A Name Long Buried by C. M. Banschbach

Author:C. M. Banschbach
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: found family, long lost siblings, motorcycle race, dystopian fantasy, post-apocalyptic
Publisher: Uncommon Universes Press
Published: 2023-02-23T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 22

Dayo rolled over with a groan and stared at the bunker ceiling.

I’m alive.

“How you feeling?”

He lifted his head to see Gioia leaning on the frame of the open door, hands tucked in back pockets. Rubbing a hand over his face, he considered.

“Really dusting awful.”

Her light laugh brought a faint smile to his face. Boots scuffed as she came to stand beside him.

“Two days, Dayo. You pulled through. Want some food?”

His stomach growled in response.

A snort of laughter broke from her at his sheepish look up.

“Go shower. You smell awful, too.” She spun on her heels and left.

Dayo rubbed his eyes again and came slowly up to sitting. Two days. His body had taken advantage of the exhaustion following the fight in the courtyard and decided to officially wage a vengeful war on him for quitting alcohol.

He’d barely been able to get out of bed, wracked with shivers one second and heat the next. Sweating and almost vomiting up the water Chris and Gioia forced him to drink. The bitter taste of Sani’s tea lingered in the back of his mouth. He’d left the darkened room only for necessities and to choke down whatever they brought back from the mess hall.

No one had said anything outright, but he’d caught mumbled conversations outside his door and calming answers from Gioia.

Good thing Rosche called off the challenges.

Fumbling for clean clothes in the crooked dresser, he stumbled his way to the showers to wash off two days of misery.

When he finished, he made it back to the room, having to rest a moment to combat a rush of lightheadedness before reaching for his boots.

He felt wrung out and tired. But the constant craving had died to only a faint murmur for the moment—maybe he had the tea to thank for that. And for that matter, his cracked ribs didn’t ache as much as they should, and the bruising all over his body was less pronounced than it should be for the punches he’d taken in the last five days.

Though maybe he’d just been exaggerating how bad it all had been right after murdering a guy. His hands squeezed tight as he closed his eyes, willing away the hyper-focused memory of killing Zelig.

Sani stuck his head in. “Food’s here.”

Dayo took an extra moment to get to his feet again, tucking his sleeves up around his forearms. The snake tattoo grinned up at him from his left wrist, laughing at him for having survived.

Walking into the hallway, he came to an abrupt halt. It smelled way too good to be Barrack’s food. His feet moved a little faster.

Gioia stood behind the kitchen bar that separated the tiny area from the rest of the common room. A tall pot steamed on the stove and she stirred a few times, raising her head to glare at the riders loitering around.

“What is this?” Dayo limped forward.

A faint bit of red touched her cheeks as she kept stirring. “Something I made.”

“You ...?” He rocked back on his heels to regard her.

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