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“If you do that, make sure Max keeps an eye out for rotters,” I respond before grabbing the axe from him as well and then heading back to the general store that’s become our temporary home base.
There isn’t much in here that we haven’t already ransacked, so it doesn’t take long to gather the best tools that could help me. I lay them out along the countertop like a skilled surgeon before glancing over my shoulder to see William twirling Emily around the fire, dancing. He gets along with her so effortlessly. He always knows what to say, how to act.
With a sigh, I hop onto the counter to sit, face the window, and begin carving. Alone in the dark, watching Emily smile and dance in the sunlight.
20
EMILY
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.
