Page 20 of Famine

The whole time, my heart pounds. Whoever did this to him really could still be out there.

And they’re probably looking for him.

Once I’m inside the building, my legs buckle, and I fall, the horseman collapsing on top of me.

For several seconds I lay beneath his bloody body, struggling to breathe. Of course this is how I would meet my end—suffocating to death under the weight of this gargantuan man. Only I would get myself into this stupid situation.

Can’t believe I’m actually trying to save a fuckinghorsemanof the apocalypse.

Grunting, I push the man off of me, letting his body roll to the side.

I glance at the horseman’s twisted form, frowning.

Maybesaveis the wrong word. The man seems pretty dead. And yet still I’m here, hanging out with his body when I should be getting home.

This is why my Aunt Maria doesn’t like me. I can hear her even now.You’re more trouble than you’re worth.

At the thought of her, I remember the basket of fruit I left back on the road. If I’m not only late getting home but I somehow also manage to lose both the fruit and her basket, she’sdefinitelygoing to disown my curious ass.

I drag myself back outside into the pouring rain and fetch the stupid basket, half hoping that the horseman is somehow gone when I return to the abandoned building.

But of course he’s not. He still lays in the bloody, dripping heap where I left him.

It’s not too late to walk away—or to tell someone about him.

Of course, I’m not going to.

Too sentimental, my cousins call me.

I set the basket aside and crouch near the horseman. My muscles still tremble from my earlier exertion, but I force myself to lay the horseman out, trying to situate him in as comfortable a position as possible. The whole time I grimace at the cold feel of his body.

Hehasto be dead.

But the last time I thought that, he wasn’t, and that’s enough to keep me inside this damn house.

So I sit across the room from him as the rain pelts against the leaky roof, ignoring my rising anxiety that I’m not home and will most definitely get a beating for it. I close my eyes and lean my head back against a nearby wall.

I think I might’ve nodded off because when I blink open my eyes it’s nearly dark outside.

On the other side of the room, I hear a terrifying, keening sound. My eyes cut to the source, and there’s the horseman, his weird glowing tattoos giving the house an eerie green glow. In the fading light, I can see the whites of his eyes. He looks confused and frightened.

Heisalive after all.

I haven’t exactly thought through what I’m doing when I get up and move over to him, kneeling at his side. He’s staring at the remnants of his arms, which Iswearlook as though they’ve regrown …

I place a soothing hand on his bare chest. At my touch, the horseman flinches, as though he expects a hit to come. My throat tightens at that. I know the feeling all too well.

“You’re safe,” I whisper.

The horseman’s gaze snaps to me. His face is still swollen and bruised but I think—I think beneath all those injuries he has a beautiful face.

Why are you thinking about his face?

He tries to move his arm—I think to push me away—but there’s not enough armtomove.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” I vow, my voice resolute. I hadn’t fully committed to helping this man before, but now, seeing him hurting and frightened, I won’t leave him.

“Are you thirsty?” I ask.

---