Page 6 of When the Living Fall

My eyes snap open, and my fingers fly to my knife.Scanning the darkness for the source, I can almost make out a silhouette in the dim firelight. “Hello?”

The figure shifts, a hand raised as if to calm me. Buddy takes a protective stance in front of me. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to startle you. I need some help.”

My grip on Buddy tightens as he presses against me, a low growl vibrating through his body. “Are you hurt?”

“No, it’s my wife. She—we haven’t eaten in days. I’ve been trying to bring her something.”

Releasing my hold on Buddy, I reach into my bag, fingers grazing the cool metal of a can. I pull it out, standing on my aching feet, and step forward, offering it with a hesitant smile. “It’s not much, but it’ll help. Here, take it.”

The man takes it with careful hesitation, his face still obscured in shadow, but his relief is almost palpable. “Thank you. Come, will you meet her? She would love to thank you for your kindness.”

His voice sounds so pained. So desperate and helpless. I hesitate. It’s an odd request, but something in his tone makes it hard to refuse. I know what it’s like to be hungry in this world without an ounce of kindness.

“Sure,” I agree, stroking Buddy’s head to calm him. He stays tense, his ears flicking. This is the least I could do after bursting my way into their home like this. “Actually, in return for the can, could my dog and I stay the rest of the night here? We’ve been running for hours and are exhausted. I promise we won’t be any trouble. A spot on the floor for a few hours is all I ask.”

Buddy follows me when I follow the man, and we step deeper into the cabin.

“Of course,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him into a small room. “She’s still in bed.”

“Oh, I don’t want to wake her.”

“Don’t worry about that. She’ll be glad to see you. We don’t get many visitors, you see.”

The room is dim, moonlight filtering in through a single window. I spot a bed in the corner, and the shape of someone lying beneath the covers. Buddy growls low in his throat, his body pressed against my leg. “Sorry about him,” I say with a strained laugh. “He doesn’t like strangers.”

The man ignores my apology, moving to the bed and drawing the blanket back with a gentle grace. “Come closer,” he says, his voice a soft plea. Then he turns his attention to his wife. “We have a visitor, honey. A young woman and her dog. I found you some food.”

I clear my throat, ignoring the strangeness of his last line. “Thank you, ma’am, for letting us stay,” I begin, stepping forward with my hand extended. “I apologize for the intrusion. The area is swarming with rotters out there, and we didn’t have anywhere else to—” As I reach her, the moonlight catches her face, illuminating her decaying, rotted skin. My heart slams against my ribs and a strangled gasp escapes me. “She’s?—”

The can of food I’d handed over drops to the floor when the man lunges, grabbing me. Buddy leaps between us and sinks his teeth into the man’s leg. He lets out a howl of pain and I push him away, sending him tumbling to the floor. I draw my knife, ready to fight, when the most unexpected sound stops me.

He sobs. Tears stain his cheeks. He’s sobbing so hard, his words come out gargled, his voice choked and broken.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps. “I never wanted to hurt anyone. She’s still her. She only looks different. I promised to take care of her, in sickness and in health, and she’s sick. That’s all it is. She’s sick right now, so I’m taking care of her.”

“What the…” I take a step back and watch in horror. The rotter on the bed lets out a low, guttural hiss, its hand reaching for him, its movements slow and uncoordinated. My features soften into sadness. Not only for the woman, but for her poor husband, who won’t let himself grieve. I attempt to plead with him. “Sir, she’s already gone. That’s what this virus does.”

“No,” he insists, his eyes filling with heartbreaking denial. He strokes what’s left of her hair, a tangled and grimy mess. He reaches for the hairbrush on the nightstand. “Not her. It does that to others, but not her. She’s still my Mae.”

He brushes two strokes of her hair before she turns her head and bites into the brush. He sighs and watches her chew on it.

Well, damn. That’s the sweetest, most horrifying thing I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve seen a lot since the dead rose.

My mind flashes to the guys—Griffin, William, and Max—and I wonder, if things had been different, would I have done the same for them? Well, if the events of tonight hadn’t happened, and we had the time to care about each other in this way.

If it were Zoey, would I have the heart to let her go before she lost herself completely? I’d like to think I would. I think I’d have the strength to give her peace, no matter how much it would hurt. She and I agreed to make that decision if the opportunity arose, but there’s no telling if either of us would have been strong enough to do it.

“Please,” he whimpers in front of me. “Please don’t kill her. I can’t keep doing this, though. I’m going to join her. Then she won’t be alone like this.”

I take a slow step back, with Buddy pressing against my leg, still growling. This is too much. “I don’t…I can’t,” I stammer. “There’s nothing I can do besides end it for both of you.”

His shoulders slump, and he lifts a trembling hand, holding out an old fire poker toward me. “Please. I don’t care anymore. Make it quick.”

The rotter woman moans. My gaze shifts to her. A nail detaches from her finger when she scratches at the wall. Achain rattles with the movement. I hadn’t noticed before, but now I see the metal links rattling with every twitch of her hand. “You chained that thing up?”

In a sudden flash, the man swings the poker at me, and I jump back. Buddy lunges between us, snarling. The man drops the weapon and covers his face with his hands and resumes his sobbing. “I’m sorry. I only wanted to take care of her. Why won’t anyone help us?”

I take a step back, horrified by the sight in front of me.

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