Sneaky

Chapter 50

I shot up, struggling to force air into my chest. My fists shook with my sleeping bag in a death grip.

Those eyes flashed through my head and the ache in my shoulder jumped to the foreground, but the face kept coming back to me. It wasn't his face but those were his eyes.

I desperately thrashed in the sleeping bag, doing everything in my power to get out as fast as humanly possible.

I kicked the fabric from feet and in a blur of blind panic, I grabbed my backpack and was outside before I knew it.

My foot caught on the lip of my tent and I had half a second of realization when my stomach soared and my hands shot out to catch me without even thinking.

I went sprawling onto the ground. My cheek smooshed against the well treaded dirt and my neck whip-lashed in an already failed effort to save my face.

My chin was parallel to the ground as I furiously blinked, whipping around to look at everything that moved in the slightest. my hands began to sting but it was a dull sensation against the frantic sweeping of my surroundings, the sting blooming in my cheek, and the ache in my ribs.

My heart hammered painfully against the inside of my chest. The sound filling my ears so completely I couldn't even hear my own rapid breaths shaking my chest.

It took me several seconds to fully grasp where I was, and I only did so when I flipped over and my eyes landed on a familiar crossbow leaning against a tree, in the tent beside mine.

I swallowed hard and licked my lips, trying to bring moisture back to my parched mouth as I pushed myself up. I pulled my legs in, resting my elbows over my knees.

Part of my brain recognized the angry red of my hands, and the few speckles of blood rising from torn scabs, but I couldn't bring my focus to it; not while I tried to force a deep breath and stop picturing a red glow, a face I'll see tomorrow with eyes that should be long gone, and flesh-tearing teeth.

Three things that should never have coincided wrapped up in one godforsaken nightmare.

He's gone. He will never get to me, but I can't stop seeing it.

Ever since the CDC, and I saw Shane...

I fumbled shakily for the water bottle I keep in my backpack, and struggled with the cap before I finally got it off and down half the bottle.

I haven't— they haven't gone away. He hides it well, but they're still there. I feel like I'm living with ghosts. I can still see his eyes when I look at Shane sometimes. I hear his words when someone speaks, even if their voices are different.

I found my eye being drawn to the barn. In the dark it's nothing more than a dark outline against the star-scattered midnight blue sky.

My head lulled back and I stared up. The dark treetops outlined against the atmosphere. I harshly rubbed my eyes with the back of my wrist and drew in as long breath as I could, no matter how shaky.

Looking back to my hands, I stared a moment before screwing the lid back on the bottle. It took me a few tries but I managed, and stuffed it back inside the grey-black bag.

I rubbed my arm, finally noticing how cold it was, but I didn't grip my wrist because it's chilly.

I took another drawn breath; shutting my eyes as I bit my lips to keep my teeth from chattering.

I finally looked at the tents surrounding the campsite, and made a mental list of who was where.

My eyes moved to the top of the RV. No one's on watch tonight.