Page 10 of Say You'll Stay

“Then we should go. I’ll be a lot more comfortable with doctors and supplies anyway once we get there.”

Still, he hesitates. Doesn’t want to put her in a situation thatmight end in tragedy because he’s impatient to leave the city. It’s easy to see she’s trying hard not to be a burden or a hassle, but it’s not his job to doubt her, either. If she says she’s fine, then she’s fine.

The choice is made for them when a voice wafts in from down the hall. Suddenly, the only reasonable option is to get the fuck out of here.

He brushes a finger to his lips in the universal sign fordon’t say a wordwhen Olivia sends him a wide-eyed stare. Quickly, they gather up what supplies they can carry in his pack and he leads them to a fire escape from a back room. Can’t go out the front when he can already hear their visitors rummaging through the neighbor’s shared wall.

The ladder clinks against the ground when he lowers it despite his best efforts at keeping silent, but they haven’t attracted attention yet. The process of getting down is another battle. She’s only got two arms and one of those holds Lucy, still swaddled tight in his spare shirt. He notices Olivia’s panic as she realizes she may not be able to climb down and hold her baby at the same time. The odds aren’t in her favor when she’s not at one hundred percent.

“Give her to me. I got this,” he offers. If there’s one thing his biceps can be good for, it’s working his way down a fire escape with one arm.

“You’re sure? One-handed?”

“I’m sure. We’ll go first and wait at the bottom.”

She hesitates, not wanting to hand over her child until the front door begins to crack and splinter, then she shoves Lucy his way at light speed. The child can’t weigh more than five pounds. Easy to clutch against his chest propped near his shoulder while he works his way down the ladder.

Olivia quickly follows, her feet hitting the ground while a head peeks over the window’s edge and a man yells for them to stop.

They race to the building’s corner, then head east for two more blocks, maneuvering around slow-moving herds of the dead. Finally, they find refuge behind a diner. There’s a warm hand in his and that’s when he realizes he reached for Olivia to pull her along. Or maybe she reached for him. Not sure which, but someone did the reaching, and now they’re holding hands next to a dumpster like something out of a bad rom-com.

He lets go like she burned him, handing the squeaking baby back to her mother.

There’s a thank you on the tip of Olivia’s tongue, but he’s grateful she doesn’t speak it. He can see it well enough in her eyes and even that much makes him uncomfortable.

“You good?” he asks, softly.

“Always.”

Lucy objects with a few ear-piercing cries. Olivia tries her best to soothe her, but it’s no use. They have to get inside the diner or they’ll have a mountain of rotters on their heels.

A windfall leads them in through an unlocked back door, where they are promptly greeted by the staff. He stabs the cook with his knife and gets two waitresses after that. Yells at Olivia to stay back by the door until it’s clear before a few of the patrons head his way.

The dead have no muscle mass and no strategy. Flesh hangs off them in gruesome layers, exposed bones grinding together from whatever wounds led them to their fate. They’re often easy enough to dispatch, but he is only one man. Three customers at once are pushing it on a good day. The counter slows them down enough that he’s not overwhelmed.Manages to get it down to the last one, but this fucker is bigger than him by a hundred pounds at least and freshly turned.

Cole’s boots slip on the greasy floor and then the world spins and tilts until he thunks hard on his back while the wind rushes out of him. Those snapping teeth edge closer despite his best efforts to hold them at bay. He lost his knife in the fall. There are no other weapons within range and the pressure from the weight of the other man is already suffocating.

He’s about to meet his maker, or would be if he believed in any maker at all, but then everything stops as quickly as it began. The rotter falls to the side, revealing Olivia standing over him with a cast-iron skillet in one hand and a baby in the other. Quickly, Cole grabs his knife and shoves it through a soft eyeball just to make sure the dead man doesn’t rise again.

“Are you okay? Did you get bit?”

“What the hell are you doing? Told you to stay back,” he growls, scooting away from her fussing, imagining how easily she could have died trying to save him.

“That was before you almost became dinner in this restaurant. Should I have watched it eat your face?”

“Yes!” he yells. “Yes, you should have!”

She only narrows her eyes, the angry edge to her tone still ringing in his ears. It’s justified, considering he stuck his foot in his mouth. What he actually meant to say wasthank you. Instead, it came out as an irritated scolding, as if he’s got any business scolding her, especially after saving his life. He doesn’t know how to apologize, though. His tongue ties and he fumbles, brushing past her to make sure the rest of the place is clear, even though he could see it fine from where he stood.

The baby is crying even louder than before, but at least theyaren’t in the open. Cole starts raiding the kitchen for anything they can use while she gives Lucy lunch and that’s when the noise goes quiet and all he hears is the sound of his own regret.

He needs to make this right. Show her he’s not the same kind of jerk as her dead husband. Gives her a while until she’s got a sleeping bundle in her arms and then sets down the package of graham crackers he found next to a jar of Nutella, joining her on the opposite side of a fifties-style diner booth.

“Bet they put this on the pancakes.” He grabs a cracker from a fresh sleeve and dips it into the chocolate before sliding the container her way.

“I love this stuff,” she replies, scooping out a generous dollop.

“Shouldn’t have yelled at you. I’m sorry.”

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