Page 54 of Rising

I looked at him. “Why would I waste my time telling that girl anything?”

“Good,” he said, “I don’t need her getting distracted from the facts. We’ve been down this path before. It doesn’t lead anywhere good. She’s finally getting better.”

“Didn’t realize you two were so close,” I grumbled under my breath, baiting him for more information.

“We aren’t.”

My eyes narrowed, shocked at the definiteness in his answer.

He read me, adding, “But we’re family. You don’t have to be close to act in their best interest.”

I nodded my head. None of my business whatever fucked up family shit they had going on back there. There was clearly a lot of that going around.

“Fair enough, but my best interest is staying alive. So whatever needs to be said to ensure I stay that way, let’s make sure that’s what comes out when we get back.” I hopped out, slamming the door behind me and hustling over to help the rest of the crew waiting for us to keep going.

We made it about a quarter of a mile before realizing that carrying him would be impossible, especially making it before nightfall. Bunkering down near the truck for the night would have to do.

With the stench of blood and flesh in the air, we couldn’t risk keeping him out in the open exposed to whatever predator lurked in the woods. We agreed he’d take the cabin of the truck and the rest of us would stack up in the bed. At first light, the earth elemental and I would run back to the horses. Hopefully making it back to them in time to hit the cabin later that night to rally and decide what to do next. I hadn’t bothered learning any of their names this far, and I didn’t plan on learning them now.

I didn’t need another name to write to. There was no comradery in war. Things were easier that way, better.

The bed of the truck was slick with his blood as we tossed some dried straw and leaves to soak up most of it. He’d bled a lot, the undead nicking his ulnar artery, the herbs we placed on them, and the tourniquet being the only thing slowing the bleeding. His face had gone pale and his skin clammy. His words disoriented as he faded in and out of consciousness, but he made it through the night. We all did.

I was up just as the sun crested over the trees, ready to move from out in the open. I’d give it to the guy. He held my pace the entire way. His endurance was not only admirable on horseback, but on his own two feet as well. We covered a little over twenty miles in about two hours, and I wondered what kind of training Seth and Amaia had placed these men through. For men in the calvaryand not foot soldiers, they were well equipped to adapt to any situation thrown our way.

They spent most of their time on the backs of another animal, yet their combat skills and physical abilities were commendable. If this was what they could do with low morale, I found myself fearing their capabilities a few months before they’d lost a leader. Both leaders, really though Amaia was still very much alive.

Fear in my world didn’t make you weak, it made you alive, kept it that way. And I’d be lying if I didn’t fear the situation I’d put myself into. I’d spent my entire life running, for fun, from the cops, from my father. But as we sprinted through the rugged terrain, I found this run for life terrifying. Those fuckers had been fast, come out of nowhere and disappeared even faster, not like any of the undead I’d faced in the past.

Then there was the fact that Amaia had been right. She appeared out of it most days, focused on other things, but if nothing else, she was observant. I found myself under her watchful gaze enough to know she noticed every detail, even the ones left unsaid.

As we stopped to sip from our water, I came to understand two things; I’d stumbled into a situation I was no longer in control of, and there were now only two of us versus however many were out there. But I’d rather be out here, then waiting back at the truck. Nothing fun about being a sitting duck. Best I at least make them work for their next meal.

It was a good thing we were able to cover as much ground as we did in just a few hours. The way back was harder than we’d anticipated and took us twice as long. The horses were bigger than some parts of the overgrown trail, forcing us to hop off and guide them between trees at some parts. By the time we made it back to the truck, six hours had passed and we couldn’t afford any hiccups if we were to hit the cabin before nightfall.

He was still in and out of consciousness, which didn’t mean much of anything once I strapped him to the back. His hands were tied to the straps around the horse to prevent him from falling off and I made sure to knot his feet to the satchel for extra security. Seth led on the horse in front to keep the other horse on track while I guided the way, the remaining men flanking when possible on constant defense.

Night encapsulated the sky as we tied the horses to the front of the cabin. It was ill practice. Any passerby would know someone occupied the inside, but we’d agreed to worry about that after checking on the now leaking, rotting wound.

“Dude, that looks bad,” one of the men stated the obvious, nose pulling upward in revulsion. The skin around the bite was red and swollen, puss crusting around the edges.

His skin was warm, and tender as he groaned under my touch.

“We have to chop it,” I suggested, hardly bothered by the gore.

“Holy shit, we can’t justchop upLogan,” another exclaimed, throwing a mortified glare in my direction.

Wouldn’t want to be responsible for it anymore anyway, I thought, cursing the fact that I now knew another name.

“No,” Seth leveled, weighing our options. “We can’t chop it. He’ll bleed out.”

“Well, I’m fresh outta ideas. So if anyone else has a better one, speak now before he forever holds his peace,” I muttered, more to Seth than anyone else. Where I came from, this wouldn’t even be a discussion.

We wouldn’t waste time in the field like this. Chop, sew, or in this case burn, and be done with it, then adjust. My father had taught me that the first time someone had shown up on our doorstep. They’d been green in the face and kilting over from an infected bullet wound to the leg.

“Let me think.”

As if on cue, Logan woke up for the first time in hours, screaming out in pain. The rest of the room went silent, everyone looking to Seth for direction as the man passed back out.

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