Hunger Chronicles (Book 1): Life Bites (24 page)

The bolt cutter falls out of my hand and whacks me on the head. Great, even I’m against me.

Ignoring the shrieking pain rattling through my body, I jab at it again with the knife. There is a satisfying sucking sound as my knife sinks into the wolf’s side, burying all the way to the hilt in the thick fur. Finally.

It yelps, its head twisting and its teeth snapping at my hand holding the knife. I try to yank the blade out but with the wolf twisted around, the blade has become wedged between the ribs.

With a roar I pull my knees up, lodging my feet beneath the creature’s belly. I kick out, sending the wolf flying—along with my knife.

Well that didn’t work out as planned. Also what is not planned is that the wolf doesn’t go that far, gracefully landing on all four feet a yard or so away. Before I can even blink, it lunges at me again. I dive to the side, but it shifts just as quickly and I’m pinned again, its teeth bared and snapping at my face.

This is it. My checkout ticket
.

And then, amazingly, it’s gone.. One second it’s on top of me ready to bite my face off and the next it’s off of me and on the jumble of rocks nearby.

I scramble up, scanning for the bolt cutter I’d dropped. There. I dive for the gleaming metal. Behind me there is a rumbling echo of growls and snarls.

Weapon in hand I spin around, trying to pinpoint exactly where the wolf has gone, and why. And then I see it. Not one wolf, but two. They are circling around each other like two prize fighters. No, scratch that. Like two wolves about to battle to the death over a bone. My bones to be precise.

Let them have it out. One less to fight.

I watch warily as the two wolves circle. The second one, the newcomer, isn’t nearly as big as the first, but it’s in better shape. Its coat is matt free and glistens a silvery brown under the moonlight. It’s better fed too, and though I can’t tell over the stench of the other decaying wolf, I think this new one must be virus free. It’s not crazy at least. Past the first lunge that took the black wolf off of me, this new brown wolf doesn’t seem intent on attack. Its tactics are merely diversionary; always springing out of the way, never letting the wolf-zombie sink its teeth into it.

Maybe it knows that it is death if that happens.

I have to help. It’s one thing if the brown wolf were actually attacking me, but to sit by and watch it get bitten to later succumb to whatever mutant strain of the Z-virus that has infected the black wolf? I can’t do it.

I reach down, scooping up a handful of rocks and launch them at the black wolf’s back.

It growls, spinning around. And now I’m the center of its focus. I swing the bolt cutter, curling back my own lips. Fang for fang, buddy. Let’s go.

Much obliged, it replies and leaps… and is smacked back down to the ground by the second wolf.

And here it is: My opening. I scream, dashing in around the brown wolf who is frantically trying to scoot back out of the way of the black wolf’s snapping teeth. The black wolf’s focus shifts again, its front paws planting on the ground as it lunges forward, jaw gaping, at my midsection. Perfect. I jam the bolt cutters into the bull’s-eye opening. The sharp tip sinks deep, slamming up through the soft flesh behind the upper jaw, through the pallet and up, up, up into the brain. Something flashes in its already dilated eyes, something I don’t want to analyze. And then there is a muffled groan, and then a shudder. The eyes drift close as its chest collapses.

I fall to my knees, exhaustion caving in my chest and forcing me to slump forward. The only thing that keeps me from falling upon the creature is the death grip I have on the handle of the bolt cutter.

Maybe I’ll just lie here. Just a quick rest. Then I’ll get back to finding that cave.

Behind me comes a whimper.

I glance over my shoulder at the brown wolf, alarmed that it might actually be hurt. I hadn’t seen any of the black wolf’s attacks connect, but things had happened pretty fast there at the end. It’s sitting on its haunches, its head cocked to the side and its big brown eyes looking at me inquisitively. It looks a lot more like someone’s overgrown pet now than a wolf. It even goes so far as to stand up, wiggle its butt, and inch a tentative step forward.

“Yes, you were very helpful. Now shoo and go away.” I turn my back. It’s better off without me. I am obviously a danger magnet. Even if I weren’t, the fact that I have to search out zombies for their blood makes me dangerous to this wolf-dog. This dog won’t make it long in zombie land. It’s better off here in the desert—that is, as long as there aren’t any more wolf-zombies around.

