When I came to, head pounding and ears ringing like I had a bad hangover, I knew something was wrong. I blinked against the lightening sky, eyes sore and vision blurry. The fire was nothing but ash, and Dog was asleep, curled up beside me. I ran a hand over my face, surprised that it actually hurt to do so. My other hand, which was curled into a fist, contained a crumpled piece of paper.
My head was sore and my face felt bruised as I sat up slowly. I had a suspicion I knew what the paper was about, but still, I was hoping I was wrong.
The piece of paper had been shoved into my hand while I'd slept, which explained why it was crumpled. And it was that little fact that pissed me off, as recollections of last night came back to me. Because I was a light sleeper, I should've woken when someone had put it in my hand.
Still, I was careful as I opened the note. I stared at the unfamiliar scrawl, and it only confirmed my suspicions.
I'm expendable. You're not.
Fuck.
YOU ARE READING
What Lasts in Us
Science Fiction**COMPLETED** Several years after the world succumbed to a deadly strain of measles that turned those infected into crazed, mindless cannibals, Charlotte wanders the backroads alone, content with surviving day-to-day. That is until she crosses path...
