26. William

26

WILLIAM

I don’t know when I lost sight of Max. It was at some point during the madness—between slicing through rotters and fending off the attackers. Nathan’s men are the real dregs of this godforsaken world.

They keep on coming. It never seems to end. The growing horde surrounding us dwarfs any we’ve faced before—except the one we saved Josh from. That horde was the horde of all hordes. I can’t help but think if we hadn’t taken it out, then we would have fought it off here, too. Still, where have all these been coming from?

Nathan pulled these rotters in from somewhere, but I wouldn’t put it past him to have made them from other survivors.

When I cut down yet another rotter, my gaze catches Nathan slipping through the chaos, darting between buildings. I can’t believe that fucker is alive. Someone needs to take him down.

The temptation to take down the man responsible for so much pain, agony, and bloodshed is strong, but when I see something far more important—a flash of movement on the other side of the street—I hesitate .

Emily charges out of a building, her blade gleaming as she takes down rotters left and right to protect her people. Max follows close behind, but he’s pulled into a brutal clash with one of Nathan’s men, leaving her alone to fend off an advancing wave.

I need to get to her.

Leaping onto the nearest wall that borders the town, I scan the mess below. Flames lick the sky as fires rage across the colony. Rotters flee from the flames, but they’re trapped inside by the walls. I’ve never seen rotters this frenzied before. One man grabs a rotter that’s trying to claw its way up a wall and throws it onto someone else. The rotter sinks its teeth into its victim’s arm, and the man runs away, but not before grabbing the dismembered leg of another rotter, lighting it on fire, and tossing it at another building to catch it on fire, too. When he turns his back to cause more destruction, I curse under my breath, rear my arm back, and throw the knife. I fist pump the air when it embeds into his back, and he drops to the ground like a stone. I can’t believe I made that. After Emily threw her knife the first time the four of us encountered some dregs, I started practicing myself. It finally paid off.

People fight desperately in the streets; defending their homes, their lives, and everything they’ve held on to during the downfall of civilization. The fires spread fast, too fast, and my chest tightens at the thought of all these people losing what little they have left. But right now, Emily needs me.

I spot a townsman stumbling near the wall I’m standing on. He bends over with his hands braced on his knees, panting hard. I jump down. He flinches when I land in front of him and raises his knife at me. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I need your help.”

He swipes at the air, and I take a step back. “I ain’t helping no one. Leave me a—oh wait, you’re one of Emily’s friends she brought here, aren’t you? One of those guys they put in the cell?”

“Yeah, I am. Is there a running car around here?”

His breathing settles, and he lowers the knife. “Running away, are ya? Smart guy.”

“No,” I snap, angry at the implication. “I’ve got a plan to pull the rotters away from here. If we can get them out, then the people might have a chance. So, what do you say? Are you going to help me or not?” I growl out the words, expressing my urgency. I hate that I’m wasting time explaining myself to a guy who assumed I would run away. He should have taken me to the damn vehicle already.

The man studies my face, then nods. “That’s a good plan.”

“I haven’t told you what it is yet.”

“Doesn’t matter. If it can save these people, then it already sounds good. I have a truck outside this here wall. Let’s go.”

I heave him up, and then scale over the wall myself before dropping down on the other side where his beat-up truck waits. First order of business is to get the rotters out. Then we can go back in and kill the dregs. I sure hope this works.

“Name’s Kevin,” he says while we jog the short distance to the truck.

“What? Oh, uh, William.”

“Great. William, here she is. Hop in and I’ll start ‘er up.”

I vault into the truck bed, and he hops into the driver’s seat. Once he’s inside, he starts the engine, and I scan the scene from my vantage point. Flames soar high into the sky and smoke curls into the air. I can still see the survivors fighting with everything they have.

Kevin glances back at me and shifts into gear. “Alright, so tell me, William. What’s the plan?”

He eases the truck into motion and drives away from the town, but nobody, especially rotters, is paying attention to us. That needs to change.

“Turn on the radio and blast it. We need to draw their attention with sound. Music is a favorite of mine.” And Emily’s.

“Yeah, about that…not going to work.”

“What do you mean?”

“That thing’s been busted ever since I found her.” Runs quiet as a kitten.”

“Kittens aren’t quiet.” I don’t know why I’m bothering to argue. I kneel down to look through the open window, and straight at the hole in the truck where a radio used to be. “Shit.”

“Got a backup plan?”

“Yeah. We need another car.”

An explosion erupts on the other side of town. Flames burst into the sky, and Kevin’s face falls. “Well, that might not be an option anymore. That explosion is where we kept most of our cars.”

I slam my fist into the back of the truck bed. Kevin winces, looking at me. “Hey, hey, hey, watch it. She’s our only way out of this.”

“We need music. Sound. Something, anything.” My mind races, trying to come up with a new plan, but it’s coming up blank. All I can do is think about how Emily needs me, and I’m failing her. I could scream and shout, but I doubt I could be loud enough to be heard how I need to be. I gave up my harmonica so Emily could keep her compass—something I’ll never regret—but damn, that would be so useful to have right now.

Doing the only thing I can think of, I stick two fingers into my mouth and whistle, but it’s not enough. All it does is blend in with the ongoing destruction. Well, except for one rotter that starts limping toward us. That’s a start.

Kevin pauses for a moment before reaching over and pulling a long black case out from under the passenger seat. “Found this in the truck when I took her in. Never got around to using it, on account of too much noise draws in more rotters, but there’s no time like the present, right? I reckon the old driver of this truck must’ve been a musician or something. Probably what got ‘em killed.”

He passes the guitar to me through the back window, and a grin spreads across my lips. I’m surprised to find it’s in perfect condition when I pull it out of the case. “Hit the gas, Kev.”

It’s been so long since I’ve held a guitar in my hands. A whole other lifetime ago, since before the dead rose and the living fell. I didn’t think I would ever get the chance to play one again.

Kevin presses on the pedal and the truck lurches forward.

I strum one chord and realize the guitar is terribly out of tune. After tuning to the best I can manage by ear at a time like this, I glance up when I’m ready to play for real, and am pleased to see some rotters have already changed direction and are heading toward us. Perfect. I play a simple rhythm to warm up. It’s been so long, but it feels so good to have the strings beneath my fingers again. One by one, the rotters abandon their journey into the town and follow us.

The notes thrum through my fingers and I play harder, faster, feeling the music flow out and draw the horde’s attention. Kevin glances back at me, a grin splitting his face. “Looks like it’s working.”

I nod, watching rotters stumble out of the colony and turning toward the truck to follow the music. I look past them and am pleased to see the crowd inside the walls are thinning when more and more rotters lumber after us, forming a growing mass in our wake.

“How long are we doing this for?” Kevin yells over the sound .

“As long as it takes,” I shout back.

“Well, we’ve got half a tank of gas.”

“That’s perfect.” I strum notes and chords, the nearly healed calluses on my fingers getting put to good use once again.

My fingers dance over the strings to a tune I know well but haven’t heard in forever. My body sways with the music. I’m finally living my childhood dream of playing for a crowd. This is probably the most lively dead concert in history.

We drive down the road and the horde following us continues to grow. Right before we disappear over the hill, I swear I can see long, dark brown hair floating in the breeze from inside the colony.