast.” His words were clipped as he filled the bag.
 

“What can I do?” I had nothing to my name. I looked down at myself and realized that in all the scramble I hadn’t even put my shirt back on or buttoned my pants. I quickly fixed myself and took a long black shirt from the dresser.
 

The room felt a hundred degrees, my entire back covered in a pool of sweat. My body shook as I tried to bite back my sobs. It was life or death. I tucked the too-big shirt into my pants as I ran to the window.
 

“Here,” he said as he shoved a mask in my hand. I looked down at the thing and wondered how I’d even be able to breathe through it. It was black with two bug eyes. The mouth had a breathing vent with two circles on each side. I’d never seen something like it in person, only movies.
 

“Is the virus airborne?” I asked as I positioned the mask over my face. It took me a few seconds to get used to the weight pressing against my face. The mask was too big for me, but Jim reached over and tightened it so it wouldn’t fall off. He shoved me towards the window when it was on correctly.
 

“I don’t think so. But I don’t want to take any chances.” He glanced over his back at the bright room, now almost fully destroyed by the flames. The mask helped since I wasn’t breathing smoke anymore, but I could tell from the gasps coming out of Jim and his constant coughing that it affected him badly.
 

“Where’s yours?” I asked as I waited at the window-sill. I pulled open the window while he dug a pistol in his back pocket. He had a long rifle, too, which he slung by the black strap over his shoulder. I couldn’t see what else he did, but I knew he had knives on him, too. He paused at the window and handed me a long knife and a handgun, sticking the latter in my front pocket.
 

“You’re wearing it.” He nodded. The smoke rushed out the window like a vacuum sucking air. “Hold the knife in your right hand.”
 

I did what he said without question. He climbed through the window, his tall body barely able to fit through. The bag got caught on the latch so I had to push it out. He maneuvered his legs out first and then slid the rest of the way, dropping to the grass below.
 

“Jump into my arms.” He held his hands up, prepared to catch me. I sat on the sill and looked over my shoulder back at the room. It was completely gone, the desk a black speck in the red fire. I shook my head and ducked through the window. I reached my arms down, and he caught them. I kicked right into his waiting arms.
 

“Thanks,” I said as he held me against his chest. He put his finger over his mouth. He placed me on the ground and looked from left to right. Screams echoed through the dark night. A gun shot in the distance, the noise like a beacon. Jim grabbed my left hand and jogged into the woods. I couldn’t see a single thing, but I followed him.
 

I had no idea where we were going. Only that it was bound to be better than that house full of vile men.

“Six hours,” Jim had said about twenty minutes ago, his watch still ticking away. My feet ached like it’d been six days, but I trekked on, not wanting to stop. A constant prickle stabbed the back of my neck, each step a small victory in the right direction. His hand stayed clasped with mine the entire hike through the forest. But it was more like I was a dog he didn’t want to lose instead of a companion.

“Can we take a break?” I pulled the mask off my head as I spoke and sucked fresh air into my lungs. Jim stopped and looked around, his eyes roaming over the still-dark skyline. He’d been too quiet through this all.
 

“Have you ever heard of the law of threes?” I shook my head, and he continued. “You can only live three minutes without air, three hours without a shelter, three days without water, and three weeks without food.”

It seemed too short. The air rule, I could understand. But without a shelter? We’d been walking for six hours and still hadn’t found so much as a log cabin or shed. My palms began to sweat, as it felt like time was dwindling, slipping between our fingers. I didn’t know how much longer we had of walking with no destination.

“Is that actually true?” I sat on a hard, gray rock, sheltered by a canopy of particularly green spruces. The sharpness of the stone bit into the back of my thighs. Jim crouched in front of me, but his eyes never stopped roaming the landscape surrounding us.
 

“Close enough to the real times.” He shrugged, cracking a half smile. “You should memorize it in case we get split up. I promise you won’t die if you follow the law of threes.” He chuckled, all deep and masculine, and sat facing me, his back to our trail.
 

“I’ll listen to your dumb law of threes then.” I shoved Jim’s shoulder as he handed me a bottle of water from his pack. I tried to pace myself, taking small sips, but it tasted so damn good I couldn’t help myself. The cracks in my lips filled with the water, and I let it soak in, savoring the sensation.
 

Something tasted weird on my lips. I pressed my finger against my lip and when I pulled back and saw my finger was red. Flecks of brown cracked in the corner of my mouth. I rubbed the dry blood, wiping it off on my pant leg. I must have bled after John slapped me and it got caked on.
 

Jim’s eyes cut to mine through the dimness of the morning. He stared at me like I was dying, regret in his eyes. I turned away. He was too intense. The sky began lighting. I hoped that we’d find some food or somewhere to stay. I hadn’t slept since before I was kidnapped—even then it was restless. I was hungry and tired and in terrible spirits.

Jim cleared his throat, and I tore my attention from the sky back to him. I could make out his features much more clearly. He raised his eyebrows, his vision cutting to my swollen lower lip. For the first time since we left the burning house, I could see more than just Jim’s shadow. Worry and doubt clouded his vision as he inspected my swollen lower lip.
 

“Don’t.” I begged him not to ask with a shake of my head. I wanted to move on and forget about them. I licked my lower lip, the cracks and blood a constant reminder.

I didn’t know how Jim handled everything that went down. He had left his brother back in the house. I was sure they got out and were probably tracking us to seek their revenge.

What kind of brother leaves their sibling to die? That’s fucked up and wrong and pure evil. Jim was betrayed by his own blood. I didn’t know what it felt like since I had no-one, but I could bet it hurt a lot worse than what I was going through.

The flashes in my head haunted me, the daydreams turned nightmares of John’s hands on me, the slaps, the feel of his body pressed into mine. I shivered, wrapping my arms around myself. I would never forget.

“I just have to know…he didn’t do anything, right?”
 

I glanced up at Jim. His head dropped below his shoulders, his knees propped up together. I didn’t want him to blame himself. But he was part of the kidnapping, too, so he deserved to feel some guilt.

“You mean other than slap me, physically assault me, and attempt to rape me?”

Jim shot up from his position on the ground and strode a few feet away. “Fuck,” he muttered. I didn’t know what to do. I suddenly felt guilty over upsetting him. He lost his brother yesterday.

I stood up and found him leaning against a large pine tree. I didn’t know what to do to make this better—to help us both heal. I reached out and put my hand on his forearm. I didn’t think I was ready to hug him, yet I wanted to show him in some way that I was there for him.
 

He looked up at me, his eyes blue pools of sadness. I flinched. He reminded me so much of his brother. But at the same time, he was nothing like him. I knew that now. My doubts about Jim and wanting to leave him were out the window. I didn’t trust him, but I needed him.
 

“Nothing happened,” I said while shaking my head.

“But it could have. I was so pissed at how optimistic you were being. I promised I’d protect you, and I failed.” I reached for him, but he pulled back. He flashed me a glare that said shut up, his brows pulled in a frown.