Chapter 1
“Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck,” Maya muttered under her breath before gritting her teeth to keep from screaming in pain. “Fucking rebar.”
It was always dangerous climbing through the rubble of collapsed overpasses, but Maya had been through this section of the city dozens of times. She knew every chunk of concrete by heart. She knew exactly where to plant her boots to avoid sliding too far and where to grab on to overhanging wires and poles to avoid the landmine of rebar.
Today, she’d slipped and a nasty piece of exposed rusty rebar had caught on her leather pants, tearing a long hole from her ankle to her thigh. The ruined leather alone would have been enough to piss her off, but the long nasty gash on her calf hurt like a motherfucker and was bleeding badly.
After glancing around to make sure no one had seen her, she tugged a T-shirt out of her pack, ripped it into strips, and tied each strip around her leg up and down the gash. It wasn’t enough, but she needed to get out of this section of crumbled highway before someone found her.
She was too exposed here in the wide open in the middle of the day. She needed to move and fast.
Every step she took sent shooting pain up her leg. She had to use her arm strength to basically drag herself over the rubble, heading back in the direction she’d come because the distance was shorter.
It took an hour to get out of the pile of concrete, and then she somehow managed to drag herself into the tree line before collapsing onto her back, exhausted and sweating.
“Fuck,” she repeated for the millionth time. Her leg was throbbing. Blood had soaked the makeshift bandage and down into her short boot. She knew she couldn’t lie here forever wasting time. She was no longer an easy target in plain view, but she wasn’t out of the woods either.
There was no way she could get to any of the outposts she customarily used. The nearest one was three miles away. She wouldn’t be able to put any pressure on her leg at all. On top of that, she was well aware she was already feverish and losing consciousness.
Praying she had a signal here, she reached for her radio hooked to the side of her backpack. Her palm landed on nothing. She jerked her gaze to the pack and turned it around to the other side. Nothing. The radio must have fallen out when she slipped.
“Dammit. Fucking goddammit.” Gritting her teeth, she stared up at the sky, taking deep breaths. She was well and truly screwed. She had no way to get in touch with The Wanderers. No one would have a clue where she was. It wasn’t like she ever left an itinerary. Ha.
Maya operated alone. She always had and always would. She’d been with The Wanderers for seven years. During that time, she’d spent most of her days scouring the area in every direction, looking for people who needed help. Mostly looking for women. There were still women and children out in the world who were hiding. People who needed a safe place to go.
Maya had made it her mission in life to find as many lost souls as she could and bring them into the fold. It was dangerous work. She’d always known that. She’d told herself time and again that even if she one day got caught by militants or the government, her work would never have been in vain. She’d rescued hundreds of people and brought them to safety.
Was today her last day? Had her number been pulled? Would she die on the side of the road? Alone.
No. Fuck no.
Using every ounce of her remaining strength, she pushed to sitting, wincing as she glanced at her leg. She yanked open her pack and reached inside for her first-aid kit. It wouldn’t be enough, but she could at least pour peroxide over the cut to keep it from getting infected. She could wrap it in clean gauze.
She wished she could stitch it together. She had a needle and thread for such an occasion. She wasn’t opposed to stitching her own leg. But it wasn’t going to happen this time. The cut was too deep and along the back of her calf. She wouldn’t be able to reach, and she was fading. Blood loss was making her woozy.
Using every bit of her waning energy, she untied the makeshift bandages, doused the cut with peroxide, and wrapped gauze as tightly as she could around her leg. The last thing she forced herself to do before succumbing to sleep was drink a bottle of water. She would need the fluid if she stood any sort of chance of surviving the night.
The sun was dipping in the sky as she dropped onto her back once again, exhausted, scared out of her mind, probably delirious.
She closed her eyes and took deep breaths.
No one was coming for her. No one knew where she was. No one would miss her for at least another week. She’d been known to go out for long periods without checking in.
There was no telling what might happen as night fell. Animals could tear her to shreds if they scented the blood. Militants were just as likely to find her. If they did…
She refused to think about that possibility. In fact, she reached back into her pack and palmed her gun. There was no way she could possibly shoot several people if they came upon her, and the noise would only bring her location to the attention of dozens of more men.
That’s not what the gun was for. What Maya intended to do with the gun if someone found her was shoot herself. It would be better to end her life than to be taken by any number of rogue groups. If she was captured, she would be sold, raped, bred, tortured.
She’d sworn long ago she’d never let anything like that happen to her. Not again. Never again.