Page 28 of Famine

I don’t feel the earthquake coming. One moment I’m standing on solid ground, the next moment it seems to violently buckle, throwing me forward. I hit the asphalt hard, my basket and the jabuticabas inside scattering across the crumbling road.

Over the screams, I hear strange, groaning noises, then the ripping sounds of buildings coming down. All the while the earth continues to shake.

I cover my head and curl up on myself, waiting for it to be over.

A few years ago there was another massive earthquake that hit our town, knocking down an alarming number of buildings and burying dozens of people alive.

Now, it’s happening again.

It goes on and on, and all I can do is curl in on myself and cover my head. It feels like an eternity before the earthquake finally abates.

Tentatively, I lower my arms. Dust is still settling around me, but it looks … it looks like Anitápolis has been leveled. Just … wiped away.

Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.

As I stare, more screams start up. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shut out the noise. Then that, too, goes quiet. All I can hear is my ragged breathing.

Eventually I force my eyes open and just … take in the horror. There are more strange plants holding more limp bodies in their grips.

And now the world is truly silent.

I’m not sure there’s a single soul left.

Except for me—me and the horseman.

For several long moments, I cannot speak. I keep trying to, but words fail me.

I make a sound low in my throat, something that builds into a wail.

At the noise, Famine glances my way. He saunters over and reaches a hand out to me.

I stare up at him, ignoring his hand. “You told me there was nothing to fear.” My voice sounds off.

“Nothing foryouto fear,” Famine corrects. “I never promised the same for anyone else.”

I take a few stuttering breaths.

How could I have just let him come here into my town?

This is my fault.

“Is anyone … ?”Alive?I can’t bring myself to say it.

Turns out, I don’t need to.

“You are,” Famine says, his expression remorseless as he stares at me.

That’s … it?

What have I done?

What. Have. I. Done?

I thought compassion was a virtue. That’s what made me save the horseman. So why am I being punished for it?

This is my bad luck, showing up again.

Famine nods to the town. “Grab what you need, then hurry back. I’m eager to leave this place.”

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