"You miss them."
"Every day." I look at him directly. "But I'm starting to build new patterns too. Ones that include you."
He processes this. Then he reaches across the table and takes my hand.
"I'm scared," he says quietly. His thumb traces over my knuckles, a nervous repetitive motion. "Of wanting this. Of wanting you."
My breath catches. Finn doesn't admit fear.
"Why scared?"
"Because being alone was safer than risking that pain again." His grip tightens. "But you're here, and you understand how my mind works, and you don't think I'm broken. You just think I'm different. But you don’t mind.”
I turn my hand over, lace our fingers together. "I'm scared too."
"Of what?"
"That I'll lose you the way I lost them. That I'll let myself care, let myself build something, and then one day you'll be gone and I'll be alone again." I meet his eyes. "But I'm doing it anyway. Because some risks are worth taking."
He studies our joined hands like they're a puzzle he's trying to solve. "I don't know how to do this correctly. Relationships have social scripts I've never understood. I'll make mistakes."
"So will I." I lean forward. "But here's what I know: I like who you are. I like your routines and your spreadsheets and the way you count everything. I like that you saved me and fed me and kept me safe when you didn't have to. I like the way you kiss me like you've been starving for it." My voice drops. "And I want more. Of all of it."
"Define 'more.'"
"More touching. More talking. More time. More of you letting me in." I squeeze his hand. "I want to be one of your patterns, Finn. One you keep."
He stands abruptly, pulling me up with him, and then he's kissing me, desperate, hungry, like he's been holding back and finally can't anymore. I kiss him back just as fiercely, my hands fisting in his shirt.
When we break apart, we're both breathing hard.
His hands frame my face with surprising gentleness. "Kate, I'm going to try. To be what you need. To do this right."
"You already are," I tell him. "Just be you. That's all I want."
He kisses me again, softer this time.
From him, it's practically a declaration of love.
We spend the next week testing my sound theory in controlled conditions. Finnegan knows where isolated zombie clusters tend to gather, and his trap system means we have early warning if anything approaches the cabin. We rig speakers at different distances, test frequencies methodically, document everything.
"High-pitched sounds attract," I note, updating our data table. "They generate active movement toward the source. But low frequencies seem to repel. The zombies turn away before they even reach visual range."
"The canyon," Finn says, pointing to a location on my map. "Wind makes a low sound through the rock formations. Herds always avoid it, even when there's easier terrain on that route."
"That's natural evidence of acoustic aversion." I'm already calculating implications. "If we could map every area with similar properties, compare them to herd movement patterns over the past four years, then…"
"We'd have a blueprint for safe zones. And for lures." Finn's voice goes flat in the way that means he's thinking hard."Someone else is already doing this. That's what your migration data shows. The herds aren't moving randomly because someone figured this out before we did."
The implication chills me more than the mountain air ever did. Liam's theories about directed herds were right. Someone, somewhere, has weaponized sound to move the dead like pieces on a board.
Ben would have made some terrible pun right now."Sound reasoning,"probably, with that grin that made you groan and laugh at the same time. Liam would have been sketching diagrams already, connecting this to three other observations we hadn't thought to link. They should be here. They died so this data could survive, and now it's going to save lives they'll never know about.
I let myself miss them for exactly thirty seconds. Then I get back to work. In this new world we honor the dead by finishing what they started.
"We have to get this to the network," I say. "Tom at Old Pines can broadcast the findings. The radio system reaches a dozen settlements. If we can prove someone is controlling the herds, then settlements can build defenses instead of just reacting. Prevention instead of response."
Finn frowns. "But you're not traveling yet. Another few days."
