Page 66 of Dating After the End of the World
“I got bit,” he says, stating the obvious.
“How?” Dad pries, needing to know the circumstances that led to it.
“There was a biter in one of the rooms I missed. Casey and I were making our exit, and it lunged at her. There was no time to react, so I pushed her out of the way, and then this happened.” He flicks his head at the wound and gives me a fleeting look.
I squint but quickly relax my eyes so no one notices. Blake’s lying about what happened, and I don’t know why, but I decide not to say anything ... for now.
“Blake,” my father says in a strained whisper, his voice cracking as he looks at his second-in-command like a wounded puppy.
“Dale.” Blake grabs the back of my dad’s neck and tugs at him slightly, jarring him from the sudden force. “I’m gonna be fine. Casey says I have a sixty-six percent chance of not turning into a biter. The odds are in my favor, so there’s no need to get ahead of ourselves.” He lets go of him and walks away from all of us, stopping to turn back once. He opens his mouth like he’s about to say something profound or kind, but at the last second, he changes his mind and continues walking.
“Where’re you going?” I call out.
“Down to the holding cells.”
“You don’t need to do that yet,” Dad says. He looks to me, double-checking his instructions. “Right, Casey?”
“Blake, you still have twenty-plus hours before there’s even a possibility of turning into a Nome, so you don’t have to rush down there. Not yet, anyway,” I yell.
“Get yourself cleaned up, have a nice warm meal, and then you can head down there tonight, buddy.” Dad nods.
Blake seems to be debating whether it’s even worth the bother. It’s almost like being in limbo, knowing he has to go down there eventually. He finally seems to agree, walking back toward us. “Fine, I’ll help you guys clean up this mess, then I’ll do all that.”
Given that his fate is the one hanging in the balance, no one argues with his plan for the evening.
“I’m gonna run this insulin up to Elaine,” I say, already heading to the house as a murmur of encouragement swirls around me, sending me off for the immediate medical need.
I glance back and watch Blake. My heart skips a beat at what he’s going through. I know it all too well. He’ll start feeling sick at the twelve-hour mark, and then hopefully, he’ll share the same fate I did. Blake leans down, grabs the legs of a burner, and starts dragging it through the grass. JJ joins him, picking up the other half by its arms—the two of them hoisting the body into the air as it hangs like a slack tightrope.
“Where should we bury them?” JJ asks, looking to either my dad or his.
“We’re not,” my dad says without missing a beat. “They don’t deserve a burial.”
Uncle Jimmy and Dad jointly pick up another body, lifting it.
“They wanted to see the world burn ... well, they can be the kindling.” Dad punctuates his hatred for them by spitting at the corpse.
Chapter 27
My teeth clamp down, ripping through the perfectly crisp yet tender flesh. Golden liquid trapped in the embryotic dome erupts in my mouth, dribbling down my chin. Bacon, egg, and cheese toast is an incredible treat, and it was afforded to Blake this morning since it might be his last breakfast with his memories intact. As his dedicated guard, I too am reaping the rewards.
“You know you don’t have to sit down here and watch me.” Blake stares through the bars of his cell, a slight look of disgust on his face, likely from the way I’m unabashedly eating with reckless abandon.
“I know. But I want to,” I answer with a mouth full of food.
“Well ... thanks. That’s actually really—”
“Especially since my dad is treating you like you’re on death row with these decadent meals. He has Elaine making you all the best stuff in reserve. I mean, look at this.” I hold up another slice of toast topped with bacon and an over-easy egg, smothered in melted cheese, and speckled with salt and pepper. “This is a masterpiece.” I dive in for another bite, as big as my mouth is capable of.
“I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself at my expense.”
I nod along with my heavy chewing. “Mm-hmm.”
Blake gets to his feet and crosses his cell. Gripping his hands around the bars, he leans his forehead against the cold metal, eyeing me suspiciously with a raised brow. His face is flushed, sweat drippingfrom his hairline. He looks terrible, and I’m sure feels that way too, but he hasn’t complained once.
“Or maybe,” Blake says, “you’re hoping I turn into one of those monsters, and you just wanna be here for the show.”
“Nah. I’m actually hoping you lose your memories.”
