“Be careful. We don’t know what we’re up against here,” Saul admonished.
Dylan rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I can handle myself.”
She climbed out of the Humvee and walked around it, taking a set of binoculars with her. The road behind them was deserted, as was the countryside all around. She spotted a few houses in the distance. Country homes set on a low rolling hill. The kind rich people lived in with wide verandas, ornate pillars, and green lawns. “I wonder what it feels like to live in a place like that?”
Tara looked in the direction of the homes. “Like you’re the Queen of your castle, I’d imagine.”
Dylan laughed. “Sounds about right. And now they’re undead King’s and Queen’s.”
Tara handed them each a bottle of water and a packet of trail mix. Dylan downed her water in one go but tucked the food into her pocket to snack on later.
Once he’d eaten, Saul set about refueling the Humvee from the jerry cans they’d brought with them. At barely twelve miles a gallon, the army truck was a real gas guzzler. By the time he was finished filling the tank, most of their reserves were gone.
Dylan eyed the empty cans. “How about I check those cars for gas? We could use it for the trip ahead.”
“It’s risky. What if there are infected?” Saul asked.
“It’s either that, or we stop at a gas station. That means a town which means people. Much riskier, in my opinion.”
“I’ll go,” Saul said, hefting his rifle. “You stay here.”
“No, thanks. I offered, so I’m going,” Dylan said. Without waiting for a reply, she set off down the road.
“Dylan, wait,” Saul shouted.
She ignored him, focusing on the roadblock instead. Saul rubbed her up the wrong way. They were both fighters but in different ways. He thrived on authority, order, and structure — the giving and receiving of commands. There was a place for everything, a niche for everyone, and a hierarchy as old as time.
She was a rebel. She hated institutions and resented being told what to do or how to act. She longed for freedom, although she recognized that freedom came with certain responsibilities. I’m not a criminal, after all.
It was no wonder they didn’t get along.
Dylan drew closer to the jumble of crashed cars and examined the area through the binoculars. There didn’t appear to be anyone around, neither inside nor outside the vehicles. There was ample room for the Humvee to go around the accident site, but they needed fuel badly.
She closed the remaining distance and climbed onto the nearest hood and scanned the place. There were several good candidates for gas siphoning, and she turned to wave at Saul. Suddenly, two hands gripped her ankles, and her legs were swept out from underneath her.
With a surprised yelp, Dylan crashed onto the car. Her chin took the brunt of the fall, and her teeth clipped together. Pain shot through her tongue and the taste of blood filled her mouth.
The same hands that gripped her ankles yanked her off the hood. The tar rushed up to meet her, and she barely had time to shield her face. With a thud, she landed face-down, the breath leaving her lungs in a rush.
Before she could move, a single gunshot rang out, and a heavy weight collapsed on top of her. Pushed to the ground, Dylan fought to get her knees underneath her body. She gagged when the scent of rot hit her nostrils. “Holy shit, what is that?”
She heaved upward, and the corpse of an infected landed next to her. It was a young boy around ten years old. A neat bullet hole in his forehead leaked a trickle of black blood. His face had smoothed out in death, no longer enraged or hungry. Just young and innocent. Reddish-brown curls framed his face, and his sightless eyes stared up at the blue sky above.
Dylan scrambled to her feet. Within seconds, her stomach convulsed, and the meager contents came up in a rush. It splashed onto the tar, a mixture of water and bile, and she coughed several times. The sight of the dead child was a shock to her system, and it took a minute before she could compose herself.
Tara rushed over and gripped Dylan’s arm. “Are you okay? Did he bite you?”
“No, he didn’t get the chance. What happened?” Dylan said, wiping her mouth on her sleeve. Her hands were trembling when she picked up her spear, and she tried to calm her shattered nerves.
“Saul happened. You owe him your life,” Tara said, escorting Dylan back to the Humvee.
Dylan groaned. “Great. Now I get to hear, I told you so, over and over again.”
“Saul isn’t like that. Now come on. Drop the attitude.”
As they neared the truck, Saul climbed down from the roof, his R4 rifle slung across his chest. Without saying a word, he picked up two jerry cans and a length of hose. “Tara, could you bring more cans, please?”
“Of course,” Tara replied.
Dylan stared at him, her mouth dry. Finally, she said, “Thanks for saving my life. I owe you one.”
“You don’t owe me anything, but next time, be more careful. Better yet, listen to me when I tell you not to rush into things.”
“Fair enough, but can you stop being such a dick about it? You’re not in the army anymore, and I’m not one of your soldiers,” Dylan replied.
“Maybe not, but I have a lot more experience than you. If you had any sense at all, you’d let me handle these things,” Saul said.
“And sit back like a pampered Princess? You can’t coddle us, Saul. We need to learn to survive on our own. You won’t always be around to protect us,” Dylan said, hot blood rushing to her cheeks.
“It’s my job!” Saul burst out, his eyes narrowed as he stalked toward her. “I took an oath. Don’t you get it?”
“I didn’t ask you to!” Dylan shouted back.
“That’s enough,” Tara cried, stepping in
