Page 69 of Ember Rising

I crawl out from under him, scrambling to find my bow and the quiver that fell off my back.

An arm bands around my waist, the man with an arrow in his eye bellowing with fury.

“You’re gonna die slowly,” he says, carrying me like a football and walking toward the semi.

I kick and punch, but he just grunts when I land a blow. I reach for the arrow, planning to push it deeper into his skull, but he bats my hand away.

Evander is giving the man and woman a lethal glare, one hand covering the bullet wound in his stomach.

“You fucked up my night!” The man kicks him in the stomach and Evander groans with pain, falling onto his side.

Darkness descends over my senses, a switch flipped. I bite the arm of the man carrying me as hard as I can. He howls and releases me. I wrap my hand around the arrow in his eye, driving it a few inches deeper and then pulling it back out in less than a second.

I’m faster and stronger than any of them, and this is my chance. I’m not letting Evander die.

I jam the arrow into the ear of the remaining man before he even sees it coming, a primal cry tearing from my throat. He drops to the ground and I turn on the woman.

“Fuck you, bitch,” she snarls, crouching.

I’m afraid of many things. Losing Briar. Forgetting my parents. Being alone. But I’m not afraid of the rabid, blood-covered woman in front of me.

She’s in the way of me helping Evander, so she has to go. I fly at her, knocking her to the ground and climbing on top of her.

She screeches and claws at my face, but she’s no match for me. I press on her windpipe, not taking the time to choke her. Instead, I crush it. As soon as she goes still, I rush to Evander.

“You’re never going to listen, are you?” he says weakly.

“Probably not.”

There’s so much blood. I move him onto his back, pull my T-shirt off over my head and ball it up, pressing it to his gushing wound.

“Just keep breathing,” I say, panting. “That’s all I need you to do. Don’t you dare stop breathing.”

22

“We’re fighting on multiple fronts now. It’s not just New America; it’s also the cartels and other smaller groups. One of the smallest in terms of numbers is the Deadmen, but they are merciless and aggressive. They’ve killed hundreds of our people, for no discernible reason. We must find a way to stop them.” – excerpt from an encrypted memo from Idaho Liberation Front Leader Marta Smythe to other ILF leaders

Amira

I’m alone again.

At least, in every way that counts. Evander has been in and out of consciousness for a full day now.

I used the medic kit from his pack to remove the bullet from his wound and stitch him up in the field, because he was bleeding so badly. He talked me through it as well as he could, grinding his teeth so hard the muscle along his jawline was twitching.

He hardly made a sound. There were a few times he inhaled or exhaled sharply, but that was it. And when I poured some whiskey I found in the semi’s cabin over his wound, he made a long, low, growling sound and passed out.

I dragged him about a mile to an abandoned tire shop. It’s filthy, but there aren’t many buildings here. This was the best choice because there’s a small office with a locking door and the key was hanging from a gold “Go Braves” hook on the wall.

When I need to leave to get water, I can lock the office door. I pushed the desk into another room, and now he’s lying on the dingy black-and-white checked vinyl floor.

The stale rubber scent in here is strong, but I can’t think about anything besides how helpless I feel. Evander is burning up. When I dry his brow, it’s sweaty again within five minutes.

He’s lost so much blood. I’m not qualified to clean or stitch his wound, but there was no one else. The chances of him making it are slim, and I feel physically ill when I imagine his body going completely still when it gives out.

It’s so unfair. I know apocalypses are generally a raw deal for most people, but I’m feeling personally victimized by this one.

I’m not perfect, but I’m a good person. When I can, I help others. I’m a great friend and team member. But every time I care about someone, I lose them.