20. Emily

20

Low groans lead me deeper into the woods. I came over here for a latrine, desperate for some privacy away from the constant presence of guys lurking around every corner. Instead, I frantically search for the foul stench of decay that lingers in the air, indicating nearby rotters. It’s so hard to use the bathroom in peace anymore. It’s getting ridiculous.

I reach what seems to be the location of the sound, but there isn’t anything here. Then I look up and see a rotter caught in a net hanging from a tree. “How in the world did you get up there?”

The rotter’s desperate attempts to break free intensify when I draw nearer, its bony fingers piercing through the net holes and its few teeth grinding against its gums in frustration. It’s stuck up there, unable to harm anyone. Nevertheless, the fewer rotters in this world, the better off everyone will be. William said that once, and it stuck with me.

So I climb the tree and cut it down, but before I can leap down and finish taking care of it, Buddy bounds over and finishes the job for me.

“Hey, you stole my kill.” I drop to the ground and make sure the rotter is dead. Yup, it sure is.

Buddy barks and wags his tail, looking up at me with his one eye. His lips even turn up slightly so that it looks like he’s smiling.

“You’re proud of yourself, aren’t you?” In response, he runs over and licks my face, but I pull my head back and stand, pushing my hands out. “Okay, how about we don’t do the doggy kiss thing right after you tear into a rotter, hmm? I’m going to find you a toothbrush. Maybe some doggy mouthwash, too.”

He barks.

“Shhh, don’t need to draw any more attention. Now, if you could please turn around and guard me while I do what I came out here for, that would be wonderful.” Holding out my hand, I point down and make a circular motion. He turns around and sits down. “Good boy.” He barks again and I sigh.

Once I finish my business, we head back to the makeshift camp and run into Max along the way. He looks me over, looks around us, then hooks his morning star onto his back again. “I heard barking.”

“Thanks for running to my rescue, but that was the sound of Buddy beating you to it.”

His eyes darken, which is odd because they usually light up at the thought of danger. “What happened?”

“A rotter stuck in a net in a tree. I cut it down, and Buddy stole my kill.” I pretend to pout.

He processes it for a moment and then grins before bending over and patting Buddy on the head. “Good boy. You deserve a treat, yes you do.”

Buddy licks his hand, and I scrunch my face. “You realize where his mouth has been, right? He stole my kill.” Then Buddy licks his cheek and I wince.

“He certainly did. He’s a good boy. Let’s go find you a treat, maybe something that Willie-boy would’ve liked.”

“You don’t find that weird?”

“You’re right. Maybe something Griffin would’ve liked instead. He hasn’t been pulling his weight around here.”

“That’s not what I mean. I’m talking about the rotter in the net. There might be more traps set up around here.”

He continues rubbing Buddy’s head, vying for the title of best human in his mind. “There are. I watched a rotter get strung up in a net last night when it tried to get to me. It was so much fun to watch. I wish I would have thought about these traps long ago. The people in this town were geniuses. Well, until they got the virus and disappeared, that part probably sucked for them. But it’s beneficial for us.”

Before I can say anything else, more moans reach us. My hand tightens around my knife when I realize the direction they’re coming from. “Griffin.”

Max takes off in a run, with me and Buddy following behind. We make it back to the small town and see half a dozen rotters heading for the general store where Griffin should be inside sleeping.

I run straight for them, shoving my knife through the head of the nearest rotter. The knife gets stuck in the skull, and I’m doing my best to yank it free when another rotter stumbles into me. Max swings his morning star around, embedding the spiked end into its skull.

We gain the attention of the other rotters, and they all head for us. Buddy leaps and bites at them, dragging one down onto the ground. I raise my knife, ready to fight my way out, when a sound filters through, faint and almost alien in the quiet world. I look over at Max, who’s busy spraying blood from hitting the rotters so hard. “Do you hear that too?”

The rotters turn their attention to the sky for a moment before heading away from us, down the dusty street.

A grin turns up Max’s lips, and he lets out a haughty laugh. “It’s about time. Haven’t heard that in ages.”

