Fit In: a post-apocalyptic survival thriller (180 Days and Counting... Series Book 9) by B.R. Paulson

Author:B.R. Paulson [Paulson, B.R.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Captiva Publishing, LLC
Published: 2018-05-10T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

Scott

Ranger’s tongue licked Scott’s cheek and forehead. Then disappeared, leaving behind a cooling trail of dog spit. A few drops of water followed, landing on his eyelid, nose, and chin. Was Ranger spitting on him?

Scott groaned, reaching up to wife his face. More water landed on his hand and he blinked heavily. “Ranger, stop. That’s gross.” The wind surged and a pocket of water sprinkled more onto his face.

Rain fell from the sky, and while Scott was protected from the overall onslaught a few stray drops would blow under the overhang to find him. He shivered, more from the cold than anything else. He was bone cold, where even the heat of Ranger’s leg by his arm couldn’t penetrate his chill.

He blinked. Memory returned along with the aching burn in his thigh. He’d been shot. It couldn’t have been from a shotgun because the majority of his thigh was still intact and he only had the one entrance wound, actually… he pressed his fingertips around the pained area. Judging from the position of the wound, he’d been grazed but pretty deep. Blood still seeped at his touch.

What was he going to do now?

He had to get his bearings and get out of the cold. Exposure to the elements when he was probably in shock wasn’t a good combination.

The white of the porch posts was barely discernible from the rest of the darkness. Scott rolled to the side opposite his injury and lay there panting for a bit. Ranger stood, moving to Scott’s head as if to support Scott with moral presence. “It’s okay, buddy. We’ll get this figured out.” Scott huffed, stretching his arm up to grip his fingers on the ledge of the windowsill.

He just needed to find the strength to pull himself to his feet. That was all. It shouldn’t be so hard. Scott had the distinct impression he was fooling himself and he wasn’t very convincing.

He’d lost so much time, but how much? He was supposed to head for Cady, find her and help her. At this point, he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to find anyone – even himself – ever again. He was having a hard time moving. How did he expect to drive his rig?

Scott held onto the sill with both hands, bending his uninjured leg to try to stand.

Instead of finding success, Scott slumped back to the porch, slowly lowering himself to the prone position. Maybe he’d just lie there for a bit longer to gather more strength. The chill would have to be okay as long as he was out of the rain. He was out of options. Unless he crawled. Maybe he could crawl. What if he did crawl into the living room at least? He’d bleed all over everything, but he had to find Cady before she’d remember to care about her home.

He didn’t have the energy to try to crawl. He wouldn’t be able to roll himself inside, or to do anything that might jostle his thigh – so pretty much anything.

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