Thicker than Blood by Madeline Sheehan Page A

something grabbed at my leg, promptly
yanking me over the fence and into the darkness.
    My fall was soft, Alex’s arms catching me
just before I crashed to the ground. As soon as I was standing,
Leisel’s hand found mine and squeezed it before pulling me from the
wall, away from the shouting and yelling, away from Jami and into
the forest.
    We stumbled through the blackness,
occasionally catching what sounded like the low moan of an
infected. Keeping my grip firm on Leisel’s hand, I refused to let
her go, even for a second. When she stumbled, I stumbled; when she
fell, I fell. We were in this together; she was all I had left.
    It seemed as if hours had passed before the
forest thinned and we reached a small clearing. In the moonlight, I
could make out the outline of a truck, and as we grew closer, I
noticed that it was old and rusted. What was once probably a
beautiful blue now looked like a washed-out gray with patches of
brown. Worse, it didn’t appear as if it had been started in years,
and I found myself holding out little hope of it being a worthy
escape vehicle.
    Regardless of its appearance, we piled
inside. What choice did we have? The key was already in the
ignition, and as Alex turned it, the truck sputtered several times
before the engine finally turned over noisily.
    As we drove away, leaving the forest
behind us, Leisel’s head came to rest on my shoulder. I could feel
her body quaking, hear her soft sniffles as she cried silent tears
while I stared blankly out of the window.
    Maybe tomorrow I’d cry. But not tonight.
    “He kissed me good-bye,” I mumbled, still
staring into the darkness surrounding us. Taking a deep breath, I
slowly released it, refusing to be anything but grateful. Grateful
because my friend, my very best friend, had evaded execution,
grateful that both she and I were now free of Fredericksville and
all its hidden horrors.
    And that was all that really mattered.

Chapter Seven
    Leisel
    I awoke to the faint chirping of birds off in the
distance, and the sound of trickling water. For just a moment I was
at peace, happy in that gentle place between waking and sleep,
ignorant of the crick in my neck from sleeping sitting up, and
blissfully unaware of all that had transpired over the past two
days.
    And then it came back to me. Slowly at
first—the pain, the violence, the crime—and I squeezed my eyes
tightly shut, trying to block it out and enjoy the peace for just a
moment longer.
    But it wouldn’t relent; all at once the rest
of it poured in. My fear, my bloodstained hands, the bodies in the
alleyway. And then later, while tucked neatly between Alex and
Evelyn, when I’d cried and cried until the movement of the truck
rocked me slowly into a blissful unconsciousness, all while Evelyn
had run her fingers through my hair, pressed soft kisses on the top
of my head, whispered soothing, calming words in my ear.
    But it should have been the other way around.
It should have been me comforting her. After all, it had been her
who’d lost someone she’d cared for. Not me.
    Weak.
    The word pounded through my thoughts like a
wayward drumbeat until I could no longer stomach another second of
being alone with my thoughts, and my eyes flew open. I blinked
through tear-encrusted eyes, trying to see past the sudden blinding
sunlight streaming in through the truck’s dirty windows.
    “Morning.” The sound of Alex’s deep, booming
voice startled me. Twisting in my seat, I found him standing just
outside the driver’s side door with his back to me. I blinked
again, realizing that the sound I’d initially thought was trickling
water was actually the sound of him urinating.
    As my face heated with embarrassment, I
quickly turned away and caught a glimpse of myself in the rearview
mirror. The truck was an older model, the windshield short and
squat, and the turned-down mirror gave me an up close and personal
view of my face that I didn’t much care to see. Dried smears of
blood ran up and down both