Page 50 of The Dead Don't Talk
Yeah, I’m fucked.
Chapter 24
I won’t kiss and tell
The past
Moros—twenty-five
“What can we dofor you, son?”
The orderly row of well-kept men all stare at me from their semi-circle, their faces showing varying levels of deep brows and full-blown scowls. Their robes are fancy and free from wrinkles, the opposite to the rest of us who live in a dirt-caked state that no matter what we do, doesn’t seem to go away.
Bathing is a luxury.
Clean fabrics to make clothes is a commodity we don’t have access to.
Fresh food is sent here, first. The leftovers and day olds are then shipped out to the rest of us to scavenge through and fight over.
Our backs are used for the labor to build and maintain. Our waning strengths used without repayment of what we have lost.
It’s a borderline wasteland here.
But then I stole one too many loaves of bread for Wilson who’d gone way too long without something to eat.
This time, the Guard attempted to arrest me.
Which is why I’m standing in front of the elders with their bored expressions, caked in both day-old blood and fresh crimson.
They think they have me, but it’s the other way around.
I plan on killing every one of them.
Wilson would be a good leader.
The one on the end tugs on his collar, his nerves palpable with how long I’ve been silent. It makes my red-stained grin tip up.
“What canyoudo for me?” I finally ask and the main elder sighs out his boredom.
“Yes, Moros. That’s why you’re here, no?What do you want?”
I shrug and start slowly pacing.
One foot, then the other.
Deliberate and meticulous, I walk the length of their chairs, the rattle of the chain wrapped around my neck trailing each movement.
The unease in them grows.
I finally stop at the one on the end. The one that looks most afraid.
“You can’t lead from fear.”
His throat bobs with a swallow and that itch inside me soothes at the terror staring back at me.
I don’t give him a chance to react beyond that last gulp.
Snapping my hand out, I grab him by the throat and crush his windpipe. It caves easy in my grip, too easy, and makes my grin grow.
