Butterflies flapped inside my chest, and the bedsprings creaked as I rose. “Where is he now?”
“The preacher?” She gave a shrug. “Who knows. He was one strange dude…said the Horsemen wore the skin of man,” her eyes glazed, staring not at the open Bible, but at something else, something that lingered in her mind alone. “Said if you opened your eyes, you’d see his work all around us. Pestilence would be here first,” she murmured. “And he’d bring the plague. I guess the preacher was right, and now all we’re doing is cleaning up the goddamn mess.”
“Dad said we brought this on ourselves,” I whispered. “He said this was a reckoning, and maybe next time we’ll learn from our mistakes.”
She flinched with the words. A coldness echoed from her gaze as she murmured. “He sounds like a smart man.”
Smart. Honest. Loyal. And look where it got him. I closed the book with a soft thud.
“Did you sleep well?”
I met her gaze. Here it was, the opportunity for the truth, to get it all out in the open. No…the word hovered on the end of my tongue. No, I didn’t sleep well at all, and I know you didn’t either.
I could push her, force her to spill the secrets she held inside. I glanced around the room. I could make a fuss big enough to rouse the sleeping lions, and then…who knew? But a cornered person was a dangerous thing—no matter the intentions. “Yeah, and you?”
“Always,” she stifled a yawn. “This place is as quiet as a damn morgue. I’ll be ready to head out in a few minutes if you’re still interested?”
I glanced at the end of the bed. There was no way I’d take Pitt. She needed rest, and food, and to heal. Her paws were still red raw, the bandage still tight around her side.
I didn’t want to leave her, not now…
“Damon’s here, and he’s desperate to fuss. He’ll take good care of her. It’s been a long time since he had something to love.”
Desperation trembled her words. I turned back to the deep brown of her eyes, stars sparkled, riding the edge of panic. She needed me to go with her, needed me here in this place with these people. I could almost feel her grip on my arms, almost feel her nails gouging my skin, desperate to hold, desperate to confide. I slid my hand under my pillow and grasped my gun. “Just let me head to the bathroom and I’m good to go.”
Her hard exhale flicked stray strands of my hair against my cheek. “I’ll make us a pack,” she murmured. “Food, water, and weapons. I travel light.”
I nodded, knowing the drill by now.
We’d leave light, and carry as much as we could back here. We’d break into homes, we’d tear through their lives as though they had no meaning—but they did, they always had meaning, and to me the meaning wasn’t lost—it was merely hidden.
Their lives came back to me in the darkened depths of sleep, and the moments where the birds didn’t sing, and the wolves didn’t howl. I thought about them then, those who left behind their possessions for me to scavenge.
I remembered the pictures on the walls, and about the beds, and the little cots untouched, as I shoved my feet into my boots. A dark blur moved on the floor at the bottom of the bed. Pitt lifted her head, dark eyes trained on me. “You stay here,” I murmured, yanked my laces tight, and reached over to ruffle her ear. “Rest up, ’cause I’m not sure how much longer we’ll be staying.”
A soft huff filled the air as she dropped her head back to the floor. I still felt her gaze following me as I grabbed my leather jacket and crossed to the door.
“Be careful out there,” Damon murmured. “Watch her back, and she’ll watch yours.”
I glanced into the darkness. Faded light hugged the outline under the covers. “I will…just take care of my dog.”
The bedsprings groaned as Damon rolled. I left him behind and shoved through the door to the bathroom. Cold danced across my skin, and a shiver raced. There were no windows in here, no way for the hallway light to seep in. I reached out into the dark and touched the icy walls, memory was all I had now. Memory and touch as I shuffled along the wall to the bank of toilets.
I shoved the sweats low, squatted, used the cloth and the bucket before I yanked my pants high. The creak of the bathroom door savaged the room. Kenya’s voice was soft, finding me in the dark. “Your clothes are dried and ready.”
And for a second it was just like living at home. Mom fussing, Sarah whining. Family. My heart sped with the thought. “Coming now.”
I surged forward, finding the open door, and followed her to the hallway.
“The Lost Boys are first. One of their scavengers ripped open his leg about a month ago. They brought him here. Damon stitched him as best he could. But, it’s slowly getting infected. We’ve tried everything we have—a damn cocktail of drugs— and, so far, nothing’s working. If we can’t stop the spread, he’s gonna lose the damn leg…and a scavenger with one leg is useless. Miles won’t have the team slowed down.”
They’ll kill him. That’s what she meant. I didn’t need to hear the words to understand.
She shoved through the door and into the kitchen. My jeans and shirt were piled on the edge of the counter, folded neatly. I gripped my jacket and scooped the clothes into my arms.
“There’s a room over there you can use,” she heaved a bag onto the counter. “It’s an airlock for the lab, but no one should be in there yet.”
I made for the door and shoved through. The damn thing was small, barely big enough for three people. Standing room only. I glanced at the door on the other side, and the small, round window at head height. An icy finger traced its way down my spine, and goosebumps raced. There was no sound, not even a breath, as I stared into the darkness on the other side of the door.
You’re being silly.
The words lingered as I dropped my clothes to the floor and turned around. Cold steel covered the place from top to bottom. An airlock, Kenya called it. More like a damn tomb. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband of my sweats and shoved. That icy touch didn’t fade, it lingered, scraping my nerves with sharp nails as I knelt and grasped hold of my panties.
I moved fast, stepping into each leg, and then followed with my jeans. My thin bra waited on the floor. I glanced over my shoulder to the window, and then turned away to grip the hemline of the shirt, and drag it over my head.
The bitter air licked the warmth from my skin, tightening, puckering as I wrestled with the clasps. There was a shift behind me, a tiny scrape of sound…like a shoe against the floor.
I wrenched my gaze to the window, black on black shifted as I smashed my arms across my chest.
Someone was in there. Someone watched me from the other side of the door…someone who was in there now.
My heart lunged, smashing against the side of my ribs. Fingers trembled, unable to catch the bottom of my shirt. I punched the button and slapped the steel door with my hip, stumbling into the dining room as I yanked the shirt down.
“You okay?” Kenya stilled and stared, hands half in an open backpack.