Page 51 of When the Living Fall

The urge to find them is strong, but the weak fingers that wrap around my ankle are stronger. “Please,” the woman with the pale face drawn with worry, her voice thin, pleads. “My husband. He’s been stabbed.”

The desperation in her voice is enough. I hurry over to her husband, who’s lying on the ground a little farther away, and work to patch him up as best as I can, using my limited medical skills. His breathing steadies and I control the bleeding. “You’re going to be okay,” I assure him.

Turning back to Zoey, I’m about to ask for more supplies when I catch a shadow moving behind her. The figure steps closer, and my stomach twists as I recognize one ofNathan’s men I’d fought against. His face is pale, his eyes glassy.

“Zoey—” I call out, but she’s busy wrapping someone’s burned arm and doesn’t hear me, oblivious to the threat.

The man stumbles again.

Raising my knife and wondering where I dropped my gun, I stand ready for a fight, my legs shaky from exhaustion. There’s still a sea of injured townspeople between us. “Go away.”

He coughs. He looks like shit. “I need help. I’m dying.”

“Go away,” I warn again.

He stumbles forward, and I see the glint of the blade he’s holding. I try to call out a warning, but I’m too late. Zoey turns around at his request for help. He lunges, stabbing her in the side before staggering back. His knife falls from his hand, staining the dirt red.

“Zoey!” I scream, scrambling to throw my knife at him. He dodges it, but it doesn’t matter. I’m already by Zoey’s side, cradling her while she collapses.

Blood seeps between my fingers when I press down on the wound on her side, desperate to stop the flow. A tear runs down my cheek.

“Stay with me, Zoey,” I beg, my voice cracking. “You don’t get to leave me like this.”

I stuff a pile of gauze against her wound and wrap it up, forcing her to arch her back so I can move the wrap all around her.

She winces, trying to speak, but I shush her, refusing to let her waste any energy on words. The mass destruction around us fades, replaced by the terrifying struggles of her shallow breaths. My calls for help go unanswered. Josh looks at me with pity. If he leaves his patient’s side, then he’ll bleed out, too. We’re all helpless.

“Emily,” she whispers. Her voice is faint, but I can’t listen to her. I won’t let her go.

“Don’t. We’re going to figure this out.” Movement to my left catches my attention, and I realize that asshole is still breathing. Nobody likes a breathing asshole. Anger boils up, raw and visceral. “You’re going to pay.”

Lowering Zoey to the ground, I turn my focus on taking out the largest current threat in the vicinity. I won’t let him get anywhere near Zoey. Or anyone else, for that matter. He’s not getting out of here alive.

Wrapping my fingers around the hand of the knife that hurt Zoey, I turn to face the man who attacked her. He’s still there, shambling, his eyes now milky and blank. As vacant as the dead who haunt the apocalypse. His skin discolors before my eyes, and when he shifts his body, I notice the bite marks on his forearm that I missed earlier.

Shit.

Of course. The rotters must have gotten to him. Unfortunately, they didn’t finish the job and eat him clean to the bone. What a shame. Well, I was right. He isn’t getting out of here alive. So, without further hesitation, I plunge my knife into his skull and silence him for good.

I hurry back to Zoey and crouch beside her. Each time she attempts to sit up, more blood coats her bandage. After scolding her, I sift through the supplies in search of anything else that might help, ignoring the cries of everyone else around me.

“Emily…” Zoey reaches for my arm.

“Not now, Zoey. Remember that day we were running for our lives in the pouring rain? I was injured, and I almost lost you. We promised each other that we’ll never give up. I swear on the lives of every living person on earth, you better not break that promise.”

She lets out a faint chuckle and shakes her head. “You always were the stubborn one.”

“I’m going to save you and if you try to stop me, then I’ll kill you myself.”

“Fine. That’s a hell of a threat, but I’m trying to tell you to look behind you.”

28

MAX

Standing on the roof of a burning building is an experience I never expected to have.

Sure, I’ve climbed plenty of rooftops since the world crumbled, but they were always sturdy. Still in one piece. Not crumbling beneath my boots.

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