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I squirm under her gaze.

“I’ve been around long enough to see the signs,” she continues.

The signs ofwhat?

“It’s alright to care about him—even to love him,” Ruth says.

“Idon’tlove him,” I say too fervently. My words ring false even to my own ears, and I don’t know why. I amnotin love with him.

She pats my hand. “Well, in the case that you eventually do, you should know it’s not wrong, and it’s definitely not something to feel guilty about.”

But isn’t it? To love the thing that’s destroying your world? That seems tasteless at best, unforgiveable at worst.

“Love is the greatest gift we can give or receive,” Ruth continues, unaware of my turbulent thoughts, “and I have a feeling,” she says quietly, “love is the only thing that can get us out of this mess.” Her eyes squint. “Do you understand me?”

Of course I understand her. It’s the slogan every religious busybody has been bleating from the top of their lungs since the Arrival. Except when Ruth says it, a woman who doesn’t just utter the sentiment but has lived it, I finally take the words somewhat seriously.

She nods to the door. “That boy out there”—only Ruth would have the wherewithal to call ageless Pestilence aboy—“has seen a lot of human nature, the bulk of it ugly. He’s only now seeing the beauty of it, and largely through you.”

She gives my hand another squeeze. “Show him what we shine with. Show him humanity is worthy of redemption.”

Chapter 35

Ruth expires lessthan two hours after our talk. She gives into death almost eagerly, like an old friend reunited at last.

As soon as she’s gone, the house feels cold and lonely, as though its soul slipped away with that of its owners.

Unlike the other families we’ve stayed with, Pestilence won’t allow Rob and Ruth’s bodies to molder in their own homes. Instead I see him out in their backyard, a shovel in his hand, as he digs one large grave.

I walk out there and help him move their bodies into the ground. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on edge, touching them. The dead feel perverse. Now that whatever animated Ruth and Rob are gone, I find what’s left of them nearly unbearable to touch.

“It’s alright, Sara,” Pestilence says, seeing my unease. “Go inside. I will finish tending to them.”

My gaze travels to the bodies, their forms entwined. I should be thinking of how appropriate it is that they’re buried in each other’s arms, but to me the sight has me swallowing back bile.

Pestilence’s hand clasps my shoulder. “Go inside,” he repeats, gentler than before.

Now I’m the weak one, the one who can’t stomach the sight, and Pestilence is the strong, steady one.

I do as he says and go inside, and I end up making a bath for myself in Rob and Ruth’s master bathroom. The process taking a ridiculously long time since I have to boil water to heat the tub. On the flipside, the lack of electricity gives me an excuse to gather all the candles and lamps I can find and scatter them around the bathroom.

I sigh when I finally slip into the tub, the water just on this side of scalding. I filled the already large basin excessively full because today I’m fucking treating myself.

Right in the middle of my bath, Pestilence comes back inside. He must be looking for me because he eventually makes his way to the master bathroom.

My first thought when I see him is that it’s just not fair to be that good-looking. Even covered with streaks of mud, he’s the most handsome thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.

His gaze softens when he sees me. “Are you feeling better?”

I shrug, and the action draws his eyes down. The first time he saw me naked, there was a clinical sort of detachment in his gaze.

Definitely not the case now. The longer he stares, the more wistful his express becomes.

Fuck it.

“Do you want to join me?” I ask because—treating myself.

Rather than responding, he begins to unfasten his armor.