Page 1 of Whispers of the Dead

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ZOEY

For a place built on the ashes of civilization, this place somehow feels alive.

From my vantage point near the gates, I can see people moving about their daily tasks, repairing fences, tending to the meager crops, fortifying our little world we’ve worked so hard to build. It’s a strange kind of peace, the kind that comes with knowing we carved this out of the rot and decay of the apocalypse.

When I pull my jacket tighter against the crisp morning air, my gaze drifts to the small garden Griffin started when we moved our large group of people here a few months ago. Emily is there, but she’s not crouching to pull weeds like she normally would. She’s sitting with her back against a wooden crate, her face pale and drawn.

My best friend is sick. Not the kind that will turn her into a rotter, but due to the state of the world, it’s still the kind of sick that makes people nervous these days. A simple cold can take someone out if they’re not careful. Which is why her men are so aggravated. They want her to rest in bed, but she wants to be out in the sunshine. She’s stubborn enough to get her way.

She brushes her sweaty hair back from her face and offers William a weak smile when he kneels beside her with a cup of water. The way he looks at her makes my chest ache. It’s a soft, almost reverent expression, like she’s the only thing in this world worth fighting for. All of them look at her that way. Somehow, amidst the chaos and ruins of civilization, those three guys forced their way into her life and showed her life can still be beautiful, even at the end of the world.

I want to look away, to give them a moment, but I can’t. They’re a picture of hope, of love and survival, and it makes me feel something. It makes me crave the same thing, and I can’t help but wonder if it’ll ever be possible for someone like me to find something like that, too.

Griffin and Max stand nearby. They both look tense and on edge, which isn’t far from their normal. Buddy, the one-eyed Belgian Malinois they rescued from dregs, lies at Emily’s feet. His ears flick at every small movement she makes.

Max is the first to notice me standing there. His sharp gaze meets mine while his hand rests on the handle of his knife, like he’s expecting trouble. Right now, though, the real trouble isn’t outside the gates. It’s here, inside our home.

“Zoey?” Emily’s voice breaks through my thoughts, pulling me back to reality. She waves me over, her face lighting up with one of those smiles that always softens the hurt. Even when she’s sick, she still radiates warmth.

I step forward and try to keep my tone light. “You look like hell, Em.”

Emily huffs out a breathless laugh. “You always know just what to say.”

I crouch down next to her and search her face. Up close, she looks even worse. Sweat clings to her brow despite the cold, and her chapped lips are evident. I hate this so much.

She’s the strongest person I know, but here she is. Sick,weak, and barely able to sit upright. The worst part, though, is none of us know what to do about it.

Griffin scowls. “You shouldn’t be out here. You should be resting.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I’m not dying, Griff. It’s a fever, that’s all. Any more rest, and I might as well just keel over.”

Max grunts. “First off, even I don’t find that funny.” Emily’s laugh turns into a cough. “Second, you don’t know that. Could be anything. A normal virus, an infection from a minor cut, or worse.”

The corner of my mouth twitches while I watch their exchange. It’s comforting, in a way, seeing them bicker like this.

Truth is, the colony isn’t as thriving as it looks. Sure, it’s a lot better than it was at the old place that wound up burning to the ground thanks to a maniac, but starting over completely has proved to be a greater challenge than we expected. Supply runs have been coming up short, and the stress is starting to show on everyone’s faces. Even Emily’s men, who seem like unshakable pillars, wear the weight of it in the tight lines of their jaws and the restless energy in their movements.

“You could get worse, pet. We need to treat it like it might,” Max says, his voice softening.

In this world, even the smallest illness can spiral into death. We don’t have hospitals, antibiotics, or a doctor who knows what the hell they’re doing. There’s a small urgent care building in this town, but we only have the supplies and knowledge to treat physical injuries, not illnesses that require more than a headache pill. If this fever gets worse…

“No, it won’t. I won’t let it.”

William glances at me when I speak, and his voice is gentle. “Are you volunteering again?”

“I’m not exactly doing much else around here,” I say with a shrug. I always volunteer. The truth is, staying busy isthe only way I can keep the memories at bay. The nights are getting harder, but during the day, I can lose myself in the rhythm of survival. My fingers brush over my side, feeling the raised scar tissue beneath the thin fabric of my over worn shirt. A reminder that I’m still alive, even if I don’t feel like it on some days.

We’ve been scraping by with what little supplies we have left, but we need medicine. If there’s even a chance I can find something that will help Emily, I have to take it.

Griffin frowns, his protective instincts kicking in. He’s protective over everyone in this little colony, but I’m the second most protected one here on account of being Emily’s best friend. Her three men have become like brothers to me, a family I never thought I’d have. “Not on your own, you’re not. It’s too dangerous out there.”

His words are punctuated by the low moan of rotters outside the walls.

“It’s always dangerous, but we need medicine.” I meet his gaze head-on, trying to make him understand.

We’re all well aware that we’re spread thin on runners. Between the rotter watcher duties, building repairs, and tending to injuries, small groups of survivors have been going on supply runs every day. Each time, we have to go farther out because of the depleting supplies in the area.

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