Page 75

Claire

T wo days of sun, swimming, and sex passed in a blissful haze that I never wanted to end.

The honeymoon felt like a protective cocoon, shielding me from the horror of the last couple of months.

Only sunshine, orgasms, and my handsome Wastelander existed here, and I was content to keep it that way indefinitely.

The fourth day was warm, and we took a hike through the woods before spending the rest of the day on the beach. I even jumped from the cliff again, much to John’s amusement.

“Horseback riding and now cliff diving?” he said with a chuckle as he watched me swim from his spot on the beach. “Never guessed my Claire would turn out to be so adventurous.”

I laughed and waded up onto the sand to plop down beside him. “I’m full of surprises.”

He wrapped a towel around my shoulders before pulling me against him.

I lay my head against his sun-warmed shoulder, my wet hair spilling over his bare chest. I picked up his t-shirt, which he’d left lying beside him, and pulled it over my head, letting it fall to my thighs before resting my head against him again.

He smiled affectionately at me, then reached next to him to pick up a large white flower.

“Found it growing in the grass near the boulders,” he said, nodding to our left. “Made me think of you.”

I smiled. “And why’s that?”

John nestled the flower in my hair, behind my ear. “Because it’s beautiful and delicate. Like you.”

I snorted in protest. “I am not delicate!”

He chuckled. “You are. In the way you look, talk, and move. I like it.”

Mollified, I nuzzled against his shoulder, and we sat in silence like that for a few moments, gazing across the sparkling water and enjoying the sunshine.

I was about to ask John if he’d swim with me again when I felt him tense next to me, suddenly on alert. When I raised my head to look at him, he was frowning, clearly listening carefully.

“What—” I began, but he put a finger to his lips, and I fell silent.

It had gotten oddly quiet. No bird calls, no rustling leaves.

There was only the soft whistle of a light breeze that somehow felt ominous.

John looked over his shoulder towards the dirt road that led out to the old highway.

A faint mechanical whine hummed in the distance.

Though I couldn’t precisely identify it, I knew I’d heard it before. My heart started pounding.

“We’re not alone,” John said. “Stay quiet and follow me.”

He spoke rapidly in that low, authoritative tone that told me he’d switched into survival mode. Something was deeply wrong.

We grabbed our bags and weapons. I followed John to the rocky wall of boulders he’d gestured to. Beyond them, the terrain dipped into a shallow, mostly concealed gulley. He led me into the ditch, and we crouched behind the boulders.

“Take out the rabbit gun,” John instructed as he laid his rifle across his lap. “Be ready.”

The whine grew louder, and I suddenly understood that it was a combustion engine. The kind that only military vehicles at the Cave had used. My heart thumped clumsily against my ribs. My only thought was that it had to be the cult. No one else would’ve had access. And they were here for me .

John’s expression was grim and focused as multiple vehicles approached. The engine sounds died some distance away, and vehicle doors opened and banged shut. My hands were clammy around the rabbit gun.

“You’re sure the signal came from here?” a man’s voice said skeptically. “We’re in the middle of buttfuck nowhere, Sergeant.”

“Yes,” another man insisted. “The tracker says Ainley’s within 500 metres of here. She only just popped up again a couple days ago. We verified with IT that it’s working properly. So, either she ripped it out—unlikely—or she’s here somewhere.”

Panic flooded my senses. Somehow, they’d tracked me again. We were hidden, but not for long.

“They have rifles, and some are armoured,” John muttered. “Shit.”

“They’re going to find me,” I whispered.

Already, more voices joined the previous two. By my count, there were at least five of them out there, searching for me. One look at John told me that he knew it too: we were vastly outnumbered and outgunned. His jaw tightened, and I could almost see the wheels spinning in his head.

“Run,” John said in a low voice.

“What?” I shot back. “No!”

“Yes,” he replied, his expression hardened. “Crawl along the gulley until you reach the edge of the woods. I’ll buy you time to get there. The forest will give you cover. Then you run like hell, you understand?”

He fished in the pocket of his pants, produced his compass, and pressed it into my hand.

“Follow it northwest back home.”

“I can’t leave you,” I whispered, my throat constricting.

“I’ll be fine. Send outriders back.”

To clean up what’s left of you? Tears welled in my eyes as John pulled me close and kissed my lips, equal parts tender and desperate. The truth it contained tore me open: it was a goodbye kiss.