I push the black wolf over and yank my knife out of its side. The blade is sticky with blood so I jam it into the ground a few times. Good enough. Wish cleaning up my own wounds were so easy, but that short fight took a lot out of me, both in my willpower and my blood. A cave and sleep. Those are going to be the best things for me.

The wolf-dog whimpers again. I turn to see it slinking across the shrub grass toward me. It looks so damn hopeful. No doubt about it, this beast used to be someone’s pet.

“You’re a survivor, I’ll give you that.” It had to be if it’s managed to live out here since the storage facility was hit with the z-virus. Not just survive either, flourish. Its coat is the type of shiny sleek that makes me want to run my fingers in it, and its body is packed with lean muscle.

I look up at the horizon. It’s not quite dawn yet, but it’s coming. “Chasing the moon.”

I shake my head. Another dad saying. Something bumps my hand. I look down to see that wolf-dog has managed to slink up beside me and, still in a half crouch, is bumping me with the top of its head, as if begging for pets. I start to sink my hand into its fur, but yank it back, clenching it into a fist.

“Better not. I’m covered in zombie blood. Of course you don’t really understand that do you.”

It sits back on its haunches. The position is non-threatening but I can’t help but step back in alarm. The damn thing’s head comes up to my armpit. He eyes me balefully—it is a he, caught that too when it sat back—and then makes a weird growly yawn. I swear it’s almost like he’s dissing me for dissing him.

I cross my arms. “Really… Okay, Fine. If you’re so smart, then you must know of a cave or something around here, right?”

Wolf-dog leaps up, dashing away a dozen feet to the northwest. There he stops, his whole hind end, bushy tail included, wagging expectantly.

“What are you, Lassie?”

His ears flatten back, his lip curling to expose an impressive set of canines.

I hold my hands up. “Okay, not Lassie.”

The canines disappear.

“How about Brownie?”

Another flash of white.

“No? Wolf-dog then. That’s my final offer.”

He doesn’t seem to object to this. The canines disappear for good and the ears come up again.

“Okay, Wolf-dog.” I pick my way across the distance between us, gesturing ahead. “Lead the way.”

Wolf-dog does a funny little sideways hop and takes off. He doesn’t take me far, maybe a couple hundred yards around the bend of the dried out streambed. I watch him disappear behind a grouping of boulders and shrubs pressed up against the ridge of exposed rock in the hillside. I don’t think there is enough room behind them for him to squeeze his massive body between the ridge and the rocks, but he doesn’t come out again.

My energy, which has been lacking since the wolf-zombie, picks up again. I practically run after Wolf-dog, pushing aside the wiry shrubs. And there it is: my one night motel.

Practically trembling with a mix of excitement and exhaustion, I squeeze and scrape myself through the narrow opening. It’s practically pitch black in here, and
I don’t see Wolf-dog’s furry haunches ahead of me. It must be pretty deep. Sure enough, after a few feet the cave entrance twists around a bit and then opens up into a good size hollow. A cavern. Complete with a small pool of water and a trickle of light. Okay, the light doesn’t have me jumping up and down for joy, it means the sun is going to reach into here, but the cavern seems large enough that as long as I stay at this end, I won’t have to worry about it much.

Wolf-dog is hunched beside the small pool lapping at the water. I approach cautiously. Just because Wolf-dog was friendly out there, doesn’t mean he won’t turn on me if he thinks I’m a threat to his home. I needn’t have worried. As soon as I draw near, Wolf-dog takes a couple steps back and lowers himself to the cave floor, dropping his head onto his forepaws as he seems to wait for me to have my turn.

I look down at the pool. The water is crystal clear, the bottom bubbling in such a way that tells me its spring fed. I suspect, at one time, it filled this whole cavern, but cracks have formed in the cavern floor and now the pool bubbles over the edges of the small depression, trickles a few feet down to the left, and then seeps back into the earth through cracks in the rock.

I don’t use the pool, but wipe my hands in the trickle of water that edges across the stones before disappearing into the slight cracks of the cave floor. I will not contaminate Wolf-dog’s only source of water.

My cargo pants are amazingly blood free, but my tank? Yeah. I peel it off and work on scrubbing away the splatters of blood. All I seem to manage to do is spread the red stains around more and make the holes—courtesy of the zombie wolf’s claws—bigger. Eventually I decide it is clean enough and spread it out on the rock floor near where the crack in the roof will allow the sun to dry it when it makes its appearance.

