Page 3 of Skin (Flesh 2)

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A zombie stumbled out of a lone farmhouse as they drove past what would have once been a man. Blood or dirt or some gory mix of both caked its chest, arms and chin. Its mouth yawned wide, an arm rising in some macabre version of a wave as they cruised by. Only the hello had more to do with its desire to eat them than anything friendly.

Roslyn gasped and bolted upright in her seat, the whites of her eyes flashing.

“You haven’t seen one before?” he asked.

“No.”

“This is the first time you’ve been outside.”

She nodded.

“Shit. You really have no idea how bad it’s been, do you?”

No answer.

“They don’t like sunlight, but they’ll come out if they think they can get a meal. Noise always attracts them.”

She gave him another questioning glance, then settled back into her seat, face pale and eyes wary.

She definitely didn’t trust him. Sure as shit didn’t believe him when he said he wouldn’t hurt her. It made her smart. He would never hurt her, but anyone who trusted strangers these days was an idiot destined for a short life. He would provide for her. He’d prove himself to her.

But first, he had to get her home and stay put for a while. Make sure their back trail kept clear.

“Nearly there,” he said.

She nervously licked her pink lips. “Where is ‘there’?”

“You’ll see.” He offered a smile.

She didn’t return it.

The pickup rattled along the gravel drive leading up to the Serenity Eco-Chalets. The property sat on the edge of town. Far enough out to avoid the bulk of the infected. It backed onto kilometers of bushland and farms. She’d be safer out here. He’d done his homework, prepared. Everything and anything she might need to keep her comfortable for the foreseeable future.

Roslyn’s knuckles were white where she gripped the door handle, the injured hand still clutched against her chest. She’d almost dropped the guy back at the school. Who could blame her?

“What is this place?” she asked, looking all around, eyes full of curiosity.

“Eco-chalets, for the environmentally conscious weekender. Or it was.” Nick drove the vehicle straight up to the back of the Wattle cabin. Home sweet home. He threw his door open and grabbed his rifle from the back, rounded the pickup to open the door for her. Some weird kind of nervous energy coursed through him. He just about jittered. “Come on in.”

She gave him another tense attempt at a smile and climbed out, hands smoothing down her skirt. Her eyes darted everywhere, preparing. Not long now before she tried to make a run for it. He could practically smell it.

Damn it, there was no reason why this couldn’t work, given a chance. He was a reasonable man with an offer to make. Besides, the world wasn’t exactly normal anymore and she had been set to starve inside those school walls. Either that or risk a trip into town and possible infection from a bite.

No. Not happening.

This was right for her. He’d be right for her. Those bastards had been wrong, making him leave Blackstone all those months back. He wasn’t one of the bad guys.

He’d been part of the remnants of a military group wandering the countryside after everything went to shit. When they’d stumbled across Blackstone, a walled township with nearly a hundred survivors, it had felt like a f**king miracle. But their psychopathic captain, Emmet, had wanted to rape the women and burn the place down. Kill anyone left over. Some of his ex-army pals had staged a coup and put a bullet in Emmet’s brain, and thank God for that. Blackstone had accepted the men who’d topped Emmet, but the remaining three, including him, had been booted out of town. Threatened with death if they ever showed their faces again.

He couldn’t blame the townspeople for not trusting Pete and Justin. They were slimy bastards full of plans for revenge. But exiling him? That he could blame the folk of Blackstone for just fine.

No one had been able to openly stand up to Emmet. He’d crucified men for less. But Nick would never have let the captain’s plan come to fruition. Not a f**king chance.

No, he wasn’t one of the bad guys.

Eventually, she’d understand. He’d spoil her. Comfort her. Make life as easy for her as he could. Give her whatever the hell she wanted. If she’d just give him a chance.

“This way,” he said, ushering her toward the long wooden ramp leading up to the cabin.

“Mmhmm.” Her nod looked spring-loaded, like a bobble-headed doll.

Shit. What was she going to try?

Her sneakers squeaked noisily as she stepped onto the wooden ramp, stopping at the edge of the meter and a half of platform he’d removed. Like a moat with a drawbridge, it effectively cut them off from attack—by infected, at least. Other survivors were another issue altogether.

“Clever.” She sounded surprised.

He took it as a compliment.

She peered down at the ground a good three to four meters below. The cabin sat up on stilts at the edge of a rocky outlook, positioned to make the most of the view. Handy now for defense reasons, since infected couldn’t climb. Nick knelt and carefully extended the thick wooden plank he kept handy for crossing the gap. She jumped at the thump of the wood falling into place.

With a smile he held out his hand to her. “Ladies first.”

“Thank you.” Her fingers were warm and damp, and they didn’t remain in his for long. She gripped the banister nearest the plank with her other hand and carefully crossed with tiny geisha-type steps. Maybe she didn’t like heights. It wouldn’t hurt his cause. Yet another incentive for her to not tear off on her own anytime soon.

Everything would be fine once she got inside. Once she saw the effort he’d gone to on her behalf.

“You’re doing great,” he said.

She nodded.

The minute she cleared the end he strode across, throwing her a quick smile. He pulled the plank back from the gap and ushered her into the waiting cabin. A cold wind shook the trees. The skirt of her uniform fluttered above her knees, her bare legs ripe with gooseflesh.

“Let’s get you inside and warmed up,” he said.

She blinked and gave him a forced smile, staying a step ahead of the hand he would have put to the small of her back. Keeping herself out of his reach.

The sun had slowly begun to sink in the west. For the hour-long drive home he’d taken the most convoluted route possible, mostly to be safe but also to chew up some time. They were right on schedule.

Roslyn wandered inside, head turning this way and that, taking it all in. “It looks nice.”


Tags: Kylie Scott Flesh Horror