Page 71 of The Last Sanctuary
Scorpio gestured at Suki’s body. “I’m claiming this one. It’ll make a damn fine pelt.”
“It’s yours,” Gomez said, though Raven doubted he had a choice. If Scorpio wanted something, he seemed the type to take it.
Scorpio bent, hefted the limp body of the wolf, and slung the corpse over his shoulders. Cobb followed at his heels. Gomez watched the Headhunters depart with glazed eyes. Sweat soaked his hairline. His face was waxen.
Once his companions were out of sight, Gomez sank to the ground. His breath came in loud pants. Still crouched within the trees, Raven watched as he unwrapped his bloody jacket and examined his arm.
Fresh blood oozed from several ugly gashes across his forearm. Suki’s jaws had torn his flesh to shreds.
Gomez bowed his head. He let out a raw, guttural sob.
Raven’s fingers tightened on the rifle, but she didn’t lift it.One bite is all it takes, Cobb had said. Gomez must be infected, now. He was a dead man walking, and he knew it.
The Hydra Virus could spread between animals and humans. It affected animals differently, making them more aggressive, like rabies. An image of Zachariah seizing her arm flashedthrough her mind. At the end stages, humans became combative and threatening, too.
Would it happen to her, too? It had been four days since she’d been exposed. There was a disconcerting scratch in the back of her throat, though she’d had far too little to drink, and thirst made her parched. She’d coughed a few times. With her free hand, she felt her forehead. Her skin was warm, but not hot. No fever had set in. Yet.
The Headhunters were gathering their wounded and regrouping at the lodge. They’d be back on the hunt soon.
For now, she had a short reprieve. She needed a place to rest and regroup, to make her next move, whatever that might be, whether it was time to run or to fight again.
Gomez remained in the clearing, stained with blood and quietly sobbing. She considered shooting him but decided to save her ammunition instead. He still held his pistol in his lap. Perhaps he’d take care of things himself.
Stealthily, Raven rose and backed away. Her stomach roiled. She was sick and tired of everything, of disease and death and violence. Sick of the constant fear, of the grief always hot on her heels, ready to sink claws of despair into her the moment she stopped running.
The unfairness of it all made her want to destroy something. Suki had been meek and gentle. She hadn’t deserved that kind of death. She should have lived.
The late afternoon sun was slanting into evening as she entered a thick copse of birch trees. The back of her neck prickled. A sigh in the wind, a flicker in the shadows. Instinct made her pause and look down.
Sunken into the dirt, surrounded by scattered leaves, was a single, perfect paw print. A pad and four toes, spanning over five inches wide.
Only one animal could make that large, distinctive mark.
The tiger.
Chapter Thirty
As the sun sank in the sky, Raven knew she needed shelter. Her throat burned with thirst. Though she took judicious sips of water, her water bottle was running low. She could filter drinking water with the purification tablets in her pack and refill her water bottle, which was less than half full, but the river was a few miles away.
She wasn’t sure what to do next. Run or keep fighting? She’d done some damage. Was it enough? She wasn’t sure.
Right now, she had to figure out how to survive the night.
Her legs could barely move. A great weariness overtook her. Her steps became sloppy, breaking twigs and bending leaves with every step, leaving a trail for the Headhunters to follow.
It would be night soon enough. She had her tarp, rope, and sleeping bag in her backpack. She could bed down anywhere. Still, the thought of Vlad close by, prowling amongst the shadows, made her think twice about napping on the ground.
Maybe a tree? Tigers could climb, but they didn’t particularly like to do so. A tree was probably her safest bet.
She had a rope. She could find a large oak with a thick branch twenty-five feet off the ground. She could tie herself to thebranch to keep from falling and breaking her neck in her sleep. It would keep her safe from the Headhunters, also. Safer, anyway.
There was no such thing as safety.
Ten minutes later, she’d found a suitable oak tree with low, thick branches she could easily climb. She shrugged off her pack, unzipped it, and dug around for her coiled rope.
The sensation of being watched raised the hairs on the back of her neck.
Her pulse raced. Outwardly, she remained calm. Keeping her movements steady, she slowly reached for the rifle lying beside her backpack. With clammy hands, she seized the rifle, stood, and spun around to face a new threat.
