Page 89 of Obliterated
“You’re a bit dramatic,” that rough, raspy voice I love so much answers from behind me, and I snap my gaze up just as I cup my hands in the cold stream.
The fucking idiot is barely winded, grinning down at me with a smile so big I’ve never seen on him before.
“This isinsane,” I gasp, chest jagged with air. I drink a quick mouthful, then flop back onto my ass in the grass. He drops beside me, his heat and presence a damn welcome distraction from whatever’s chasing us.
“This isfun,” he replies, pushing his black hair back, the gator tattoo rippling on his arm. And for that short second when our eyes lock, I see everything: excitement, adrenaline,heat.
He’s loving this, getsoffon this. Of course he does.
I’m slowly pulling myself together, trying to drag a clean breath into my lungs, but I can’t stop smiling at the most beautiful, strong man in existence and at his stupid giddiness.
“It would be more fun if it was just the two of us,” I blurt, and the way he cocks his head, the way those eyes zero in on me like a dare, has me blushing.
“Really? You’d like that, pretty? You and I chasing each other in the woods?”
I bite my lip. “You chasing me? I, ah, I think I would.”
“And what do I get if I catch you?”
My heart pounds even harder now; I don’t need to say it. Everything’s written in my eyes.
He leans in, that damn hand finding its home at my throat, and before I know it, his sinful lips descend on mine. Licking, tasting, claiming. For one delicious minute, I forget whatever is stalking us. For the next, I moan into his mouth like it’s home.
Then, asnap.
A twig cracks close by and we jerk apart, heads whipping toward the sound.
“Run, Kee!” Max yells, already hopping up and hauling me up by my backpack. “The wall’s close, only a couple of minutes further!”
I scramble to follow, adrenaline flipping into a pure, stupid motion as I get up, before my legs are pumping again, breath tearing.Get to the wall. Get out of his reach. Get somewhere solid.
It’s not the Walkers chasing us. No, they can be fast and vicious, but I’m not afraid of them. Not anymore.
I’mImmune.
We had it tested at the medical center a couple of weeks ago. And sure enough, I’ve got the same marker as Max. The same blood thing or genetic whatever that makes you untouchable for the virus.
The stupid zombies can’t infect me. The rain can’t infect me. Everything my mother babbled makes so much more sense now:Stay safe, Kieran.Get to a place far away from here.
Part of me is angry she didn’t tell me. It’d have made running south, getting to Ibitha, a hell of a lot easier. But the other part understands. She wanted me hidden. In our world, Immunes were getting locked up, used for experiments, never to be seen again. She did what she thought would keep me alive. She did it for me.
Still… immune to becoming a Walker doesn’t mean you’re immune to jaws and teeth and power.
Especially not when those jaws belong to Chompy, Max’s goddamned zombiegator.
And that damn alligator is way fucking quicker than he looks.
I make the stupid mistake of looking back.
He’s right fucking there—massive as a god, scales glistening with rot and slime, eyes milky and eager, that maw a cathedral of broken teeth and torn flesh. The thing moves like a fucking nightmare: slow until it isn’t, then a lunging, snapping blur.
My chest caves, and the air turns thick. Terror claws up my throat and my stomach drops like I’ve fallen off a cliff.
I push and push, my brand-new Watcher boots slamming into debris and cracking twigs as we tear through the bush. I’m not a Watcher, never wanted to be one, but when Max threatened to burn my flip-flops if I didn’t pack real shoes on the hike to his place, Roe conjured up a pair for me. They’re stiff and weird and make me feel like I’m walking on someone else’s feet. I like the flip-flops better—the sand between my toes, the world under my soles—but sure, if wearing these keeps Max from having a heart attack, I’ll wear them when we’re outside the wall.
The one I now see peeking through the bush on my left.
“Come on!” Max yells, a little ahead of me now. “There—there’s the Pit.”
