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“Wrong answer.” She applied more pressure to his arm, but she didn’t stop at the sound of his screams. No, she waited to hear the crack of his bone.
Seconds passed as her patience grew thin. Ladies and gentlemen, we have a screamer. She needed him to hear her, but conversation was a no-go with him wailing like a child.
She sighed. “Let’s try that again, shall we? Leave, or I will force your jagged broken bone through your dirty skin.” Dead silence followed. “I smell infection—”
“Okay!”
The corners of her lips twitched. “Good. So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to stand up and move to your men. Then you’re going to explain to them that you value your life over whatever we might have in our packs. That’s when you and I part ways and never see each other again. Are we clear?”
The side of his cheek rubbed against the soft mud of the ground as he nodded. She eased off him, taking his pathetic excuse for a wrist with her. After he’d straightened, she shoved him in the direction of his men.
She felt the eyes of everyone watching her, their thoughts almost transparent as she stopped before them and added just a bit of force on his bones to let him know she was still there. “Speak.”
He cleared his throat. “Boys, we’re wasting our time. They have nothing we want or need in those packs of theirs. The lady has so kindly informed me of greener pastures, and I don’t know about you, but I would like to be on our way.”
Murmurs arose among the men, a buzz of deep vocals and grunts, which were all but lost on her ears. Would they take his word, or would they fight to the death?
Surely, they valued their own lives, but as she looked among them—from the young, boyish features of some of their faces, to the middle-aged followers, to the gray-haired old men—she wasn’t so sure. They were all filthy, the bags under their eyes a sign of their fatigue, and their skinny frames a blatant mark of starvation. When was the last time they’d eaten, or rested for that matter?
She shook her head.
Don’t let them in. You can’t save them all, only your people.
Pain seared her temples.
“Forget this,” she said as she let go of Donald’s arm and turned back toward her crew.
She didn’t want this—the killing, the fighting, the constant struggle to survive. And not just against Mother Nature, against each other. What would her mom think of her?
As she walked back toward her crew, her eyes met Krieger’s. His gaze was softer than it had been only minutes before. He nodded as if he understood the choice she’d just made.
Her shoes squished in the mud as she made her way back to her crew, when suddenly a familiar sound met her ears. She stopped in her tracks as a gun cocked behind her. All in one breath, time slowed down and the air thickened.
She had disobeyed the first rule in combat—never take your eyes off your enemy. Now she was going to pay for it.
Krieger’s face paled as she turned.
Donald’s gun fired one shot, then another, as she tumbled into the wet dirt. She managed a kneeling position and reached for the knife in her boot. The item left her hand with force and sailed through the air toward its target.
Another shot left his gun as the knife struck him in the chest. He fell hard on his side as burning fire erupted on her left side. The bullet had struck her shoulder, sending hot spasms of pain radiating through her body.
She pressed her hand over the wound and then lifted it to her face. Blood covered her fingers and palm. “Shit.” She took a deep breath as she applied more pressure to the hole in her shoulder. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t support her weight.
Donald lay flat on his back, his now recognizable screams sounding off as his men ran to him.
Another round of pain assaulted her as her stomach heaved and the world waved in front of her.
A blurry Krieger appeared before she was able to make another attempt at standing. “Eva, we’ve got to get you out of here.”
She shoved him away with her good arm, but the act did little to sway him. Leaving was currently not an option she was willing to entertain. Donald wanted a true fight to the death, and she wasn’t leaving now only to watch their backs all the way back to Everwood.
No, this ended now. What on earth had she been thinking only moments ago? A match was a fight to the death, period.
A deep breath seemed to clear away some of the nausea. If she could just get past the initial shock, she’d be able to stop the bleeding herself.
Krieger had a tight grip on her non-gaping shoulder, and she wondered if she could use him to help her legs support her. She looped her arm around his neck and pressed up with her weakened legs. Once they accepted her weight, she let go of him and started toward Donald, but Krieger protested. “Eva, I don’t think it’s a good—”
“Leave me.” She pressed the palm of her hand to the wound and took another step toward Donald’s twitching legs. Another step and then another. Her movements seemed to be getting quicker as Krieger and her crew hovered not far behind. She felt their presence getting closer as she neared her victim.
