I tear off, adrenaline shooting through me, and that helps. Wind rushes me. My legs pump faster, my breath escaping in loud puffs. Pants. Sobs.
I hear them in pursuit. Feet thundering. Calling out ugly things in loud, brutal voices. They don’t care about keeping quiet. One of them laughs. A demented, crazy sound. I know it’s not Nate. His curses burn my ears, still going strong.
I imagine their hands right behind me, reaching, swiping so close. Maybe it’s that thought that makes it a reality. The boy brings me down, catching me midstride. Slams me chest-first into the ground. I’m not surprised. He’s the youngest, the most fit.
He flips me over with a triumphant smile on his face. It’s a hard thing to see, especially as I slide a blade into his ribs.
A knife I hardly recall removing from my pocket. Instinctively, I went for it. And just as instinctively, I buried it inside him. Warm wetness rushes over my fingers. His smile slips into a loose-lipped O of shock. I scurry backward, taking my knife with me. His hand goes to the wound. Dark liquid gushes between his fingers, but I don’t stick around to watch.
I’m on my feet. Running again. I don’t look back. Not even when I hear the angry bellow from one of the other two carriers. Evidently seeing my handiwork pissed them off. I only wish I had managed to stab Goliath. Suddenly the expression “no quarter given” has all-new clarity for me. They were going to hurt me before, but now they will make me wish for death.
I keep running. I can’t stop.
But how long can you keep this up?
The instant the thought enters my head, I kill it. I can do this as long as they can. Longer. I have to. I can outrun Nate surely. And I’m younger than Leo. I have to be faster, even as exhausted as I am.
Fingers catch the jagged ends of my hair and grab hold, knuckles grinding into my scalp. I scream, enraged, terrified, bewildered. I’m supposed to get away. How did I let him catch me?
We go down in a tangle of limbs. I swipe wildly with my arm, trying to cut him. Feral sounds rise from deep in my chest.
“Davy! Davy! Stop! It’s me!”
My eyes focus on the face above me. “Caden?’ I choke, shaking with the sudden shock of seeing him. Crying out, I drop my knife and fling my arms around him, squeezing so hard I probably cut off his oxygen. I don’t even care about my protesting shoulder. Elation swells inside me, chasing away the terror.
He hugs me back, making shushing sounds, his mouth on my ear. Only then do I realize I’m sobbing. Fear and pain lift from me with each tear. His hand rubs smooth circles on my back. The easy, rhythmic stroking lulls me and quiets my blubbering.
I jerk violently and pull back in his arms, talking fast and feverishly, “Carriers!” My gaze darts around. “They’re coming—”
He seizes my arms, holding me steady in front of him. I resist, looking over his shoulder.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Junie and Terrence got one of them, and the other guy took off. He’s running for the hills. Probably shit himself.”
I peer into the night, marking Junie and two other shadows approaching. I moisten my dry lips and start to speak, but my voice escapes in a croak.
Caden snaps his fingers. “Water,” he calls out.
Terrence steps forward and offers me a bottle. My fingers fumble in my eagerness. Uncapping the lid, I drink noisily, water running down my chin and throat. I drink deep and long. They let me have my fill.
Lowering the bottle, I ask, hiccuping, “How did you find me?”
“Well, your little meet-and-greet with those guys wasn’t exactly quiet. Everyone within twenty miles probably heard, which means we need to get going and fast.” At the mention of this, he looks left and right, scanning the dark horizon.
I stare into the distance, at the boy I killed, his body nothing more than a bump in the landscape. “I killed one of them.” Just a kid. Probably younger than me.
“You had to,” Caden says instantly, automatically.
Junie steps up, looking so small between Terrence and the other guy I vaguely recognize. “That big one didn’t go down easy.” Squatting, she wipes her blade off in the dirt. “He was one angry mofo. Didn’t run. Not even when Terrence jumped on his back and started in on him. But we got him.” She makes a swiping motion to her neck.
Bile rises in the back of my throat. She’s so dispassionate as she utters this. And I guess I shouldn’t feel sick, especially knowing what he had planned for me. I push a hand against my stomach like that can help settle it.
She jerks a thumb behind her. “The other one ran off, Cade. You want us to go after—”
“No.” Caden wraps an arm around me and stares off into the horizon as if he can see the fleeing carrier. “Let the desert have him.”
Junie nods, her face softening as her gaze rests on me. “You’ve looked better. You okay?”
“I’m in one piece.” My voice trembles and I swallow. Was I supposed to lie and say I’m okay? I just killed my third person. I guess I do have a knack for it. A third life taken by my hands. Yes, justified, but did that really matter? Dead is dead. How many more will I kill? “Thanks to you.”
“Let’s get moving.” Still with one hand on my arm, Caden starts walking, his head rotating left and right, turning constantly, scanning the horizon. We move in the semidarkness, no flashlight to guide us, Caden leading us, the others close on our heels. Their tread falls silently on the night, a direct contrast with the other carriers—two of whom lie dead behind us. I close my eyes in a pained blink. The ugly thoughts won’t go away. Won’t stop digging claws into me.
