Blackbird's Fall - Jenika Snow Page 0,3

if we just get supplies and come back here?” Brandon sounded hopeful.

“Brandon, I need out of this fucking place. We’ve been down here for a long damn time, and I can’t take it anymore.” Marius grabbed the backpack and slipped it over his shoulders. He had his boots on, a couple changes of clothes, and he hoped enough food and fresh water packed that he could survive until he found something else. “You’re welcome to come with me, to face the world above, but I can’t and won’t stay here.” Marius walked toward the man who had stood by him through all of this, since the very beginning. “I’ve left you enough food and water that you shouldn’t have to find any for a while, but Brandon,” he pleaded with the other man, “staying here will have you dying too.”

Brandon sat down on the chair in front of Marius, and made this low, exhausted sound. “Good luck out there.”

And he knew Brandon wouldn’t come, not even with the knowledge that he would die down here if he didn’t at least try. The world anymore was hectic and deteriorating, but hiding in a bunker underground wasn’t the way to live, no matter what anyone said.

Marius held out his hand, and Brandon took it. The men shook, stayed silent, and then Marius nodded once and turned to leave. He had to try to survive out there, try to see if he could help anyone. He knew about the virus, about every aspect of it.

He’d been on the team that helped create the initial vaccine, and that’s why he had such a sense of guilt after everything had fallen.

He had to help, in any way he could, no matter what the risks were.

3

Maya didn’t know what had woken her at first, but as she opened her eyes, her heart was already beating fast and hard. Sherman, who they kept in the room with them at night, started whimpering and scratching at the door.

Maya turned her head to the side, saw the spot her mother usually lay in was empty, and instantly sat up. Since everything had gone to shit, she and her mom had been sharing a room, wanting to stay close. They’d set up her father in another bedroom, something he wanted, and the smart way to go, given the fact that he was sick.

“Mom?” Maya called out. There was silence in response, but after a moment, the sound of something crashing came through, startling Maya.

Sherman started scratching on the door with more fervor, his growl low, threatening. She climbed out of bed, knowing something wasn’t right, and bent down to grab the baseball bat she had tucked underneath the bed.

It hadn’t been planned to use on her father if he turned while they were asleep, because they kept their door locked and were “relatively” safe. They kept the door locked in case looters, rapists, or the humans that had gone insane because of the anarchy decided to break in.

She crept toward the door, reached out with her hand not holding the bat, and pulled it open slowly.

“Stay,” she whispered to Sherman. He whimpered again but lay down, his face turned up toward her. “Good boy.”

She opened the door a bit wider, and the old wood creaked slightly. Maya winced at the sound and held her breath, her pulse skyrocketing. The house was dark, but the sound of a crash from the kitchen told her all she needed to know. Maya’s heart raced, her muscles tightened, and the flight-or-fight instinct ran high in her.

She looked at her dog again. “Stay, Sherman,” she said once more and stepped out into the hallway. Keeping her back to the wall, she tried to calm her breathing. She needed to be calm, to keep a level head. It wasn’t as though she was tough as nails or one of those women who could take a man down.

But Maya had grown up working on her grandfather’s farm and knew what it meant to stay strong in the face of a hectic, confused situation and had always prided herself on using her brain in these matters.

Rounding the corner, but still keeping her back to the wall, she thought maybe an infected had gotten in, or maybe it was a looter? But as she leaned around the wall and looked into the kitchen, her mouth parted at the scene before her.

It wasn’t a stranger in her house, or an infected who had somehow broken in. No, it was her