Page 36

Rex and I walk a quarter of a mile west into the woods toward the weapons cache I built over the past few years. Besides watching out for Cal, I’d traveled some, collecting what I could.

“Outside of the shit I have in the house and root cellar, I created this in case I had to bail fast.”

Rex shakes his head, a stupid grin plastered on his face. “Turned into a fucking prepper.”

“Don’t knock it. They’re the reason I have most of this stuff. Prepped against a lot of things but couldn’t keep safe from that fucking virus.”

Very few could.

No one knows why some were able to fight it off when most couldn’t, or even why some people are naturally immune.

Hell, no one really knows where it came from either. Though, wouldn’t be surprised if someone was tinkering around in a science lab.

Fuckers always think just because they can, they should. Guess nature turned around and gave us all the finger.

With how fast everything spread, most were focused on trying to save lives or trying to survive themselves, especially when people started going crazy, looting and killing.

When half of our base died, a few of us headed off into the mountains. Used our skills to stay alive. Until there were only three of us left.

My eyes travel down to my forearm.

“Been thinking about her too.”

Rex offers me a weak smile. “Think that’s why Colt ultimately went his own way.”

I rake my gloved hand through my hair. “He’ll die hating me. Still can’t believe I missed that shot.”

“Rising’s just a pipe dream, a goddamn fantasy at this point. All we’ve been doing is fighting, dying, or barely surviving.”

Ain’t that the truth. Not that there are any winners in war. Too many demons follow you home.

Rex picks up one of the ARs. “Should teach Devon how to shoot. You have enough bullets for some training?”

I nod. Besides food and medical supplies, I always make sure to grab what bullets I can. “Teach Cal too.”

“Can he fight?”

“No.”

Though he did pretty well when he launched himself across the table at Devon that one day. Didn’t think my little fawn had it in him. “Maybe if it was a bar fight.”

“Miss those.”

“Me too.”

As we open some of the containers, my heart feels fuller. Cal didn’t run when he woke up. He was still out of sorts and a bit sore, but Rex helped out, then talked to both of us. Seems Cal easily falls into subspace. Just something I gotta pay attention to.

We also went through aftercare.

Then they talked among themselves too. Cal seemed more confident, like answers were given to questions he had.

Afterwards, the two boys decided to go into town. Cal has some stuff he stored at his childhood home he wanted to get. Plus, Devon wanted to see where Cal grew up.

Rex clears his throat. “Mind if Devon and I stay through the winter?”

“Was hoping you would. Like having you around. It’ll be like old times.”

He snorts. “You’ll lose a fuckin’ hand if it’s like old times.”

“Eh, Devon’s coming around to me.”

After sorting through some weapons, we grab extra ammo to bring down to the house, then put everything back in place, making sure the cache is hidden once again.

We take our time trekking back, reminiscing about times before the damn virus wiped out most of the people on the planet, talking about some of the crazy ass missions we had, some of the dumb shit we used to do.

“Wonder what those two would be doing if the world was the same, like it used to be?”

Rex stiffens. “Don’t care to think about it.”

That’s right. Devon’s dad had been some sort of monster. But Cal . . . he would’ve had a good life. Would’ve gone to college for sure.

We’re barely at the property fence when a gunshot echoes through the air, freezing me where I stand.

It’s from a good distance away, which means it’s from town.

Rex looks at me as we race toward the house. “They take the shotgun?”

“No.”

We burst through the door and into my weapons room. I grab the Barrett M82 and a Sig while Rex grabs an M4. I hand him an extra ammo clip, nodding gravely as he holsters his sidearm.

The biting wind whips at my face as we rush out of the front door, then hurry down the snow-draped gravel road. I pull my scarf up over my mouth and nose, my legs burning as we slog along the tree line.

Rex scans the area with binoculars. “Nine hostiles. All armed. Shit. Six of ‘em got Cal and Devon cornered down an alley.”

“Fuck.”

Moving into position, I peer through the scope of the sniper rifle until I spot the boys. Devon’s standing between the small group and Cal, both boys have their knives out. Not that the blades will do much against bullets.

My jaw clenches and I fight to remain calm, to keep focused when all I want to do is run down there and slaughter every last one of the trespassers.

This is my town, and that is my boy they are threatening.

I maneuver the scope a bit when one of the men, who’s wearing some freaky ass tragedy theater mask that’s red with black highlights, comes into view.

He’s big.

Too big.

Could easily break the boys.

And Devon’s glaring right at the bastard.

I take slow, steady breaths, waiting for Rex to make his way closer. He’s around the corner, and no one’s spotted him yet.

He gives me the signal, coming up from the rear as I shoot, dropping two of the bastards.

The third shot, aimed at the asshole with the red mask, misses.

When Devon lunges at the fuck I abandon the M82 and bolt from my position, drawing my Sig as I sprint down the slope.

More gunshots echo through town, mingled with shouts and shattering glass.

