Page 13 of The General’s Captive (The Rift #1)

Harpies.

Appearance – Winged, wrinkled skin. Ugly and smells like a rotting corpse fucked a skunk.

Mythology - Greek

Kill Rating – Class four (Class three if working as a group)

Strengths – Venomous bite, Talon nails, surprisingly quick, strong despite haggard appearance.

How to Kill – Stun to kill. Hates loud noises. A sharp knife to the heart. Shotgun, Close range.

Notes -Usually come in groups of three or four. Easier to kill when alone)

I was fully aware that I was gawking at the man.

Staring because I hadn’t expected a real-life action man to turn up and save me.

Hell, I didn’t even know people like him still existed in the world.

And I was absolutely not staring at the impressive size of him.

Not staring at that muscular torso or the way the material of his army green tee stretched around his biceps.

Nor was it because of his handsome face, his square jaw, his perfect nose, or his easy, slightly smug smile.

I most certainly wasn’t staring at his messy, blonde hair or the way it naturally waved back from his gorgeous hazel eyes.

Nope. Definitely not staring.

“You’re welcome,” he said with just a hint of sarcasm before throwing the shotgun up against his shoulder, turning, and walking out toward the front of the store.

I stared after him, then looked down at the brain matter on the floor from the two dead Myths and finally my mouth and brain started to catch up.

“Hey! Wait up!” I called out as he disappeared down the aisles.

“Army dude! Wait for me!” I called after him again, after stuffing my gun back in my bag and swinging it on my shoulder. A moment of confusion hit me as I peered around the store. He was nowhere to be found, making me realize he must have made it out the front already.

I ran the rest of the way, and panic gripped me. I didn’t want to lose the first person who had ever helped me. And seeing as he looked like he was an expert at all this surviving shit, I thought my chances with him were far better than being alone.

Besides, I didn’t want to be lonely anymore.

It was depressing and I was admittedly going a little crazy.

When I made it outside, I scanned the parking lot, confused when I didn’t see him.

Had he jumped in a car? But if so, then I would have heard an engine.

Because that was the thing in an apocalypse, how silent everything became.

No hustle and bustle of busy streets, sounds of traffic, construction, sirens, people chatting, the buzz of life, it all kind of just… stopped.

I missed conversations. I missed human interactions. I missed laughing and joking and the normality of life. All those things you take for granted. I missed it all!

But thanks to that silence, I knew that unless the guy was some Olympic sprinter or the next Usain Bolt, there was no way he couldn’t be around here somewhere.

“Hey! Where are you!?” I shouted, knowing it was foolish but yes, I was that desperate and, well, it worked, because suddenly I was grabbed from behind with a hand held over my mouth. I was then dragged backward and pulled down behind a car.

“Could you be any more stupid?!” came an angry, guttural whisper in my ear. I tried to answer but it came out muffled from behind his large hand still held over my mouth.

I pulled relentlessly on his muscular arm, and he finally got the hint to let me go.

I elbowed him in his very hard chest as I whirled around to face him.

The elbow had no effect, unless you classed the darkening of his expression as one.

I felt like a schoolgirl that had just been scolded by a teacher. Jeez, this guy was intense.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? Jesus… I didn’t know those wrinkly old hags were going to show up. I haven’t seen any Myths in days. Or weeks. Could be weeks.” I scrunched my face up while engaging ‘thinking mode’, trying hard to pinpoint when I had last seen another creature.

“They were harpies, and they usually come in groups of three,” he told me, his hard face not in ‘thinking mode’ but instead deep in ‘Army man survival mode’. Now why hadn’t I come with that mode during the apocalypse?

“Well, let’s get going then! We don’t want a round two, do we?” I pulled his arm, but he shook me off with ease.

“Not a chance. I need to find the final one, get what I came for, and report back.”

I frowned, wondering what he meant by that. As for GI Joe, he ignored me and positioned his gun on the hood of the car before bringing his head up and scouring the area.

“Report back? Report back to where?” I asked, now sounding hopeful.

However, when I was met with silence, I knew I had to keep poking the bear.

“Hey, report back to where?” I scowled at his back as he continued to ignore me.

Instead looking around the carpark, trailing his gun left and right, like he was playing Call of Duty or something.

