Raiders Part Two

"Logan, how much longer are we going to wait?"

"A little longer."

"If we keep waiting, they'll kill every last walker!"

"We still don't know whether everyone in their group is here."

"Ian, we need to be patient."

Logan was a white man of about thirty, while Ian looked younger, perhaps in his early twenties. Neither estimate was especially reliable from appearance alone.

The two men lay concealed in the brush, watching Merle and the others. Logan held the firearm that had put a bullet through Daryl's leg.

For now, they watched,

and waited.

They had already disabled the RV's tires, so there was no chance Daryl's group could simply drive away.

Young and hotheaded, Ian lacked Logan's patience. He preferred direct action to elaborate plans and wanted to charge in now.

Logan was in command, however. This operation was his responsibility, and Ian had no choice but to obey.

"I knew there were more of them." A confident smile spread across Logan's face when Shane, Rick, and the others returned. The sight of Miana in particular brought naked desire into his eyes.

He could barely remember the last time he had had sex. Miana appealed to him, especially as he watched her dispatch walkers with clean, efficient movements.

The sight stirred him.

"All right." Logan rose while Shane's group dealt with the remaining walkers. "Let's head back and tell Joseph what we've found."

Thnk!

"Ah!"

Logan had barely begun to move when a cry of pain sounded behind him. He spun around and saw blood streaming from Ian's mouth.

For an instant, Logan froze.

He felt no grief. They were merely strangers whom the chaos had thrown together, with no deep friendship or bond between them.

Without checking whether Ian was dead or could still be saved, Logan dropped flat. He had heard no gunshot, yet Ian had gone down.

Does the shooter have a suppressor? Damn it.

Pressed to the ground, Logan scanned the brush with growing alarm. Against a suppressed weapon, he could not locate the attacker, much less mount an effective counterattack.

"Help... help me." Ian was not dead yet. Blood ran from his mouth as he lay beside Logan and clutched his arm with desperate strength. "Help me... please."

A dying man's hunger for life could be terrifying.

Even on the verge of death, Ian gripped Logan hard enough to keep him from moving.

"Damn it, let go!" Logan had no concern left for Ian's survival. Under Ian's ghastly, desperate stare, he pried the man's fingers from his arm.

Ian died beside him with his eyes still wide. Logan looked at the unseeing face and cursed. "Just my luck."

"Ah!"

Pain lanced through Logan's leg. He looked down and found a dagger buried in his thigh, probably severing an artery.

Blood pulsed from the wound. If he did not receive treatment quickly, the injury would kill him without any further help from his attacker.

I have to get out of here.

That single thought filled Logan's mind. He clenched his teeth as cold sweat beaded across his forehead. Moving might kill him,

but Logan wanted to live.

He had to overcome the pain and escape.

Terror, tension, and the instinct to survive collided inside him.

With a roar, Logan surged to his feet.

The instant he rose,

a spinning throwing knife flashed toward him.

Thnk!

"Ah!"

The blade struck Logan's right forearm, the one holding his pistol. Pain opened his fingers, and the weapon fell to the ground.

A tall Asian man emerged from the trees nearby and rushed at him with startling speed.

Logan crouched as quickly as he could and reached for the fallen pistol. Badly wounded, he had no hope of fighting without it.

Still trying to resist?

One corner of Isaac's mouth lifted. Another throwing knife appeared in his hand, and he sent it at the hand reaching for the gun.

Thnk.

"Ah!"

Logan snatched his hand back like a turtle retreating into its shell, but not fast enough. The dagger stood embedded in the back of his hand, and the bloody sight and bone-deep pain tore a scream from him.