Voodoo Girl Pt. 02

We were all running out of steam.

I heard the crunch of twigs. The rustling of leaves. My hands went on both hips and clutched my knife and gun. People were whispering. There was no hum from the fence; it was off.

I looked around a tree and spotted Libby, Doug and a man I didn't recognize. Libby held a gun to Doug's head. The man was saying something, but then his eyes slid to the side and he spotted me.

Libby slowly looked over her shoulder. When she saw me, she took a heavy breath.

My throat wouldn't work. I wanted to ask what she was doing, but it was obvious.

There was a long silence. Then Libby shifted her feet and waved her free hand through the air.

"I didn't want it to work out like this," Libby sighed. "You're my friend."

Nate's words came back to me, that there were no such things as "friends" anymore. I wanted to repeat that, but I couldn't speak. I was too terrified. My hands shook. I kept my gun and knife pointed at them, but I knew they could overpower me if they wanted. He was a big, burly man, and it was well known how strong Libby was.

She'd been so sad when Wendy died. And furious. Hadn't she been? Was she pretending all along?

Doug's wide eyes met mine. "Run, Fiona!"

The man punched him in the gut and Doug sputtered, clutching his stomach.

I tried to breathe evenly so I wouldn't hyperventilate and faint. "You let it in."

Libby's head cocked.

"The zombie," I continued. "You killed Wendy."

I felt numb at the realization that Libby wasn't my friend. Not at all.

"No," she whispered, looking sad. "That was an accident. I wanted to make everyone feel unsafe, spook everyone into leaving. I approached everyone about leaving, not just you. Wendy was so fucking stubborn about leaving her house.... I never wanted her dead, Fiona."

"I did," the stranger said. He spit to the side. "Fucking cunt."

"Shut up, Frank," Libby hissed.

I drew a sharp breath. "Frank."

The man I'd heard about, the man who'd been cast out. He offered me a smirk.

Zach had been right; there was someone out there who wanted us to scatter, to pick us off one by one. Then reap what we had sown.

"Are you with us, Fiona?" Libby asked, looking hopeful. God help me, she did like me. It made it burn even worse.

"Fuck her," Frank said, moving closer to me. "Can't trust her. Took too long to make up her mind."

He didn't appear to have any weapons on him but I wasn't stupid. And Libby still had her gun pointed at Doug, who looked entirely unsurprised by the news. He and I shared a glance.

"Was Doug with you?"

Libby gave Doug a sad look. "I wanted him to be. Told him all about it a few days ago. He overheard us talking. But he was going to tell Nate." She exhaled heavily. "Dougie, I'm sorry. I wanted this all to be so different."

"No, you didn't. You told me you were leaving him," I said.

She turned back at me, eyes sharp. "I didn't mean it. I thought you would be more likely to run away with only me. But of course I wanted to take Doug. Of course. And of course we'd return once the others were be gone. Wendy and Nate were goody two-shoes, with their rules and their unrealistic views of morality." She flung her head side to side and tears began to swell in her eyes.

How could she possibly have come up with or believed this convoluted plan?

"I don't believe you," I whispered. I was crazy for saying so, but I couldn't help it. I'd never felt so betrayed. "You were lying to one of us." I looked Doug over, and even though he was technically their hostage, he looked stronger than the both of them. She must've wanted him for his strength. But if he said no...she would have taken me. It was whoever said "yes" first. "Or both of us," I amended.

She let out a slow, tired breath. "I just wanna head west. Find my babies. I'm gonna ride up and down the coast. I'm gonna search every inch of it. Frank is headed that way, too. He's moving west, out to Cali. He's gonna bring us. Me. We just need to set up camp here for a while, get our shit together. Get strong." She must have seen the contempt on my face because she waved her hand through the air in a "what can I do?" sort of gesture. "Nate would have never allowed Frank and the friends he made back in here. Never, and you know that. Some stupid rule would've been drafted up. I know you're blind when it comes to Nate, but think about it, Fiona! If we could get him and Ariel and Zach out of there, and move our guys in, we'd be so much better off. Now Frank and his team can get strong, you know, having supplies and a steady source of food. We've got so much of it! Then, when they're fat and happy and trained, Frank is taking me to California. "

I took another look at him and had to hide my scoff. No, he wasn't. He was using her to infiltrate the compound. He was going to kill her, or subdue her, the first chance he got. Or perhaps he'd kill Nate first. It was a toss up in my mind. Then, of course, this would all be his. His and the dirty, rude nomads Mac must have been referring to.

Finding her kids was an impossible task. Deep down she must've known it. I looked into her eyes, wondering if she'd lost her mind, or if she'd just grown tired walking around the compound waiting to die.

Doug took a step closer to her. I forced my eyes to stay on Libby while tracking his movement. She was distracted by me, and Frank had his back to us, staring down towards the house to make sure no one else surprised us.

