❝ You're caught in my crosshairs again. ❞
In which a Navy SEAL,
a doomsday prepper,
and an extroverted
12-year-old find life in the
apocalypse alongside a
group of...
𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒. chapter thirty-six; Bullet Wound " You do. . . you do want to live, right? "
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VEX WILLIAMS WAS entirely fucked.
She was alone, with a hole through her leg, and nothing but a knife and her rifle that was dwindling on bullets.
She knew she was fucked.
But she also knew it wasn't her time.
Vex had to find Zeppelin. She wanted to find Dean and Daryl as well, but she had to find her daughter. She couldn't die before knowing Zeppelin had made it out.
So, naturally, Vex Williams hobbled until she was deep enough into the forest that silence engulfed her. And then, she took of her flannel, cut off a portion of the bottom, and undid her belt.
Vex let out breaths, placing the belt between her teeth, before winding the flannel tightly, and packing her wound.
Once the pain wasn't nauseating, Vex wrapped another portion of the flannel over the wound and pushed herself to stand, balancing against a tree for a moment.
She needed a house or a store urgently. Antibiotics and clean water, gauze if she was lucky.
And food. She needed food.
Vex knew she could hunt, this was an option, she knew how to and the forest was still full of life. But this required more effort than she had in her-- it required tracking and killing, setting and starting a fire, and cooking.
She needed quick fuel to get her to medicine, and then she could start the real thing.
So Vex wiped her face, starting on the journey that would be long and painful and silent.
Because she had no other choice.
🗡
Day turned into night and night turned into day and Vex had found nothing. She'd hit a store she knew they'd already wiped out and hadn't found anything since.
Until of course, she spotted a shack.
Running low on energy, Vex gripped her knife and started toward it.
She half expected someone to be inside, nowadays she always did.
So Vex peered into windows before cracking the door open, raising her knife as she entered slowly.
It was rundown but looked as though it had been even prior to the world falling apart. Some kind of hunting shed, she assumed by the looks of it.
The woman scanned the dark room, focusing on the figure of a body on the sofa. She approached it slowly, her knife still raised.
