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“Calm yourself, little human. Maybe then I’ll release you.”

Little?

He goes back to his side of the fire and loses himself in the flames.

I sit there, across from him, seething, my breath coming out in hot, ragged pants.

Next chance I get, I’ll kick him in his holy balls.

Some unnamable amount of time goes by like that, the two of us sitting close but mentally leagues apart.

Finally, Pestilence looks up at me. “Are you ready to be civilized?”

“Uuuuh oooo!”

“No? Hmmm, maybe I’ll give you a little longer.”

Pride is a lonely soldier, seeing out his watch when there’s no one else there to care. I thought fire training had burned most of it out of me, but nope.

In the end, I cool myself down. Getting angry at one of the horsemen of the apocalypse for bringing about the end of man is like getting angry at ice for being cold.

I lay down on my side, ignoring the shooting pain as my weight settles on one of my bound hands.

Wordlessly, Pestilence gets up and loosens my bindings, first removing my gag, and then, when I don’t immediately curse him out, removing the linens that bind my wrists.

He sits back down, staring at the fire. I look from him, to it, and then I turn my back on both, curling up on the mattress and drawing one of the musty blankets over me.

It’s still early evening, but I’m over the day. Over Pestilence and his macabre task. Over grief and anger and all those other emotions that hang heavy inside of me.

I can feel Pestilence’s gaze on my back just as surely as if he placed a physical hand against it, but I don’t acknowledge it. I close my eyes and will myself to sleep.

My body is more tired than I assume because within minutes, I’m out.

Chapter 19

Vancouver18km.

I stare at the sign in growing horror.

Up until now, I’ve only ever seen the horseman pass through settlements and small towns. But Vancouver is another beast altogether.

Hundreds of thousands of people live there. Surely they’ve already posted evacuation notices. Surely the city is empty enough …

The two of us continue down the highway, and each hour that passes has me more and more tightly wound.

The wilderness gives way to ritzy neighborhoods. The houses are nestled on either side of the highway, most secreted away behind large trees and shrubs, but still visible enough for them to see the water on our right.

There’s not a soul in sight.

The closer to the city we get, the smaller and more tightly packed the houses become. Here, in the outlying suburbs, I spot the first true signs of life. The sight of a biker off in the distance, the faint sounds of shouting.

The click of Trixie’s hooves against the asphalt is suddenly deafening. It reminds me too much of the moment Pestilence rounded the corner into my neck of the woods.

So I shouldn’t be surprised when a gunshot shatters the normal sounds of the day.

But I am. I nearly fall out of my seat at the noise.

The horseman’s grip tightens. “Hold on.”