The Withered Series (Book 1): Wither (33 page)

The
man releases my hair and grips my waist with both hands. He tugs at
my pants, grunting as they slowly begin to fall.  “Stop!”

“Oh,
no,” he chuckles as his hand slides down my waistband.  I
clench as rough calloused hands glide over my backside. “There
will be no stopping.”

“Cable!”
 I shriek.  “Help me!”

A
filthy hand covers my mouth.  My eyes clamp shut as I feel him
press against me.  The sound of my heartbeat thrashes in my
ears. My legs feel weak, my nostrils flare as terror and rage mingle.

“Don’t
you fucking touch me!” My shout is muffled by his hand.  I
try to bite him, to shift or twist out of his grasp, but he has me
subdued.

“Hey!”
My head rears back at the sound of a voice.  My cheek burns as
it peels away from the ice. “Whatcha got there?”

“I
call dibs. You can have her next, Gentry.”  He runs his
hand down my side, dipping around to pinch my breast.  I buck
and knock his hand away. “She’s a real fighter. You’ll
like her.”

The
approaching heavy footfalls sound hollow in my ears against the
rushing of my pulse.  I can feel the onset of a panic attack
nearing as I try to see the second man. His voice is low and gruff.
 When a second hand, larger than the first, wraps around my hip
I thrash.

The
man behind me hollers and shouts in approval. “She’s a
wild thing,” he crows as he slaps the side of my hip.

I
fall still, terrified of assisting him in his plunder.  The new
hand tightens on my hip. “Brian will shit bricks if he hears
you took her.”

“We,”
the man says with voice slick as oil. “You and me, Gentry.
 Boss man don’t gotta know about it.  We can do away
with her after.  No harm done.  Just a bit of sport while
they wrap up that mess back there.  What do you say?”

The
tension in the fingers at my hip increases.  Tears spill from my
chin, pattering against the hood of the car as the man named Gentry
brushes his thumb along the rise of my hip.  He’s
considering it.  

“You
got two minutes.”  The hand pulls away and I yank against
the rope, knowing that I’m out of time.  The fibers eat
into my flesh as my captor tries to force my legs apart.  

A
sudden blaring of a car alarm startles my attacker.  I grunt and
shove back, thrusting my head.  It slams into something solid
and I celebrate at the sickening crunch from behind.

“Bitch!”
I try to duck the swinging blow but move a hair too slow.  His
fist grazes off my side and slams into the hood.  He hops back,
howling.  I turn and kick wildly, aiming for anything I can
reach.

The
man buckles before me.  The sound of running reaches me and I
know Gentry didn’t go far. Probably waiting for his turn.  

I
wiggle against the car, desperately trying to shove my pants up.
 About five inches of my skin is still bare when I’m
tackled to the ground.  I hit the pavement hard. There is no
slide this time.  Glancing up, I realize the flames have come
around the side of the building and are heading straight for us.

“If
you don't let me go we’re going to die,” I rasp.  My
lungs feel bruised.  My entire left side splintering with pain.

“Shut
up.”  A fist slams into my side and I inhale sharply,
realizing for the first time how potent the scent of gasoline is.  I
press my nose to the ground and sniff.  The car must have had a
gas leak. That’s why they left it behind.

“The
flames,” I try again.  “Look at the fire!”

For
a second the man does.  He falls still overhead and I allow
myself a second to hope. “We are lying in a pool of gasoline. I
know you can smell it.”

He
shifts on top of me, glancing around. He tugs at my rope bindings.
“When that fire reaches that car we all burn.  Am I really
worth dying for?”

“Shit,
no.”  He shoves me into the ground and rises.  “I’m
outta here.”

“Gentry!”
 I turn to see my initial attacker for the first time.  A
thick beard covers his face, dark and overgrown.  It’s
obvious by the length of it that his beard was already well in place
before the world sank into hell.  His cheeks are sunken with
patches of angry red, flaking rash cover his cheeks.

“You
son of a bitch!  You’re infected!” I hurl myself at
him, yanking with all my might against the ropes as I head-butt him
in the stomach. The ropes give slightly. I yank again, rearing my
head back and slam my forehead down onto his chest.

