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“Our parents got infected,” Lucy said from behind her. “They told us to wait at the family cabin.”
“Lucy!” Sasha snapped her sister’s name.
“It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“Forgive me if I don’t believe you.” Sasha looked at the mutilated dead body.
“This man was infected. He tried to rape me. It’s what the savages do and those that lost their humanity. They tear each other apart. They’re not human. They’re animals. I was protecting myself.”
“What are you doing here?”
“You need to leave. You need to get that girl out of here.”
“Why aren’t we infected? Are you immune like us?” Lucy asked.
“It might have been better to let the virus take me than to live in this new world.” She looked down at the man again. “There’s a rumor that there’s a camp up north. They have protection. All non-infected people need to make their way there. We’re not going to survive out here alone. You have to go and you have to protect her. It’s the only way to survive.”
“Are there any survivors?” Sasha asked.
“It’s what they’ve said. We’re all trying to stay alive. This is a dead, destroyed world and there’s no place for anyone not willing to kill to stay alive.”
Chapter Twelve
The sun still rises in hell
Malachi slipped into the old, seemingly abandoned soup kitchen. He hadn’t made it out of the city just yet, but that was his plan for today.
He’d leave all this shit behind, start fresh even if the decay followed him, clung to him like a second skin.
But first he needed supplies, enough that if he didn’t find anything for a good chunk of time, he’d still be okay.
He moved past the main room that held turned-over chairs, destroyed tables, and decorations that hung off the walls. It looked like someone had been celebrating a birthday.
Malachi headed toward the back where the kitchen was. Everything was still and silent, but still he kept his gun at the ready.
He stepped through the doorway, his body tight as he made sure he was truly alone. When he was sure that there wasn’t anyone there, he relaxed his stand slightly. There were stainless steel appliances, pots and pans littering the floor, and a scene that showed him whoever had been here left in a hurry or had scavenged the fuck out of this place.
There had been riots and looting, killing and overall chaos. The place where he’d lived was gone, unsafe and torn the fuck up.
Broken windows, destroyed homes.
It was better for him to leave the city.
There was only one window in this room, but it was broken, the wind whistling through and blowing the lighter debris along the floor.
He went through the cupboards, drawers, any place where there might be food or water.
All he found was a few cans of peaches, baked beans, and a mystery one where the label had been torn off. He did find one bottle of water and shoved it in his pack. He grabbed a small pot and a couple cups.
Never knew when those would come in handy.
Once he had all he could find, he walked out of the kitchen and headed back outside. Making his way between buildings, he saw one where the front window had withstood the destruction of the city.
He peered through the filthy glass but reared his head back when he saw several dead bodies inside.
It was inevitable, seeing death up close like that, what with the city gone to shit, the government nonexistent, and the world all but ended.
“Fuck,” he said low and moved away from the building.
He faced forward, knowing that the road ahead of him would be pretty damn long, but he had nothing but time anymore. He had nothing but time these days, nothing but his past, present, and fucked-up future to keep him company.
Anyone who hadn’t died from the virus was either smart enough to leave on their own or had been forced to evacuate.
But he’d been the stubborn motherfucker who had stayed behind, refused to leave because this had been his empire.
And look where that’s gotten me.
In all his life, Malachi had never felt anything aside from the power, violence, and rage. It had stayed with him, changed him, made him who he was today.
And it would only get worse. He’d only harden even more with how things were going, how things were.
The end of the world now surrounded him.
Chapter Thirteen
No one’s safe
Food was running short. Sasha had lost count of the number of days they’d been there. She wanted to head back toward a town, just to see for herself what was going on.
“What’s wrong?” Lucy asked, coming to sit beside her.
“It’s nothing.” She was the grown-up. The one responsible for her sister.
After everything that had already happened, she didn’t need Lucy to be scared.
She could handle it.
“I know we’re running out of food. I counted the cans.”