I hear them in pursuit. Feet thundering. Calling out ugly things in loud, brutal voices. They don’t care about keeping quiet. One of them laughs. A demented, crazy sound. I know it’s not Nate. His curses burn my ears, still going strong.
I imagine their hands right behind me, reaching, swiping so close. Maybe it’s that thought that makes it a reality. The boy brings me down, catching me midstride. Slams me chest-first into the ground. I’m not surprised. He’s the youngest, the most fit.
He flips me over with a triumphant smile on his face. It’s a hard thing to see, especially as I slide a blade into his ribs.
A knife I hardly recall removing from my pocket. Instinctively, I went for it. And just as instinctively, I buried it inside him. Warm wetness rushes over my fingers. His smile slips into a loose-lipped O of shock. I scurry backward, taking my knife with me. His hand goes to the wound. Dark liquid gushes between his fingers, but I don’t stick around to watch.
I’m on my feet. Running again. I don’t look back. Not even when I hear the angry bellow from one of the other two carriers. Evidently seeing my handiwork pissed them off. I only wish I had managed to stab Goliath. Suddenly the expression “no quarter given” has all-new clarity for me. They were going to hurt me before, but now they will make me wish for death.
I keep running. I can’t stop.
But how long can you keep this up?
The instant the thought enters my head, I kill it. I can do this as long as they can. Longer. I have to. I can outrun Nate surely. And I’m younger than Leo. I have to be faster, even as exhausted as I am.
Fingers catch the jagged ends of my hair and grab hold, knuckles grinding into my scalp. I scream, enraged, terrified, bewildered. I’m supposed to get away. How did I let him catch me?
We go down in a tangle of limbs. I swipe wildly with my arm, trying to cut him. Feral sounds rise from deep in my chest.
“Davy! Davy! Stop! It’s me!”
My eyes focus on the face above me. “Caden?’ I choke, shaking with the sudden shock of seeing him. Crying out, I drop my knife and fling my arms around him, squeezing so hard I probably cut off his oxygen. I don’t even care about my protesting shoulder. Elation swells inside me, chasing away the terror.
He hugs me back, making shushing sounds, his mouth on my ear. Only then do I realize I’m sobbing. Fear and pain lift from me with each tear. His hand rubs smooth circles on my back. The easy, rhythmic stroking lulls me and quiets my blubbering.
I jerk violently and pull back in his arms, talking fast and feverishly, “Carriers!” My gaze darts around. “They’re coming—”
He seizes my arms, holding me steady in front of him. I resist, looking over his shoulder.
“Shhh, it’s okay. Junie and Terrence got one of them, and the other guy took off. He’s running for the hills. Probably shit himself.”
I peer into the night, marking Junie and two other shadows approaching. I moisten my dry lips and start to speak, but my voice escapes in a croak.
Caden snaps his fingers. “Water,” he calls out.
Terrence steps forward and offers me a bottle. My fingers fumble in my eagerness. Uncapping the lid, I drink noisily, water running down my chin and throat. I drink deep and long. They let me have my fill.
Lowering the bottle, I ask, hiccuping, “How did you find me?”
“Well, your little meet-and-greet with those guys wasn’t exactly quiet. Everyone within twenty miles probably heard, which means we need to get going and fast.” At the mention of this, he looks left and right, scanning the dark horizon.
I stare into the distance, at the boy I killed, his body nothing more than a bump in the landscape. “I killed one of them.” Just a kid. Probably younger than me.
“You had to,” Caden says instantly, automatically.
Junie steps up, looking so small between Terrence and the other guy I vaguely recognize. “That big one didn’t go down easy.” Squatting, she wipes her blade off in the dirt. “He was one angry mofo. Didn’t run. Not even when Terrence jumped on his back and started in on him. But we got him.” She makes a swiping motion to her neck.
Bile rises in the back of my throat. She’s so dispassionate as she utters this. And I guess I shouldn’t feel sick, especially knowing what he had planned for me. I push a hand against my stomach like that can help settle it.
She jerks a thumb behind her. “The other one ran off, Cade. You want us to go after—”
“No.” Caden wraps an arm around me and stares off into the horizon as if he can see the fleeing carrier. “Let the desert have him.”
Junie nods, her face softening as her gaze rests on me. “You’ve looked better. You okay?”
“I’m in one piece.” My voice trembles and I swallow. Was I supposed to lie and say I’m okay? I just killed my third person. I guess I do have a knack for it. A third life taken by my hands. Yes, justified, but did that really matter? Dead is dead. How many more will I kill? “Thanks to you.”
“Let’s get moving.” Still with one hand on my arm, Caden starts walking, his head rotating left and right, turning constantly, scanning the horizon. We move in the semidarkness, no flashlight to guide us, Caden leading us, the others close on our heels. Their tread falls silently on the night, a direct contrast with the other carriers—two of whom lie dead behind us. I close my eyes in a pained blink. The ugly thoughts won’t go away. Won’t stop digging claws into me.
