“You know, I kind of think this is poetic,” he murmured, staring down at her. “Now not only will I never have you, but no one else will either.”
Lifting a dirty hand, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and stroked her cheek with his index finger.
Poetic her ass.
Caitlin refused to die as the plotline to a southern gothic murder ballad.
Joints are weakest, Booker’s voice echoed in her head. If ya have to, aim for the wrist or the elbow. Knocks ‘em off line and gives y’the chance to disarm ‘em.
Seth’s weapons were his hands.
So she decided to rid him of them.
As he went to cup her jaw, Caitlin grabbed his fingers and bent them back, twisting around to snap his wrist.
Shouting in pain, Seth didn’t have time to react as she yanked him with all her might into the jagged crevice in the door, slamming his arm through it and into the waiting mouths of starved Geeks.
He screamed as they chewed his bones clean like piranhas.
Caitlin’s own forearm was wedged in between his body and the door, and as she pulled herself free, sharp pain lanced up to her elbow.
Ducking away from Seth, she gave him one last shove from behind, aiding the Geeks as they hauled him through the rapidly disintegrating wood.
Seth howled in agony as the herd tore him apart, eviscerating him while he still had a pulse.
She’d gotten her wish.
Seth died slow.
Turning, Caitlin bolted for the platform, scrambling up the incline with all the strength left in her body.
As she got to the top, she had to lever her weight to pull herself the rest of the way up, and her forearm ached so much she cursed in pain.
Glancing down, she saw a trickle of blood seeping from the oval wound obscured by her coat sleeve, staining the pale skin of her inner wrist.
Hoisting herself onto the level side of the platform, Caitlin rolled onto her side, desperate to catch her breath.
Sitting up, she tugged the fabric away and stared down at the mess near the hinge of her elbow.
She blinked.
And then blinked again.
A single set of ragged teeth marks were visible through the welling blood.
“Cae!” Booker shouted from outside the barn. “Cae, you in there?”
Inhaling, Caitlin tugged her sleeve back over the bite.
“I’m here,” she called. “I’m okay.”
Chapter Sixteen
The news of Seth’s death at the hands of the undead was met with relief.
Relief he was gone and relief they didn’t have to be the ones to put him down.
As rattled as Desi was, she bounced back quickly, quipping with Booker over warmed oatmeal and canned OJ.
“Caitlin, your jacket is bloody,” Nicole said, starting to pull at her sleeve. “Is that…”
“Oh, I’m okay,” Caitlin said. “It happened in the barn.”
Nicole eyed her but didn’t say anything.
“I’m just going to get cleaned up,” Caitlin added, offering a weak smile.
Stepping into their trailer, she gingerly pulled her coat off and tossed it aside, examining her wound. Poking at the bruised skin around it, she winced.
Rinsing it with what was left in a plastic water bottle, she hissed under her breath.
There was no doubt it was a bite. The teeth marks were even more prominent in the light streaming in through the kitchenette window.
She waited for the tears to come, but they never did.
She waited for the grief and anger, but instead she was suspended in a neutral territory of acceptance.
Maybe she knew the day would always come.
Maybe Seth had been right, that they’d all been living on borrowed time.
Hell, Caitlin should have died months ago, crushed to death in the rubble of a plane crash.
Everything beyond that had been a loan.
A loan that was now being called up for repayment.
Vaguely, she wondered if amputation would be possible, but the odds of her surviving that kind of operation without sterile instruments or anesthetics were slim.
No, she’d reached the end of the line. At least she got to see everyone, got to say goodbyes like she wanted.
Maybe Alonzo would even break out the flask he thought no one knew about and offer a sip of whatever whiskey he’d been squirreling away.
It would be okay. She’d greet her end with dignity, head held high and shoulders back.
Nothing would snuff Caitlin Meadows out while sniveling and railing against fate.
She hadn’t broken yet, she wasn’t about to crumble now.
Finding a patch of gauze and a few band aids in her bag, she covered her wound and changed shirts, pulling on one of Booker’s heavy fleece sweatshirts and her cold weather coat with the hood.
“Songbird, y’alright?” Booker called, heavy boots approaching the door.
Taking a deep breath, she held it in her lungs for an extra beat.
She wouldn’t get many of those left.
Opening the door, she smiled at him. “Just changing out of those dirty clothes,” she said.
He reached for her, gently cupping her jaw and leaning down to kiss her.
Caitlin melted into him, letting every inch of her feel him as he swept her mind clean with his touch.
“That was a brave thing y’did for Desi,” he murmured, pulling back a fraction to stare down at her. “Still, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
She kissed him again, sinking her fingers into his hair.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “It won’t happen again.”
Caitlin memorized his smile. The way the corners of his eyes crinkled, the way his brown irises glittered with gold in the mid-morning light, the shadow his growing stubble made along his jawline and throat.
“You know, I probably would have fallen in love with you no matter what,” she said, finger combing his lengthy hair off his forehead. “But I sure got lucky that you look this good.”
