Page 31 of Dead By Dusk

Then, the heat of his body is gone. It’s gone and he’s helping the man up the rest of the way. I hurriedly make my way inside and place as much distance between the two of us as possible, pointedly ignoring the zoo that has exploded in my stomach at the praise in his words.

15

The Dead Don’t Walk: Ronan

My skin is slick as water droplets drip steadily down my face and off my jaw. They fall onto the floor from my fingertips and join the small puddles forming at my sides. Clothes cling to my body uncomfortably, and I find myself shifting where I stand inside the small bathroom. With all five of us in here, our combined body heat causes the cramped room to feel much warmer than I know it actually is, unfortunately adding another level of discomfort.

“His body was moved.”

It’s the first thing any of us says, but I know it’s what we’re all thinking, even if we didn’t know how to approach the topic. I shouldn’t be surprised that it’s Nate’s voice that slices through the silence. It seems he’s always the one who breaks the unforgiving silence to address the questionable. I know his statement should be followed by discussion, but the quiet wraps around us like a blanket woven from tension and uncertainties.

Silene sits atop the counter, conveniently the one both closest to the door and farthest from me. Her hair, long and heavy, is falling out of the makeshift ponytail I had made her while she slept. Long strands frame her confused and wary face. Next to her sits Carmen, whose gaze is trapped down at her lap. Her pinky finger is interlocked with Silene’s. A gesture I don’t recall seeing since we’ve found each other.

A gesture that I’m sure might be part of the cause for the confusion locked on Si’s face since she is selective in the touch she allows others to receive from her.

Adonis stands directly across from them a few feet away from me, legs shoulder width apart and arms crossed against his chest defensively. His expression is a little harder to read—it always seems to be. His emotions tend to stay locked in, focused on the tasks ahead. And he’s watching. He’s always watching.

Then there’s Nate, who for some reason feels foggy when I try to remember who he was to me before all of this, but instinct tells me we were close. Closer than most. He sits on the closed toilet seat on the other side of me, looking very similar to Silene in the way his brows furrow, though I can tell he’s also biting on the inside of the cheek to try and silence any other words that try to tumble from his lips. Likely, hoping that someone else voices the questions these missing bodies raise for all of us.

Bodies. Plural. Because both bodies I had seen before we entered the thick veil of fog and forest are gone. Other bodies that had littered the ground before, gone too—though those disappeared much quicker. Quick enough that I had never seen them, and only know of their presence because of the way those quick minutes played out that day.

“All.”

The word is quiet. Tentative, even as is escapes Carmen. It’s sure, though her pensive expression says that she’s not donespeaking. And no one interrupts, but instead, we wait for her to continue.

“Four have disappeared, and while that in itself is strange and unusual to think about, that’s not what the focus should be. The dead do not walk, but they often speak—tell stories—to those willing to find them and simply ask.” Hazel eyes flick to mine, and I notice the way her hand slowly slips from Silene’s grasp and tucks away the hair that has fallen into her face. “There’s a door in which we never opened. It might be time we find what the dark has hidden away from us for long enough.”

Though timid in posture and exterior, her words are wiser than most, especially for someone who appears much younger than the rest of us. Mature, not in age, but in experience and wisdom.

“So we break down the door.” It’s Adonis now, the one who always seems to respond to her, and her gaze slowly travels to him. There’s no judgment of the man whose first thought is to break something, but instead intrigue.

Fascination.

She looks at him like he’s a puzzle to solve before giving a small, assured nod.

A whispered, “yes.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Silene’s words are far more chipper than anything else I’d heard from her, and I shouldn’t be surprised that violence excites her. I’m not surprised in the slightest actually. She presses her foot against the cabinets of the counter she sits atop, and kicks off before grabbing her small hatchets. “Let’s go tear this shit down.”

She’s out of the door before I can blink, and then all of us are trudging after her, but rather than walk straight to the door that’s only a few feet away from us, she continues down the hall, kicking every door open. She only briefly peers into each empty room before moving to the next, and when she reaches the stairs,the wood groans beneath her feet. She flicks her gaze over her shoulder and stares at all of us still in the bathroom. None of us followed her through the hall due to what I would assume is confusion on all our parts.

“Well, are you going to make me do all the work? We need to make sure the house is secure before we go destroying everything.” Then, she’s facing forward and walking confidently down the steps. I don’t move as Adonis steps around me to follow, and then Carmen after him. I just stare down at where she disappeared, feeling as if this is all too familiar.

A hand, cold and strong, clamps down on my shoulder, pulling me from the daze that I’ve fallen into. Familiar yet distant brown eyes bore into my own in silent question. A way of asking if I’m okay, maybe. Or more likely as a way of possibly asking why I’mnotokay. Because I’d be damned if I described my state of mind as “okay” while grief and hatred lace every longing and uncertain stare she sends my way.

God, hatred is the most common feature painted across her features. A scowl perpetually adorns her. Only she could make disgust look like jewelry.

It’s been nearly twenty-four hours since we found each other, and in that time she has tried to kill me, accused me of betrayal, kept her distance, only spoke to me to ask if I’m a means to an end, looked at me as if I’m the plague itself, and for the briefest moment…relaxed against me. Let her body fall into mine, her back molded to my chest where I know she belongs.

And then I separated myself from her. Not because I wanted to, but because I needed to. I can shamelessly flirt. I can wait for her to come back to me. But I refuse to let myselfhopethat she will. I refuse to let myself believe that, in a moment of exhaustion, she wanted to lean into my touch. That she wanted comfort. I’m delusional, but not when it comes to her. I know herbetter than I know myself, and she’s too tired right now to trust anyone, let alone herself.

Though the warmth that radiated from her skin and burrowed itself into me before I let her go and the blush that rose to her cheeks when I looked back at her on the rooftop makes it hard to believe she’s as uncertain as she may seem. I know that sometimes the body reacts against our will, and maybe I used just how much I know her to my advantage. Weaponized the knowledge tattooed into my very soul. Maybe I had been playing unfair in her eyes. But in mine? Any method, no matter how ruthless or unconventional, is acceptable as long as it means she comes back to me.

Focus.

I need to focus.

I release myself from my thoughts and focus on Nate, giving him a tight-lipped smile before pressing forward and following the group down the stairs. They creak and groan beneath my weight, more than they did for Silene, whose first step was the only one to cry out under her. I take note of the way its cry is quieter for Nate than me and tuck that information in the back of my mind as a way to figure out who is coming and going while we reside here.

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