My sister’s breathing deepens. She could always fall asleep anywhere. In hospitals. During treatments. Even now, at what feels like the end of the world. As long as she’s alive, I have a purpose.
Something to fight for.
“Háganle la cuna de rosa y jazmín…”
I look up, feeling eyes on me. My father stares at his hands. My mother’s lips are pressed into a thin line, but she doesn’t tellme to stop. The reverend’s prayers have ceased, his lips finally still.
“Arrorró, mi niño, arrorró, mi sol…”
And Julien—Julien is watching me. Not with anger or annoyance or judgment.
“Duérmete, pedazo… de mi corazón…”
I finish the lullaby, the last note hanging in the air like a question. The room is silent except for the soft sound of breathing and the occasional creak of the old building settling.
“I didn’t know you could sing,” Sienna whispers, propped up on one elbow.
I shrug. “Just something I do.”
“Do more often,” Cameron says from his post, voice gentle.
“We don’t know what exactly draws them,” Julien says. “But sound is bad.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t dare look at him. “It was stupid.”
Sienna catches my hand, stopping my fidgeting. “It was beautiful.”
I settle, embarrassingly clinging to Sienna’s hand while I close my eyes and let the quiet darkness surround me, hoping to fall into whatever peaceful dream my sister has. But my mind conjures the kid’s face as I drove that candlestick into his skull.
How quickly we become monsters to fight monsters.
SEVEN
JULIEN
Dawn creeps through the gaps in the curtains, painting streaks across sleeping bodies. I haven’t closed my eyes once, can’t afford to even though my mind begs for sleep.
Outside, the occasional groan or shuffle reminds me why none of us should relax. The dead are waiting, and I’m the only thing standing between them and…
My eyes drift to Dakota’s small form curled on the ground between her sister and Sienna, face finally relaxed in sleep. She didn’t hesitate. Saved the woman who stole her fiancé and didn’t break down until later, alone.
Her glistening, simultaneously calm eyes flash before me.“What are you going to do? Comfort me? Hug me?”
I’m not good at either.
So, what would I have done?
Footsteps approach from behind, too careful to be anything but human. Cameron’s hand lands on my shoulder, squeezing once.
“You should get some sleep,” he whispers, crouching beside me. His face is shadowed with stubble, eyes red but alert. “I can take over.”
“Later.” My voice comes out rougher than expected, throat dry from lack of water and too much silence. “Any news?”
“Same emergency message running on a loop on all channels. Stay inside, wait for help, blah blah. Except one.” He almost cracks a smile. “Some guy broadcasting from his warehouse, calling it the ‘End Times Radio Hour.’ Rating the effectiveness of different weapons, talking survival tactics. Says the government’s collapsed, military’s trying to establish safe zones but failing. Major cities are overrun. Some kind of virus.”
I snort. “At least one is having fun.”
“Maybe, but he also sounds…” Cameron rubs his chin. “Credible. Like he’s actually patched into military comms.”
