Chapter 231
Mike’s curses echoed under the truck like some angry gremlin. "Goddamn scavenger bastards... pick the worst damn time to plant spikes on a blind curve..."
The truck wobbled slightly as he yanked at the jack, boots scuffing the dust-caked ground. His knuckles were scraped raw, smeared with oil and blood, but he didn’t slow down. The busted tyre lay beside him like a war casualty—blown open by rusted nails and bent metal.
"They couldn’t just rob us, no. Had to wreck our ride first. Cowards."
Naomi knelt a few paces away, tending to Marcus’s arm. The cut was long and angry, still oozing in spite of the makeshift tourniquet. She worked in silence, unrolling their last clean strip of gauze and pressing it carefully against the wound.
Marcus didn’t flinch, though his jaw twitched. "Could’ve been worse," he muttered.
Naomi glanced up at him, her lips tight. "You’re lucky the blade missed bone."
Zara stood nearby, inventory spread out across a tarp. Her fingers moved fast, counting bullets, magazines, what little they had left in the bottom of an old box. The numbers didn’t add up—not for another ambush. Not for another mistake.
She exhaled sharply. "We’re running low," she said, more to herself than anyone else.
A few feet away, Leo sat beside Lila, his legs tucked up beneath him. He leaned close, voice no louder than a breath.
"Why do those people look like monsters?"
Lila didn’t answer. Her eyes were wide, locked on the horizon where the scavengers had come from. Where they might still be watching. Her hands gripped her knees so tightly her knuckles were white.
Aren was nearby, crouched with his back against the truck. He heard them. Of course, he did. That boy always listened too closely.