An Unyielding Desire (After The End Book 2) (34 page)

Fuck. They were following him, and he’d
almost led them right to the farm. It wouldn’t take them more than a few hours of searching the area to find the Marsden homestead from their current location.

If his brain hadn’t been so shaken from the beating, he probably would have suspected it was a trap much sooner. They had left Spam to attend to him while ensuring the zip tie around his hand
s was cut. They’d allowed Shane to “escape,” all while watching his every move from a distance.

He looked at the motorcycle, wondering if it had been as close to repair when Dingle died, or
if one of Les’s lackeys had been tasked with getting it almost to running before he woke up and escaped. The loud, rough roar of the engine would make it easy for them to follow from a discreet distance, so they hadn’t had to risk getting too close, and he now suspected it had been left that way deliberately to facilitate their tracking.

He was concerned they would realize he had stopped, so Shane got back on the bike, gritting his teeth to muffle the curse as he started the machine painfully and started driving again. He kept going forward as he mulled over his options. Each vibration of the engine seemed to further scramble his brain, and he tried futilely to focus on something that would assist him in thwarting their plan.

He was so busy concentrating that he didn’t pay enough attention to the path in front of him. At the last moment, he realized there was a large truck blocking the road, and there was no way he could stop in time. With no other choice, he threw himself off the motorcycle, wishing he hadn’t been going so fast as he collided harshly with the asphalt. Shane screamed at the pain, certain he would die before he could get a chance to save Mina and Ty.

The motorcycle collided with the truck in a spectacular display of grinding metal and shattering glass. There was no Hollywood-style inferno resulting from the collision, to his relief. He was too close and surely would have been blown to bits in such an explosion.

When his momentum stopped, he laid where he had rolled for several long moments, trying to evaluate his injuries. At least he wasn’t dead. The side of his head was sticky with blood that ran into his left eye and down his cheek. He could taste copper in his mouth and wasn’t sure if he’d bitten himself, if it was the blood from the head wound trickling between his lips, or if he was bleeding internally.

His skin burned where he had collided with the road and slid along. Patches of his clothes and jacket had worn away from friction, leaving raw areas of flesh visible. The bloody mess turned his stomach, and he stopped examining his wounds.

Taking a deep breath, Shane got to his feet slowly. His head spun, and his knee didn’t want to support him for a long second, but he eventually stood upright. Somehow, he seemed to have avoided any broken bones, and he was able to shuffle slowly to the crash site, urging his body to go faster the entire time, though it ignored him.

He looked at the motorcycle with contempt, seeing the way it was twisted and
useless. If he found a way out of this, he’d be on foot. As soon as they came across the crash, they would realize he was out there somewhere and would be looking for him along with the refuge of the black guy. His stomach curled with dread. He was in no shape to be playing hide-and-seek with his meager weapons and the numbers against him.

“Unless you’re still here,” he said aloud, mulling it over. If they stopped at the scene of the accident and found Shane’s body, they would not be looking for him. He could hopefully maintain that element of surprise as he covered the distance to the farm. They would likely stay in their vehicles and continue searching the area for their quarry. With Shane dead, Les wouldn’t feel the need to send anyone out on foot to find him.

How to make it work though? Killing himself wasn’t an option. It was an abhorrent thought and would do nothing to protect Ty and Mina. Eventually, he decided he would just have to do a convincing job of playing dead.

Moving as quickly as he could, Shane strew
ed the debris around a bit more so he could lie down on his stomach near the motorcycle. He wriggled under a twisted chunk of metal that protruded from the truck, offering some cover and camouflage for his head and upper body. He hated leaving any of his parts exposed, in case one of the fuckers decided to shoot him to be sure he was truly dead, but had no other choice. He knew it was a crappy plan and gripped his pistol tightly in his hand, finding the weapon offered some assurance, even if it was false.

He had barely settled when he heard the sound of engines approaching. They were almost eerie in the surrounding stillness, and he didn’t know if that was a
rational reaction or purely visceral. The engines slowed and came to a stop all too soon, just a few feet from where he lay. His stomach clenched at the sound of slamming car doors, followed by several sets of footsteps approaching.

From their footfalls, he had a vague idea where they stood, forming a semi-circle around him. He wished he had thought to position himself so he could open his eyes to slits and see them. That would have necessitated leaving more of his head free to scrutiny, making
it an unattractive option.

“Fucking figures.” Les kicked at the road, sending debris flying. “Your idea was good, babe, but what do we do now?”

“We must be near where he was heading.” Antaya sounded calm.

“How do you figure?” asked Hardy.

“He left the main road a few miles back, and he was clearly getting impatient, or he wouldn’t have allowed himself to be distracted. We must be near.”

To Shane, she sounded like she was talking out of her ass. Unfortunately, she was right. He had turned off the freeway to connect with the old highway several miles back, and while she had incorrectly guessed the cause of his distraction, she was accurate in her assumption that they were near.

“What do we know of the group he left?” asked Les. “What had the sack of shit mentioned?”

“They fell apart from fighting,” said Hardy.

“They had fruit trees. He used to talk about missing someone’s apple pie. Mina, I think?”

Antaya
sounded pleased by Hobbit’s recollection. “That’s right. They must have had access to an orchard, either living nearby or on scavenging trips.”

“That would fit right in with this rural area,” said Les.

“Do you reckon we’re lookin’ for a farm?” asked Dag, before spitting a wad of chaw on the road near enough for Shane to feel the spittle hit his hand.

“Probably so,” said Les. “I’m guessing some split off when they argued. Maybe just this one by himself.” He kicked more debris toward Shane.

