“She's been bitten.” Reid stood over Ashley Cazalla, her hands cuffed behind the thin tree. Blood dripped from her shoulder down the front of what looked like an old school sweatshirt, the lettering long faded. Up close she couldn’t be older than mid-twenties, he guessed. From the faint scar that trailed from her cheek to her neck and into the bite, it didn’t seem like the world had been kind. Predates infection, Reid decided from the faded colour. Years old. Though Reid would be hard-pressed to find a measure of sympathy for her.

“I'm not blind. I was there.” Laurence scratched his beard. As sweat beaded on his forehead, he took in a heavy breath. “But this is our ticket. Like hell are we going to just leave her here.”

Reid knelt, took Ashley’s chin in his hand, and tilted her face up. He wiped the hair from her dark eyes and lifted the lids. Pupils dilated, eyes bloodshot. She was pale, had a fever, but it was hard to tell if she was fighting the infection or succumbing to it.

“She's not going to live, Laurence.” Or so experience assured Reid. “It’s a goddamn miracle she's lasted this long.” His hand fell away, her face dropped, and her dirt crusted hair, mixed with sweat, hid her sickly eyes again.

“Well, don't let her die, for chrissake,” Laurence huffed.

Reid frowned. “What do you think I can do about that? If she’s infected, she’s infected. ” He stood and stalked away from Laurence, relishing the chance to clear his head. After hiking out of the woods, carrying her in a makeshift stretcher with Shannon for over an hour, Reid spent two more waiting. Checking her pulse, her temperature, the wound, her eyes. After weeks of tracking, they finally found her, all that work for this?

Approaching the fire Reid’s frown relaxed before he spread the barely lit wood to kill the flames.

“Oh, come on,” Tish moaned while crouched by the embers. She was new, only with them for three hunts, but she was a good tracker and damn skilled with that machete. Few had the balls to volunteer to go beyond the safety of the college walls, he had to give her that.

“We haven't had a good fire since we started this job,” she said. Tish was smart but there was that challenge in her eyes. It glimmered in the firelight, waiting for Reid to say something, begging for a fight. There was none of that necessary fear they needed to stay alive. Either she didn’t know any better, or she didn’t care to. Question is, which is worse?

“Why do you think those people got attacked? We don't need to draw the same kind of attention,” Reid said.

Looking up from the fire, he spied what Shannon had taken to call “tourists”. The clump of survivors tagging along. It took seconds for Reid to guess who would be useful and who would die in the next attack. But what does it matter? He turned from the small, tired faces and kicked the fire once more. “This all could be for nothing now if she dies.”

“Let her,” Shannon muttered. “Finding her was such a fuckin’ hassle, and now that she’s bit, she's nothing but trouble. Soon she'll be like the other wendigos.”

Slumped over his arm, Shannon fussed with the scratch on his forearm. First chance he’d had, Reid took a quick look at it and there were no signs of infection. Healthy enough, Shannon wouldn’t succumb to infection. Only bites and blood contamination were sure things. But just steps away some of the children watched, their eyes wide. Like they could catch the infection if Shannon wandered too close. That unfounded fictionalize fear would keep them from sleep, and slow them all down.

Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there.

When Shannon swore, one of the women covered a young girl’s ears as whispers and questions danced on tiny lips.

“Shut up!” Shannon got up, his face firmly set in a frown. “I'm not one of them you little-”

“Shan, back off.” Laurence didn't turn, barely raised his voice but it carried the short distance and everyone quieted.

Reid glared at Laurence's back where the stocky man had bent by Ashley. He won't get a word from her. But Reid knew that didn't matter, they didn't need her talking, hell they didn't need her conscious. Just alive.

Movement turned Reid's attention back to the “tourists”. One of the teens stood, despite hands reaching to hold him back, and approached the fire. He was dirty and despite the determination in his eyes, the boy couldn't hide the quake of fear shining. His hand lingered over the empty holster at his side, the boy making a point to approach Shannon.

“I want it back,” the teen said coolly, his voice surprisingly strong. His stare looked down to the gun tucked in Shannon’s belt.

“Oh you mean this?” Shannon took the gun and twirled it with a devilish smile before returning it to his side. “I suggest you shut the fuck up about it. It's no good, anyway. Piece of shit’s broken and looks like a goddamn antique. Bet it never worked, did it?”

Rolling her eyes, Tish stood. “Stop messing around with them. It’s not funny anymore.”

Shannon rolled his eyes and continued twirling the gun by the trigger guard.

“If it's broken why not give it back?” Tish asked.

Shannon and Tish went back and forth on the subject while the boy stood there, staring. What was his name... Ethan? Reid only remembered from hearing Ashley scream it by the river. How had she known it? Reid frowned.

The kid looked to be the oldest of the children but that wasn't saying much. Maybe one or two were in their teens, the rest ten and younger. They could all walk on their own, run, that much must have kept them alive.

They weren’t all related to the adults with them, though. Their faces were too different and they didn’t clump together. It painted a story, one all too familiar beyond safe walls. Orphans. The men and women probably took them in out of pity, a need for purpose, for darker things, or, more likely, there had been more adults before. More like the dead fool on the beach and these kids were all that remained.

But Laurence didn’t have soft spots. He didn’t pity. They served no purpose and from what Reid had seen, Laurence wasn’t a pervert. Why the hell are we carting them back with us? The plan was never to take on survivors and they had left their fair share of needy behind. So why them?

Their presence gnawed at Reid and he tried to suss-out Laurence’s plan. He could press the issue but, that’d piss the big man off. So far Laurence kept him alive and maybe that was enough.

“I want my gun back,” Ethan piped up again, standing apart from the children, women, and men who looked beaten and tired. “It's mine and if you can't use it... give it back.” His eyes were red and even in the poor light, Reid could tell he'd been crying.

“How bad do you want it?” Shannon stood with eyes glimmering of mischief. “What are you willing to do for it? Cuz I think I left something back at the beach.”

“Leave him alone!” A young girl stood next to Ethan, her face round and framed with pigtails. His sister, if Reid had to guess. They looked enough alike.

“Ethan, leave it be,” his mother cooed, shovel still in hand. She clung to it for dear life, her eyes rarely drifting away from their wounded prey. Waiting, poised to smash Ashley’s infected head in the first chance she’d have.

Reid’s patience was wearing thin. Fucking domestic bullshit. This is why I left. Walking to Shannon, Reid snatched the broken weapon from his hands.

“The fuck, Reid?” Shannon spat.

Reid walked the gun back to Ethan.

“It stays holstered. Got it?” He held it out and for a moment the boy stared at the hunk of metal in his hand. The hammer was missing and Reid guessed Shannon had been right, it had never worked. “I don't care if it doesn't fire. I don't want to see it. If I do it's gone.”

Looking down at the boy Reid had a hard time remembering what it was like to be a kid. Sure, there were memories, but the feelings seemed clouded. Masked by all the bullshit, all the horror. Staring at Ethan though, Reid couldn’t imagine what he’d be like if his childhood had been… all this.

With a solemn nod, Ethan took the weapon and slipped it into the ill-fitting holster. He turned back to his mother, sister in tow beside him.

“I was having fun with that,” Shannon complained, but he always found something to bitch about.

“Grow the fuck up Shan, they lost their Dad,” Tish said as she prodded the embers.

In response, Shannon huffed and leaned into the fire, curses whispering on his lips.