Page 27 of Surviving Her

She had to keep moving and keep herself busy, or she knew the panic would consume her. She knew she had to accept that this was how she rolled. She’d run on nervous energy most of her life—through college, the various roles she’d taken in hospitals, and even her love life. They needed supplies—antibiotics, bandages, anything that could help River’s father. The thought of this man she’d never even met, sick and waiting for his daughter’s return, spurred her on, giving her the strength to push through her terror.

Her hand tightened around the handle of a small axe River had found in an abandoned house at some point along their journey. She couldn’t recall which one—the past few days were a blur. The cold metal grounded her as she moved cautiously through the streets. She thought about every step she took. Every glance over her shoulder was deliberate.

God, I feel like I’m focusing more now than I ever did in trauma surgery. What does that mean? Was I a shitty doctor? Is all that over? What am I now, then? God, I’m unemployed! But I guess I don’t need to pay bills anymore.

She made a concerted effort to calm her racing thoughts. She had to stay alert, had to stay alive—for River, for herself, for her family, and for River’s father, who was desperately waiting for help. But there was still a nagging fear at the back of her mind, and it grew stronger with each passing second.

The apothecary came into view at the end of the street, its old-fashioned sign hanging precariously from a single rusted chain.

“Don’t worry!” River shouted back at her. “It’s meant to look like this. It’s one of those olde-worlde places. It’s quite fun.”

Eliza stopped to take a sip of water from the bottle in her backpack. When she looked up again, River was nowhere to be seen. The sight of the empty storefront sent a cold shiver down Eliza’s spine.

“River?” she called out, her voice trembling slightly as she stepped closer to the building. The only response was the hollow echo of her own voice bouncing off the brick walls. Eliza swallowed hard, her grip on the axe tightening as she cautiously approached the entrance. The door was slightly ajar, swinging gently in the breeze, and the darkness inside beckoned her forward.

“River?” she called again, this time more urgently. Still nothing. Her pulse thudded against her eardrums as she peered into the gloom, trying to make out any sign of movement.

She definitely came in here, didn’t she?

A sudden crash from inside the apothecary made Eliza jump. She hesitated for a moment, every instinct screaming at her to turn and run, but she forced herself to step through the door. The interior was a mess. Shelves were overturned and theircontents were scattered across the floor. The smell of rot was even more pungent here, mingling with the scent of something else—something that sent a chill down Eliza’s spine.

I know that smell. It’s blood. Where is she?

“River?” Her eyes were wide with fear as she continued deeper into the store. The darkness wrapped around her as the four walls pressed in.

Suddenly, a figure lunged at her from the shadows. Eliza barely had time to react, instinctively raising the axe as a wide-eyed, decaying, infected zombie launched at her.

Jesus! What should I do? River! I need you!

She swung the axe with all her strength, the blade sinking deep into the walker’s neck with a crunch that made Eliza sick to her stomach. The force of the blow sent it staggering back, but it didn’t go down.

Shit, shit, shit! Remember, go for the head. The fucking head!

It came for her again, its rotting fingers reaching for her, clawing at the air with desperation.

Eliza stumbled backward, her foot catching on a fallen shelf, and she fell hard onto the floor. The zombie was on her in an instant, its weight crushing down on her as it snarled and snapped, trying to sink its teeth into her flesh. Eliza screamed, her voice high and raw with terror as she struggled to push the creature off her. But it was too strong. Its slimy, rotting hands pinned her down as its mouth gaped open and fell toward her face.

Eliza knew she was going to die. She understood with perfect clarity why she’d been afraid all day.

It was a sixth sense. Death was calling out to me.

Her life flashed before her eyes—not the life she was currently experiencing. Not this hellish world she’d been forced to inhabit. No. She thought of the life she’d lost. The memoriesof who she used to be, the failures, the heartbreaks, the mistakes all came rushing back, overwhelming her with a tidal wave of regret.

My parents…the hospital…my apartment…

But then, through the fog of fear and despair, a single, clear thought cut through like a beacon of light.

River.

She couldn’t die. Not now. Not when she’d found something—someone—worth fighting for. Someone who needed her help. Eliza’s fear turned to anger, a burning, searing rage that coursed through every vein in her body. She twisted beneath the zombie, her hand scrabbling for the axe that she’d dropped and was now lying just out of reach.

The zombie’s teeth grazed her cheek.

Was that a bite? I can’t feel any pain…

All she could think about was grabbing that axe and getting the walker off her. There was no question of not surviving this. She had to make it…for River.

With a final, desperate stretch, Eliza’s left hand closed around the handle of the axe. She swung it up with all her strength, lodging it in the zombie’s skull. Eliza watched in shock as something that looked like molasses fell from the gash in the walker’s skin.

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