“He does have a way of alienating people,” said Antaya with a cold laugh.

“I just remembered a comment he made about building materials when were thinking about setting up a permanent place, before the baby…” Pardons trailed off awkwardly
prior to clearing his throat. “He told us there wasn’t any point in searching the eastern part of the state, ‘cause his group had stripped all the usable materials, including fencing.”

Shane cursed himself, unable to comprehend he had spoken so freely among this group of cutthroats. He was so sure he’d watched his every word, not trusting them.

“That’s right. We’re likely looking for a farm surrounded by a fence and a Humvee like ours. Probably some ex-military fuckers, so we’ll have to wait until nightfall and catch them unaware.”

“But, Les, what if we don’t find ‘
em before nightfall?” asked Dag.

Shane could almost picture Les rolling his eyes in a familiar way. “Funny thing about nightfall is it comes every day, Dag. We’ll find them and wait until darkness. I don’t care if it takes days or weeks. This is our only priority. Until that murdering bastard pays for what he did to our baby, we’ll keep looking.”

Worm broke his silence to ask a question that made Shane’s stomach curl with dread. “What about the others he’s with?”

“Same as usual. Kill them all and take what we want.”

Shane didn’t have long to dwell on Les’s pronouncement.

“What about him?” asked
Antaya.

“He’s dead,” said Les.

“Maybe, but what if he survived that crash?”

“You want me to send someone crawling in there to check his pulse, lover?” Les punctuated the question with a loud kiss, probably to her shoulder or cheek.

His bowels quivered at the soft snick of her pistol. “No need.” It took every ounce of his will power to lie there without moving in the milliseconds that passed before she fired three shots at him.

Shane wanted to curl up and scream in agony, but made himself stay still for several minutes after the
Humvee and motorcycles started again, until the sound of their engines faded away into the distance.

He cursed long and loud as he dragged himself out of the wreckage. She had missed hitting any vital areas, and the metal had protected him to an extent, but he had a through-and-through in his left bicep. His left leg burned just above the knee that had already been injured from the accident, and he cursed again when he examined it, finding no evidence that the bullet had gone through. It was still lodged in his leg.

His options were limited. He could try to dig out the bullet and bind the leg, or he could leave it in and bind the leg. Shane had no idea which was the better option. Was he more likely to get an infection from leaving in the bullet or from digging in the wound with an unsterile knife?

Gingerly, he grasped the knife he’d taken from Spam’s body and brought the tip to his wound. His left shoulder throbbed in protest as his chest muscles stretched, even though he was using his right hand. The hunting knife had a smooth tip that flared forward before cur
ving into a serrated blade, giving him something to dig with in a small area, rather than having to slash a huge gash in his leg.

Gritting his teeth, he dug the tip of the knife into the wound and screamed with agony. Mustering all his courage, he tried a second time before surrendering to tears and deciding he would have to leave the bullet in. Maybe Emme would take it out for him.

He laughed harshly at the thought, finding it amusing in a dark way. She was far more likely to give him a matching one in the other leg.

He fumbled around with his jacket, cutting some of the lining to serve as a makeshift bandage for his leg. He stuffed another wad into the hole in his shoulder, both front and back, and tried not to pass out from the pain that caused.

When the agony faded slightly, he attempted to stand. That took almost ten minutes and two bouts with graying out. Finally, he stood upright, putting his hand against the mangled truck for support. Eventually, he managed a step, and then another and another. It was slow-going, but he finally made it to the woods lining the sides of the highway. Leaning against a sturdy trunk, he checked his compass before he started walking, using a fallen limb as a makeshift walking stick.

Chapter Twenty-One

Mina was in such a good mood that she didn’t even mind the headstrong behavior of Lady’s colt as she groomed him. He was a feisty little chestnut
that wanted nothing more than to return to his mother for nursing. “Soon, little one.” She swiped the brush down his back once more before reaching into her pocket to reveal one of the apples she had taken from cold storage in the root cellar.

Buckley suddenly regarded her as something more than a nuisance as he nudged her fist and nuzzled into her hand for the treat. “Just like a man,” she said with a chuckle, patting his haunch in affection and as a way to encourage him to rejoin his mother. Lady could use a grooming too, but she seemed as impatient for her baby’s return as Buckley had been to get back to her, so Mina decided it could wait until tomorrow.

Chelle must have already finished the horses she’d been grooming. Mina called out to her in the other stall, surprised when her friend didn’t answer. “Chelle?” she called again, walking into her friend’s work space. She barely had time to process the sight of Chelle lying on the hay strewn around the floor, blood trickling from her temple, before someone grabbed her. She immediately began struggling, causing the person to curse thickly. A second later, a hand clamped over her nose and mouth.

She fought as hard as she could as panic set in, robbing her of oxygen more quickly. Mina twisted in the man’s arms, her mind fracturing into a thousand thoughts as darkness crept over her vision. Small stars exploded in the darkness as she managed to drag in a small lungful of air through the parted fingers of the glove holding her nose. Her assailant immediately closed off that option as soon as he realized she had breathed, and the lights burst before fading into total blackness.

*****

She was surprised to wake up. Mina blinked hazily, trying to take in her surroundings. She was sitting upright with her back supported against something rough. Turning her head slightly, she saw the nondescript exit for the escape tunnel, usually blocked by vines and leaves. Someone had mangled the camouflage in the process of opening the rough wooden door.

There was only one person who would know about the escape tunnel besides the farm residents, and she was unsurprised when she turned her head to look straight and found Shane sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of her, an ugly scar marring the space below his eye. The sight of Ty asleep in the sling on his back shocked her, and she was unable to stifle a gasp of denial.