“As a bullet.”
“God, you’re dramatic.”
“I kidnapped you and held you prisoner. What are you going to do about it?”
“Nothing right now. My ass hurts and I’m thirsty. Did it ever occur to you that I had never even seen a dead body before today?” I ask. “That this has all been quite shocking and traumatic, thank you very much? But oh no. There you go, making it all about you and what you want.Again.”
“You’re not going to shoot me.”
“Not right now. Maybe later. I haven’t decided yet, and you’re not going to rush me.” I shake my head. “Not dealing so well with the whole master criminal side of things, are you?”
“Guess not.”
“I told you the guilt would get heavy. But did you listen? No.”
He grunts and takes the gun from my hand and puts it back in the holster. Then he fetches a bottle of water from one of his saddlebags. “Here.”
“Thank God!” calls a strange voice. It’s a man’s voice. “Please. I need a doctor.”
And the gun is back in Dean’s hand in an instant.
“Oh, no,” I say, my stomach sinking as I back away from the oncoming unwanted visitor.
Because the man is obviously sick. His nose is red and running. Bare feet shuffle weakly through the grass. He’s dressed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a white tee. Guess he came from one of the nearby houses.
“If you can just help me get to the hospital.”
“Stay back!” shouts Dean.
“Please help me. I’ve got no one.”
“Don’t come any closer.”
“There’s no one left,” says the stranger.
“Don’t make me do it, man.”
But he doesn’t stop. Instead, this hopeful, pleading smile appears on his feverish, sweaty face, and he says, “It’s okay. Please. If you could just—”
Red blossoms in the middle of his white tee and he stumbles back a step. He stares down at his chest in confusion. Then his knees buckle, and he falls to the ground.
All of the birds fall silent at the shocking sound. The man doesn’t move again. He just lies in the green grass, eyes staring unseeing at the midday sun.
“You killed him. Holy shit.” Bile burns the back of my throat. “Okay. You had to. You had no choice. He would have infected us, wouldn’t he?”
He holsters the gun and says nothing for a moment. “We need to move. Put on your helmet and get back on the bike.”
CHAPTER FIVE
MONDAY
The next stop is a camping store in one of those shopping centers where all of the businesses face outside. And we aren’t the first nonpaying customers. Someone drove a sedan through one of the storefront windows for easy access. Dean checks that they’re gone while I wait with the motorcycle. He even gave me a gun to hold—just in case.
My growling stomach demands the snacks in my bag. We haven’t had lunch, and it’s midafternoon. I don’t know how I can be hungry after seeing hundreds of dead bodies and someone get shot. I don’t know if I am disassociating or compartmentalizing or what. Just doing my best not to think of the sick man and the sound of the gun and the bright red blood on his white shirt.
Today has been a horrible adventure. But I keep my attention on the mostly empty parking lot and the road beyond. No one else is sneaking up on us today. I refuse to spend four nights in a cage, just to get taken out by some random wandering plague victim. Not on my first day out in the world. Which sounds incredibly callous and messed up, even inside my own head. I have at least that level of self-awareness. But it’s still a valid concern.
I am not sure I could actually shoot someone. Looking vaguely menacing, however, I can do.
