Wade has the map of the latest sightings in one hand, Kara’s gun in the other, and his determination to keep her safe driving him forward.
She must have found the note already. He tries not to imagine her face when she realizes he’s gone. Guilt for lying to her almost had him backtracking three times, but if he doesn’t do this, then she will.
Without her, there’s no reason to keep going anyway, but she could still move on without him. She was always stronger than she ever gave herself credit for. He may not be able to live without her, but she can build another life on her own once she accepts that he’s gone. He’s certain of it.
That doesn’t mean he wants to die out here, though. This isn’t a suicide mission, even if it feels like it. He wants to finish this and go home. Take her out on the road and raise goats somewhere far away, watch fireflies on the porch, and make love on every surface.
Someday.
Maybe.
If she’ll have him.
He has plenty of reason to live, assuming she’ll take him back after he snuck out and left her behind. Normally, he’s stealthy,but this morning he was clumsier than he’s ever been, trying to tiptoe around the room. She must have been exhausted not to wake up when he knocked into a side table and nearly toppled a lamp.
It was easy to snatch the supplies she hid under the bed, but that’s where the simplicity ended. He worried he may not be able to leave the house alone and every step past the front door only reinforced that fear.
He’s fooling himself if he thinks he’s ready for this. Silas takes up residence in his head rent-free and haunts his dreams. Wade was on edge from walking the dog around town, so it’s no shock that leaving the gates has him on the verge of a breakdown. His palms tingle and itch, prompting him to reach for the hair tie out of habit, only to meet bare skin. He left it on the pillow, knowing she’d want it back if something happened. Now he misses that reassurance.
Having no anchor has him lightheaded, and his grip on the gun whitens his knuckles. Four unfortunate squirrels almost met their demise in less than a mile when their chattering scared the shit out of him. Wade’s time in captivity has grown hazy over these last few weeks. Details have begun to fade, memories clump together. His mind is trying to give him solace, but even the half-formed flashbacks that hit him now have his stomach rolling.
The cuffs cutting purple bruises into his wrists as he contemplates dislocating a thumb to escape.
Silas’s laugh after Wade won a fight in the pits, patting him on a dislocated shoulder as if he were a prized horse.
The knowledge that he could die in some dusty closet or basement, never seeing Kara’s face again.
How he missed her so much it ached in his chest until real pain took over, clenching whenever he thought of her.
Years of torture have still left more marks than he can count. He’s nowhere near ready to face his abuser, and yet he keeps walking. Another step and another, cutting through trees and winding through back roads. He refuses to stop. He did this of his own free will. No one made him come out here. No one shoved him into the devil’s path.
He’s taking this route so she doesn’t have to and because he knows there’s no chance he can talk her out of it. He tried the other day to help her see a future where they leave this all behind, but Kara with a plan is a force of nature, and he isn’t enough to sway her.
Forming his own plan is challenging, though, and stealing hers won’t work. He’s not pretty enough to be bait, that’s for damn sure. No reason for the enemy to pick him up in some false attempt at help.
If he wants to reach the source, he needs a more direct approach. Spot one and follow them back, or capture one outright and get the information that way. Whichever comes first, whichever is easiest.
He does not think about all the ways this can end in disaster. If his mind strays too far, he’ll get distracted by how angry she’ll be with him if he dies. Enough to resurrect him just to kill him again herself, he thinks with a sad, fond half-smile.
The fact that he’s spent the last six years secluded from the apocalypse, unable to develop the survival skills to travel in this world successfully, is another factor he brushes under the rug rather than dwell on it. It is what it is, he reasons. He’s fought rotters in the pits and won. He spent his whole childhood learning to survive, and half his adult life in the army learning to thrive. He can do this.
Twigs crunch under his feet as he breaks through the brush and onto a dirt road. He can move openly for the next few milesbefore ducking back into the woods. At least, he assumes so until the sound of hoofbeats catches him off guard.
Fuck. He didn’t expect them this soon.
He’s not ready.
Wade doesn’t want to die in another cell after having gotten a taste of freedom. What the fuck was he thinking? He should have begged her to leave with him instead of throwing out vague suggestions.
This is what he wanted, though, he reminds himself. To come face to face with his own nightmares and cut the monster down at the root. The thought of Kara dying in his place is what has him drawing his gun to aim at the horse cresting a hill at top speed.
Instinct tells him it’s not too late to run and hide, but love keeps him frozen.
He jiggles the trigger as the rider comes into view, aiming for the shoulder. The reality of what he’s seeing hits him a moment later, and he drops his arm with a curse. Doubles over with his hands on his knees before straightening again, seeing red.
“I almost fucking shot you!” he yells out, as Kara pulls the horse to a stop, dirt puffing under heavy hooves.
Relief at seeing her is quickly overridden in favor of anger. He came out here for her. Now she’s smack in the middle of the danger zone, and that’s got him yelling when he shouldn’t be.
