Page 2

“Lucy. That’s a good name,” he says softly, but the tone is unpracticed and it comes out rough at the edges, threatening to wake her. “Bet your momma’s name is real pretty, too.”

The baby doesn’t reply, not that he expected one.

She’s dozing now. For how long, who knows?

If they’re lucky, the dead will move on once they lose interest, and getting out of here will be easier.

He just wishes he had a clue what to do next.

None of this feels like enough when he’s half certain someone is bleeding out right in front of him while he does nothing to stop it.

Blood pools crimson on the old tile floor between her legs, creeping slowly toward the drain.

He’s not sure how much someone can lose, but she’s gotta be nearing the limit and it’s not like he can stuff a towel there and apply pressure like he could on a bullet wound.

The problem isn’t on the outside. He paid enough attention in biology class and saw enough farm animals birthed in the backwoods to know that.

Gently, he gives her shoulder a shake to try to rouse her, getting a groan in reply that feels like a victory until she fails to wake.

“You gotta hang in there,” he tries. “Your baby’s waiting for you, and I gotta be honest here. I’m the last guy you want to leave your kid with. Don’t know shit about raising babies. So…come on, then…wake up so we can get out of here.”

She doesn’t stir, and he slumps in frustration. Checks his knife in its holster in case she turns and hopes he won’t have to use it.

She fought hard to keep going, didn’t give up when the worst happened and it would be a tragedy to go out like this now. If anyone deserves a chance, it’s someone who had a baby on a bathroom floor while fighting off a rotter.

This kid deserves her mother.

He deserves to move on from this and get back to what matters. Finding his best friend.

It’s at least an hour later when she finally begins to wake. Slow at first, weak and confused until she spots her baby, and then her cat-like reflexes catch him by surprise. She lunges for him, dragging herself his way to grab the child like he stole it.

She’s still half drunk off losing all that blood, but she fights him like she must’ve fought that guy in the corner and he doesn’t even try to deny her what she wants.

Gives the kid over easily and holds his hands up in surrender while she squishes into the corner, fresh tears dropping from wild eyes onto newborn blonde hair.

“Just trying to help,” he repeats. “If I wanted to hurt either of you, I had plenty of time while you were passed out.”

That sinks in a little better. Her shoulders relax, and that fresh rage at seeing some strange guy holding her baby fades a fraction when her memory of what happened seems to filter back in.

He fetches a bottle of water and a granola bar from his bag, ignoring her flinch at the movement. “Here, don’t have orange juice and cookies like they force you to eat after giving blood, but that’ll do.”

She winces, maybe having forgotten for a moment what she’s sitting in. A flash of shame draws her face down before she takes his offerings and inhales them.

“I’m Olivia,” she says, near the end of that granola bar when the baby begins to squirm again.

“Cole.”

“Thank you.”

“We need to leave and do it fast before she starts crying and they swarm the door.” He has no time for gratitude. It only gets him all flustered. “Can you walk?”

She nods. Doesn’t ask for help or complain even though he can tell she’s suffering from the way she pales when rising to her feet.

“Can you…give me a minute? I’ll be quick.”

It takes him a moment to understand she wants to clean up with the paper towels. He turns around facing the wall, glad the water still runs but that’ll be out soon too, like most of the power a couple weeks ago.

She looks less like she walked out of a horror movie when he turns around again. Half the dress is still red, but there’s nothing to be done about that.

“You’re sure it’s safe out there?” she asks.

“Hell no. Nowhere’s safe.”

“Right. Of course.”

That was too rough. He always sounds mad when he’s not and tries to soften this time around. “Sounds clear, though. I’ll go ahead, you stay back a few feet, and if things get bad, run the first chance you get.”

Olivia nods, her cheek pressed to the baby’s small face. If something happens to them, it’s on him now. If he dwells on that, his brain may fizzle out, so he seizes the handle, readies his gun, and steps into the darkness.

There are a few stragglers, but the mini herd has shuffled on.

Using his knife, he silences two rotters as they ascend the steps.

The baby’s constant gurgling and squeaking threaten to expose them at the worst moment, and Olivia trips on a step, almost face-planting.

He should have been helping her more. She just had a baby, and he’s expecting her to keep up with him.

Forgot for a minute that she’s not at one hundred percent. Barely looks charged to thirty.

He loops an arm under her shoulder and tugs her to her feet as they emerge into a cold, pitch-black night. Tries not to notice how she slumps against him or how weak she is.

People who slump can’t be left alone, and he absolutely needs to take her somewhere remotely safe so they can both be on their way. He’s done his good deed for the year. The rest is up to her. He’s got other shit to deal with.

The baby has quieted and not a moment too soon.

The streets are littered with the dead and only the cloak of darkness protects them as they creep toward a back alley and aim for less populated areas.

The eerie silence feels like a trap. Every step on crunching glass and squish of blood under his boots is a GPS beacon to their location.

By the time they make it to a deserted side street with plenty of options for looting a living space, he figures this is as good a time as any to part ways.

No rotters in sight. Lots of ground-level apartments.

He’ll even bust open a window for her and make sure she gets settled.

He’ll give her his knife, so she has two.

She could take one of his granola bars.

That’s doing a lot right there, more than anyone else. He won’t sit around feeling bad about it, not for one second.

At least, not until he turns to face her, and he knows exactly what she’s about to ask before she even says it.

“Please don’t leave us.” Her voice cuts through the silence in a barely there whisper, mindful of drawing the wrong attention. “I can keep her quiet, I promise. I can be useful. We won’t be any trouble.”

Shit.

Olivia’s watching him like she’s afraid to hope that he might not be a total asshole.

He’s no one’s savior. Doesn’t want the responsibility they’ll saddle him with or the guilt he’ll feel when something goes wrong, but instead of doing the logical thing and leaving them behind…

he adds another stupid choice to a long list.

“Come on, then. We’re wasting time standing around.”

He hates how relieved she looks and that tentative smile she tries to give him, but even more than that, he hates that it feels good to be on the receiving end.

It would have been a lot easier to find a kitten instead.