He follows the distracted rotters and takes them out from behind, one at a time. The music doesn’t stop. When he’s about to take out the last rotter, I place a hand on his shoulder. “Wait. We should follow it.”

Max looks at the last rotter limping, and then at me. Then he pulls out his knife and hacks off the rotter’s jaw before pushing it toward the music again. “Go for it, pet. I think this is something you’d want to see on your own, but I’ll be right here if any other creepy crawlies come slinking over.”

I give him one last look of confusion before looking at the retreating rotter.

“Come on, Buddy.” Max leads Buddy away without explaining, even though I have so many more questions. He clearly knows what it is. I’m half tempted to grab him and make him tell me, but he doesn’t act like it’s anything to worry about, so I follow the rotter toward the sound instead.

The sound is a song. Music. A harmonica. I’ve only ever heard that played in movies and on television, never in real life. It’s strange and of place, but it sounds nice. It has a good rhythm. I grip my knife, ready to use it.

We only travel a couple buildings away when the rotter scratches along the brick wall of a building and looks up. I follow its gaze and see something—no, someone—up on the roof. I can’t make out who it is, but I have a pretty good guess. Shoving my knife into the back of its skull, I step back before the rotter hits the ground.

Looking up, I see him. Blond hair tied back, and one knee bent while he sits on the roof leaning against a chimney looking out over the horizon, harmonica to his lips. William had mentioned his love for music in his previous life, before the dead rose, but I didn’t think he would ever get the chance to play again. It’s a dangerous hobby to have. Still, it’s nice. Unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. He strings together the notes beautifully, and before I can think any more about it, I’m already finding a ladder and climbing up the side of the building.

I scramble onto the roof with caution. Feeling the slight give of a loose shingle under my weight, I adjust my position to avoid any mishaps. The last thing I need is to fall through and get hurt. I don’t want to imagine how much fun Griffin would have getting his revenge by stitching me up.

With an agile crawl, I make my way across the roof, a wide smile forming on my face as I join William. Pausing his playing, he flashes me a wide grin before resuming the song. While his gaze is on the distant horizon, I can’t help but be captivated by the rhythmic movement of his throat as he hits each note.

When he finishes, he lowers the harmonica. “I saw the rotters moving toward Griffin. I wasn’t sure if they could get inside, but you and Max got there first. This was the best way I could think of to help. The way I could protect my people.”

“The music was beautiful, William. Sometimes the most beautiful things can become the more lethal than the most dangerous weapons.”

He grins down at me. “Like you?”

I smile. “You basically said I’m a work of art. I’ll take the compliment. But are you done playing?”

His gaze lowers to me and turns playful. “You didn’t come up here to tell me to cut it out now that the rotters are dead? I could end up attracting even more.”

“Of course not. I would love to hear more. But if you’re worried about attracting rotters, why not play inside, somewhere harder to hear?”

His body tenses. “I’m not so good with enclosed spaces.”

Realization hits me. “Is that why you always sleep outside by the fire?” He nods. “No way. So, all this time when there were three tents set up, I could have had one all to myself?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I thought you knew.”

“No. That Griffin, I’m going to kill him.”

“Over a tent?”

“Absolutely.” Shaking my head, I change the subject back to music and decide to deal with Griffin later. He had me believing that there weren’t enough tents to have my own. “Wait…you don’t even sleep in a tent? At all? Do you even use it for anything?”

He shakes his head and at first I think he’s going to remain silent, but he doesn’t. “I change clothes in there. Well, since we brought you back.”

Now he’s silent. He looks uncomfortably down at his harmonica, rubbing his thumbs along the worn exterior.

That’s alright. I drop the subject. If he’s not ready to talk about it, then I’ll respect that. “I remember you mentioning it a while back. Is this the first time you’ve picked it up since?”

“It is. It’s kind of like riding a bike. I didn’t forget anything like I thought I might.”

“Why did you choose now to start again? There are other ways you could have made noise if you weren’t going to run over and hack and slash.”

He thinks it over for a moment, tapping his fingers along the harmonica while he does. “I guess I was just inspired to.”

