Blackbird's Fall - Jenika Snow Page 0,10

trying to sneak up on the house, trying to be stealthy.

But as the seconds ticked by and there was still no movement, she started to realize it couldn’t be an infected. They would have been able to smell her, would have made noise because their frantic need to feed would have taken over.

Setting the basket on the ground slowly, she kept her eyes on the form but then started scanning the surrounding area, making sure no one was hiding in the woods. Everything seemed so still, so silent.

Grabbing the strap of her father’s shotgun she always had hanging over her back, she started moving toward the person, trying to keep close to the structure. She also had a knife strapped to her ankle and another to her thigh. She couldn’t be too careful.

The closer she got, the more the adrenaline pumped through her veins, giving her a boost of energy, making her ready to run or attack. She was close enough now she could see it wasn’t an infected on the ground, or at least it wasn’t one who had the signs of rotting.

But she was still cautious, still had her gun at the ready. Creeping closer, she heard Sherman inside barking. He probably sensed something was wrong, but Maya was glad she left him inside. She didn’t want anything happening to him. He was all she had left now.

And then she saw the blood that covered the man’s side, saw that his face was ashen and his breathing barely even noticeable. Going closer, she cleared her throat.

“If you make a move, I’ll shoot you, and believe me, I’m a decent shot.” The warning was for her as much as it was for him.

But the man didn’t move. His dark hair was longer, unkempt, and he was filthy from head to toe. He’d been on the road a long time; she could gauge as much. When he didn’t move at her warning, she went closer and then crouched beside him. Holding the gun out and pressing it to his head, she gave another warning, just in case.

“If you’re playing opossum, I suggest you cut the shit now or you’ll have a nice hole in your head.” She sounded and was acting far stronger than she really was, but she couldn’t be too careful in this fucked-up world. He didn’t move or even twitch, not even with the gun to his head. Keeping the barrel at his temple, she looked around and tried to see if there was anything in the woods.

Silence greeted her.

Maya was convinced enough he wasn’t playing dead, so she took the gun away from his head and looked down at his wound. She assumed she’d see a bite mark, but when she pulled the t-shirt up it was to see a large gash.

A knife wound.

This was fresh, because no way he would have been able to trek all the way up here from town with a wound like that.

Maya stood, aimed the gun at the woods, and started sweeping it back and forth, ready to shoot anything that came out. But as she stood there for long moments, barely breathing so she could hear, she had a feeling she was alone. Whoever had done this to him wasn’t here anymore, and the sooner she got back inside, the better.

Looking down at the stranger, she thought—for only a second—that she should just leave him here. She wasn’t a nurse or a doctor by any means but could patch up a few things, yet this man could be a rapist for all she knew, could have been bitten and infected.

The longer she stared at him, the more her compassion grew. She couldn’t just leave him, couldn’t go inside and let him die out here. At least if he died inside, she would have tried her best to help him and could have a clear conscience.

Slinging the gun across her back again, she reached under his arms and started dragging him to the house. He was heavy, a tall man, and getting him to the front door was a pain in the ass.

But when she was finally in the house, she took a step back, breathing hard, and looked down at him. He hadn’t so much as made a move or sound, and she feared he wouldn’t last much longer if she didn’t try to close and heal the laceration.

She’d try to help him, because to her, she didn’t have any other option.

8

The pain was what woke Marius up. It