“Just a little,” she said, breathing heavy.
She whimpered when he carefully pulled her forward and he almost f**king burst into tears. Her skin felt clammy and her face was too pale.
“More than a little. You’ve been hit in the shoulder. Fuck, sweetheart. What were you thinking?” He pressed his balled up T-shirt against her, hard, and started working the gauze around her. “I was trying to keep you safe.”
She didn’t answer.
“Ros?”
Her eyes were closed. She’d passed out.
***
Nick stared at the remodeled dump truck that now served as Blackstone’s front entrance with grim acceptance. It they killed him, then so be it. Whatever happened next was out of his hands.
He turned off the ignition of Pete and Justin’s shiny green Camaro.
Roslyn’s breathing was shallow. She hadn’t stirred since he’d bundled her into the vehicle. Blood stained the makeshift bandage he’d tied around her shoulder. He’d never been so f**king scared in his life.
If she died …
A couple of men slipped out from between the truck and wall, rifles in their hands. Everything possible made up the wall surrounding Blackstone. A tipped train, bulldozed buildings, cars and trucks. Almost a hundred people lived inside the barricade of rubble surrounding the town’s main street and a block or two in either direction. The only haven he knew of for her. The only place that could help.
Nick threw open the car door and climbed out, hands held high.
“Shit,” muttered one.
“It’s that bastard,” said the other.
“She’s hurt. Please.” Nick stood still, empty hands stretched above his head. “Help her.”
“Get on your knees,” said one of the men while the other started talking rapid-fire into a walkie-talkie. “Slowly.”
Walkie-Talkie Man moved around to the passenger-side door and looked in at Ros through the open window. The other guy kept his rifle pointed at Nick’s head as he sunk slowly to the ground. Beneath his knees the bitumen felt like ice, as if the whole world had frozen. It had rained here recently and the damp soaked into his jeans. He hadn’t bothered to find a shirt. Every second counted.
“Was she bit?” Walkie-talkie asked.
“No,” said Nick. “I swear. We’re both clean. She was shot. A couple of hours ago now. Please help her.”
The man spoke again into his walkie-talkie. “Tell Lila she’s got a patient. Is Tom on the way?”
“I’m here.” A bull of a man slipped through the gap and strode forward. Late twenties, maybe. “What is this?”
“The woman’s injured, Tom. He says it’s not a bite.”
Tom squinted at him against the glare of the sun, lip curled back in distaste. “That’s not a risk we can take. Kill them.”
“Hold it.” Another two men pushed through, and these two Nick recognized. The taller, older, blond bastard was Captain Sean Manning. He’d been behind the coup against Emmet. The younger blond man was the town sheriff, Finn. Last time they’d met, both had threatened to kill him. Fine, as long as they helped Roslyn. He didn’t give a shit what happened to him anymore.
“You said yourself, Finn, that you’d shoot him if he showed his face here again,” said Tom. “Going back on your word now?”
“Why don’t we wait till we know what’s going on before we start killing people?” suggested the sheriff.
“Let me through!” a woman shouted from inside Blackstone.
“Keep her back there,” Tom ordered.
Apparently Tom didn’t have quite as much authority as he thought, because a woman stalked out with a hefty first-aid kit in hand. Thank f**k. Nick couldn’t care less who was in charge. The idiots could stand around all day comparing dick sizes, so long as Roslyn got help.
He could feel his former captain’s eyes boring into him. The man’s hand lingered near the gun at his side. Funny, they’d been friends once. Sort of.
“Damn it, Lila,” said Tom. “You’re our only medic. You can’t expose yourself like this. What if there were snipers?”
The woman ignored him, pushing Walkie-Talkie Man aside to get to Roslyn. “She was shot?”
“About three hours ago,” Nick said.
“She’s lost a lot of blood,” Lila said with a frown.
“I’m O-negative, compatible with everything,” said Nick. “You can give her mine.”
Lila nodded. “Right, let’s get you both inside.”
“There is no way ...” Tom began. No one seemed to be listening.
“I warned you about coming here,” said the sheriff in a low voice, stepping closer. The guy with his rifle trained on Nick moved aside to make room.
“So kill me,” said Nick. “Just let me help her first.”
“She needs his blood, Finn,” said Lila. The woman summoned Sean with a wave of her hand. “Carry her. Be careful.”
Sean leant down and emerged with Roslyn in his arms. Her head fell back, limp. He could barely breathe; it felt as if his ribs grew tighter by the minute. She had to be okay.
“I don’t trust you,” said the sheriff. “And I did promise to kill you the next time you showed your face here.”
Nick said nothing. He knew, but he’d come anyway. He’d had no choice. Blackstone was the only place where he knew for certain civilization still existed. The only place that could keep her alive.