The nasally voice abruptly cut off, his halted words followed closely by a clatter and a thud, and a spiral of light as his flashlight rolled away.
A second flashlight beam began pitching violently around the room. “Dean? Dean, what the fuck? Oh shit—oh shit! Jesus, Mitchell, we ain’t alone in—” The second voice cut off with a clatter and a second flashlight rolled away.
Cursing, the man holding me swung me around; gripping my neck in a choking hold, he held me in front of him like a shield. “Who’s there?” he shouted, panicked. “Who the fuck is there?”
“I’m your Huckleberry.” Britta’s boots gently tapped the floor, only the barest shape of her visible in the glow from the flashlights gone askew. The click-click of a gun cocking echoed throughout the room.
“I’ll kill her.” The man tightened his grip on my throat, leaving me struggling to breathe. “Take another step and I’ll fuckin’ kill her.”
“Nah,” Britta replied. “That ain’t at all how this is gonna go. You see, I’m the one holdin’ the gun, so unless you wanna lose your head like these two fool friends a’yours, you’ll be doin’ asIsay.”
A third beam of light clicked on, swinging across the mess on the floor, where two headless bodies lay in a growing pool of blood.
“You’ll shoot me the second I let her go,” the man protested, a hitch in his voice at the sight of his dead companions.
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t,” Britta replied. “But that’s the chance you chose to take when you put your hands on my friend here.”
The man hesitated for only a moment before releasing me with a frustrated growl, shoving me hard as he turned to run. I’d only just found my balance when a gunshot cracked across the room with a deafening boom. The man collapsed to the floor, breathing hard.
“Please,” he cried, holding one hand in the air while the other clutched his bleeding stomach. “Don’t.Please.”
“Man, oh, man,” Britta drawled, stepping closer. “I sure do love it when they beg. Hell, I’m already hard thinkin’ ‘bout it.”
With a wink in my direction, Britta pulled the trigger twice more.
As the concrete road turned to dirt, eventually ending at the edge of an empty gravel lot, Britta veered off into the surrounding woods, skillfully weaving us through the trees until the imposing wall surrounding Silver Lake became visible in the distance. It was late morning; the residents of Silver Lake would be finishing breakfast and heading off to work. After the attack last night, Britta and I had waited out the rest of the storm on the side of the road, sleeping in shifts until daylight. Not that I’d actually slept; I was too worked up over my near miss, and even more worried over what Logan’s reaction was going to be.
“You ready for the third degree from Leisel?” Britta glanced over at me, concern creasing her features as she took in the state of my face. I’d been able to change my torn shirt; however, thanks to the would-be rapists, I had a swollen nose and a fat lip, along with a visibly bruised neck, none of which were easily hidden.
“It’s only Logan I’m worried about,” I muttered. “He’s going to kill me.”
“You gonna tell ‘im the truth?”
“God no!” I exclaimed, shaking my head. “He’s already going to freak out because I left without telling him—if he finds out what happened,he will lose his fucking mind. Please don’t say anything,” I implored her.
“Sugar, my lips are sealed. I would never hear the end of it from Lei if she found out; worrywart, that one.” Snorting, Britta shook her head. “As if I need worryin’ over.”
As we approached the wall, shouts rang out from the guard tower; the gate opened, revealing Davey waving us forward. “Where ya been, Brit?” Davey banged on the driver’s side door as we passed him. “You get lost out there?”
“When pigs fly,” she cracked back, flipping him off through the half-open window.
“How ‘bout when the dead walk?” he shouted after us, laughing heartily.
Instead of returning the truck to the garage—a canopy-covered area where all the camp vehicles were kept—Britta pulled to a stop just past the guard tower. “Here come Mom and Pop,” she said, gesturing with her chin. “And they look mighty pissed.” Following her line of sight, I found Leisel and Joshua walking briskly toward us, their expressions severe.
Pulling the keys from the ignition, Britta jumped out of the truck. “Mornin’,” she said cheerfully. “Is that eggs I smell? Did ya’ save me some—y’all better have saved me some.”
“What happened out there?” Leisel asked Britta, her voice tight.
“Got caught in the storm, is all,” Britta replied, “Knew we weren’t gonna make it back in time so we parked for the night—no need to be frettin’, Lei, we was safe as houses.”
“That’s it? Just the storm? You didn’t run into anyone out there? No issues with the infected?” Leisel’s attention turned to me as I came to stand beside Britta. “My god, Willow,” she exclaimed. “What happened to your face?”
“She’s fine, Lei.” Britta waved her hand dismissively. “Tripped down a flight of stairs in the damn dark and fell flat on her face.”
Clutching my pack to my chest, I let out a nervous laugh. “It was stupid. We found this school and it was dark inside and I tripped over a bunch of garbage—”
“It wasn’t stupid,” Britta interjected. “Smarty-pants here came up with the idea of checkin’ a school for their drama stuff, and sure enough…” Ducking back in the truck, Britta pulled forth a pile of garment bags. “We got shit here for everyone—even found an honest-to-God weddin’ dress for Maria. And we got some food too, so don’t you be naggin’ me for stayin’ out past curfew.”
