Page 17 of The Last Sanctuary
Raven prayed fervently, mouthing the words over and over:Just go away, leave, and go away. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him. Don’t hurt him.
Growing bored, Damien turned away with a dismissive sneer. “He’s not worth the round. This place stinks. Let’s go.”
The bikers stomped from the pharmacy, knocking the few remaining items off the shelves, bulging backpacks slung over their shoulders.
Raven shrank back, heart roaring in her ears, but none of them bothered to look around. They strode through the front door. The bell jangled maniacally.
After a minute, their motorcycles roared to life. The sound of engines was almost eerie after weeks of quiet. They peeled out of the parking lot and disappeared in a glut of dust and whooping shouts.
Raven forced herself to stand, her legs wobbly, and rushed to the counter. On the other side, Phil squatted on the tile floor next to his son. He cradled his head in his hands, weeping.
It was a private moment, one she had no part of. She backed away to give him privacy. There was nothing anyone could do for Carl.
She tugged her phone from her pocket and had to punch in the numbers three different times before she finally managed to hit 911.
“Service cannot be reached,” the phone chimed.
She tried again and got the same answer. She tried the local police and the county sheriff. Still nothing. She swallowed hard. What had she expected? It was one thing to hear something over and over and quite another to live it. Now, she believed.
It felt like the floor was cracking open beneath her, and she was falling, falling, falling, with no bottom in sight. It was true, then. There really was no more law, no more police. Here, at least. Maybe everywhere. Probably everywhere.
Phil rose stiffly to his feet. He wiped at his stricken face with the back of his hand. He stared dully at his streaked fingers, stained with his son’s blood. “You should go home. Stay there. This is no place for a girl.”
She wanted to say this was no place for anyone. What the hell did being a girl have to do with the rampant destruction of society and the mass extinction of all mankind?
Her words turned to ash in her mouth. She wanted to comfort him, but there was nothing to say, nothing that would make a difference against this meaningless act of violence.
Instead, she nodded mutely, turned, and ran from the shadows of the store into the late afternoon sunlight. The street was utterly empty. Not a single living soul was in sight. A couple of torn plastic bags skittered across the sidewalk.
She reached the car and dug into her pocket for the keys, still holding the useless phone in one hand. The back of her neck prickled. Someone was watching her. She glanced down the street to the left. A block down, seven or eight motorcycles wereparked in the overgrown grass in front of the bank. The bikers were inside—they’d smashed the glass doors. Except for one. Raven surreptitiously stuck her hand in her pocket and wrapped her hand around her gun.
A man stood directly to her left, half-hidden behind the stalled minivan so that she hadn’t seen him when she’d exited the pharmacy. Dekker leaned against his bike, smoking a cigarette in one hand, his pistol in the other, lounging languid as a cat poised to strike. His gaze was fixed on her.
Their eyes met for a brief, electric moment. His eyes were dull, lifeless, like hollow black pits. Inhuman. A shiver of fear raced up her spine.
“Well, well,” he said, “what do we have here?”
Chapter Seven
Raven’s heart jackhammered against her ribs. It felt like it was about to pound right out of her chest. Her mouth went dry. “I’m not bothering you. I’m leaving. I’ll leave. You’ll never see me again.”
Dekker smiled. “I’ll determine when—and if—you leave. Where did you come from?”
“Nowhere.”
His eyes narrowed. “I highly doubt that.”
“Just… at the end of town. Past the river. Cherry Street.” She had no clue if Cherry Street was past the river or not. Panic threatened to strangle her. She forced herself to keep it together. Predators could smell fear.
Dekker’s gaze traveled up and down her body. Raven stiffened. She felt exposed, vulnerable. She wanted to punch him in his smug, handsome face, break his nose, and maybe claw out an eyeball or two.
“You look… well fed. Where are you getting all this food that gives you those nice curves?”
She swallowed. “Nowhere. I’m starving like everyone else.” She was careful not to saywe, to reveal that she had something—and someone—worth protecting.
“Hmmm.” His tone was non-committal. He tapped his pistol against his thigh. “Not sure you’re being honest with me, sweetheart. How about that car of yours? Not much gasoline to be found around here. The fuel trucks haven’t been through town in two weeks.”
“It’s a hybrid.”
