Human Bait

Chapter 5: Bait

"What is this?"

"Thought you'd recognize it."

"But..." I shook my head, fingering the partially-detached sole of the boot. "You found this for me?"

"Wasn't hard. Now put it on, and let's go for a ride. Time to blow up some Infected."

So not only did Recluse still have batteries, but he also still had gasoline. With a wry smirk, I plunked the boot onto the ground, shoved my foot in, and eased myself off of the chair. My wound pulsed out a protest, and I clenched my fists and bit my lip. When I swung a foot forward, my wounded leg flared, cramping my muscles. But I remained standing.

See that, Father? Still think I'm pathetic now?

"Why are you smiling?"

I wiped my face blank. "I'm not smiling."

"Hmm. Can't you go any faster?"

Before I could answer, Recluse closed the distance between us and snagged my arm, pulling it up over his shoulder. He hooked an arm around my waist and tugged me forward.

I limp-hopped across the floor, gasping both in breathlessness and pain as I struggled to match Recluse's pace. When my balance wavered, I sagged into his solid warmth. His muscles shifted under his coat as his arm tightened around me, picking up the slack. Though I knew Recluse was more likely to hurt me than protect me, something inside of me relaxed, desperate to rely on someone else for just a minute.

Pathetic, after all.

Recluse dragged me through a quaint kitchen and into a large, dingy room. The arm around my waist dropped away, and I stumbled back two steps to lean against the wall. Blinking against a wave of dizziness, I processed the sight in front of me.

And blinked again.

In the middle of the room, light flickered over a black leather seat, polished silver engine, and thick-tread tires. Two tires.

"Uh... that's a motorcycle."

"Agreed." Recluse strode to the far wall and pushed a door open, and a flurry of moonlit snowflakes sifted through the opening. Then he pivoted toward me and nodded at the bike.

I shook my head. "You can't be serious. We're riding a motorcycle? Together? Through the snow?"

Recluse folded his arms over his chest, and his leather coat crackled as the sleeves strained over his biceps. "Unless you'd rather walk."

I dragged a hand over my face and blew out a breath. Then I swayed forward a few unsteady steps, grasped the seat in both hands. I threw a leg over, but my wounded calf refused to support me, and I began to tip to the other side.

Just in time, Recluse appeared at my side and grabbed my shoulder. With the brusque disregard of one completing a daily chore, he gripped both of my thighs and shoved me to the back of the bike seat. Then he swung onto the seat in front of me.

His shoulders blocked my view of everything ahead, and an alarmingly narrow strip of leather seat separated my thighs from his. My eyes flicked to the rifle strapped over his shoulder. While he focused on driving, maybe I could steal the gun from him and...

And what? I didn't even know how to shoot. At best, I would waste another bullet.

"Hang on to me," Recluse said.

I hesitated, eyeing his shoulders and then his waist. "You know, guys usually offer me payment before asking—"

The engine revved, the motorbike lurched forward, and I snaked my arms around his waist. Then we blasted out into the snow.