US (Formerly The After Effect - Book 2)

2 2 - N E W C O M E R S

//okay i'm not a 100% with this chapter, but here it is anywho. please share your thoughts on it in the comments!//

"She what?" Stella squeals telepathically.

Travis and I have been running for our lives back to camp for a few minutes at least, me constantly splurging out a frantic, "Oh my god."

Neither of us have said a word to each other yet—we've been focused on gaining as much distance as we can from that place until we knew we were back to safety. I don't know what the hell just happened back there, but I want to be as far away as possible.

That woman was a cannibal. And I can't be sure if she had anyone else lurking nearby with the same mindset. She had lost herself completely. She chose cannibalism. I can't help but wonder if there are others like her patrolling the grounds of the rest of this earth.

Over a rock, around a tree, under a branch. I race on, horrified and somewhat out of my head from what Travis and I just experienced. Part of me can't accept it was real. My brain almost can't process it. I sense my throat locking up as we sprint up a hill—not due to exhaustion, but the approaching tears. They're coming, but I don't fully understand their purpose.

Travis is a few paces behind me; he keeps checking over his shoulder for others, as do I. As I turn back around, and reach the climax of the hill, I slam into a tree trunk, and find myself spinning out of control back down. After I eat a mound of leaves and snow, Travis hurries to catch me.

I'm dizzy and unable to balance as he pulls me to my feet. I also feel really really dumb.

"Don't. Say. A thing," he warms, holding his fingers up to his mouth.

I'm bewildered by his actions, and spin my head around and make out two—three—blurry figures standing at the brink of the hill. As my eyes readjust, the silhouettes become three men. I didn't run into a tree.

As they close distance between us, I notice each of them is armed with a gun and they all are pointing them our direction. They're all wearing shabby clothing, but nothing severely shredded. The one in the middle has a getup similar to Travis, but the other guys sport jeans, tennis shoes, and heavy winter coats.

Who the hell are they? They aren't from camp. Could they be more cannibals? Out to harvest?

Please, no.

Travis is a statue in front of me, his gun out as well, and I don't dare move a single muscle, either. We have the clear disadvantage; not only are we two on three, we're down here and they're up there.

"He's got a girl with him," I hear one of them mumble and I instantly shrivel up like a raisin, deeper into Travis's side.

No one has the nerve to fire yet. As the others freeze in position, I notice their muddied faces, free of any bloody cuts. They look pretty healthy overall.

"We're just passing through," Travis calmly explains. The guy on the right steps forward and Travis heightens his rifle, prepared to shoot. "Back up or you're dead."

"Someone's trying to show off for their girl," one of them squawks. The informality of the comment has my gears spinning. They sound like a bunch of teenagers.

I do everything I can to keep my mouth closed and my hands hugging my knees to my chest. It would be easy to knock them out with a simple flick, but I don't want to test it. I've been far too uncontrollable lately. But if they make any moves, I won't bat an eye.

"We're leaving," Travis says, and latches his hand onto mine. "We have somewhere to be."

"Are ya'll going to the survivor's camp?" The man on the right lowers his gun and shoves the middle guy out of his way to come a little closer.