There was blood everywhere, all over my hands and clothes and splattered over every surface I could see. Pain raked over me, hot and unbearable as horrific sounds penetrated the air and seized my mind. It was the sounds of bones snapping, crunching—teeth gnashing as limbs were torn apart and hackjaws feasted. 

I couldn’t move, my heart pounding as I searched for my gun and found it only a few feet away on the ground. I reached out, my fingers barely grazing the cold metal, but the blood made my hands slip, moving in slow motion as screams shattered my sanity. Sobs made me convulse, sheer agony tearing me apart as I heard my name cried over and over, pleading for me to reach the gun—end it. 

The sound of my name was haunting, a hand pressing down on my shoulder, shaking me and making me lose my grip. 

I sat bolt upright in bed, grabbing the hand that touched me. I was drenched in sweat, grunting as I reached blindly for the gun under my pillow. I seized it, satisfied to finally have my fingers wrap around the handle as I pulled the pistol and pointed it without hesitation to the figure in front of me. It was instinct, fear moving my body on its own as my mind held onto the nightmare for a few moments longer. 

It only took a second for reality to settle in, the dream fading as I blinked and realized my surroundings—remembered where I was…and what had really happened. I was in bed, in a camper—neat and decorated. It was dark and dim, but I could make out the layout through the soft glow of twinkling strings of light. 

And then my gaze landed on my hands. They were tight on what I was holding—a slender wrist that was likely bruised from my unyielding grip and my gun…pointed at the pale and shaken face of Dakota.

Guilt sank into me as I saw his wide brown eyes staring at me, and I could feel his pulse racing. 

I dropped my grip, lowering the gun almost instantly as Carrot nuzzled my arm, licking over my hand as it fell to my side. “I… I’m so sorry,” I muttered, stashing the pistol back under the pillow as if I could pretend I hadn’t grabbed it in the first place. “I had a dream—I didn’t realize…” I couldn’t look at him, wondering if this was the end of the arrangement Dakota had proposed; I wouldn’t blame him if it was. 

“I can see why you said it won’t be easy to live with you,” Dakota murmured, a faint tremble to his voice. The lack of anger in his gentle words made me blink up at him in surprise; I had expected words of rage and offense, not contemplation and understanding. 

His hand was still held out to me, uncertain, but he finally pulled it back, rubbing at his sore wrist with his fingers. Dakota winced and sighed softly. His shoulders straightened before he looked at me. His gaze was kind as he said, “You must have seen some awful things. I thought it would help to wake you up, but…is it better if I just leave you alone?” 

I didn’t know the answer to that—I’d never been around another person to have to worry about. “Maybe,” I muttered, my face hot as I suddenly felt exposed and vulnerable—as if this man had glimpsed something too personal that I kept buried. “I don’t want to hurt you. I assume I woke you up though… Don’t want to do that either.” I felt agitated and irritable—angry at myself for not having more control. 

Dakota shrugged slightly, his gaze searching my face. “I’m not upset. You can’t help it, and I could have minded my own business. I just…hated to hear you sounding so distressed.” He stepped away from the bed, averting his gaze as he seemed to understand my discomfort. “It was about time to wake up anyway; I’ll need to get water today, and I try to avoid being in the open too late in the day. It's always a trek into the city, especially being cautious. I can cook first, if you’re hungry…” He glanced at me, seeming uncertain as he waited for my answer. 

The idea of food made me sick, my dream still vivid at the forefront of my mind. I couldn’t tell Dakota about it—I hated that he’d already seen me like this—so I simply shook my head as I muttered, “Just want a smoke.” 

Dakota stiffened, a look of disapproval in his gaze. “You’ll have to go outside for that, I don’t want the smell sticking around in here,” he said, pointing toward the door. “The scaffolding around the tunnel entrance is fairly stable, you’ll be safe if you go up there, and you can come back when you’re done.” 

I didn’t argue, glad for some familiar distance so I didn’t have to think about Dakota—or what he thought of me. I pulled back the covers, marching over to where I’d left my things. Wordlessly, I grabbed my shotgun, slinging it over my shoulder before rummaging in my backpack for my lighter and cigarettes. I pulled on my socks and laced up my boots; I winced, pressing a hand to my side as I suddenly felt a stab of pain, remembering I’d been injured. 

I tried not to let Dakota notice my discomfort as I slung on my jacket, turning to look at Carrot. 

