Page 105 of Savagely Yours
“In theoppositedirection of the Infected.”
A bullet whizzed by my ear and hit the ground.
A figure stood on the other side of the gate. The light affixed to their shoulder patch highlighted a Class Four uniform. Had it been a Class One, I was sure the bullet would have exploded against the back of my skull.
“I will take him,” Ronan said.
For the shooter’s sake, I prayed Ronan killed him. If he didn’t, the minute I saw Dez, I would go full damsel in distress, weeping with my shoulders hunched while hiding my face in my hands. Dez enjoyed being a savage, and who was I not to give my husband what he wanted?
I started to call out for everyone to head to the tunnels, but when I swung the flashlight around, all I saw was gray skin.
Cursing, I maneuvered around the Infected and slithered back into the tunnel opening. As I went to shut the hatch door, a pale, veiny hand shot through the side. I dropped the flashlight, reached into my back pocket, pulled out a small tactical knife, and sank it into the off-colored forearm skin. The knife slid in like butter, but the movements didn’t stop.
I stabbed again, but it was the same thing.
Then someone came up behind me and shoved their shoulder against the door hard enough to tear through the arm. We worked together to seal the latch and, breathing hard, I turned around and pressed my back against the tunnel wall.
“Thanks, baby,” I said.
The person didn’t respond.
I paused a moment before looking up.
“Baby?” Matthew Neal stared down at me, a weak smile on his even weaker face. “Did you think I was someone else? Or have we finally put the past behind us?”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
DEZ
I couldn’t leave without one person, and I would take her kicking and screaming if I had to. Who else but an angel would look at a scrawny, dirty teenager, who’d been trying to steal from her at the time, and invite him inside for a plate of food? What would it say about me if I left an angel, the only mother I’d ever known, behind somewhere I didn’t think was safe?
She wasn’t in the kitchen, so I stopped by her place in Hawthorne.
I knocked on the door.
An older man poked his head out.
“Who are you?” I asked.
“I’m…oh, wait, are you Dez?” He raised an index finger. “One second. Hey, Mae? I think your son’s here to see you.”
I shoved my way inside. “Who are you, and what the hell are you doing here? Where’s Mae? Mae? Are you in here? Are you safe?”
I scanned the front room.
My rage dissolved into horror.
It wasn’t uncommon for the lights to be off around Totten or for people to resort to using candles. However, there were far too many for this to be a simple case of poor lighting.
Artificial rose petals were scattered all over the floor. Chocolate-covered strawberries sat on a platter on the four-person dining table. Then, I realized what the male guest was wearing: a tank top and a pair of black shorts adorned with red lip designs.
“Hey, Edward?” Mae, wearing a silky purple nightgown and a full face of makeup, emerged from the dark hallway. “You ready for me, Big Da—Dez?”
I faced the door.
“Dezzie, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?”
I fiddled with my fingers like a seven-year-old, and I was sure my face was redder than the top half of those strawberries.
