Page 19 of Famine

But that would mean that the rumors were true. Those ridiculous, frightening rumors.

Surelythat can’t be right. Any being strong enough to shake the earth and kill crops couldn’t possibly be contained by humans.

But now I can hear my pulse pounding between my ears and I’m still staring at that face, hidden behind a curtain of wet hair.

On a whim, I reach out and push the dripping locks away from the man’s face, tucking them behind his ear.

At my touch, his eyes snap open, his irises a brilliant green color.

I scream, falling back on my butt.

God and all the saints! What in the actualfuck?

“Help,” he whispers to me, and then his eyes fall shut again.

I’m shivering, staring at the horseman’s unconscious form.

He’s alive. The horseman. The creature sent from God to kill everyone. He’saliveand he’s missing appendages, and now he wants my help.

I hug my arms together. What am I supposed to do?

Tell the town. People need to know the horseman has come.

Would anyone even believe me? An hour agoIwouldn’t have believed me.

So what if they believe you’re a fool?Tell them and let them make up their own minds.

I get to my feet and begin to walk away, my steps hurried.

But then … then I stop. I cast an unsure glance over my shoulder.

That man—supernatural or not—is too hurt to harm anyone. And judging by his wounds, he’s not the great monster the stories made him out to be.

Someone did that to him. Someone who was surely a human.

I stare at his crumpled form for a little longer.

Help. He’d used his only breath to ask for my help.

The thought makes my chest tighten.

If this truly is the horseman … I really should just walk away.

Still, I linger there, in the middle of the road, my eyes fixed on him.

I think about my aunt, who hardly gives two shits about me. If I were lying in a ditch, I’m not sure she’d save me.

I know what it’s like to not be wanted.

And if I were the one hurt and begging for help, I’d want someone to care. Even a stranger.

I swallow.

Fuck, I’m going to do this.

Rain pelts my skin as I grab the horseman under the armpits, my gaze moving up and down the muddy road. There’s no one on this backcountry trail. No one but me and the horseman But someonewillcome, it’s just a matter of time.

One painstaking step at a time, I drag the horseman off the road and towards an abandoned house that I used to play inside when I was a kid. Even missing appendages, he weighs more than a freaking cow—and afatcow at that.

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