Page 123 of War

He gives me a long look. “Of course I do, wife.”

“Then you need tolisten to meand you need torespect my opinions.” It’s the two most obvious rules of marriage, and yet War is completely unaware of them.

“And you need to respect my will,” he fires back. “As my wife, you should be obedient the few times I demand it of you.”

Obedient?

I’m seeing red.

“Fuck it. I want a divorce.”

“No.”

“I’m not going to be obedient—hell, you don’t evenwantme to be obedient. I know you don’t.” He’s clearly been around too many misogynists.

War runs a hand down his face, one of the rings he wears catching the light. “Feel like I’m being beaten with my own blade,” he mutters. “Fine. I will try to be more …respectful. To youropinions… even when they are absurd.”

I glare at him.

“And I will listen to your soft mortal wants. But in exchange, you must listen tomywill when I give it.”

“I will listen to it,” I say.

I just might not go along with it.

“Good.” He looks pleased.

I just give him a look.

This is going to be a long ride.

I’ve abandoned myrules. The ones for surviving the apocalypse. I don’t know when it happened—whether I left them back in Ashdod, or if they traveled all the way to Arish before I forsook them.

I only know that each one no longer applies to surviving the apocalypse now that I’m stuck with one of the horsemen orchestrating it.

The only rule I still fall back on is Rule Five: Be brave. Every single waking second of my day consists of me trying to be brave when all I really want to do is shit myself and hide.

Unfortunately, out here in the barren desert, there’s nowhere to hide.

It’s a long, lonely ride. The road we take is surrounded by uninterrupted desert. And even though I know that the ocean lingers off to my right, the highway is inland enough that I don’t usually catch glimpses of that blue water.

The summer sun cruelly beats down on the two of us, and for all the time we’ve been riding, we might’ve gone two kilometers … or two hundred. It’s impossible to say.

The only real way I can tell we’re making progress is by the few landmarks we pass—an abandoned house, a barren outpost, a trough of water next to a hand-pump well. Oh, and of course, the few fishing villages we pass by, a cluster of carrion birds circling above them.

Eventually, the sun dips down ahead of us, and War chooses a place for us and our horses to rest.

After the two of us get a fire going, I begin to fry up dinner. This trip, War’s packed a skillet and some salted meat to cook. I stare at the strips of meat after I lay them out. The sight of them twists my stomach. It looks too much like all those humans whose bodies were ripped open during battle.

Next to me, the horseman sits on his haunches, staring at the fire.

“Why do you have an army if you could simply use your dead to kill off humans?” I ask him while I work.

It seems to me that, with the sweep of his hand, War could annihilate us all, and it would be a whole lot faster and more thorough.

“Why don’t you sing all the time if you have the ability to?” he responds, his eyes flashing. “Why not run everywhere if you can? Just because I have the power doesn’t mean I alwayswantto wield it.”

So he doesn’t want to kill us off that efficiently? I don’t know whether that’s merciful of him or just cruel.