Page 67

Besides the worms and their origins, we still had no idea exactly how the virus was spread. I had tried contacting my uncle but had been unable to get ahold of him. Or my father, for that matter.

Or Olivia.

I tried to make myself look as unimposing as possible, an unsurprisingly hard feat given my immense size and broad shoulders. The last thing I wanted to do was scare this family away. They didn’t know me, and without Addie as a mediator, they would have trouble trusting our ragtag group.

Tommy shoved me aside and strutted towards the front door. I watched him, my brow creasing with a frown. He was an annoying little shit, but he was growing on me. I was beginning to think of him as a younger - albeit, annoying - brother. Without waiting for me, Tommy rapped his fist against the door.

Rolling my eyes, I hurried to catch up with him.

“Nobody is answering.” He paused, squinting at the doorway as if he would be able to see through it. “I’m going to break in.”

“You are not going to-”

Before I could finish my sentence, Tommy kicked the door down.

Kicked the fucking door down, as if he was a badass action hero instead of tweenager. Of course, he stumbled over his own two feet, fell to the floor on top of the broken door, and began cursing up a storm. Chuckling, I helped him up and brushed plaster and dust off of his shoulders.

“Careful, there,” I said. He glared at me in response, eye twitching.

Literally, twitching.

The smile left my face as a pervasive smell pummeled my senses. My eyes watered, and I immediately brought my hand to my nose in order to stunt the overwhelming scent. I have been around enough dead bodies to know what that smell meant.

“What the fuck is that?” Tommy gasped. I was too shocked to reprimand him for his crude language. The source of the smell was soon discovered as we moved further into the diminutive house. The living room, consisting of two floral couches, a flat screen television, and a water-stained coffee table, was splashed in blood. It was everywhere, staining the walls and carpeting and tiny cherubic statue in the corner of the room.

Two bodies were lying on the ground.

My fear dissipated, transforming into something that resembled relief, when I noted that the two figures were both older. An aging woman, brown hair streaked with gray and white, and a wrinkled-face man. The woman had been dismembered, her arms disconnected from her body and her body separated from her head, the source of the excessive amount of blood loss I imagined. The man died of a gunshot wound to his head.

In his cold hand, he held a gun.

Tommy began to sob softly, and I immediately winced at the sound. I wished that I had shielded him from all of the horrors in this world. He was too young, too innocent, to endure such tragedies.

“Wait outside,” I said gruffly, venturing a tentative step closer. A broken photograph on the coffee table captured and held my attention. Hand trembling, I picked it up and surveyed the family smiling back at me. The man and woman, the same man and woman currently lying dead on the floor, had their arms around a little boy.

Brown, tousled hair. Emerald eyes. Red headphones around his neck.

His gaze was distant, not fixated on the camera but more so on a spot in the far distance. He didn’t look uncomfortable, merely dazed. I remembered Adelaide telling me that he had autism.

“He’s not here,” Tommy said. His voice was a strangled gasp.

I frowned, listening intently.

Outside, a bird chirped. The day was peaceful, serene, and a contrast to the the horror that had taken place inside of this house. It almost seemed to be mocking me, mocking the dead bodies. The slanting sunlight illuminated the scene like a giant spotlight. Tremors of revulsion ran down my body.

God, this was disgusting.

Thisworldwas disgusting.

It was easy for me to see what had happened. The blood was semi-fresh, maybe only a few days old, but there were no Ragers present.

The woman had been attacked. The man had freaked out and had committed suicide.

And Nikolai? He was nowhere to be found.

It occured to me that he might’ve been dead, but I refused to believe it. I couldn’t fail Adelaide now, not when she needed me.

Not when I had already failed her once before.