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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.”
