Page 18 of The Last Man on Earth
“Where does it hurt, Kiara?”
She winces, clutching her stomach. “My pelvis,” she breathes. “It’s…it’s spreading to my back.”
I freeze. It’s a bad look for somebody in my profession, but my extensive training didn’t cover this. I could give her CPR, administer insulin, give her the Heimlich, or shock her with a defibrillator. But this? This is beyond my skillset.
Villain approaches slowly, a baggy of pills in one hand and water in the other. His face stops me cold…he looks distraught. But he doesn’t say a word as he goes to his knees next to Kiara.
“Shouldn’t she eat something first?”
“Ain’t no time for that,” he snaps, his face quickly twisting in anger.
I leave it alone, watching as he feeds her one pill, then holds the bottle of water to her dry lips. He repeats the process, then strokes her cheek.
“I’m worried about you,” he tells her. “How you feel? Be honest.”
If she has any words to say, it must be too taxing for her to say them. She simply moans again and closes her eyes, her breathing shallow and erratic.
I slap away another bug, hitting myself a little too hard in the process.
The silence that follows is unbearable. Finally, I lift my gaze to Villain, surprised his eyes are already on me. We don’t say it out loud, but it’s right there in the look we exchange.
This is bad.
Really bad.
DAY TWO
Chapter 9
Villain
I step deeper intothe trees, unzip, and relieve myself. My body aches with fatigue. Even my fucking bones feel heavy. But I’m glad I stayed awake. That I didn’t let my guard down. Nothing wild got close to us, at least not close enough to do damage. The constant rustling did scare the shit out of me, though. I had to keep making noise, snapping twigs, clearing my throat, kicking at the dirt. I guess whatever was out there didn’t like all that carrying on, because it kept its distance. Thankfully.
Back at the clearing, I estimate it's around ten a.m. judging by the brightness of the sky. The fire’s nothing but a nest of grey, and my two companions are still resting.
Ariana stirs weakly, rubbing at her arms, but Ms. K hasn’t moved.
I grab the small bottle of hand sanitizer I found in one of the pilot’s suitcases and scrub a dime-sized amount over my palms until they sting. Now, I’m ready to play chef.
I grab two packages out of the food pile and rip open the foil. “Alright, ladies,” I say, forcing lightness into my voice. That shitfeels foreign to me, especially right now, but I want their spirits up. “Time for breakfast. Your chef has prepared two choices for you: artisanal nut mix or kale chips. Take your pick.”
Ariana gives me a tired smile. “I’ll take the nuts.”
I hand her the pack, and that’s when I notice her arms. Angry red scratches run up and down her brown skin, some welted, some bleeding lightly.
“The hell happened to you?”
She shrugs like it’s nothing. “Insects. They tore me up last night.”
At that, my eyes drift toward the sky. It’s clear and brilliant blue again today, no clouds, no smoke—and no sign of rescue. But I bite back my disappointment.
“It’s all good,” I say. “We ain’t spendin’ another night out here.”
She doesn’t look hopeful. She doesn’t even answer me. She just stares at the dirt like that’s where her comfort lies.
I shift my gaze to Ms. K. She’s curled on her side, still as a statue. I watch for a good little while, not entirely sure what I’m looking for. I can’t put my finger on it, but something about her position makes my skin prickle.
“Aye, wake her up for me,” I say to Ariana.
