Page 46 of Protected

In all the time we’ve been here, we’ve encountered very few passersby. The occasional traveler will stop,thinking it might be an abandoned house to scavenge, and there’re always a few folks who live nearby hunting or searching for food who wander onto the property. But we’ve gotten so that we don’t expect threats from every direction when we’re close to the house.

Burgundy and I are relaxed as we find a secluded spot near the creek and put our stuff down.

No matter how relaxed we are, we’re not stupid enough to both be vulnerable at the same time. I take off my clothes and get in the water first, using some scavenged bath soap and shampoo to wash my hair and clean up while Burgundy stands guard with her gun.

When I’m done, I dry off and pull on one of Deck’s T-shirts—it hangs like a short dress on me—and draw my pistol so Burgundy can wash up in the creek too.

I hear someone moving in the trees behind me, so I turn around and raise my weapon. But I’m not worried. It’s almost certainly one of us. I’ll just tell them to go somewhere else so they don’t invade Burgundy’s privacy.

But it’s not one of us. It’s a stranger. A dirty man with long, greasy hair and cutoff denim shorts with hiking boots.

I freeze, my gun pointed at him.

He looks as surprised as I am. He jerks to a stop, blinking at me.

Then his face changes into an ugly kind of smirk.

I recognize that smirk. Any woman who’s stayed alive for two years after Impact would recognize that smirk.

My gut twists, and my hand trembles on the trigger. “Go away!” I manage to say in my fiercest voice.

It’s not very fierce.

He cuts his eyes over to Burgundy, naked in the creek, before he looks back at me. He takes a step forward. “Put the gun down, little girl. You two are way too little and pretty to make it without a man, but I can take care of that for you.”

I shoot, aiming just over his right shoulder.

He must know I missed on purpose because, after an instinctive flinch, he laughs. A sickening sort of laugh. He keeps coming toward me.

“Go away!” I say again as everything inside me screams at me to pull the trigger.

“Shoot him, Lilah!” Burgundy calls from behind me. I hear motion from the water. The man’s head shifts toward her again, and his face transforms into a coarse leer.

I shoot again, still incapable of aiming at him directly because I know the shot will kill him.

Killhim.

He’s almost reached me when there’s a shot from behind me and the man drops. He collapses to the ground in a bloody mess.

He’s dead. Burgundy scrambled out of the creek wet and naked, grabbed her gun, and shot the man because I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“I’m sorry,” I manage to choke out.

Burgundy has snatched up a towel and is wrapping it around herself, one hand still holding her pistol. “It’s fine, Lilah. We took care of it. Don’t beat yourself up.”

I’m shaking inside but completely frozen outside. Ilook from Burgundy to the man’s body on the ground. She shot him in the chest. Right in the heart. He died immediately.

There’s so much blood.

“Lilah, it’s okay. It’s really hard the first time. I couldn’t manage to kill anyone either until the guy was right on top of me. Survival instincts kick in, and you just do it.”

“I don’t know if I have any survival instincts.” My nose is running. I wipe at it with the back of my hand.

“Of course you do.” There’s not the slightest hint of disappointment, resentment, or judgment on Burgundy’s face, and for some reason that makes me feel worse.

I don’t deserve her empathy. I didn’t do what I was supposed to do.

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