Deadly Gallows

Chapter 2 Nicole’s POV

Slowly, I reach for my gun. The knife I’d left on the small stool to my right goes back into my shoulder sheath, and I set the flashlight down—I’m going to need both hands for what I think is about to happen.

I edge around the corner, gun raised, forcing my breathing to stay steady. The second I turn, I’m faced with the last f*****g thing I ever wanted to see.

Dad is slumped on the floor, a knife buried in his collarbone. His eyes are half-lidded, locked on mine. He lifts a finger to his lips, silently telling me to shut up, then flicks his gaze to the left to warn me—we’re not alone.

I nod so he knows I understand.

He switches from one finger to two.

Two of them.

Our uninvited guest isn’t alone—but neither of them are in the room with him. Which means they might not know there are two of us either.

From the pantry, I hear one of them trying—and failing—to be quiet while rummaging through what’s left of the house.

“s**t, who even grabs this s**t,” he mutters under his breath.

I roll my eyes.

Total f*****g i***t.

I move silently behind him, taking the opportunity. He’s about 5’10, medium build. Doesn’t even check behind him once. I slide the knife from my shoulder sheath with my right hand. With my left, I clamp over his mouth and pull him back.

Then I slit his throat.

He gags on his own blood, choking, body buckling as oxygen leaves him. I lower him to the floor as quietly as I can. Grab whatever weapons he’s carrying and shove them into my pockets. I drag his body into the pantry and shut the door softly behind him.

Then I turn back to Dad.

He’s pale—too pale. Blood loss is draining him fast.

He looks at me and whispers for the guy’s gun.

I hesitate. Why that one? Why not his?

But the look he gives me says don’t argue. Just follow orders.

So I hand it over.

“This is how this is going to go,” he whispers, voice strained. “And at no point are you to disobey me.”

He fixes me with that pointed stare I know too well.

“You’re going to pack everything we’ve scraped together into your backpack. Take all the knives, guns, and ammo—including mine—into another bag. Then you’re going to run. Don’t worry about me. I’ll buy you enough time to get as far away from here as possible.”

I just stare at him, trying to process what the f**k he’s saying.

“But where am I meeting you?” I whisper back, panic creeping in. “You’re bleeding so bad you look like you’re about to pass out. I can’t just leave you here. I can’t not protect you.”

Walkers are out there. Dangerous men are out there. And he thinks I can just walk away?

Dad sighs at me like I’m still a little kid who doesn’t understand.

“Nicole, we both know I’m not making it much longer. I’ve taught you everything I know. Everything we’ve learned since this s**t started. I’ve run my course.”

The words hit like a punch to the chest.

“There’s at least one more out there. Maybe two. I can’t let them get to you. I can’t protect you anymore. Only you can protect yourself now. So you need to listen. Carefully.”

His voice hardens despite the blood soaking through his shirt.

“Pack everything. Say your goodbyes quick. And go.”

Tears burn at the back of my eyes, but I blink them away. I nod, because I know this is the last time I’m ever going to see him alive.

I move fast and quiet, gathering everything and stacking it by the door.

When I’m done, Dad pulls me into a hug.

We’re not affectionate people. We never have been. But this—this is the last one.

He holds me tight, his body shaking as we both try not to break completely.

He cradles the back of my head and whispers into my hair, “I love you with every ounce of my being. I’m so f*****g grateful I got to call you my daughter. I’ve been proud of you every single day since you came into our lives. You’re strong. You’re resilient. You’ll be everything we ever wanted you to be. Protect yourself. Remember the rules. I love you so much, baby girl. I’m sorry this is the end of our journey.”

He kisses the top of my head and holds me just a second longer before finally letting go. He wipes his tear-streaked face and nudges me toward the door, silently mouthing, “Go.”

Sobbing under my breath, I nod. I shoulder the bags and step toward the door. Before I leave, I glance back.

“I love you, Dad,” I mouth.

He gives me one last nod.

I step out the back door, senses on high alert, scanning for movement. Then I run.

Behind me, I hear shouting. A gunshot cracks through the air.

I slow briefly, crouching low, checking for walkers or anyone lingering nearby. I see movement rushing into the house.

If I’d stayed, I’d be dead with him.

More gunshots ring out, giving me cover.

So I keep f*****g running.

I run until my lungs burn and my legs feel like they’ll give out. Hours later, I find a small safe house and barricade myself inside.

Sitting there in the silence, I make a promise to Mum and Dad: I will protect myself.

And tonight is the last night I cry.

Exhaustion eventually drags me under, and for the first time in my life, I fall asleep alone.