Then Doug lunged. Libby's gun went off, there were curses and screams, and Frank was on top of me, battling me for my gun. He was so heavy. He punched me in the face and it felt like he nearly knocked my eyes out of my head. I pushed ineffectively against him and tried to find my knife, which had fallen somewhere on the ground to the left of us. My fingers desperately searched, shoving into the soil and dirt.

And then my fingers touched cold blade.

Frank's thick fingers went around my neck and squeezed. Between him strangling me and his heavy body resting on my ribcage, I couldn't breathe. Tears came to my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I kicked at him but it was pointless. I tried to get a handle on the knife, cutting myself in the process.

Then it was in my left hand and I was stabbing his back in one motion. I held on tight—I was right-handed—knowing he could easily roll over and rip it away from me. Everything happened so fast. The blood poured from his back and covered my hand. I was terrified I was going to lose my grip.

He pulled back from me and his hands quickly left my throat. He tried to reach around toward his back but I kept pushing the blade into his skin and muscle, as hard and deeply as I could. His eyes were wide. Furious. Disbelieving.

He fell to the right and I tried to move away from him as fast as I could. I looked down at him and was convinced he was dying. For good measure, and to make sure he didn't come back like the others, I lifted my gun and pointed it at his head.

"Don't," he grunted.

My hand didn't shake when I fired.

I had no idea what was happening with Doug and Libby. My eyes desperately swept the area. Then I saw them still fighting each other. I ignored the aches and pains in my body and sprinted towards them.

It seemed Doug was winning. Libby was on her knees, holding onto her gun as Doug kicked her in the chest. Still, she wouldn't let go.

I pressed the hot barrel of my gun against her temple. "Let go."

She was sobbing so hard that it was difficult to hear her, but I know she begged for freedom, for the chance to see her kids. She gave the gun to Doug.

"Let me go," she plead, "and I promise I won't do anything to harm you. I'll just be on my way. I just want—want to g-go to California."

I looked up at Doug and nearly fainted when I saw the wound in his stomach. He was covered in blood. The shot from earlier must've caught him in the gut. His feverish eyes bore into mine. He wasn't going to survive this. I walked to him, wiping my tears with my bloody hands, and put my hand on his shoulder.

We both watched Libby tremble on her knees as she waited for her fate.

"Have compassion," he whispered to me. "She's got cabin fever, sweetheart."

The tears blinded my vision. "I can't." My breath caught on a sob. "You know that's not it."

"It makes everyone crazy. Look at Zach, losing his mind. You can figure out something for her like you did for him." His voice was low and shaky. He was losing energy. I chanced a glimpse at him and had to squeeze my eyes shut. He already looked dead. "She was good to you. To all of us."

I heard steps behind me. Then the footsteps paused. I glanced over my shoulder; Ariel and Nate were surveying the scene. His wide eyes assessed me head to toe, cataloguing each wound. I turned my head back.

The arm holding the gun had grown tired and heavy. I wanted to let go, to forget. To forgive. I could set her out into the wild and never see her again. Except I knew that wasn't true. She'd round up Frank's "friends" and come back to us as soon as she could. And it would just be three us left to fight—Nate, Ariel and Me. Zach was still wounded, and Doug wouldn't be alive beyond the next ten minutes.

It was obvious we'd have to leave camp. How we'd drag Zach with us, I didn't know. But Nate had been right when he said it was time. We needed to lay low for a while. It was awful giving up his family home and the life we'd carved out here, but it was better than being killed or worse by the people that hung with Frank—savages, no doubt.

As I stood there unsure and hurt, Libby stood and sprinted before I could react. She zoomed through the gate and into the wet foliage. The others were saying something but I ignored them, chasing after her. She was stronger than I was, but I was the better runner.

I spotted her, held my ground and prayed to God I'd make my target. The shot rang out and she fell to her knees. I ran to her to see how badly she was wounded.

It was in her chest. She was gurgling blood and trying to say something. I stared at her, in disbelief that the woman who I thought was my friend was laying on leaves and clumps of mud, staring at me with a wound in her chest. That I caused.

She kept whispering so I bent over to listen.

"I was never a good mother, anyway." She laughed and choked on blood at the same time.

I wept as I caressed her cheek. "I don't believe that."

She coughed up blood and it flowed down her chin. "Do you think they're alive?"

Probably not.

But I said, "Yes," anyway.

She smiled at me, likely knowing my thoughts. "Thank you."

A flock of birds emerged from one of the trees overhead. We both looked up.

A minute later she spoke again. "Will you do it for me now? Shoot me in the head? It hurts too much."

I got up and aimed for her head, trying to ignore my crying. Just before I killed her, she whispered, "I'm sorry."