The Survivors: Book One

"You'll bring her over next week for the shot?"

"Yes."

The wind gusted suddenly through the open windows, heavy draft catching her long, black braid, and his fingers were there to catch it, hold its softness for a brief second before handing it back.

He forced their hands to touch and Angela smiled her thanks, stomach rolling as she started the engine. She couldn't wait to be gone.

"You're sure she's not got the sickness?"

"Yes, she should be fine in a few days." Angela lit a cigarette and looked everywhere except into his needy, intimidating eyes. Aaron had forced her to show that she would defend herself, but instead of the leeriness she'd been hoping for, the vibes from Warren had gotten stronger. Had that been the plan all along? To see what she could do?

"What do I owe you?"

She shook her head, voice sounding more casual than she felt. "Nothing. That world is gone. See ya next week."

Angela shifted into gear and rolled slowly away, mind relieved when the scruffy Preacher returned her short wave without any sign that her quick exit had offended him. She hated to come down here, hated it that one of these times she might really have to fight to get back out, but knew that even if they hadn't insisted, she would have come anyway. Her doctor's heart simply wouldn't let her do anything else. She would help everyone she could, and pay the price later.

Angela breathed a sigh as the tall, brick walls of the weather-beaten dorms fell out of sight in her mirror, but didn't let her guard down as she drove past reeking slaughterhouses and burnt frames of homes and businesses. There were still other people around here, and they were all a threat to a woman alone.

Her doctor's eyes flicked over body after body as she drove, determining the cause of death; gunshot to the head, knife wound, the sickness, gunshot. Death came in many ways to this place, and it wasn't only to the humans. Deer and cats were the most common corpses to represent the losses animal populations were taking, but there were also squirrels, dogs, even birds mixed in, and Angela forced her mind away from it all. Maybe it wasn't as bad wherever Charlie was right now.

Very little in the city where pigs fly had survived the riots, and as she drove, Angela heard no sparrows calling, no engines revving, no lawn mowers rumbling, no pets yapping, no voices shouting, and no horns blaring. There was only the occasional scream or gunshot to break the silence, and destruction that grew worse the closer she got to downtown.