“Is it hard to learn?”

“Not as hard as anything else.”

“Do you think you could teach me someday?”

His smile grows wider than I’ve ever seen it, and all the tension seems to leave his body. “Absolutely. Whenever you’re ready.”

Looping my hands around his arm, I lean my head on his shoulder and he gets back to playing another song after dropping a kiss on my forehead. Even a bird somewhere in a nearby tree sings along, making me smile. I close my eyes and listen.

That’s disgusting.

I scrunch my nose in disgust and look away. Max laughs. “Well, don’t think we need to worry about feeding Buddy. He’s doing better than all of us.”

Max bends down until he’s sitting on his heels and gives Buddy a rewarding pat on the head while he’s licking every morsel from his mouth. “Well, at least we know animals can’t get infected.”

I sigh and look at the dead squirrel before averting my gaze again. “Yeah, but can they spread the virus?”

Max lets out a laugh. “Doubt it. Buddy Boy here has been licking my face every chance he gets. If he could carry the virus, I’d be a rotting corpse by now.”

“That’s not funny,” I scold.

William appears behind us with some gloves. “Aw man. Did he already eat it? I was getting ready to prepare it and put it over the fire.”

Max stands and claps his hand on William’s shoulder. “No need. That dog is doing better at this apocalypse life than we are. We should take notes.”

The bandage on William’s arm catches my eye. “I need to change your dressing, anyway. I’ll go find Griffin and then meet back at the general store.”

“You’re going to leave Buddy’s dinner table before he’s finished?” Max asks with a faux crestfallen look.

“Yes. Feel free to join him, though, Mr. I Like Getting Licked By A Dog With Rotter Breath.” I push past him and head back to where I hope Griffin is. None of us has strayed away from the town yet, but it makes me nervous. Things are getting too comfortable here. Too safe. It feels too much like back home, minus the security wall with the patrol and more people bustling around, going about their daily tasks.

Reaching the general store, I pause outside the door and bend down to inspect the pot of lavender roses with a smile. They look freshly watered. They seem to thrive in the pot Griffin found. It’s the perfect size for them, too.

This is the last thing I expected from that man. I never would have guessed he’d have a side with kindness. He must keep it hidden deep down. Really deep down.

Standing, I push open the door to the general store where I hope to find Griffin, and I’m right. He’s sitting on the counter focusing on something in his hands, but when he looks up and spots me walking toward him, he quickly moves to hide whatever it is he’s working on. I should be suspicious. Normally, I would be. But I’m surprised to find that I’m not. “I need to check your stitches.”

He opens his knees and draws me in between them, pulling my hands to rest on his thighs while I look up at him. My fingers brush against the bare skin of his thigh through the ripped shorts to his stab wound. The bandage that was there is gone and all I can feel is scar tissue. “I haven’t opened them again.”

“That’s great, but I still need to check them out.”

“Is this a ploy to get my shirt off?”

My face scrunches up for the second time in about five minutes. “Well, yeah, how else am I supposed to see how it’s healing?” These guys can be so confusing.

His head tilts to the side and a small grin plays on his lips before the door opens again and draws his gaze over my head to someone standing behind me. “Did you fuck up your stitches?” William asks.

Griffin’s light-hearted demeanor disappears, and he frowns, his hands squeezing mine. “I absolutely did not. I wish everyone would stop assuming that.”

I pull away and motion to the couch. “Sit down and take off your shirt.” They both take off their shirts, revealing toned, muscular torsos, and heat creeps up my neck. “I meant—nevermind.”

They each take a seat on the couch, with Griffin laying over half of it, the side with the stitches facing upward. I pull out the first aid kit, get everything set up how I want it, and then face them, trying to decide which to work on first. Deciding William will be the quickest, I kneel in front of him and undo the wrap on his forearm while Griffin’s gaze bores into the side of my head, watching my every move. I try to tune it out and ignore the fact that the heat under my skin keeps getting hotter.

“You don’t need to keep tending to us like this,” William says, drawing my gaze up to meet his pale blue eyes.