My
vision blurs under the impact and for a second I nearly pass out.
 The feel of the rope slipping over my hand brings me back.  I
slam my fist into the man’s arms, raised to protect his face. I
tremble as I beat against him, the rope dangling from my left hand
with each blow.

“Never.
Fucking. Touch. Me. Again.” An odd numbing sensation falls over
me as I land punches, hitting ribs, stomach and the side of his head.
Wherever he lowers his defenses.  I don’t feel the skin
over my knuckles split.  Don't react when an enormous explosion
from behind me rocks the ground and sends a fireball high into the
night sky, casting its orange light across the ground.

I
stare into the terrified eyes of my attacker and feel something snap.
 I beat him till I’m panting and drenched with sweat.  His
pleas fuel my rage.  There is no mercy, no pity to be found
within me.  Only a thirst for revenge that has yet to be
quenched.

Smoke
hangs thick in the air.  I can feel it’s scorching heat
and know I’m running out of time, but it doesn’t matter
anymore. All that matters is that I hurt this man.

An
unseen blow rocks me backward as the man retaliates. My head spins
and I fall to my side.  The rough concrete tears at my palms. My
fingers land on something cold and I retract them, before falling
still.  There, lying partially hidden beneath the car is a tire
iron.

Without
thought I grasp the iron and swing.  My captor screams as I hit
his raised hand.  He curls in on himself as I stagger to my
feet.  With his feet he pushes away, slowly inching his way up
the wall. Flames lick the wooden siding not far from us.  The
ground less than twenty feet away begins to ignite.  

There
is terror in the man’s eyes as he watches me approach.  I
grip the tire iron, my hands feeling steady for the first time.
“Please,” he raises a hand.

Cocking
my head to the side, I smile. “I like it when they
scream...just a little.”

I
swing the tire iron with all my might. Blood splatters my face and
arms.  His screams rise above the crackling flames.  His
attempts to protect himself diminish.  I swing until my
shoulders grow weary and the fire nips at my heels.  

The
tire iron hooks on the remnants of the man’s skull.  I
place my foot on his chest and yank it free. Thick globs of slick
matter cling to my skin as I raise my arms overhead for another blow.

Something
solid tackles me from the side.  I scream as I slam to the
ground, bucking wildly.  “Shh,” Cable soothes, his
firm grip stilling my fight. “It’s me.”

“Cable?”
 The tire iron slips from my hands.  My fingers are sticky
as I reach out for his face, unable to comprehend that he is here.
That he came for me.  

I
try to blink away the smoke stinging my eyes.  Blood mats my
eyelashes together.  My stomach heaves as I glance down at my
attacker.  “Oh god.”

“Don’t
look.”  Cable shields me but I know the horror that lies
at my feet.  I did this.  

“We
have to get out of here.”  He grunts as he hauls me to my
feet.  I try to skirt the edge of the flames, but my legs give
way beneath me.  Cable scoops me into his arms and runs full out
toward the overpass.  He doesn’t slow to duck behind the
cars or weave among them. He follows the railing and flees.

Wrapping
my arms around his neck, I look behind us. What was once a single
fire has become a raging inferno.  Flames engulf the last
section of the truck stop before we reach the other side.  Cable’s
footing is sure on the newly melted road.  The scorching heat
races after us as we escape into the woods.

I
cling to him as the trembling finally comes. As the realization of
what I did sinks in.  He carries me deep into the forest but he
doesn’t stop, doesn’t look back.  I lay my head on
his shoulder and know in my heart that Alex is lost to us forever.
Cable would never leave a man behind.

I
shiver at the edge of the cave, my teeth chattering and my fingers
clenched into fists in my armpits.  A rain has fallen steadily
for several days.  The bite to the wind has shifted slightly,
just enough for me to hope that spring might be on the not too
distant horizon.  The damp is a welcome change to the ice,
though it keeps us trapped.  Not that we have anywhere else to
be.

Cable
says I’m in shock, that it will pass.  I don’t feel
in shock, not like the first time I killed a man. This time was
different.  Yes, my life was in danger.  Yes, he had hurt
me, but I could have walked away.  Could have left him for the
fire to consume, but I didn’t.

I
wanted to finish that monster off myself.

