BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 24 | A Little Bit Lucky

"CHRISTIAN!"

I wrapped my hands tightly around his wrist, clenching with all of my strength, but still—still feeling him slowly slipping from my grip, inch by terrifying inch.

Gray eyes looked up at me, and I stared at him, sunlight revealing that a few strands of his hair—which I thought to be jet-black—were actually light brown, with even a few coppery locks in between. Then my eyes traced the bruises along his cheekbones, with a particularly nasty cut underneath his left eye. Deep bruises concaved the skin of his cheeks, and he looked so gaunt—so exhausted, that I knew his inhuman strength came with a costly price.

My eyes filled with tears.

"What do I still not know?" I asked, my voice breaking. "Are your eyes really gray? Or is it another shade? Do you like to read books, as much as I do?"

His mouth opened, then closed. He searched my eyes, seeming to be at a loss on what to do.

"I know you don't know how to comfort crying girls," I told him, and my sob turned into a weak laugh. "But is your favorite color black? Or do you like pancakes for breakfast? I like pancakes. Are you and your mom close? How did she die? Do you have nightmares at night too?"

"Kathryn..."

"There's so much I still don't know about you, Christian," I said, and finally sobbed. I looked down at my hands, which were trying desperately to hold him from the horrible fate waiting for him below. "And I want you to live. I guess I still have another question to ask you though."

My eyes met his, tears blurring his face. "Why won't your hand grip mine back?"

His hand was slack, his fingers not even wrapping themselves around my wrist. All the while I've been talking, I was the only one holding on.

He had already let go.

I let out an uncontrolled groan. Stupid, stupid, stupid. I should call for Hazel and Ethan before I start on spouting even more ridiculous crap.

"Hazel, Ethan!" I shouted. "I found Chris—"

I stopped, my eyes drawn to a crescent shape on his wrist where the crude bandage he had tied it with became lopsided and revealed the skin beneath.

It was smudged by blood, but there was no mistaking what it was.

It was a bite mark.

My eyes flew to his somber gray ones, and—with a slight movement of his head—he nodded.

"That's why," he said softly.

"Is it," I said, hesitating, "Kai..."

I trailed off. The answer in his eyes was enough.

My hands tightened. "But I'm immune, Christian! I'm sure Mr. Williams will be able to find a cure. And...and Stephen said my blood might be able to become a vaccine!"

His eyes widened as he processed my news, and a wondering look replaced the grim expression on his face. "You're immune? But that means..."

His face lit up as he slowly smiled. "That's great Kathryn, you're not going to turn."

My voice cracked. "That's not what's important right now, Christian! Don't you get what this means? I might be able to save you."

His smile slipped. "There are no assurances to that, Kathryn. I might hurt all of you."

"Will you fucking stop with that?" I snapped. "We can take care of ourselves!"

"I'm strong," he said, and the way he phrased the words made it sound like he didn't think it was a blessing. "I don't know what will happen if I become a mutt—"