Page 2 of Scavenger's Oath

My foot catches on something and sends me flying forward, scraping my knees as I slam into the dirt. Holding my breath, I lay there and strain my ears for any signs that someone heard my fall.

Nothing but crickets chirping in the tall, dry grass.

Rolling onto my back, I sit up to check my knees.Minor grazing. Nothing debilitating.

Then I see what tripped me.

A skull, laying half buried in the dry soil. The eye socket is fractured, teeth missing, the bone bleached and cracked from years in the sun.

How many women have been buried here?

A shudder rips through me, my stomach twisting.

If I don’t make it out, I’ll end up just like them. But my survival skills are non-existent. I have no idea what’s waiting out there. What kind of dangers I’ll face or how far I’ll even make it.

All I know is that it’s definitely not safe here.

No, it’s worth the risk. Even if I’m just finding a new place to die. Twenty-three years has been plenty. I need to move fast, stay low and be silent.

So, I clamber to my feet and continue running,trembling. Every breath a prayer. Not to be seen. Not to be dragged back to him.

One step at a time.

Just far enough to find something better.

Chapter1

Ivy

Voices cut through my sleep like a knife, pulling me from a heavy haze.

Adrenaline surges through me before my eyes even open. But I stay perfectly still. A skill I picked up at the farmhouse.

They’re close. Taunting. Laughing. And someone’s crying. Begging. I strain to listen but their voices tumble over each other, overlapping threats and jeers.

A warm light is coming through the dirty windows of this abandoned car, but it’s not daylight… it flickers.

It must be halfway through the night. I know I collapsed from exhaustion around midday and dragged myself in this heap of scrap before passing out.

Slowly, I roll onto my stomach, peer through the grimy window and gasp.

A flaming torch on the ground—the source of the flickering light—dimly illuminates the scene.

Just ten feet away, three hooded men loom over a man sprawled on the dirt. His ankle is twisted at a grotesque angle. He’s the one sobbing and pleading with them.

I swallow the bile rising in my throat.

Stupid of me to assume a town would be abandoned. Mostpeople fled all populated areas six years ago when the world went to shit.

But I suppose I was naïve to assume that people didn’t still frequent them.

It’s human nature to be drawn to these places. The remnants of the world we took for granted provides comfort in the chaos we face now.

In my desperation, I knew I could find something of use here. A rusty knife and the shelter of an abandoned car renewed my hope to a degree I can’t describe.

But these days, humans are the last thing you want to come across and the scene unfolding in front of me is a harsh reminder.

One of the hooded men bends down and grabs the man’s hair, yanking his head back. Blood slicks his face—or maybe it’s the dirt on the window distorting details.