Page 183 of War

That same foolish belief led me to think I could save the people of Mansoura—but the city still fell. And that same belief caused me to beg War to spare various people. And hedidspare Mamoon, but what were his parting words then?

Don’t ask this of me again, wife. You will be denied.

I turn on my back and stare up at the canvas ceiling.

He didn’t raise the dead that one time …

My argument sounds weak, even to my own ears. Wanting something to be true doesn’t make it true.

I blow out a breath.

What would old Miriam have done—the Miriam who never met War?

To save her family from threats?

She would have done whatever was necessary.

I’ve lost everyone I loved. If all War knows of love is longing, then all I know of it is loss.

Only now, there’s a tiny new someone. Someone I could still lose.

I won’t let that happen. Not again.

No matter my feelings for War, it would be naïve of me to assume the best of him after everything I’ve seen him do. War’s a good lover—maybe even a good partner—but a good father?

I don’t know, and I’m not going to risk finding out.

Taking a shaky breath, I lean over and kiss his lips. His arm comes up around me and he rubs my back. “Mmm … my wife.”

Something thick lodges itself in my throat.

I slip away from him then.

“Where are you going?” he mumbles.

I hesitate. “Just … going to the bathroom.” Not entirely implausible. Everyone at camp goes to the bathroom outside.

Quietly, I grab the things I need, and then I leave the tent.

My heart feels like it’s crumbling in on itself.

I don’t consider saddling a horse. Not when the corrals are usually guarded.

I’ll head out by foot until I get to the nearest town War’s army swept through. Surely I can grab a bike there—maybe even one with a small trailer hitched to it. I might have a chance then.

I feel like a fool for planning even this. There’s no escaping without War knowing. He’s always watching me, guarding me, and I’ve never managed to escape him.

Still, I don’t slow.

I have to try. Regardless of what happens, I have to at least give escape a shot.

It’s easy to walk right out of camp. The dead no longer guard the tent, and there’s not enough living soldiers to sufficiently guard the perimeter.

That all changes, however, once I get far enough out. War’s formerly undead army is now stationed out here, far enough from the camp that the smell isn’t overpowering.

The hairs on my arms rise at the sight of all of them standing motionlessly. I can’t tell which way they’re facing, but it seems like they’re all watching me with those dead eyes.

A moment later the smell hits me. I place a hand over my nose, gagging a little. Five thousand dead bodies rotting away under the summer sun creates astench. Even breathing through my mouth, I can still taste the fetid rot of them all, it’s so thick in the air.