Fine, if he was going to ignore me, I was going to eat. I could feel my hands start to shake from hunger, seeing as I hadn’t eaten yet. So, I made myself busy by emptying my backpack and took on the task of finding something quiet to chew on.

Weapons and bullets at the top were a definite, I had made that mistake too many times. Hey, look at that, get me, I was learning! I would also need to add to my journal tonight and make a new entry about Harpies.

Of course, I tried to do all this in a super quiet way, but that wasn’t easy with the bag of chips that rustled, earning me a harsh look of disapproval.

“What’s up, Action Man? Want some flamin’ hot Cheetos? No … probably too hot for you,” I muttered this last part under my breath.

“Do you mind?” he snapped.

“Not at all. Sorry, no salty ones, which is very fitting since you have been a grade-A salty asshole since we met.”

He glowered down at me with hazel eyes,

“Well, apart from when you saved my life, of course,” I added with what I knew was a sickly-sweet smile.

“Seriously, how are you still alive? Doesn’t know how to use a gun, walks straight out into the open, sings like a screaming banshee to whatever terrible music that was.

” His hand shot out with surprising speed and grabbed my precious Cheetos, before growling, “And. No. Fucking. Chips.” He ended the statement with an audible pop as the bag burst, thanks to his big man-hand crushing the packet and, with it, my hopes and dreams.

Okay, so not quite, but I still wanted to cry. This before hoovering up the floor like some crazed junk food lunatic, snorting artificial cheese power from the asphalt like a drug addict.

Hence why my face dropped as the contents spilled to the floor.

“You seriously just did that… I… what… you… That was my favorite flavor!” I hissed before glaring at him.

But then without missing a beat, he heard a noise and acted immediately.

It was so impressive, I forgot all about his hatred for chips.

He swung the gun in the direction and BANG, he pulled the trigger.

I jumped back in fright at the gunshot, then the sound of something heavy falling close by followed.

I hadn’t even seen the damn thing!

And he was right, because now even I was asking myself at this point, how was I still alive?

“What the hell was that?” I looked in the direction his gun had pointed and saw another Harpy bleeding out before my eyes.

“That…” he said with a cocky smirk, “…is the third Harpy and me proving my point.”

I narrowed my eyes and asked in a haughty tone, “Which is?”

“That you may be cute, but you’re useless.”

My mouth dropped and I quickly envisioned my knuckles making impact with his ridiculously handsome face as I rid it of its smirk.

Of course, the stupid girly part of my brain wanted to point out that he thought I was cute.

The other part, that made me want to kick him in the balls to see if he squealed, focused on the insult.

But then a quiet but high-pitched moan rolled across the parking lot. Zipping my backpack up quickly, I shouldered it the second he was no longer crouched down so I could follow him, watching as it looked like he was reloading the shotgun.

I had to admire the way he walked with confidence toward the dying Harpy.

As for me, my pulse quickened at the sight, my breaths coming shallow and deep as visions of the Harpy suddenly jumping up and ripping me apart entered my mind.

I was also scratching at one wrist, because that slight burning sensation was back.

Which was when something strange happened, and instead of snapping some insult my way, he simply caught sight of what I was doing and acted. He took my wrist in his hand, his eyes never leaving the body on the ground, and started to rub his thumb gently over my inner wrist.

His touch was like an ice-cold drink on a hot summer’s day; refreshing, and it calmed me nearly instantly. So, he had the ability to kill with one shot and could calm with one touch. What else could he do?

My Action Man.

I didn’t even know his name. I mean, I couldn’t keep calling him Action Man or GI Joe, no matter how much the shoe fit.

Especially dressed the way he was, in his khaki, combat pants, tight army green tee, bulging muscles, and floppy blond hair.

His hazel eyes were without a doubt my favorite part.

They could be calm one second and then dancing with mirth the next, going from serious soldier to boy-next-door charm in seconds. It was confusing, and mesmerizing.

Damn… so mesmerizing.

Averting my eyes from the distraction, I looked at the creature before us.

The Harpy was gravely injured and had blood leaking from its ear.

Action Man offered out his hand to me and I took it, mine half the size of his, and he turned me to face the store.

I would have questioned why but, seconds later, and I jumped with a shriek as his shotgun finished off the job. A sight he had wanted to save me from.

Okay so that was nice.