Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 119746 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 599(@200wpm)___ 479(@250wpm)___ 399(@300wpm)
“We’ll catch up,” Jensen says, holding his hand out as he stares at Hank’s body, still unmoving in the snow. “Cole, bring me my axe. We’ll have to take off his head. I don’t think a bullet is going to stop him the way it stopped Red.”
“Jensen!” I protest, but Cole is already grabbing the axe from the pack at the back of Jeopardy and running back to Jensen.
Eli is slumping against me, consciousness fading, staring up at me with absolute fear in his eyes. I have no choice. I don’t want to leave Jensen but I don’t want Eli to die on my watch. I can’t be responsible for another death.
I hold Eli tight and urge Jeopardy forward, away from the struggle behind us. He responds immediately, seemingly understanding the urgency, breaking into a canter that carries us quickly through the snow and away from the scene.
I glance back once to see Jensen taking the axe from Cole, both of them standing over Hank. Then a bend in the trail cuts off my view, leaving me alone with an injured Eli, with no idea if Jensen and Cole are going to be okay.
For a terrifying moment, I consider turning back. The thought of Jensen facing Hank alone makes my chest tight with fear. But Eli is bleeding heavily, his body a deadweight against mine. He needs medical attention, and soon.
I focus on keeping Jeopardy at a sustainable pace, one that won’t exhaust him but will put distance between us and danger and would allow Jensen and Cole to catch up. Eli drifts in and out of consciousness, mumbling incoherently when awake, his blood soaking through my jacket where he leans against me. I keep having to make adjustments so he doesn’t fall off the horse.
“Stay with me, Eli,” I urge him, unsure if he can even hear me. “Just a little longer.”
Which is another lie, because Jensen said it was another four hours at least.
How the hell are we going to survive this?
The trail winds through stands of pine, occasionally opening to offer glimpses of the terrain ahead. I keep Jeopardy pointed south, toward the faraway valley of Olympic Village, hoping I’m reading the landscape correctly, that I’m taking us toward help rather than deeper into danger.
Suddenly I spot movement among the trees ahead. Jeopardy senses it too, ears pricking forward, steps faltering.
I rein him in, scanning the forest with growing dread. There—a flash of movement between pines. And there—another, off to the left. Multiple figures moving parallel to the trail, keeping pace with us through the trees.
Not approaching. Not fleeing.
Following.
“Shit,” I mutter, nudging Jeopardy forward again. “Shit, shit, shit.”
Whatever’s out there, stopping is not an option. Not with Eli barely conscious and bleeding out against me.
I reach for my gun, keeping it at the ready, trying to calculate how many bullets I have left after using two.
The shadows among the trees keep pace easily, occasionally visible through gaps in the forest. I count at least three distinct figures, moving with an unnatural fluidity through the snow. Too fast for normal humans struggling through knee-deep drifts.
Feral people.
Hungry ones.
Oh god.
A branch cracks sharply to my right, startlingly close. Jeopardy snorts in alarm, shying sideways, nearly unseating me and Eli. I fight to control him, heart hammering against my ribs, and grip the gun tighter as I aim it around me.
“Easy,” I murmur, though my own panic threatens to overwhelm me. “Easy, boy.”
Another crack, this time to the left. Then another ahead.
They’re surrounding us.
Jeopardy balks, refusing to go forward, his entire body trembling beneath me. I can’t blame him. I’m trembling too, every instinct inside me screams danger, predator, run.
Run, run, run.
A figure suddenly steps onto the trail ahead.
A man…or what used to be a man.
Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing the tattered remains of what might have been hiking gear. His skin has a purplish waxy pallor, eyes the same unnatural blue. He stands perfectly still, watching us with predatory focus, though his neck looks broken, head on an angle.
He looks dead.
Which means my bullet might not make much of a difference.
Still I aim the gun at his head, just as more figures emerge from the trees on either side. Five, six, seven of them now, forming a loose circle around us. All with those same blue eyes, those same too-sharp teeth visible when their lips pull back in hunger-driven anticipation.
We’re trapped.
And I don’t have enough bullets for them all.
“Aubrey!”
The voice cuts through my panic like a lifeline. Jensen and Cole trot out from the trees behind us, both of them riding on Harry. Jensen has his rifle in one hand, axe in the other. Cole has his pistol drawn, both men breathing hard, covered in blood, though they seem otherwise fine.
Relief floods through me, so intense it nearly brings tears to my eyes.