The Virus Within: The Unranked (Book 4)

Ch. 29: The Obedient Runner

Daniel and I stared at the Runner, then exchanged an incredulous look.

Daniel sniffed the air. "I don't smell any blood on his breath. Is he really a feral?"

I also checked the Runner's scents, digging through and examining the older ones. "I don't smell anything, at least not this week. Even if he had been sane, the bloodlust would have driven him feral by now. There's no way he should have been able to understand me."

"Could it be a coincidence that he sat down?" Daniel asked, regarding our hitchhiker with a puzzled expression.

"When's the last time you've seen a Runner sit down to eat?" I muttered. On a hunch, I walked back to the truck and held out my hand. "Give it here."

The Runner growled and clutched the plastic-wrapped treat against his chest. A deeper growl echoed through my chest, backing up the demand that no feral would have ever understood.

Reluctantly, the Runner halfway threw it in my direction like a peeved two-year-old. I speculatively eyed him up as I plucked the drooly plastic off the truck mattress, having to stand on my tiptoes to reach it. I ripped the top seam open and pulled out all the dried jerky inside.

The Runner's eyes followed the food hungrily. I tossed the handful in his direction, letting them scatter across the mattress as he quickly began grabbing them, shoving some in his mouth, but trying to collect as many as he could in his hands.

I gave Daniel a pointed look. "That's no feral. Even if he wanders off while we're gone, we'll have to track him down at this point. Did we bring any controlex with us?"

"I'd have to check the truck, although I know we have a couple vials of the cure."

I crossed my arms and regarded the Runner thoughtfully. "Normally, I'd suggest the cure, but there could be more unranked zombies around, and a sane Runner could be a significant help for a Stronghold right about now. He can always ask for the cure once he can talk. I'm still amazed that he understood me."

Daniel walked around to the passenger door and began checking inside the boxes on the passenger seat. I leaned over the side of the truck and dug in the corner beside the mattress—causing the Runner to chew hastily in case I demanded the meat back again.

"I found a vial of controlex," Daniel said, holding it up. "Want me to try injecting it now?"

"You might as well. Let me see if I can distract him."

I unwrapped a battered granola bar well past its expiry date and another package of jerky and waited until Daniel had the syringe prepped. I tossed the food on the mattress, and as the Runner leaned over to try scraping everything into a pile, Daniel used the distraction to inject the drug in the back of our guest's arm.

The Runner growled over his shoulder but leaned over the food to hide it as opposed to picking an unwinnable fight with the Terror. Daniel was already backing up with an empty syringe, glancing at his watch.

"What are we going to do with him for the next three days?" Daniel asked as he leaned inside the truck door to put the syringe in a safe place. "It's going to be a while before his bloodlust subsides."

"Who says we need to wait three days?" I pointed to a flock of birds on the other side of the sinkhole. "How good are you at catching pigeons?"

"Depends if they're on the ground, and how close they let me get before trying to fly away."

With a smirk, I asked, "What if I told you to be as persistent as Nicky?"

The corner of his lip quirked up. "I'll see what I can do. Try to keep him here and find a cup or something."