Page 11 of When the Living Fall

I look down at the vanishing tracks in the dirt. “The rain is going to wash away the footprints.”

Griffin’s jaw clenches. “Then we need to move faster.” He takes off at a full sprint, his steps pounding against the ground. Max and I fall in behind him, pushing ourselves to keep up.

“We’re going to burn out at this rate,” I call out, huffing with each breath.

“Speak for yourself.” Max soars by, morning star in hand.

“You’re going to tire yourself out swinging that thing so much. I’ll warn you right now that I won’t slow down for either of you,” Griffin warns, but Max only scoffs, his eyes wild as he twirls the weapons.

A rotter stumbles out from the shadows, its mouth gaping open, and Max brings down his morning star in one quick arc, the impact sending it sprawling. He pumps his fist in triumph, his gaze darting straight to Griffin’s middle. “You should spend more time worrying about yourself rather than how I’m running. Hate to break it to you, but you’ll be the first to drop.”

“Wait.” I grab Griffin by the shoulder, spinning him around and slamming his back against a tree with more force than I mean to. The bark splinters into the air at the impact, and I wince when I notice the flash of pain on his face. “Sorry about that.”

He growls out his frustration. “Beating me up won’t help us find her any faster.”

“Oh, can I play, too?” Max saunters over, casually swinging his morning star in loose, dangerous circles.

I ignore him and glance down when my fingers slide through a warm slickness against Griffin’s side. When I pull them away, they glisten red in the moonlight, disappearing under the rain, which pounds down harder around us. “Griff…”

He’s bleeding through his bandages.

Griffin shoves me away, and I stumble before regaining my balance. His lips pull into a strained smile. “We’re going to find her. She’ll yell at me, fix me up, and then maybe I’ll finally get to hear her side of things.” He takes a step and wobbles, but then presses on, gritting his teeth against the pain. He takes off running in the direction we were headed, forcing us to follow him.

We keep running, my eyes glued to Griffin up ahead even as the rain transforms into a relentless sheet of water. Every time he flinches or presses a hand to his side, a fresh wave of worry rises in me, but I push it down, forcing myself to match his pace.

Minutes stretch into what feels like hours, and soon our full sprint eases into a heavy, exhausted jog as the downpour finally lets up, and the rain tapers to a steady drizzle.

“Griffin.” I close the gap between us, Max still hot on my heels.

“Not now,” he snaps over his shoulder. His face remains a hard, determined mask, but I can tell his body starts to sag. He staggers, but then rights himself and continues moving. His steps turn languish.

“Gonna bleed out before we get to our girl, huh? Grand plan you got there, oh grumpy one,” Max chimes in. His edge of sarcasm is mixed with genuine concern.

“As a matter of fact, yes, it is. She’ll stitch me up.”

Max’s voice turns cynical. “What makes you think she’ll even stop for you? She left once; she’ll leave again. People always do.”

“Because she doesn’t walk away from those who need her, regardless of whether they deserve her help,” I bite out, my tone sharp. “That’s the kind of person she is. Even if she shouldn’t, she’ll still do it. She’s too good for us.”

It’s true. There’s no way guys like us could ever deserve someone like her.

“Got that right,” Griffin adds. “Oh, what now? Hold up.”He stumbles, his body wanting to continue on, but his feet want to stay behind.

Griffin presses his weight forward to get loose, but he only sinks down more. He yanks his foot free, but the shoe remains stuck behind in the muck.

“Damn it.” He glares down at the shoe, now half-buried in the mud, before lifting his bare foot free. I can see the contemplation on his face. He’s thinking of continuing barefoot.

“Now that’s a mud pit,” I say, ignoring Max’s rolling eyes. “And look, great news.” I kneel to the ground, with my forearms resting on my thighs, and I look more closely at the mud.

“Unless Emily is there and I can mud wrestle with her, I don’t see any great news,” Max says.

Ignoring him, I reach forward, sinking my hand into the mud until my fingers close around something solid. With a grunt, I yank it free and hold it up for the others to see. Emily’s shoe, coated in mud, dangles from my hand. “She came this way. I bet she’ll be moving more slowly now with only one shoe.”

An involuntary smile teases my lips at that thought. If she’s slowed down, it means we can catch up sooner. Then my smile turns into a frown when I realize her moving slower also means she’s more vulnerable, and easier prey for any nearby rotters or dregs. Damn it, we need to find her first.

Maybe I shouldn’t be trying to slow Griffin down after all. He might have a point to his self-detrimental madness.

“Hold on to it,“ Griffin orders, his voice rough with tension. He looks around, peering through the rain, his brows furrowing. “It’s impossible to see more than a foot ahead in this storm. How you even spotting that is beyond me.”

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