Page 41 of Faith Among Monsters

Wilkes looks at me like I just asked if zombies can join a prayer group. “Trust?” He shakes his head, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You can’t trust a con. Or a guard. But you can count on us for certain things.”

“Okay,” I say, lowering my voice even more. “Which inmate can I lean on if the shit hits the fan?”

Wilkes scratches his stubbled chin, looking thoughtful. “Trip,” he says after a pause. “And Dax.”

I almost laugh, stopping myself just in time. “Dax? Well, that’s a given.”

“Yeah, you can trust Dax for certain things,” Wilkes says with a faint grin, guiding me closer to the thick, reinforced door. “And you can count on Zachs in here. He’s solid. For Dax and me.”

“And you? Can I trust you?” I ask.

He has the nerve to grin. Not wide or charming like Dax’s, Wilkes isn’t the type for that. His is a little sheepish, a little wry, like he already knows the answer. “I already told you. You can’t trust any of us. I just said that. But you can count on me now. We’re going to get through this.”

I study him for a long moment. Could I trust him? Did I really want to be locked in a confined space with thirty dangerous men, only two of whom he’d deemed safe-ish?

“Trip and Zachs,” I say slowly. “How will I know Trip?”

Wilkes snorts. “He’ll be the crotchety old bastard sitting on his own.” He jangles his keys and unlocks the door.

Before he can push it open, it swings outward with a faint groan of hinges.

A man fills the doorway, tall and lean, his uniform looking like it’s been through hell. His shaggy blond hair gives him the kind of laid-back surfer vibe that screamsbeach bummore thancorrections officer. But his sharp green eyes? Those tell a different story. They flick over me, not lingering long enough to make me uncomfortable, before turning to Wilkes.

“Where’s Dax?” the man, Zachs, I assume, asks.

“Went to check the towers,” Wilkes says, slipping through the door and nodding for me to follow. “See who’s left to save.”

Zachs barks a short laugh, stepping aside to let us in. “Those chicken shits are probably pissing themselves,” he says. His voice is light, almost cheerful, but his too-wide smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

The room beyond the door is cold, the air thick with a metallic tang. The dim lighting casts long shadows along thewalls, making the empty cells look more imposing than they have any right to. I rub my arms against the chill as Zachs shuts the door behind us with a metallic clang.

“I got her,” Zachs says, glancing at me again. His easy smile softens just a fraction, something steadier settling in his expression. “Keep your shit together and get your asses back here.”

There’s something about him, solid, unshaken, like a man who’s seen hell and learned how to laugh at it. The brightness in his voice doesn’t quite match the situation, but somehow, I don’t mind. I like him already.

I reach out, catching Wilkes’s arm before he can leave. “Listen to the man,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Pay attention out there. The living monsters are far more vicious.”

“Prettyandsmart,” Wilkes says, winking.

He slips out the door before I can respond, leaving me with Zachs.

I draw in a breath, steadying myself as I turn to face him.

I’ve seen his kind before. Not usually in a prison, though. The type who never meets a stranger, who makes everything seem easy. Too easy. Normally, that would calm me, and it had a moment ago. But with Dax and Wilkes out there in the chaos, my nerves are frayed raw.

“Have you made sure none of the people in here were bitten? Or took that shot?” I ask, my voice sharper than I intend.

Zachs’s steps slow. He turns to me with a crooked smile, the kind that looks deliberately disarming. “I didn’t strip search ‘em, if that’s what you’re asking,” he says, his tone teasing. “But no one’s limping around with chunks taken out of ‘em, if that helps.”

“Maybe we should,” I press. “Did Wilkes tell you about them?”

His head tilts, still grinning. “You wanna strip search my prisoners and my men?” His green eyes glint, playful and unreadable. “Hell, come right on in. I’ll hold ‘em down for you.”

His laughter is so light, so casual, it almost feels like the world isn’t collapsing outside.

I stare at him, trying to decide if he’s being an ass or if this is just how he keeps his cool. “I’m serious,” I say.

He gives me a lopsided grin that makes him look younger than he is, like some surfer caught on the wrong side of a prison wall. “What, you think they’d tell me if they got bit? I don’t see anyone gnawing on the walls.”

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