Page 37 of When the Living Fall

He laces our fingers together and I glance up. I could fall over from the intensity in his eyes. He tilts his head and whispers, “I mean it, princess. If you want to stay with your colony, then that’s where I’ll be, too. I’ll make them uncomfortable as long as it means staying by your side. But if you want to leave, then I’m following you. As far as you want to go. I’m not losing you again.”

My heart hammers faster. It throbs against my chest. His words sound sincere. Not only his words, but the look in his eyes. I want to forgive him, but the hurt is still there. Though, I think they’re realizing how much they hurt me now that they’ve experienced the colony for themselves. I think they’re beginning to understand why I couldn’t tell them about this place before.

“Let’s go save Josh first,” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I’d intended. I pull my hand back from his chest. It tingles with the loss of his warmth. “We can figure out everything else later.”

“Whatever you want, princess.”

The walkto the other town is short. It’s been a resource we’ve combed through repeatedly, never entirely clearing it due to the abundance of supplies and resources. There used to be talk of moving the colony here in the aftermath of Nathan, but it would have been more work than we were capable of at the time. Not only would we have had to rid it of all the rotters and the dead, rotting corpses, but we would have had to start completely over with startinggardens and other things. Most of the people couldn’t do that.

When we approach, the low, guttural moans grow louder. “Those kids were right,” William says, stopping in his tracks and tilting his head, straining to listen. “It sounds like a lot of rotters overtook the town. We’ll have to figure out a plan.”

“We’re wasting time standing here and listening,” I say, drawing a knife in each hand.

“Let’s see what exactly we’re dealing with first.” Griffin walks forward, careful not to make any sound. Max closes in behind me, gripping his morning star and pulling out a knife in his second hand. William swaps out one of his knives for a gun.

A wave of rotters has gathered around one building, their attention fixed, drawn to something—or someone—inside. Their rotting bodies pressed against the brick in sickening unity. “Who wants to bet the kid is in there?”

“No one’s betting on this, Max,” Griffin hisses out.

William halts, squinting toward the horde, his gaze narrowed in concentration. “There are way too many rotters here. We need a plan.”

“We don’t have time to strategize.” I grow impatient. That poor kid is in there, alone and scared. “Let’s start taking them out one at a time. Or someone can make a distraction and draw them away. I don’t care what we do, but it needs to be quick.”

Before we can decide on a course of action, Max is already moving. He slips into the shadows and then, with hands cupped around his mouth, hollers as loud as he can. He’s obnoxious, really. My heart soars for him. I also fear for his life, because the rotters turn and stagger after him. Max keeps taunting them, his voice mocking, daring them to come closer as though they can understand the words he says. But it’s still going to be too much for him.

“He’s going to need backup.” I step forward to help, but Griffin’s hand clamps down on my arm.

“No. I’ll go. You focus on finding the kid. William, stick with her.” He doesn’t give us a chance to argue before charging in Max’s direction and cutting down any rotter that veers too close.

“Let’s move.” William motions for me to follow. We skirt around the edge of the horde, slipping past stragglers and ducking into cover whenever we hear footsteps shuffling too close. For a moment, it feels like we might make it without noticed—until a rotter falls from the shadows, slamming into me and pinning me to the ground. My face smacks into the dirt and my ears ring. A long, excruciating minute passes before I comprehend what’s happening.

The world spins. I struggle beneath the rotter, but it’s too heavy, the decaying weight keeping me trapped. I can’t flip myself over to fight it, and I can’t kill it from this position. Panic swirls, my knives useless under my pinned arms while I squirm, desperate to break free. It’s no use.

The weight vanishes, and I scramble up to see William above me, shoving the rotter off. He stabs the rotter, and then aims his gun in my direction and pulls the trigger. The bullet soars past me, and another rotter drops. The loud crack of the gunshot echoes through the wide-open area, drawing more of them straight for us. He backs away. “I’ll draw away the stragglers. You get to the kid.”

Then he’s gone.

I make for the building we were heading for and burst through the door. I slice my way through two more rotters and run through the building.

The air inside is thick with dust and rot. I cough and try not to vomit. Sometimes, when there are dozens of rotters, the stench is barely noticeable. Other times, it hits me like a freight train.

I rush through the building until I see scratch marks on aclosed door. When I get near, I can almost make out a faint whimper coming from behind. I move closer.

“Josh?” I call softly, pressing my ear against the door, but the only response is stilled silence when the whimpers stop. I jiggle the handle, but it’s locked and won’t budge. “Josh, it’s Emily. Can you open up?”

Still nothing.

“Josh? Josh, I’m coming in.” Scenarios fly through my mind that maybe he’s hurt. Or worse; bitten.

I shove the tip of my knife into the keyhole, working it until the lock clicks open. I breathe a sigh of relief and push open the door before stepping into the darkened room. My eyes adjust to the dim light that filters through a tiny window at the far end.

There, huddle in the corner beneath the window with his knees drawn to his chest, is Josh. I could almost collapse with relief. I jog across the room and drop to my knees in front of him.

“Josh. Talk to me. Are you hurt?” I look him over, but I don’t notice any bite marks at first glance. That doesn’t mean there aren’t any.

His face lifts, pale and frightened, but he lifts his hand with a wincing smile. “I…I think I sprained my wrist trying to get away. I can’t fight them off.”

A smile breaks across my face. A sprained wrist, now that I can deal with. That’s a minor miracle compared to what I’d feared. “You’re going to be fine, Josh. I’m here to get you out. Come. Let’s go home.”

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