Page 17

“Lori!” The echo of Jonah’s voice rings in my ears as I try to remember where I am.

Gun fire. Chaos. Zombies.

Orphans.

My eyes fly open, taking a minute to adjust to the bright light of the midday sun.

As things come back into focus, I realize I’m no longer in the arena.

A seat belt holds me upright in the backseat of a car.

I gasp for air, not realizing I’d been holding my breath, and that’s when I feel the shooting pain coming from everywhere.

“Shit. Are you okay back there?” a voice asks from the driver’s seat.

In my haze, I can’t quite tell whose voice it is.

“Jonah?”

“No. My name is Amos. I’m taking you somewhere safe.”

“Safe…where is safe?” A practical question because literally nowhere is safe.

But exactly where is this stranger taking me?

I groan as my skin burns up, phase one of my healing process.

“You aren’t going to turn, are you? I saw you in the so-called Colosseum months ago. You were ripped apart. And here you are, chewed up a bit, but nothing like—”

“Who are you?” I ask, feeling dizzy, my head spinning as I try to focus on everything this stranger says to me.

“Are you one of Doctore’s guardians?”

“No. I’m not part of any of that.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“I promise you are safe with me. For the most part.” This guy winks at me as he looks up at the rearview mirror.

He freaking winked at me.

I fall back against the leather seats and close my eyes.

Then I realize, this is the first time I haven’t been taken back to Doctore’s lab after getting bitten like this.

What if I need some more of that serum to make sure I heal instead of turn?

It would be rather rude of me if I end up eating my savior.

And who the hell is this guy anyway?

He said he’d seen me get ripped apart, meaning he had to have been at the arena months ago.

Why was he there? How did he get in?

I can’t imagine Doctore lets just anyone in to see his prized gladiator.

The heat inside me radiates to infernal temperatures.

Usually I’m hooked up to IVs and covered in ice packs when I’m like this.

Though it was always a painful process, I guess it took most of the pain away.

Now I’m feeling every twinge of pain.

I cry out, unable to hold it together.

“Shit. Tell me you are going to be okay.”

“I’m…I’m not turning. It’s just…healing. It hurts. Body hot. Head…need water.”

“Let me pull over. We are just about to enter The Wall. I’m afraid if we stop inside, there will be questions. If anyone sees the state of you, they’ll execute on the spot.”

The Wall?

Execute on the spot?

“This is…safe?” I ask aloud.

“The Wall is the safest way to travel in the region, yes. But the military is ruthless and will not risk any infected getting through. We are only using The Wall to get us where we need to go as fast as possible. I promise. You will be safe.”

I feel the car slow to a stop.

My savior, whose name I’ve already forgotten, grabs a pack from the front seat and starts rummaging through it.

I close my eyes against the next wave of pain, then I feel cool hands on my head.

“Copperhead, you are on fire!”

“Copperhead?”

“Sorry, I don’t know your name, so I’ve just been calling you Copperhead since your hair is the color of copper. Very original, I know.”

“My name…ahhhhh.” I throw myself against the car seat, grinding my teeth at the pain.

It is unbearable. So much so that I’m doubting my earlier statement.

Maybe I am turning.

I hear the click of the seat belt and feel hands on my body as they guide me down, but I can’t open my eyes or unclench my jaw.

A cool drip of water touches my lips, shocking my system for a moment.

That moment is all I needed to loosen the grip of pain and open my mouth for a delicious sip of cold water.

“That’s it. Good girl. Slow sips.”

As I take another gulp, my eyes slowly open to see the face of the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.

Wavy black hair. Golden brown skin.

A face perfectly chiseled and scruffy.

Brown eyes speckled with gold.

A freaking angel. Although, I never imagined an angel would have a beard.

Especially a scruffy one.

A fallen angel then.

I smile at the thought, which makes some of the water from his bottle drip down my face.

This angelic man pulls the water bottle away and awkwardly squats in between the center console and where I’ve sprawled out on the backseat.

“What are you smiling about?”

“Angels with beards,” I reply with a slur.

He chuckles. “You might be delirious and feverish, but you are definitely not turning into a biter. Though I wouldn’t mind if you nibbled on me.”

Is this guy seriously flirting with me right now?

My skin is a furnace, healing from the multiple bite marks and other wounds I received in the Colosseum.

I close my eyes and push through the pain to pull myself upright.

“Here, take one more sip.”

“What’s your name again? I already forgot.” I’ve always been bad with names.

With everyone I meet.

It takes me multiple introductions to maybe remember a name.

“Amos. Amos Rogers, if you need my full name to run a background check.”

Another slice of pain runs through me as I laugh, but I’m able to hold it together now.

“I’m Laurel Hill.”

A flash of recognition hits Amos’ face for a split second.

“Nice to meet you, Laurel. Though I like the name ‘Copperhead’ much better. It suits you. Dangerous in battle but unaggressive in default mode. Are you poisonous?”

I shake my head as if Amos just asked me a serious question.

Then look up into his golden eyes and smile back at him, saying, “I don’t think so. I’ve never bitten anyone before.”

Something dangerous flashes in his eyes before he turns away from me, hopping back into the front seat.

“We should get going. I don’t want to be driving too long at night. Even inside The Wall. Do you need anything else? I have some bandages in my pack. Didn’t have time to wrap you up back there. I barely got you out without being seen.”

Looking around me, I see that I’ve bled all over the black leather seats.

But my wounds aren’t bleeding anymore.

“I should be okay, I think. I’m just going to lie down and let my body do its thing.”

I hear a muffled, “Okay,” as Amos turns the car back on and pulls onto the road.

“How does your body heal itself? How are you not a biter?”

“Biter? Is that what you call a zombie?” I ask as I slowly lie back down on the car seat bench.

“Yeah. Zombie just feels made-up. A sci-fi horror monster. Biters are real.”

“That they are.” I close my eyes for a few minutes before responding to Amos’ original question.

“I don’t exactly know how I can heal. How I’m immune to whatever virus these zombies have. Doctore—Dr. Tuwile—explained to me years ago that he was attempting to mutate my DNA to fight against the virus.”

A long stretch of silence falls between us as we pass through a small tunnel leading onto Interstate 78.

Two walls made from compressed vehicles and cement have been built along the highway, shielding it from the wilds of the apocalyptic world.

“Is this The Wall?” I ask Amos.

“Yes. The government began building this shortly after the outbreak. It isn’t completely sealed, but it is better than some of the other highways in Pennsylvania. The Wall goes all the way to New Jersey but stops near Clinton. The area past that was hit hard and is still too dangerous.”

“That’s close to where I’m from,” I whisper, suddenly so tired.

My eyelids shroud me in a cocoon of darkness and my body finally loosens from the tension of the day, letting me fall into a deep sleep.