It only gets worse as I close the distance between us. None of the zombies move; no one steps forward to stop me, and none of them turn their heads to watch me pass. And then I’m right up to the line of them. There’s enough space between the dead to walk by without rubbing up against them, but I still wait for someone to grab me. I expect it now after so many encounters with them.
When none of them do, I exhale.
That was too easy.The thought fills me with dread.
Now to find a road,anyroad. So long as it leads away from here, I’ll be fine.
It takes what feels like an eternity, but eventually I do come across a road. It’s only then that I chance a glance over my shoulder.
To my horror, about ten meters behind me, a zombie has left its comrades to follow me.
That’s when I begin to run.
Chapter 49
I don’t thinkI have much time.
I’m still not sure what bond the horseman shares with his undead soldiers, but I suspect he can sense the world through them. Maybe their bond is strong enough to wake him from sleep, or maybe a zombie is going back to wake him right now. I don’t know how they warn him, only that it’s inevitable that he will be warned—and sooner rather than later.
The dead soldier is still following behind me. He hasn’t closed the distance between us, but I’m not losing him either. I push my legs faster and faster.
I need to find a bike as soon as possible. Then maybe I’d stand a chance of losing the zombie, and thus, War.
Just the thought of the horseman is crushing.
It’s all the fault of mysoft heart, as he would say. It hates this too. With every step I take, it shouts that I’m a fool to run, a fool to leave. It believes in the best of War, which is why I ignore it.
Hearts are proven to be idiots.
I haven’t made it a kilometer down the road before I stop running. I thread my fingers together over my head and take several deep breaths.
This was a bad idea. All of it—every single decision that led me here. Running, sleeping with War, allowing him to insert himself into my life. All of it.
I glance over my shoulder.
The zombie has stopped behind me. He seems to be waiting for me to make my next move.
Be brave.
My mantra crashes over me, and for once, I think about it in a whole new way.
I’ve assumed the entire time I’ve been with the horseman that I have been brave, but I haven’t. I’ve been denying and running from this terrible, heady feeling I get when I’m around him.
But there is no outrunning him or these feelings.
I need to face the horseman down—in love or in war. Even if it means the worst.
No more deeds done in the dark of the night. Whatever comes, I’ll face it head on.
In the distance I swear I can hear the pounding of hooves. Maybe it’s just my imagination.
I squint into the darkness, and no—there looks to be a figure on the road.
There’s only one other person confident enough to venture along these roads at night.
War and his steed manifest out of the darkness, Deimos’s deep red coat looking almost black right now.
The horseman pulls up short.