Page 204 of War

Once they’re topside, they begin to run in a single direction: towards the site of the ambush.

War.

Something’s happened. I’m certain of it now.

And my earlier plan is in shambles—the horses are long gone. If I want to help War, I’ll have to go it on foot.

I begin to jog in the same direction as the dead as they rush past me. There are so many of them—so many more than one would assume, given the fact that the land seems to be devoid of life.

The earth is full of so many bones.

Far in the distance, I hear a dullboom. The sound sets my teeth on edge.

What in the world?

Less than a minute later I hear two morebooms, each one ratcheting up my nerves.

In response, I push my legs harder.

I’ve only covered about four hundred meters when suddenly, the undead fall to the ground all at once.

I glance around me at the countless bodies now littering the landscape, my hackles rising.

I step up to one of the corpses, this one nothing more than a skeleton. I stare down at it as the seconds tick away. One—two—three—four …

Something isn’t right.

Somethingreallyisn’t alright.

I glance to the horizon. My unease is back, but now it’s redoubled.

You know what?

Fuck. This.

Rule Four ofMiriam Elmahdy’s Guide to Staying the Fuck Alive: listen to your instincts.

I haven’t, not since I came to camp. The past several months have forced me to disregard this rule I lived by, but I won’t today.

Instinct is telling me that something terrible is happening to War—that something terrible may havealreadyhappened.

I grab my bow and pull out an arrow from my quiver. I continue jogging along the road heading towards Karima, sidestepping piles of bones and bodies that litter the ground. It’s as I’m running that I realize if War’s men mean to dispose of him, then they’re going to come back to camp to dispose of me as well.

Shit. They might be coming back for me this very moment.

Part of me wants to continue storming headfirst towards War, but the more calculating, survivalist part of me knows that the only advantage I have on two dozen armed phobos riders is surprise.

I scan my surroundings as I run, until I catch sight of a rusted out car which sits just off the road. I make my way to it, and crouching behind its rough metal frame, I train my weapon on the road coming in.

I don’t have to wait long before I hear the pounding of hooves in the distance. Peering over the hood of the car, I see a mounted rider. They’re too far away for me to make out their features, but I can already tell it’s not War. The steed is black and not red, and the rider’s stature is not nearly as staggering as the horseman’s.

I keep my arrow trained on the rider and wait until he gets close. Then, I pull the bowstring back.

Inhale. Exhale. Aim.Release.

My arrow strikes the rider square in the chest, throwing the rider back in his saddle.

Another arrow is in my hand in an instant. The man is only just righting himself when I step out of my hiding spot and release the bowstring.

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