I do, waving as he goes back to his ATV.
“He’s a really good guy. One of the best I know.” Micah is watching his friend drive away.
“I can tell. Not sure how he really fits in with Logan.”
“I told you?—”
“I know, I know. Logan isn’t as bad as I think,” I mutter as I head toward the back of the building. “Damn Logan.”
We’reon our way out of town a half hour later with a package of provisions and Molly snuffling enthusiastically on the road ahead of us.
At the sound of an engine approaching, I immediately step off the road and move toward the trees. Micah and Molly are right behind me.
One of the first rules of the world after Impact is that, if you’re on foot, you get out of the way and out of sight of approaching vehicles. They’ll always have the advantage, so moving away is invariably the best choice.
Because the road before us is straight, we don’t have time to hide in the trees before the motorcycle driver comes into view.
If we can see him, he can see us, so we stand with our backs to the woods and our weapons out as he approaches.
Hopefully he’ll just drive right past us.
No such luck.
There aren’t that many motorcycles in this part of the Wild anymore, and most of those I see regularly belong to Logan’s soldiers. I assume that’s who this is, so I’m wary but not scared.
After all, Micah used to be with Logan too, so this guy approaching probably knows him.
He’s a rough-looking character with long, stringy hair and leather biker’s gear. If I were by myself, I’d be running into the woods at full speed by now.
Micah’s clearly on guard—and more so as the driver slows down.
This must not be someone Micah knows because there’s no recognition or relief on his face.
“Fuckin’ hell,” the man on the motorcycle bursts out. “It’s you.”
Because it’s all out of context for me, my first thought is that this is indeed one of Logan’s men, and he just recognized Micah as another one.
But that’s not what this is.
Several things happen all at once.
Molly decides the driver’s vibes are so bad that she can no longer tolerate them. She growls, advances, and lunges for his leg.
Micah and the stranger both level their guns and fire.
And I do what any sensible person would do in such a situation. I throw myself to the ground to get out of the line of fire, but I do my best to take Micah with me.
Because I really, really,reallydon’t want him to die.
If I hadn’t instinctively pushed Micah down with me, I’m pretty sure both men would be dead right now.
But I did. So the bullet aimed at Micah doesn’t hit him.
It hits me.
The crisis has summoned so much adrenaline that I’m not even aware of any pain. I lift up enough to aim my pistol at the driver to shoot back, but Micah’s first shot has already taken him down.
He’s dead.