“I love you,” he murmured. He wrapped a hand around the back of my head and brought my forehead to his lips, pressing a quick, hard kiss there. “Go.”

For a half-second, I was frozen, my pulse pounding in my ears .

A million images of John came into my mind all at once.

The first time I saw him, up on that rooftop at the abandoned factory.

My first fishing lesson and his pride when I caught one.

His stunned expression the first time I kissed him.

His sweet, uninhibited laughter when he was messing around with Kimmy or Danny.

His sleepy, satisfied smile as he held me after we made love.

The tears he shed at his grandparents’ grave.

The way he looked at me at our wedding, just days ago, as if I was the most precious thing in his entire world.

As I watched him shift into a more comfortable shooting position, my stomach flipped. They didn’t want him—only me.

I knew what I had to do, and it was either completely crazy or moronic. Likely both. But there were no other options left, and no time to come up with a better plan. I would do anything to save my Wastelander.

“Hey, Sergeant!” a man’s voice called, uncomfortably close to our hiding spot. “Looks like somebody’s camped here recently.”

Heart in my mouth, I took my pistol and tucked a pocketknife into the ribbons of my swimsuit at the shoulder.

I crawled deeper into the gulley as John instructed, until I was far enough away that I was no longer in arm’s reach.

I looked over my shoulder, watching John carefully.

He was waiting in position, watching to see what they’d do before he made himself known.

I had seconds before the first shot would be fired.

I sprang to my feet and ran up the slope, towards the voices, screaming as loud as I could.

“What the fuck—?” another male voice shouted.

I reached the top of the slope and briefly caught a glimpse of my pursuers—men in military uniforms like the ones they’d worn back at the Cave. No black Order uniforms. No Eye masks. No markings of the cult anywhere.

Who are these people? I had no time to contemplate. Instead, I put my plan into action.

“Bear!” I screeched like a ninny, pointing behind me in the opposite direction from where John was still hidden.

I sprinted like a marathon runner for the woods, suddenly very aware of the fact that I was barefoot and wearing nothing but a bikini and John’s oversized t-shirt. I pulled on my braid, loosing my long, red hair. Instantly recognizable, easy to spot in almost any landscape—a beacon to my pursuers.

“I’ve got eyes on her!” someone yelled stupidly, as though that wasn’t exactly what I wanted.

That same someone gave chase. He was closer than I’d anticipated and gained ground on me quickly.

We were still on the beach—flat and open, no trees to conceal me.

Only a few feet from the treeline, I cried out as a hand closed around my hair and yanked me backwards, toppling me onto the sand. I dropped my pistol.

No, I need to keep running, I thought frantically. I need to draw them farther away.

“Sir—” the soldier holding my hair began calling, just as a deafening bang split the air.

I yelped as I was splattered with hot, sticky blood.

The right side of the soldier’s head was now a gushing, gory mess of tissue.

Blood spurted out, and he let go of my hair, collapsing like a marionette with its strings abruptly severed.

As always, John’s aim was impeccable.

The soldiers scattered, yelling to one another and struggling to find cover. I sprang up and retrieved my pistol from the ground. Deep breath, Claire. I screamed again, louder and longer, and bolted for the trees.

I heard a cacophony of cursing behind me, and more men pursued me. I couldn’t be sure it was all of them, but I hoped it would be enough. It had to be enough.

I ran through the woods, wincing as my feet scraped over sharp rocks and tree roots. I got caught momentarily on a branch and pine needles rained down on me, but I used the surge of adrenaline to keep going.

The soldiers weren’t used to the rough terrain of the forest, and though their apparent inexperience slowed them down, I had been running for far longer and was beginning to tire. I darted behind a large tree trunk for cover, gasping for air, then peeked around the side.

“You see where she went?”

He was only twenty feet away, his grey tactical uniform practically a flashing red light in the green of the forest, and I didn’t give myself time to overthink. I aimed my pistol around the tree trunk and fired, hitting him square in the chest. John would’ve been proud of that shot .

He fell backwards, and there was immediately answering gunfire. I stayed with my back pressed against the tree until it stopped, and mercifully, I wasn’t hit. I took off again and we repeated the pattern: I hid in the thick brush and fired on them when I could.