Part 5 (1/2)

I walked around where the copter had landed, looking to see whether anything had been dropped or thrown away. But there was nothing except that faint ghostly scent.

Then I caught another scent, fresh this time. Two scents. Another person-a male like Wright, but not Wright. And there was a gun of some kind. Where had the man come from? The wind-what there was of it-came to me from beyond where the helicopter had landed. That was how I had come to notice the scent of the first stranger. This new man must have pa.s.sed me on his way to the ruin. If he had pa.s.sed far enough away, I wouldn't have noticed, focused as I was on the helicopter and its occupant. But now I thought he must be somewhere near Wright. He and his gun must be somewhere near Wright.

I turned, ran back through the trees toward Wright. I spotted the man with the gun before I got near him. He was moving closer to Wright, not making himself known, watching Wright from hiding.

I meant to confront the man with the gun and perhaps take his gun away. I was intensely uncomfortable with his having it and being able to see Wright while Wright could not see him. I saw him as I emerged from the trees. I saw him raise the gun-a rifle, long and deadly looking. He pointed it at Wright, and I was too far away to stop him. I ran flat out, as fast as I could.

I headed toward Wright and tried to put myself between him and the gun. I expected to be shot at any moment, but I had time to hit Wright in his midsection and knock him down, knock the air out of him just as the rifle went off. Then, with Wright safely on the ground, I went after the shooter.

He fired once more before I reached him, and this time, in spite of my speed, he hit me. An instant later, I hit him with my whole body. And while I could still think, while I was aware enough to be careful, I sank my teeth into his throat and took his blood-only his blood.

Six.

I didn't care whether I hurt or killed the gunman. I had knocked him unconscious when I hit him. Now I took his blood because he'd spilled mine, and because suddenly, I was in pain. Suddenly, I needed to heal. He was lucky I was aware enough not to take his flesh.

Moments later, I heard Wright's uneven steps coming toward me, and I was afraid. I went on taking the gunman's blood because it seemed to be the least harmful thing I could do at the moment.

I let the man go when Wright stood over us. I looked up at him then and, to my relief, did not in the slightest want to eat him. He stared at me, eyes wide.

”Are you shot?” he asked.

”My right leg,” I said.

He was on his knees, lifting me, pulling my jeans down to examine my b.l.o.o.d.y leg. It hurt almost too much. I screamed, but I didn't harm him.

”I'm sorry,” he said. ”I'm so sorry. I thought you might be bleeding-losing too much blood.” He hesitated. ”Why aren't you bleeding more?”

”I don't ever bleed much.”

”Oh.” He stared at the wound. ”That makes sense, I guess. Your body would know how to conserve blood if anyone's did. The bullet went all the way through. You have to go to a doctor now.”

I shook my head. ”I'll heal. I just need meat. Fresh meat.”

He looked at the gunman. ”It's a shame you can't eat him.”

I stared down at him. ”I can,” I said. The gunman didn't wash himself often enough, but he was young and strong. His bite wound was already beginning to close. He wasn't going to die, even though I'd taken quite a bit more blood from him than I would from Wright or Theodora. If he had managed to shoot Wright, I would have made sure he died. ”I can,” I repeated. ”But I really don't want to.”

Wright smiled a little as though he thought I was joking. Then, still looking at the wound, he said, ”Renee, you'll get an infection. There are probably all kinds of germs already crawling around in that wound and maybe pieces of your jeans, too. Look, I'll get you fresh meat if you'll just see a doctor.”

”No doctor. I've been shot before. Some of the wounds. I woke up with in the cave were bullet wounds. I need fresh meat and sleep, that's all. My body will heal itself.”

There was a long silence. I lay where I was, feeling leaden, wanting to sleep. I had taken perhaps twice as much blood from the gunman as I would have dared to take from Wright or Theodora, and I still wasn't satisfied. I needed to sleep for a while, though, and let my body heal a little before I ate flesh.

The gunman would awaken thirsty and weak, maybe feeling sick.

And how did I know that?

It was one more sliver of memory, incomplete, but at least, this time, not useless.

”Shall I take you home?” Wright asked finally. ”I can stop at the store for a couple of steaks.”

I shook my head. ”I don't want to be with you when I wake up. I'll be too hungry. I might hurt you.”

”I don't think there's much chance of that,” he said with just a hint of a smile.

He didn't understand. ”I'm serious, Wright, I could hurt you. I ... I might not be thinking clearly when I wake up.”

”What do you want me to do?”

”Look around for a sheltered place here in the ruins. I'll need to be out of the sun when it comes up. You might have to heap some of the rubble up around me to make enough shade.”

”You want me to leave you here? You want to spend ... what, tonight and tomorrow out here?”

”I will spend tonight and tomorrow out here. Come back for me Sunday morning before sunrise.”

”But there's no need-”

”Don't buy steaks unless you want them for yourself. I'll hunt. There are plenty of deer in the woods.”

”Renee-!”

”Build a shelter,” I said. ”Put me in it. Then go home. Come back Sunday morning before sunrise.”

There were several seconds of silence. Finally, he said, ”What about this guy?” He nudged the gunman with his foot. ”What do we do with him? Why did he want to shoot you anyway? Was it just because you scared him?”

”Me?” I said surprised. ”He was aiming at you when I hit you. I couldn't reach him in time to stop him from shooting you. That's why I knocked you down-so he'd miss. Then I went after him.”

He took a moment to absorb this. ”G.o.d, I didn't know what the h.e.l.l happened. What if he'd killed you?”

”He could have, I guess, but I didn't think he'd be fast enough. And he wasn't.”

”He shot you!”

”Annoying,” I said. ”It really hurts. You'd better take his gun and keep it.”

”Good idea.” He picked it up.

”Find me a place that will be out of the sun. Otherwise, I'll have to heal a burn as well as a bullet wound.”

He nodded. ”Okay, but you haven't answered. What about him?” He nodded toward the gunman.

”I'll talk to him. I want to know why he tried to shoot you.”

”You aren't afraid to have him here?”

”I don't want him here, but he's here. I'll try not to hurt him, but if I do, I do.”