Chapter 1
TheJulysunbeatson me like an unstoppable furnace as I pick through abandoned cars and ransacked shops, sweat dripping down my back. Glass shards crunch under my boots.
Even the diner has been picked through by looters.
Same old shit, different town.
I can’t wait to ditch this wasteland of a town and get back to the mountain cabin where I’ve been staying. Safer there. Carrionites roam through the populated parts of towns and cities in their packs.
I snort. Not that they’re loyal. Those fuckers will gut each other over a damn stale cookie. Even eat their own dead. Fuckin’ cannibals.
Just another bitch of this world gone to shit.
But they stay out of rural areas. Not a high percentage of running into people for them I guess. One of the reasons I trek through what’s left of Pennsylvania. Most of it has always been more rural.
I turn to head out when a scrappy kid jumps between two trucks, knife pointed right at me. My gaze goes from his dark blonde, unkempt hair obscuring half his face to the blade he wields with an understated confidence that betrays his skill with it.
I smirk.
Kid’s got no clue who he’s fuckin’ with.
I study him closer. While his clothes are ragged, they’re clean. That knife’s sharp enough to slice bone. He holds the blade like it’s part of him. Maybe he’s not such a dumbass after all.
His face is lean and hollowed but not starving. He's beating the odds out here. Staying alive’s an achievement nowadays. Hell, I haven’t seen another soul in two days wandering these ruins.
“Gimme your food.” That sly tongue darts out, wetting cracked lips. It’s the only tell in his poker face.
The ruthless part of me wakes up, the part that does what it takes to play this grim new game we’ve all been made to play.
I meet his gaze, bored. “Yeah, that ain’t happening.”
My refusal doesn’t faze him. Those shrewd blue eyes sum me up, calculating. I smirk. Out here, it’s survival of the most ruthless dickheads.
He takes it in stride, but the gears grind behind those intense eyes that travel over me, most likely noting my height, my health, and my relaxed stance despite the knife.
All things I’d be paying attention to if roles were reversed.
Doubt flickers across his sunken face. Dumb move trying to rob me. One wrong step out here earns you a shallow grave—if you’re lucky.
Death is a luxury compared to the other atrocities people have endured.
The set of his bony shoulders says he knows he’s outmatched. Smart kid, even if he has no idea the government made me into a cold-blooded killer long before society went tits up. But it just honed my skills further. And despite the slight lines of silver beginning to thread through my brown hair, I’m still a weapon.
This kid doesn’t stand a chance.
“I’ll trade you then,” he rasps, voice rough but steady as shadows cut his sharp cheekbones.
I eye the backpack crossing his shoulders. Maybe he’s actually got something worth trading.
But instead of finding out, I shrug, bored tone on point. “Doubt you got anything worthwhile enough to trade me, kid.”
He rolls with it, those discerning eyes cataloging the street's resources and weaknesses. I dig his awareness. If not for him likely knifing me in my sleep, I'd say let's team up. Survival’s easier watching each other’s backs.
“I’ll trade sex then,” he says with a bold glint in his eyes.
Only color rises on his neck the moment the words leave his mouth, and I bark out a laugh. This kid’s got balls, I’ll give him that, even if it appears he might be regretting the offer.
His lip twitches into a little snarl, and he juts his chin out. “Heard you four nights back—with the guy in the store. You took payment in pleasure.”