Page 65 of The Dead Don't Talk
“No.”
My eyes prick with the memory, thefearI felt. The helplessness and hopelessness.
I’m still haunted by the look on Moros’s face when he realized what had happened. What had been done. That there was no time to find cover for me.
“We were drenched to the bone when it turned red. Too far from camp and the comforts we’d gotten used to. Too far from shelter.”
He rolls close to me, his smooth body shaking against mine and I wrap my arms around him tight.
“For days, I was fevered and sick. Unable to navigate back. Unable to control Moros. And when the storm finally broke, I almost died.
“And I recall every bit of it like a reoccurring nightmare.”
I bury my face in his hair and inhale deep.
“They refused to open the gates for us when we made it back weeks later. A decontamination process, they called it. So little by little, Moros stole wood and tools. Food and drink. And he built a shelter high up from the ground, away from eyes and teeth.
“I’ve lived there ever since.”
Amo’s harsh breath flies across the hair on my chest, his thin arms banding tight around me.
“Then how … how did you become Guard.”
My chuckle is dark, and I feed my fingers into his hair, tangling my digits in his strands.
“Moros finally broke in. Destroyed the place that they’d built. Swore that if they ever treated anyone the way they did us, he’d return. And then he killed every one of them he could get his hands on, careful to leave at least one behind.”
“His dad.”
I nod.
“Michael bargained his original promise for his life—Moros and I guard the community from the outside, teach the newcomers, keep them safe. And in exchange, he’d leave me and Moros be. We’d be out of sight, out of mind. He’d give us whatever supplies and manpower we needed to survive. Food and water would be ours. Shelter … from the storms. It’s all we ever wanted, so Moros agreed with a promise to come back if it was ever broken.”
“And today was it?”
I sigh. “Yeah, baby. Today was it.”
Glassy eyes meet mine, his lashes already damp. “Because of me?”
My lips thin and I brush my fingers down his cheek.
“No, not because of you, baby.Foryou. And me. And anyone else that comes after us who’s just a little bit different.”
Those tears collecting on his eyes fall and land on my chest.
“I don’t want him to die for me, Wilson.”
My jaw clenches, but I force what I hope is a reassuring smile and tug him back down to me.
“He won’t. I promise.”
He thumps me in the stomach. “Don’t promise shit you can’t keep!”
I can’t help the loaded chuckle. “I trust him and his ability to survive. That’s all.”
“But you’ve seen him survive! Ihaven’t. All I know is the grumpy asshole that pretends to hate my cherry treats but eats them anyway.”
That one gets a full laugh out of me, each breath taking some of the darkness along with it.
