Page 90 of Dating After the End of the World
“I have to try. If you two can provide cover fire, I might be able to make it.”
“Casey, I want to save Greg more than anything, but I can’t let you do this,” Molly says, lowering her head.
“I’m going whether you guys provide cover fire or not. You can either help me, or you can let him have free rein on me. It’s up to you.” I turn back to the corner of the house and lay eyes on the dead burner at my feet. “Help me lift him up. I have an idea.”
The girls look at me with confusion that morphs into disgust as they put their hands on the burner’s corpse, his blood-soaked clothes already stiffening in the cool air.
“Okay. I’m gonna push him out past the house, into the line of sight for the shooter. Once he shoots, I’ll take off running. You two, wait one second and then start firing at the sniper tower. If you can hit the guy from here, that’ll be amazing, but even so, just keep shooting nice and steady till I make it to the dummy house. Never give him a chance to feel comfortable enough to poke his head out and take another shot. Understood?”
They both nod reluctantly, still not wanting me to go through with this.
“The second I’m inside, get back behind your cover.” I look to where I can guess the shooter is—X-ray vision of my imagination allows me to paint the grimace on his visage as he squints one eye down his sight.
With all my might, I push the corpse out into the open. The crack of the rifle rings out. Just as the bullet rips through the soft flesh of his fellow burner, I take off at a dead sprint, kicking up grass behind me. I glance up to see the man reloading for another shot, his eyes going wide as I present him an easy piece of prey, right out in the open. Behind me, gunfire begins to call out in a steady and even thump, bullets splitting wood and shattering glass. The burner drops to the floor, avoiding the incoming rounds. I bear down on my goal, running harder and faster than I ever have in my life. My heart is pumping blood so quickly I can hear it sloshing around in my ears, and then everything is quiet. I don’t have time to look back, but I realize Tessa and Molly are out of bullets, and they’re both reloading at the same time.
Fuck.
The burner pokes his head just above the window line, noticing he has a brief opening. My brain is scrambling, screaming at every muscle in my body to search for cover and hide, but the nearest safe haven is the building ahead. I glance up just in time to see the burner leveling the rifle at me. I cut hard to the left, then back to the right, then I fake to the left and dart farther to the right. Zigzagging erratically, I pray that he’s not a very good shot.
Pkooww!
Before the gunshot can stop echoing through the ether, a searing pain erupts from my ear as a high-pitched whistle passes by in a millisecond. I stumble forward but don’t lose my footing, and I’m back up at full speed just as the girls’ chorus of shots starts up again, carrying me into the old house relatively unscathed.
Leaning against a wall, I suck wind at a rate I never have before. My ear stings, and I reach up and touch it. The contact from my own skin burns, and I pull my hand away. Blood covers the pads of my fingertips,and the only thought running through my head is how one inch would have ended my life.
I creep through the house, unsure whether the burner in the tower has any support down below, but all the way up to the last narrow staircase is clear. The sound of old boards creaking under my weight guides me along the way.
If he only has his long rifle, then he won’t be able to do much once I charge in, but something tells me he has a smaller firearm or a knife ready and waiting. With my pistol drawn and pointed up at the top of the landing, I slowly skulk up the stairs, keeping the gun tight to my chest so my arms don’t breach the frame first. I debate tossing one of my two flashbangs up into the room, but it feels like a waste for potentially one target—plus, I have no idea what’s waiting for us in the main house.
Three stairs from the top, an explosion rings out from my left, wood splintering from the wall across my face. I hit the deck immediately, waiting for another shot to come. He’s scared, and he’s given away his position. I decide to hurl one of my throwing stars into the ceiling, creating a quick, albeit very weak, distraction. I plant my foot on one of the stairs and leap forward, turning to my left as I crash onto the tower floor. Lying flat on my side, I raise my pistol and fire wildly at the only figure I can see standing in the room. Two gunshots ring out in response as my gun clicks empty, and I close my eyes, thinking this is it. But the room is silent, the smell of gunpowder hanging heavy in the air.
I open my eyes to see the burner lying still, both our bodies on our sides as we’re locked in a staring contest that he couldn’t possibly lose. Blood pours out of the holes in his shirt, soaking into the fibers of the floorboards. I can’t seem to move, all my energy having been spent on the sprint here and the ensuing firefight. It isn’t until I hear Molly scream that I remember why I ran up here in the first place.
“Greg!” Footsteps clamber behind me.
A hand rolls me onto my back. “Are you hurt?” Tessa asks.
I shake my head. She smiles and reaches for my hand, heaving me onto my feet.
Greg is lying on the floor, his hands tied behind his back. He looks to be out cold, the imprint of a rifle butt raised up on his forehead. Molly is in a panic, trying to rouse him. He stirs slightly, moaning out of his forced slumber.
I cut the ties around his wrists, freeing him.
“Greg? How’re you doing?” I ask while Molly and I help him sit up. Feeling his pulse, I check to see how his eyes are responding to the light in the room. His heart rate is slow but rising rapidly.
Greg winces, closing his eyes as he touches the raised bump on his forehead. “What happened?”
“Looks like you got knocked out cold with the butt of a rifle,” I say.
“Who did it? Was it Blake? I swear to God ...” he starts to seethe.
“What? No, we’re under attack.”
The second the final word leaves my mouth, Greg’s eyes pop open. Fighting through the pain, he’s on his feet in a second, and that’s when he sees the burner, bleeding out on the floor a mere six feet away from him.
“What the fuck? Who is that!?” He points at the corpse. “Where’s JJ? Where’s Mom and Dad?” He heads for the door, but I reach out and grab his shirt, heaving him back.
“Greg, easy. I know this is a lot. But we need you to stay here with Molly.”
