The air changed when I entered Gavin’s bedroom, turning cold and oppressive, dimming the lightness Theo had left in me.
He’d spent his last days here, the bedside table filled with medications and tissues. The covers were rumpled and pushed back, and the blinds were rolled shut, isolating him from the outside world. I absorbed the silence, reminded again of how lucky I was to survive the virus.
Before my thoughts could turn too bleak, I crossed the room and twisted the blinds open, the afternoon sun chasing away the darkness.
I faced the room, and my gaze locked onto the wall beside the door. I blinked, not quite believing what I was seeing. Electricity charged through me, and I let out a whoosh of air.
Another display—only this time, there were four racks bolted to the wall, each cradling a weapon. Swords, a medieval axe, and even a mace. I’d never seen anything like it in person, and my stomach swirled with nervous energy. They had to be replicas, but every etched line gave the impression of quality craftsmanship.
With my heart in my throat, I approached the wall, carefully touching the blade of a lethal-looking axe. I gasped and yanked my finger back, checking the tip and making sure I hadn’t drawn blood.
“Everything okay in there?” Theo called from the kitchen.
“You need to come look.” With a breathy laugh, I pictured how Gavin would feel knowing his weapons were about to kill actual zombies—not in video games or in comics. Right here in real life, wandering the streets.
“What’s up?” Theo appeared in the doorway and gave me a curious glance.
Arms crossed, I nodded at the wall. “Check it out.”
As he stepped into the room and followed my gaze, I watched his features rather than the objects on the racks. His eyes met mine briefly. “I was joking about the sword,” he said. Then he moved closer and let out a low whistle. “Gav, you beautiful bastard.”
I laughed.
Whenever something positive happened, I reminded myself we could still create these moments for ourselves, even while society was falling apart. We could choose to be happy.
As Theo removed the sword and performed a shallow practice swing, I smiled and waited, in no rush to be anywhere else.
Twenty-Seven
theo
“Like glue, girls,” Laura said as we crept down Sanderson Street. With both daughters flanking her, she clutched her maul tight, ready to take off the nearest head. “Stay close to your dad or me. No exceptions.”
“Got it.” Ellie had locked in the second we stepped outside, mace in hand as she scanned the street.
“I know, Mum.” Willow tugged her beanie lower and gripped her prospecting hammer. The thought of a twelve-year-old driving that tip through a skull went against everything I knew about the world.
“You too, honey, while we’re on the subject,” Owen added from behind me. “No heroics.”
“I’m a veteran,” she said over her shoulder. “Talk to me when you’ve taken your first one down.”
I turned my head and smirked at him. He rewarded me with the finger.
Tim and Varesh were still at home, monitoring the building in case Dustin did something underhanded, like barricading the doors and stopping us from getting back inside.
We woke early and went out at first light, taking advantage of the empty streets. The sunrise bathed our faces in an eerie orange glow, and our breath formed clouds that faded like smoke.
“You good?” I asked Sadie as she walked beside me.
She nodded quickly, Gav’s medieval axe hanging at her side. “Just imagining what it’s like to kill one of them.”
“They’re already dead,” Owen said without looking back at her. “Just worry about yourself.”
“Iamworried about myself. I don’t know how I’m going to handle all the blood and guts. I don’t even like horror movies.”
“Don’t be ashamed if you throw up,” I said, bumping her shoulder. “Some of the bravest soldiers vomit.”
“Is that right?” She slid me a smile that had warmth unfurling in my gut.
