Page 2 of Dark Fey Captive

Gwen nodded to the men, her expression solemn. “Words of wisdom to live by. If it’s not human or alive, run and hide.” She rolled up the map and handed it to them. “It’s dangerous on land, gentlemen. Stay safe. We look forward to your visit next month. Remember, we’re interested in batteries of any kind.”

They nodded and waved farewell as they backed their boat away from the dock.

“Relax,” Gwen said. “You’ll find more maps where we’re going.”

With my thoughts lingering on Silver Bay and what might have happened there, it took a second for what she said to register.

“Going?” I echoed.

“Asha’s having trouble breathing. Probably some cross-contamination in last night’s dinner. We need you to fill in.”

Gwen started down one of the eight long docks that extended from the central platform. I didn’t. I stood there, knees locked and chest growing tighter by the second.

When Gwen had radioed for me to bring any Great Lake maps I could spare, I’d assumed a trade, not a supply run. A boat ride to the trade station and back I could manage—sort of. A longer boat ride? That was a different story. It wasn’t that I thought I shouldn’t risk my life for supplies like everyone else. I was just really terrified of water.

That made me a risk. I knew it, and so did everyone else.

The growing tightness in my chest was making it harder to breathe, and I glanced at the water. The very thing protecting us from the infected and everything else trying to kill us sent me into a full-blown panic attack if I got too close.

However, we’d lost too many people in the last six months to think I wasn’t past due for a turn. Seventy percent of the settlement’s residents were women and children. And half the remaining men were too old or injured to go out. Everyone who went for supplies had to be able to run, be of sound mind, and be an adult.

I could run. I could think clearly. And I was thirty.

What I couldn’t do was swim.

Or float.

I sank like a rock every time I’d tried as a kid, until I’d developed the fear that kept me from the water permanently.

Lettie rubbed the back of the lightweight lifejacket I wore over my coat.

“I brought an extra Xanax if you need it,” she said softly.

The temptation to accept was real, but she needed them more than I did. I was only afraid of water. Well, and the infected. Lettie was afraid of everything, especially the unknown. Baxter wasn’t for show, and when he wasn’t enough, the meds kept her from spiraling.

“Thanks, but I’ll try to suck it up first.”

“Do you want to close your eyes again?” she asked. I’d done that on the way over, silently lying to myself that I was on an amusement park ride—on land.

Nodding, I took her hand and let her guide me, trusting her to keep me away from the edge.

To distract myself as she led me forward, I focused on what would come after the boat ride.

Scavenging.

Searching for supplies on the mainland, where the undead roamed, was as dangerous as swimming was for me. But since the world fell, it was the only way to get what we needed. Food. Medicine. And especially batteries to light the darkness and keep the radios working.

The radios were our only connection with the remaining small pockets of people struggling to survive. Settlements like ours existed. Few and far between, but still there. And we talked thanks to the radio. That was how we’d learned about the infected movement last month, and how most had dropped dead.

Actual dead, not undead.

Supposedly, the remaining ones were slower, but I still felt woefully unprepared for the boat ride and for what waited ashore.

“You’re doing great,” Lettie said. “Five more steps and then one down.”

Her hold on me shifted. I felt the gangway dip as I stepped onto it and pictured myself dangling over water. My hands started to shake.

“Arena, repeat the mainland rules,” Gwen ordered.