She was still seated on the bed, tail wagging as she watched me. I narrowed my gaze at her, knowing how attentive and intuitive she was. I could only imagine her constantly nuzzling me for comfort and right then I just wanted to be alone. “Mind if I leave the dog here?” I asked, barely glancing at Dakota. 

“Of course not—as long as you’re okay with me giving her a bath later,” Dakota answered, the cheer in his voice strained. His pause was heavy with unspoken words; with a soft huff, he patted his leg to coax Carrot over to him, muttering, “I’ll make sure she’s fed, too.” 

I nodded, feeling my heart pull a little as I gave the gentle command of, “You stay here, girl. Listen to Dakota.” Carrot whined softly as I stepped away from her, not wanting to look back at either of them as I descended the few steps of the camper and opened the door into the abandoned tunnel. 

My footsteps echoed as my boots churned over the gravel, walking toward the domed light that signaled the entrance. I sucked in a breath of crisp morning air, exhaling in a huff of faint fog. 

The world was filled with hues of blue, the sun just barely rising. 

I climbed the metal steps up onto the scaffolding, centering myself on the sheltered walkway as I leaned against the railing. It was quite the view, seeing over the sprawling city that had once been filled with life. I remembered smoke stacks when the factories started working, lights coming on in apartments as people got up for work… Now every window was dark—buildings run down and broken… I couldn’t even hear birds anymore. 

But I could hear music. 

There were the faint sounds of strummed chords echoing from the tunnel as Dakota played his guitar. I wondered if it was something he did every morning, and I couldn’t help but imagine his sunny smile and shaken blond hair as he played. It had been so long since I’d heard music—years. It only lasted a few minutes before the world was quiet once again, Dakota likely putting down the guitar to do something else. 

I shook him out of my thoughts as I retrieved a cigarette, placing it between my lips before I brought out my lighter—a heavy, metal thing that was engraved. The date etched into the metal made my stomach drop. I tried not to think about it, pushing the memories out of my mind. 

Sucking in a breath, I flicked the switch as I activated the small flame, lighting the end of the cigarette. Closing the lighter with a hard snap, I stuffed it into my pocket, inhaling the bitter, caustic smoke as I felt the fragrant burn at the back of my throat, filling my lungs. 

It was relaxing—a moment frozen in time as I looked out on the quiet morning. At first my mind kept drawing back to my nightmare, but slowly, as the sun began to fill the surface of the world with a warm glow, I thought of Dakota. 

Unlike me, he seemed so innocent—kind, and untouched by the world’s cruelty. He was the kind of person to take in a stranger, no matter the risk or position it put himself in. I could never do that…and yet I had agreed to stay and help teach him how to use a weapon. 

I thought about his slender hands steadily holding my shotgun—unwavering—an image I couldn’t help linger on. 

Movement caught my attention in my peripherals, making my gaze snap up as I scanned the surrounding area. Though at first I thought maybe I’d imagined it, or it was some stray animal that had somehow survived, I felt my muscles go rigid. It had only been for a split second—far enough away that anyone could have missed it—but I had seen a mass of warped flesh pull itself into the shadows of an alley, less than a mile away. 

Something in me knew by instinct that the hackjaws were coming—finally picked up on the scent of my blood that had all but led them here. 

I swore, teeth chewing on my cigarette as I grabbed my shotgun off my shoulder and quickly set into motion. I descended the steps two at a time, pulling myself along the railing to propel me forward as I sprinted into the dark tunnel.

Finding the trailer, I yanked the door open, eyes searching the narrow living quarters as I shouted, “Dakota?!” 

There was a clatter and bang from the bathroom, Dakota’s voice grumbling curses before the door opened. Carrot bounded out first—damp and shaking water over the floor—before the man staggered out behind her. 

His face was slightly flushed, clothing clinging to his form as he peeled the front of his shirt away from his skin. Dakota’s nose wrinkled with disgust as trails of smoke reached him, waving a hand in front of his face as he snapped, “I thought I told you to smoke outside! Why the hell—” His words faltered when Dakota looked up at me, alarm widening his eyes as he took me in. “What is it? Did the hackjaws find us already?” 

I nodded sharply, whistling for Carrot to come to my side as I stormed over to where I’d left my firearms. I removed my jacket swiftly packing on my holsters and ammo before I held out my gun case to Dakota, still closed. I gripped my shotgun, waiting for him to take the bag as I said, “Yeah. It’s hackjaws. Time to start your lessons.”