Page 40 of Outbreak

“Ghost?” I call out, feeling my way forward with my bat. “What’s happening? Where are you?”

“Stay back!” He yells—too little, too late. I stumble into someone as I come around a corner, the growling right on top of me.

Panic floods me, and I swing. A sickening crack connects, and my heart nearly stops in my chest as Ghost groans and falls into me, knocking me back into something hard. He crumples to the floor at my feet, and the growling moves closer. The flashlight fell at some point, and I scramble to my feet when I see dirty shoes shuffling towards us in the light beam.

For a split second, it occurs to me that this is my chance.

This is my way out. And it’s my choice.

Aspen’s words echo in my mind again, haunting me. I could make a run for it. Ghost is knocked out between me and the dead fucker. I could leave. Go back to the truck and keep driving. Go find my friends.

It’s now or never.

Run and live?

Stay and fight?

Run and forget him?

Stay and risk losing myself?

A split second. Time seems to slow as my decision hangs in the air, waiting for me to reach out and grab it.

I’m on my feet a second later, the bat in my hand as I charge. The first swing connects with his head, crunching into the rotted flesh like a mushy watermelon. The dead fuck goes down, but the second swing crushes his skull, and I keep swinging. My voice is harsh as a death cry erupts from somewhere deep inside me—for everything I’ve lost. Everything I’ve survived.

Aspen was right.

This is my way out. And it’s my choice.

I choose to fight for the only thing that feels real in this fucked-up world.

Him.

The bat clatters to the floor as I heave in a lungful of air. Bile rushes up my throat, and I put my hands on my knees, trying to hold it back. When I no longer feel like I’m going to puke or die, I stand, grabbing the flashlight on my way up and shining it on Ghost's slumped-over body, where he lays face down on the dirty floor.

I can’t believe I knocked him out.

I can’t believe a lot of shit I’ve done.

Kneeling down, I run my hand over his rain-soaked mask. Blood coats my fingers when I shine the light on them.

Fuck!

Snatching the mask off, I shine the light on the back of his head, breathing a sigh of relief when it’s just a small gash.

His hair is dark, a silky black.

My heart picks up as I realize I can finally see his face. I can put his mask back on before he wakes up. He’ll never know.

Pulling him back by his massive shoulder, I roll the big motherfucker to his side, then shine the light on his face. This time, my heart drops to my ass as the bile I held back earlier comes rushing back.

Are you fucking kidding me?

“Wyck?”

CHAPTER 33

Rue

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