The Road by Jenna Reynolds

Author:Jenna Reynolds [Reynolds, Jenna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Zombies
Publisher: Denim Rose Press
Published: 2019-04-21T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Sgt. Mitchell Garrett watched Olivia finally drift off to sleep. Her lashes, which were long and dark, fanned across her cheeks like butterfly wings. Her full lips were parted, her breath slow and even. Strands from her bedraggled pony tail lay across her forehead and throat. She was on her side, her body curled around her abdomen, her fingers inches from her pistol, which lay on the floor next to her.

She still didn’t trust them. Mitchell wondered if she ever would.

Suddenly, she moaned, loud enough to hear from the other side of the storage unit. Everyone, except McNally, who was fast asleep, stiffened at the sound.

She sounded frightened. Or sad. Then she sighed heavily and sank back into the depths of her dream. Or nightmare.

Mitchell’s throat tightened. He couldn't help but see her as vulnerable. Especially now that she wasn't watching him and the others with fear and suspicion in her eyes. He doubted she’d want to be perceived that way. As helpless. But he couldn’t help it.

She wasn’t very tall, and she was also thin from lack of food. But, despite her size, he sensed a fierceness within her. A resilience and strength of will that had kept her alive. He didn’t know its source, but he did not doubt its existence.

He frowned. But she shouldn’t be struggling to survive. She should be in a college classroom, delicate fingers poised over the keyboard of her laptop as she waited for the professor to start the lecture. Probably art or literature. She looked the type.

The kind of girl who’d own a cat named Austen or Darcy, and a purple bicycle with a wicker basket on the handle, full of flowers or books or loafs of French bread. A bicycle she would ride off campus to a coffeeshop on some chilly November evening, where she would go inside, the warmth enveloping her like a blanket, the barista greeting her by name and starting her order without even having to ask what she wanted because he already knew. Maybe because he had a bit of a crush on her.

She’d sit by the fireplace, her long, dark hair framing her oval face, her head bent over a book, a mug of pumpkin-spiced coffee near to hand. And it would be an old book, with a well-worn cover and aged, creamy pages. She would read the book slowly, lingering over each word, because it was one of her favorites. One she’d read many times before.

Then, the door would open, the cold wind swirling in, and the person she’d been waiting for would walk into the coffee shop.

She’d look up and smile, her lips curled upward, her dark eyes warm and welcoming.

Mitchell had seen such girls the year he’d spent at college. Before he dropped out. Before he joined the Army. Before the world went to hell.

He’d never had the nerve to talk to any of them, of course. With his tall, brawny body, he’d always felt like the proverbial bull in the china shop around such girls.

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