Arcadia (Book 1): Damn The Dead Read Free Page B

no hiding the sense of dread that seemed to follow close behind. Something had to have taken notice during her struggle with that man. Something had to have heard them and was on the way to investigate further. It would not surprise her if a herd of infected were close behind.
    It felt good having the machete back in her hands. She’d felt naked without it. It was her favorite weapon. She remembered dressing like her father. They’d uncovered an armory of sorts and stocked up on knives, both strapping a longsword into a scabbard about their waists, and a machete sheathed on their backs. They wore knives on their hips and secured to their thighs.
    That was years ago. When the world was full of infected.
    The world was still full of the infected; it just seemed like less, as if they’d died off, starved as a living food source ran dry. It was a war. The last three and a half years were full of battles she’d remember forever, but would always try to forget.
    She would never forget her dad.
    “You make any more noise, and I’ll have to kill you.”
    Tony. He’d startled her, but she recognized the voice instantaneously.
    Char hadn’t realized she’d stopped moving, and that she stood still in a clearing. The lack of tree canopy above had her spotlighted.
    “You okay? Your head. . .you’re bleeding.”
    “Got a little rough. I’m fine, and he’s dead,” she said. She spoke without emotion. There was no need to admit the rush that came with killing the man. He’d been evil and didn’t belong. That guy would not have added anything to this new world except a promise to deliver more pain, more suffering. She did what needed doing. It didn’t make her feel better about having killed. Nothing would. It was her sin. One of many, and she’d carry it with her forever.
    “I hit mine. He took off on his horse. Ran south.” Tony stared at Char just a little longer than he should have.
    Char knew Tony was upset about losing an arrow. “You think he’s dead?”
    “Dying, that’s for sure. I followed for a bit. Horse was far too spooked, ran like lightning down the trail and I couldn’t keep up. The guy was slumped forward, barely hanging on.” Tony reached forward and brushed hair off her forehead where it stuck to the gash on her skin.
    She knew he wanted to ask if she was okay and knew he wouldn’t. He knew better. Neither of them was okay. They’d both suffered terrible losses and were desperate and depressed, but surviving. So there was no point in asking each other if they were okay; the answer was both assumed and accepted. What they knew was that the other did care, and that when it came down to it, that was what mattered.
    “And the sleeping babies?”
    “Still asleep.” Tony pointed.
    Char couldn’t see the targets, but knew they must be close. It was a good thing he’d spotted her. Had she started running again, she may have trotted right into the enemy’s makeshift camp.
    “I was just coming to make sure you were all set,” he said.
    “I am. All set. How do you want to handle this?” Char slid her machete back into the sheath on her back. She winced and regretted the show of weakness.
    “Char?”
    “Might have busted a rib or two,” she said. Nothing could be done for broken ribs. They just needed time to heal. The bones would mend on their own with rest and nourishment, the two things she knew she’d never have. “It’s good. I’m okay.”
    She rolled her shoulder around; it didn’t eliminate pain, but added to the discomfort.
    “They’re in sleeping bags, feet to feet. Like a cross. I have an idea to do this quick and quiet. I just want you down close in case something goes wrong. If you can. Are you up to it?”
    “Absolutely. I’ve got this.”
    Char followed Tony. They made their way across tall weeds and around trees. He was smooth and moved soundlessly. They stopped at a giant rock not twenty yards from where the men slept.
    “Guns by their heads,” Tony said.
    “See