I stand there in my sports bra and cargo pants and, for the first time, realize how cold it actually is. Normally the cold doesn’t affect me, my body temperature being lower than that of a normal human, but nighttime in the desert, blood loss, whichever, I’m cold for the first time in ages.

I move back across the cave to ensure I’ll be well out of the sun when it moves overhead and find a halfway flat area to lie down. The rock is hard and unforgiving beneath my back. All my aches from the evening of overexertion are catching up with me. By tonight I will probably be all but healed, but in the meantime I’m in for a lot of discomfort.

I close my eyes, trying to work on breathing evenly, thereby ignoring all my little aches and pains. There is a series of toe-clicks, coming closer. I pop my eyes open just in time to see Wolf-dog flop down beside me, his warm body curling into my side.

At first I hesitate, then shrug inwardly and roll over so my arm is draped over him. Wolf-dog lifts his head, giving me a questioning look over his haunches. “If you’re going to insist on sleeping beside me, the least you can do is keep me warm.”

Wolf-dog pushes up on his haunches. I jerk back, but not before he delivers a sloppy kiss to my chin.

“Yuck!” I wipe the slime off, glaring at Wolf-dog.

The sides of his mouth curl back, his tongue lolling out in a happy pant. Next second he’s stuffing his nose in his belly, curling his tail over his silver brown snout.

I settle in, closing my eyes as my fingers stroke the surprisingly soft fur. Tomorrow I’ll leave. He has water and there should be enough wildlife around for him to eat. He’s done well enough on his own until now. I certainly can’t keep him. Unfortunately, given the way he’s taken to me, I’m beginning to think it might not be my choice.

Oh well. I sigh, snuggling up against the soft fur. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. For now, we appear to be partners. Dumb dog.

26.

Then…

“Park here! Park here!” I planted my hands on the glass of the passenger side window, watching forlornly as the little lot by the back entrance to the baseball diamond flashed by and we continued up the street. Raoul’s foot never hesitated on the pedal. At least not until he’d turned onto my road and my house came into view. I groaned.

“What’s wrong?” Raoul asked, sliding the viper up against the curb. “This is your house, is it not?”

I slumped down in the leather captain chair, the sinking feeling in my tummy easing as I had an idea. It didn’t look like anyone had seen us yet. Maybe I could convince Raoul to continue down the street and…

Raoul opened his door, moving around to my side to open mine. Such a gentleman. Not.

I glared at him. “Are you trying to massacre our chances?”

Raoul bent down, a frown line marring his beautiful brow. “Eva, what’s wrong with you? You’ve been anxious since I picked you up from Carrie’s to go to the movie.”

“What’s wrong? You need to ask what’s wrong?” I waved my hand between us. “This is what’s wrong.”

The genuine hurt on his face would have been laughable. I mean really, a girl like me being able to hurt a guy like Raoul? But I was too busy contemplating Raoul’s imminent death and my upcoming life imprisonment to find anything funny right now.

I looked across the street at my house. There were no lights on in the front, just the dim glow from the kitchen out back and the wedges of light that spilled from the two small cellar windows at the side of the house. Dad was in his workroom, which meant he’d be distracted and not appreciative of an interruption. Especially one that involves “a boy.”

“Maybe now isn’t such a good time. Maybe you should come back tomorrow instead.”

“I thought Carrie wanted to go dress shopping with you tomorrow.”

“Then Sunday. Come back Sunday. That will be perfect.” Yeah, perfect. By Sunday maybe I would have gotten up enough nerve to tell my parents that their perfect daughter had been lying to them for the last week and a half about all those long study sessions with Carrie, and instead, had been sneaking around behind their backs to meet up with a guy that they were sure to think was too old, too mature, and too… well, everything.

Forget life imprisonment. I sank me head in my hands. “They’re going to kill me.”

“Eva?” I peeped through my fingers at Raoul, saw that his eyes had narrowed with speculation. “Do your parents know that we’re dating?”

A blaze of heat rushed into my cheeks. The urge to look down at my feet was incredible. Somehow I managed to keep my gaze level. I couldn’t, however, manage a response. Not that I needed one. The blush spoke for me.