What Lasts in Us

CHAPTER TWO

I spotted her the moment she stepped onto the highway. Stupid woman. She didn't look around her, to maybe see if there were any enemies. Nope, she simply stepped out, and her gaze just ... focussed on what was in front of her, like how you'd act before everything went to shit. She was obviously more interested in supplies than if someone was hiding in the trees, watching her every move.

She wasn't armed. Just a backpack across her shoulders, a wooden bat tied to one of the straps for easy access. She had to be armed. Her gun had to be concealed somewhere, in a place where she could easily grab it.

It'd been a while since I'd seen someone as nonchalant as her. It was like she didn't care, that her safety didn't matter. Maybe she was past the point of caring. Maybe she had a death wish.

Like it fucking mattered to me. I had myself to care about, not some woman who wanted to die.

From where I sat on the ridge, concealed by trees and back far enough that no one would be able to spot me, the only details I could make out was her long, dark hair, which I wasn't sure if it was black or just a really dark brown. It was like a waterfall down her back, a dark cascade.

In the fading light of the sun sinking below the horizon behind me, it glinted off her hair and in all honesty, I wanted to get a look at her.

My rifle was sitting on the ground beside me, and lifting it up, I pulled back the bolt, grabbed a few bullets from my pocket, and slipped them into the chamber. I lifted the rifle up to my face, the stock against my shoulder, and once I found the scope and got into a comfortable position, right eye pressed close, I made sure it lined up before I searched for the woman.

Just as I had the scope all lined up, she glanced toward the trees, and it pissed me off that I didn't get the chance to have a proper look. I didn't know why it nagged at me that I didn't get to see her face, because all I had to do was squeeze the trigger and watch her bleed out from a bullet to the chest. Then I could see her face up close.

That was why I was here. I was hunting. I needed meds. And I hoped to hell this woman had what I needed.

A little more than three days ago I'd been part of a group of twelve people. That all changed when Robbie took a bullet to the leg, and they couldn't afford to have him anymore. Despite him being a good shot, those fuckers thought he was dead weight. No one had meds. He couldn't move on his left leg. He was useless, good shot or not.

That was when the fighting started. Well, I said 'fighting', but that didn't last long. I came up with an ultimatum because you didn't leave one of your own to die just because they'd gotten injured. If they didn't help Robbie, they'd lose me, too.

More fighting started.

My role in the group was a leadership role of sorts. I could handle guns. I helped set up ambushes. I went out and scoped ahead, to make sure it was safe. I wasn't afraid to get into a fight, gun or no gun. They liked that. They didn't like when I opened my mouth and disagreed with them.

That was one of those times when they didn't like me. They didn't want to lose me because some kid got himself shot. I was too valuable. I had to think about them. It wasn't about me. It was about them them them. They didn't care if an eighteen-year-old kid got shot and the injury would get worse if left untreated. They just couldn't be bothered to do so. They didn't have the time; but what were they after that would affect that 'precious time'? I didn't know. I didn't ask and I didn't care. I told them to fuck off if they didn't want to help. And that was what they did. They'd left me with what I'd come with, and maybe a few extra bullets they could spare for my rifle.

And now here I was, still searching for meds for Robbie. I wasn't a doctor, but I knew the worst case scenario was that Robbie would lose his leg. And I would be the one who had to do it.

There was movement, and I blinked against the scope. I refocussed, and immediately sought out the woman. I watched her take a step, then pause. She was standing over the body of a dead woman, right beside a car. And then–

Holy shit. She didn't just–

I pulled the trigger, and maybe it was the surprise that made me miss the target; the window beside her shattered. She had to die. That bitch had to die. I pulled the bolt back, bullet popping out, before sliding it home. I took aim again and fired, the stock recoiling and hitting my shoulder, before repeating and taking another shot. Both shots missed but I kept firing until I realised the woman had ducked beneath the car.

"Fuck." I dropped the rifle to my side and swore again at how the hell did I miss that fucker? To have thought only seconds earlier I wanted to know what she looked like.

So what would I do now? Did I pack up all my things, go down onto the highway and put a bullet through that woman's body, while she was still under the car? Did I give her the opportunity to get out, then kill her? Did I just leave, return to camp and start again?

I couldn't start all over again. I'd wasted enough time already. Robbie could be dying.

Ffffuuuucccckkkk.

Favouring my right side, I hoisted myself to my feet and collected my belongings. The trees swayed in time to the breeze, and the sun began to descend even further on the horizon. Sweat trickled down my back, despite the fact I'd been sitting in the shade for hours. And as I turned in the direction of the highway and rubbed a tired hand over my face, I thought my eyes were playing tricks. I swore something was moving.

Rifle slung over my shoulder, I moved carefully down the ridge. If that fucker popped out from underneath the car now, I wouldn't even have to use the scope, or my rifle. A handgun – a knife – would be sufficient enough.

I was still maybe a hundred or so metres away when I finally got onto the highway and out into the open. My mind was full of images, of that bitch's face covered in blood, of finding the woman's corpse missing pieces of her face or her chest or her stomach or her–

"I'm unarmed!" I kept walking, and knew the voice belonged to that woman. "I'm unarmed! Don't shoot!"

I came onto the highway at such an angle so I could still see where she'd crawled under. So to have seen a pack fly onto the asphalt, and then a handgun with it, I couldn't help but be surprised and cautious. 'Unarmed' my ass. I grabbed my rifle and slung it back in front of me, and held it in a loose position so if anything happened, it was a simple thing of lifting it higher and pulling the trigger.

"I'm not armed!" she shouted again. Probably because I hadn't answered. "I'm unarmed!"

And I was about to find out if that was true.