A Deadly Winter by Kody Boye

Author:Kody Boye [Boye, Kody]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-10-02T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The gymnasium is cold, but comforting. We are assigned spaces, given sleeping bags and pillows, and are told, in no short order, that we are to bed down after the sun falls—unless, of course, we are designated for guard patrol, which Ah Cy says may come in time.

Can’t have people wandering around after dark, the woman says before leaving us to our own devices.

No, I think. We sure can’t.

Nestled in my sleeping bag, I try to rest, but find my body aching and my heart fluttering from nerves.

What are you scared of? I think. You’re safe.

Am I, though? For all intents and purposes, I am merely within the four walls of a place protected by armed guards. Little more than brick and mortar separate us from the ravenous dead outside. At any moment something—anything—could happen. A simple mistake in human judgment could bring these walls down upon us. A door could be left open. An unsecured window could shatter. Someone in a truck could come bulldozing through the walls. Any number of things could happen, and yet, a part of me is confidant that it won’t.

No.

For some reason, and what reason I can’t be sure, I am convinced that I am safe, at least for the time being.

If you survived getting attacked, I think, if you survived almost getting bit—

“Then you can survive anything,” I whisper.

Nearby, an elderly woman whispers to her grandchildren to remain quiet. Though they are little more than seven or eight years old, the children—a boy and a girl—are very obedient, and do as asked regardless of the fact that it is not likely within their nature. They silence instantly, and continue to play with the trucks and dolls on their side of the room as if danger is not outside these walls.

What could they have seen, I wonder? Did they see their mother die? Their father shot? Their parents reanimated after being bitten by the undead?

I shiver as I think about this—as I consider the fact that my mother could potentially be like that as well—and close my eyes.

No.

If my mother really did believe what she thought she did—and if, like I imagine, she knew that she would succumb to the virus and then come back to life as a monster—she wouldn’t have let that happen.

But, in the end, does that make it any better?

I shake my head and burrow deeper into the bedroll just in time for a series of footsteps to come forward.

“Party of… Wright?” a man asks.

I open my eyes to find that two men and one woman are standing nearby, trays of food in their hand.

“Yes?” I ask, pushing myself upright and wondering why they would address Rosita and Mark as being with me rather than the other way around.

My companions of the last several days rise alongside me.

“The priest asked us to bring you these leftovers.”

“Thank you,” I say as the man passes down the tray with a lukewarm tortilla, a small serving of Mexican rice, and beans atop it.

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