Page 42 of Whispers of the Dead

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ZOEY

Damon’s metal ring clinks against his cot. The steady rhythm echoes through the darkness. It’s not enough to drown out the distant, guttural groans of rotters beyond the walls or the scraping sounds of unseen things moving in the corridors about.

Another day has passed since they tossed me into Cole’s cell. I know they still had to lock me up somewhere. Maybe it was a mistake on their part. Something they didn’t mean to happen. The dregs have gone out of their way to keep us separated, so I doubt they’ll let it happen again. It was nice while it lasted, but the aftermath linger like a bitter taste in my mouth. Or maybe that’s the smell of bleach from where they cleaned the rotter corpse out of my cell.

Cole is still hurting. Every strained breath, every wheeze, reminds me that Eugene doesn’t just break bones. He destroys people. I hate that Cole got caught in the crossfire because of me. I should have been the one to take that risk, to drive the knife into the rotter’s skull. Then maybe Cole wouldn’t be suffering.

I curl my knees to my chest. My body aches from dehydration and hunger. My head throbs, and my limbs feelweak. The air is thick and stale, pressing down on me like a weight I can’t shake. The groans from the rotters outside the walls blend into a miserable symphony with the ache in my stomach.

Cole watches me from his cell. Those green eyes are pale in the darkness. It’s been a full a full day since he saved my life and paid the price for it. Since Eugene reminded all of us just how little control we have here. Now we have no choice but to wait. For what, I don’t know. More consequences, probably. A new punishment we haven’t seen yet.

I stare at the floor, my thoughts a jumbled mess of guilt and despair. How much longer can we last like this? It’s only a matter of time until we get the consequences. Eugene wouldn’t let it get that far, though, right? He wants me as his own. He doesn’t want me dead. At least not yet.

Then something shifts. A sound carries on the wind. It’s faint, but real. I sit up straighter and strain my ears to listen.

“Zoey.”

I freeze. It’s like a whisper, almost. Soft, but insistent. I shake my head. No. No, it can’t be. I’ve gone too long without food or water. My mind is playing tricks on me. That has to be it. Another hallucination. The kind that creeps in when I’m on the edge of breaking. That’s when the whispers of the dead call out my name.

Then I hear it again. “Zoey.”

Louder this time. More desperate.

The breath rushes from my lungs. No. No, that’s impossible.

My stomach lurches and my hands clench against the concrete. I know that voice. It’s been burned into my memory, buried under the weight of everything that’s happened since I lost her. The one person in this world I would do anything to help, even getting captured by dregs in the process.

Emily.

I shoot to my feet and stagger toward the window. It’s too high for me to reach,. “Emily,” I croak out, my voice raw with disuse and dehydration.

She’s here. She’s looking for me.

“Zoey, dammit, where are you?” Her voice carries through the air, closer now. Then she coughs. She shouldn’t be out there looking for me, not in her state. The concern I had for myself shifts to her. I need to get out of here so I can get to her and help her.

“Emily, I’m here,” I shout out, desperation giving strength to my voice.

A lock clicks. The door at the end of the corridor creaks open. I’m out of time.

I whirl around right as Eugene steps into my cell. His presence steals the breath from my lungs. His face is unreadable, and that terrifies me.

“Go take care of it,” he orders to the dreg behind him before turning to me and closes the door behind him with a soft click. “Well, well. Looks like your little friend is looking for you.”

There’s no time. I need to scream, to get to her before it’s too late, but Eugene is faster. His hand clamps over my mouth. HIs fingers are bruising, suffocating. A blade presses against my throat. I go rigid. The sharp sting of the knife biting into my skin is enough to keep me frozen in place.

“Let her go,” Damon seethes, his voice dark and lethal from his cell.

Eugene doesn’t even glance at him. “Not another sound,” he hisses out, his lips close to my ear. “You scream, you so much as breathe too loudly, and I’ll slit your throat right here.” His grip tightens, making me whimper. “That goes for all of you. One word, and you get rewarded with a front-row seat to watching her blood spill out of her pretty little body.”

I try to pull away, but the pressure of the knife digs deeper. A single drop of blood rolls down my collarbone.

Benji’s voice cuts through the tension, his usual humor nowhere to be found. “Spill another drop, and it’s you who’ll be bleeding all over this fucking floor.”

Eugene chuckles like this is all some joke to him.

Outside, Emily’s voice carries again. “Please. I’m looking for someone. Her name is Zoey. Have you seen her?”

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