At
Cable’s cough, I turn away from the outside world and hurry
back to his side. He lies near the back of the small cave we
discovered not an hour’s hike from the burning truck stop.  Too
close for comfort, but he couldn’t go any farther. He was spent
and I welcomed the small shelter.

The
dim light escaping through the thick blanket of cloud overhead is not
nearly bright enough to allow me to see well, but I don’t need
to.  I can feel the heat pouring from him, hear the moist
wheezing in his chest.  Cable took a turn for the worse shortly
after we arrived in the cave.

For
the first two days after Cable brought us here I held on to the
delusion that maybe he really did just have the flu.  I was sick
when he first found me and look at me now. Healthy, albeit a bit
worse for wear, but I didn’t turn.  I survived.

He
hasn’t slept in nearly three nights. At first I thought he was
just wanting to keep a watchful eye in case there were any survivors
from the fire.  Then I began to realize it was because he
couldn’t sleep.  The light began to hurt his eyes
yesterday. Now he spends most of his time curled up into a ball,
shivering and moaning from random body aches, his face turned away
from the light. I try to talk to him, to give him something to think
about, but we both know it’s a wasted effort, but we are too
stubborn to admit it.

Cable’s
symptoms progressed fast.  Maybe it’s because this is the
first time he’s slowed down long enough to allow it to take
him. Maybe he pushed himself too close to the limit.  Maybe it
is just his time.  Either way, as I reach out and grasp his hand
in mine, I know that I’m not ready to say goodbye.

He
stirs, inching his way onto his side to look at me.  I shift to
block the light from his eyes. They are more sunken than before.  His
face is pale. His lips nearly colorless.

“You’re
freezing.”  He slowly lifts his hand and presses it to my
cheek. I close my eyes at his chilled touch. His fever didn't break
overnight. It vanished only to be replaced by an unnatural chill that
he can’t shake.  Natalia experienced the same thing while
Eric watched her slip away. I don’t know if I can do that.

“I’m
fine.”  I smile down at him with as much sincerity as I
can muster.

His
eyebrows rise so swiftly that I can’t help but laugh. “Ok,
I’m not, but you know...I’m trying to be.”

“Always
the martyr,” he whispers.  His fingers curl around my
cheek. I lean into his touch, knowing soon this will be lost to me.  

“That
blow to your head must have knocked something loose.  You’re
the fool who always rushes in.”  I brush my finger along
the fading bruise that spans from his hairline down to his chin.
Cable says he got that when the blast blew him backward.  I
can’t imagine how he managed to find his feet in time to save
me, but he did.  Just like he promised.

It
hurts to think about Alex, about all of the people we’ve lost
along the way.  Laying my hand across his forehead, I can’t
begin to think of what losing Cable will be like. “How are you
feeling?”

Gripping
his side, Cable allows me to help him into a seated position. He
presses back against the wall, his chest heaving.  His cheeks
are rosy, his fingertips a matching hue.  There is a bit of
swelling to his skin, as if he’s begun to retain water.
 Considering we've had little but handfuls of rainwater for the
past few days I don't see how that’s possible.

He
gives me a pointed look and grins.  “I’m fine.”

Chuckling
to myself, I sink down beside him. He slides along the wall toward me
and I take the brunt of his weight as he rests his head against mine.
 We stare out at the darkening day. Though it is not nearly time
for the sun to set, the thick layer of rain clouds overhead suck the
light from the woods early.

“Are
you ever going to tell me about Alex?”  I hold my breath,
wondering how he will take my question. I’ve waited for days
for him to bring it up, but he hasn’t.  He swallows hard
and reaches down for my hand.

“You
might as well know.”  I tuck my fingers between his as
Cable finally begins to spill the details of Alex’s final
moment.  There is pride in his voice as he speaks of Alex’s
brave attempt to make his way to one of the semis.

“He
took several bullets along the way.  One to the leg and two to
the arm and shoulder.  Nearly dropped him right in front of me.
I managed to get him hidden in one of the cars left on the side of
the shop, probably waiting for an oil change or something completely
random and normal.”

A
ghost of a smile touches his lips as he looks at the ceiling of the
cave.  “I knew he wasn’t going to make it, but he
had a good plan.  All he had to do was shove a flare into a gas
tank of a semi and run like hell.  I figured if I was going down
I was going to take them with me, so I grabbed the flares and left
Alex behind.”