Yet another roamer emerges from the darkness right in front of me. He grabs my shoulder and arm, stepping to the side. I feel my feet fly up as his leg sweeps across mine. I wind up on my back before I can understand what happened. This one moves extremely quickly. A moment later, he’s already sitting across my stomach, pinning me down with his weight.
My knife! Why didn’t I think to pull the damn knife? I squirm, reaching for my trophy. The guy instantly grips my wrists and presses my arms to the ground above my head.
“Stop resisting,” he says calmly, “or I’ll kill you.”
I don’t doubt his willingness to kill me, but can’t give up now. I yank my arms, trying to break his grip. I kick the ground with my feet, trying to knock him off me. He almost effortlessly holds me down, making any attempts futile. Although he has an average build, he’s much stronger than average.
“Get off me!” I yell in panic. “Let me go!”
I have a sudden flashback of Gabriel pinning me to the floor.
The guy rolls his eyes, easily gripping my wrists with just one hand. He pulls a knife, one with a long sharp blade, and places it against my throat. I feel the cold metal pressing into my skin. It’s more than enough to convince me to stop moving.
“Do what I say or I’ll cut your head off.”
I believe him. I hold my breath, staring into his ruthless eyes. He stretches his white painted lips into a satisfied grin.
“That’s better,” he comments.
I wonder whether I should spit in his face. I decide against it. He’d just slit my throat. I know I want to survive, no matter the cost.
“I’ll kill you if you so much as twitch,” the roamer threatens.
He releases my wrists, but I continue lying motionless, breathing slowly. The blade is still pressed against my neck.
His hand slides along the side of my body, touching me firmly. I involuntarily let out a strange sound, something between a groan and cry.
“Relax, sweetie,” he smirks. “I’m just searching you for weapons. You packing anything?”
“No,” I lie.
His hand brushes inside my jacket, checking my pockets. He discovers my knife of course.
“Nice,” he smiles broadly.
“It’s mine!” I exclaim. Gabriel’s knife means a lot to me. It’s a constant reminder that I can be dangerous.
“Shut your mouth, girl,” the guy says.
I become quiet, biting my lip in frustration. I hate being so passive, but don’t know what else I can possibly do in this situation. I feel trapped and powerless.
The guy examines Gabriel’s knife closer, turning it over. His jaw suddenly drops open and his eyes widen. For a moment, he has a really silly expression.
“Well, I’ll be!” he exclaims. “Where did you get this knife?”
“That’s none of your business,” I answer, feeling angry.
“Damn, girl!” He glares at me. “Your life is in my hands. So anything concerning you is definitely my business. Where did you get the knife?!”
I press my lips together.
“You really don’t want to live, do you?” he asks. “If you must know, you wouldn’t be the first girl I’ve killed.”
I remain silent. He stares me down, scowling. His painted face is very creepy. The rumors about roamers turning into demons and werewolves come to mind.
“Where did you get the knife?” He bares his teeth, pressing the blade deeper into my skin. “Did you steal it? You’re a little thief, ain’t you?”
I must say something or he’ll cut me.
“It’s just a trophy,” I mutter.
“What?”
“I killed my master. It was his knife.”
“Stop lying!” he shouts. “You can’t talk your way out of this, understand? I know much more than you think.”
“It’s the truth,” I gulp.
“I’m getting fed up with you, girl. I think I’ll go ahead and kill you right now.”
He wraps a hand around my neck. He doesn’t actually choke me, but a wave of horror overwhelms me anyway. I can’t take it. His unblinking snake-like gaze, his fingers on my throat and his weight pressing me against the ground are all too familiar. He’s just like Gabriel. I feel like I’m back in the basement again.
“It’s true!” I repeat desperately. “I killed him. He murdered my best friend so I slit his throat with his own knife!”
“What was his name?”
“Gabriel! His name was Gabriel!”
The guy watches me intently, thinking, then finally releases my neck. I take in a deep slow breath, calming myself.
“All right then,” he smiles. “I believe you for the time being.”
He gets up and yanks me back to my feet. My head is spinning.
“Walk,” he orders, taking my arm and forcefully pulling me forward. He holds his still open switchblade in his other hand.
I have no choice but to obey. He leads me through the dark woods and toward a road. Four other roamers stand near two pickup trucks. Tanya sits on the ground, her arms tied with a rope. She looks frightened but okay.
“Damn it, Wreck!” one of the others complains. “What took you so long? What the hell were you doing with her back there?”
My captor, apparently named Wreck, doesn’t bother to answer.
“Look what this little one had,” another guy says, demonstrating Tanya’s handgun. “Did you check yours for weapons?”
“She wasn’t carrying,” Wreck answers curtly, binding my hands in front.
“All right then,” the guy with the messed-up nose says, approaching us. “It’s time to get rid of them. I’ll take care of this one.”
He takes a step toward me, but Wreck yanks me back.
“Whoa,” my captor says, motioning for the guy to stop. “Not so fast, Ace. She’s my prisoner. I’m taking her back to the village.” He glances over at Tanya and