“You’re hurt. And neither of you are doing anything to monitor your wounds. What would you do without me?” I regret the question as soon as I voice it. I don’t want another fight right now.

“Luckily for all of us, we don’t have to know,” Griffin says, his voice rough. Then it softens. “Thank you for your help, though. You really don’t need to.”

“Yeah, you could have let us die and run off on your own,” William adds.

“That’s not funny.”

“Didn’t say I was joking.”

I wipe down his cut with a damp cloth and apply some more ointment before grabbing more gauze. Then I set it back down before scowling up at him. “This is looking so much better. I don’t think you need to wrap it up again, see how it does like this for a while. And I could never walk away from someone who needs my help. There, you’re good to go.”

“Thank you, Em.”

The door opens, and Max pops his head inside. “Hey, one of you free to help with some rotters that are stumbling this way? It’s not many, but I’m feeling kind enough to share the fun. Although Buddy makes the best sidekick out of any of you. He does more with one eye than some of you do with two.”

William stands and pulls out his knife before heading for the door. “I’m on it.”

“Don’t let my dog get hurt,” I call out.

“If I would’ve known about the shirtless party, I would have joined in here instead. Let them take the town. This looks more fun.” Max grins and William shoves him through the opening and closes the door behind them.

When they disappear, I move to kneel in front of Griffin, who’s still watching the door. “They’ve got it handled. You’re not allowed to join.”

He turns his gaze on me, and I’m taken back by the longing I see there. He must really want to go out there and fight. “Doctor’s orders?”

I grin up at him. “Princess’s orders.”

His face lights up. “You don’t hate the nickname anymore?”

“It’s growing on me.” I shrug and begin inspecting the stitches. “Though I must say that I’m surprised. I expected you to burst these open.”

“Are you disappointed you don’t get to stab me even harder?”

“A little.”

He reaches down and tickles my ribs, throwing me into a fit of laughter. I end up with my back on the floor and Griffin hovering above me. “Okay, okay, mercy.” Buddy barks and growls from outside, pawing at the door. “You better stop or my dog will break in here and maul you. I don’t think I’ll have enough stitches for that.”

Griffin relents, placing his palms against the floor on either side of my head, and looks down at me. His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath. We’re both panting, and I realize I’m pressing my hands against his bare chest. It’s a nice chest, too. William’s chest was nice to sleep on, and now I wonder how Griffin’s would be. Which is odd, considering that until recently, I thought he resented me.

My hand moves up to trace my favorite scar on the side of his face, and he doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch. He only stares down at me. My chest rises and falls with each breath, less so as my breathing slows back down to a normal rate the longer I look at him like this.

“We’ve got a pretty good thing going here in this town.”

“Yeah,” I agree.

“No dregs, and barely any rotters.”

“Other than those guys in the bar,” I remind him.

“Lots of supplies. Plenty of protection. Shelter. Enough trees to keep the fires going for a few lifetimes.”

“All true.” I draw out the words, wondering where he’s going with this. I keep tracing his scar with the tip of my finger. Back and forth.

“Once everything is over, do you think you could see yourself hanging around here with us?”

My finger stops at the edge of his cheek near his ear. “I have someone waiting for me. A friend I still need to find medicine for, and then get back to and help. She’s still counting on me.”

“She can come, too. We can start our own little colony.”

There it is, the thing I’ve been dreading most. I so badly want to tell him I already have one, and that all three of them can come back with me, but I can’t. They’ll kill them on site and then they’ll kill me for bringing them there. I can’t risk it. Not after the last time I let someone in. The worst part is that I can’t even tell them about it, the rule I stupidly agreed to while we buried our friends.

“It’s an interesting idea,” I hedge.

He breaks eye contact and pulls back, looking down at his side and the thin trickle of blood. “This doesn’t count. Technically, it was your fault.”

“You did that all on your own.” I grin when I sit up to pull out the needle and thread, but swallow hard when he meets me with a challenging look and lays down on the couch, exposing his side to me.

“Go ahead, then. I can take anything you want to give me.”