Bile claws its way up my throat. Cal better be okay. He has to be.

Out of nowhere, I’m tackled to the ground, chilling psychotic laughter filling my ears. I throw my head back, connecting with whoever’s on top of me.

Only they laugh more.

The giggling is haunting. Makes me sick to my stomach.

“Mac!”

I turn my head and spot Cal, who’s rushing toward us as I flip this fucker off my body.

The crazy shit is wearing a green comedy theater mask, only it also seems to be clownish.

“Sick fuck.”

I aim at the bastard, about to pull the trigger, when something rips into my left shoulder like a red-hot poker. Took a few bullets before so I know exactly what just happened.

I stumble and drop my sidearm. Cal stops dead in his tracks, eyes wide. Please God, don’t let him watch me die.

Closing my eyes for a second, I take a deep breath, then open them and peer at the guy a few feet away with a gun, the muzzle still trained on me.

A knife is jammed into the guy’s neck. As the body falls, Devon, drenched in blood, stands there.

Jesus, fuck.

Rex wasn’t kidding about him being more dangerous than he looks.

The green-masked psycho turns back to me, kicking my Sig out of reach.

“Get Cal outta here,”

I say to Devon.

He nods and races over to Cal who’s making his way toward me, his own knife out, eyes locked onto the giggling fucker now choking me.

But Devon intercepts and drags my little fawn away.

Refocusing on my current problem, I grab this asshole’s thumb, bending it back. He releases my neck only to grab hold of the sleeve of my jacket as he unleashes a series of punches to my face.

I block a few as I unzip the jacket and slip out of it, causing him to tumble backward.

But he recovers quickly, launching himself back at me. His thumb jams into the bullet hole and I shout, then throw a punch into the side of his head, one he follows up by spearing me in the throat.

The psycho fuck knocks my legs out from under me, giggling again while I choke, then steps on my wrist as he brandishes a hunting knife.

Fuck.

“Rex!”

Goddammit. Please save my ass. Not ready to be taken out by this bastard.

The green-masked psycho freezes, head tilting. I try to yank my arm free but he steps on it harder, staring.

This close, I can see his emerald-colored eyes. They look normal. If only his damn brain was. I yank again and he just adds more body weight.

I follow his line of sight and it lands on the snake and skull tattoo. He looks at it, then to me, and backs off. He bends and picks up my Sig.

He starts to walk away just as Rex rounds the corner, sidearm drawn. To his right, one of the hostiles has a gun drawn on him.

“Rex!”

A gunshot echoes and the hostile drops. Rex freezes and I turn my head to find the green-masked psycho.

He shot his own man.

What the actual fuck!

The red-masked guy comes out of nowhere. “Joker?”

“Time to leave.”

Something passes between the two, but three others still have their weapons drawn on us.

This Joker character must be missing some screws because he just walks away without a care in the world. Turns his back on all of us. The red-masked guy mutters a string of curses, then follows.

I straighten. “Can't let you leave.”

Both men turn and look at me, and fuck, I’ll be having nightmares for weeks. The red-masked guy steps forward. “You kill us, more will come. And it won’t be pretty.”

Rex points his gun at the guy. “We’ll put you down before you even get close.”

Joker leans into his companion and whispers something because the red-masked guy goes a bit apeshit before turning back to us. “We won’t be back. Town’s now off limits. You don’t have to worry about seeing us here again. Though . . . you come into Jackal territory and all bets are off.”

The guy barely finishes talking when Devon slits one of the remaining hostile’s throats. To be fair, the guy was pointing his rifle at Rex. “Four of you against the four of us.”

“Devon, back away!”

Rex shouts.

Joker tilts his head as if studying Devon, who mockingly waves at the green-masked psycho, that mischievous twinkle in his eyes glittering.

Jesus, take the motherfucking wheel.

Cal runs up behind Devon, pulling him back by his hood.

Joker, his red-masked companion, and the remaining two hostiles walk off. Rex follows but keeps a distance, Devon on his heels since Cal let him go to run over to me.

“Mac.”

Cal stops short, inspecting my shoulder. His lips tremble and he looks pale. “Is it bad?”

“Is there a hole in the back?”

Cal walks around and groans. “Yeah.”

“Good. Much better than if the bullet was still in me.”

Though shit hurts like hell. But that’s not my biggest concern.

I grab Cal and turn him around in a circle, looking over him. My hand skims his neck, hair, and body looking for any wounds.

“I’m okay.”

My thumb grazes softly over his cheek. “You certain? Can’t lose you.”

He nods. “Devon kept me safe. Rex killed most of them. But I helped. I got one myself.”

“Told you to run.”

He glares. “I’m not a scared deer. I told you that. I might not be the best, but like you made me promise—I’m not running, especially when I need to protect you too.”

I lean in and kiss him. “Just glad you’re okay. Let’s get back home.”