Read Online The Dead Saga (Book 3): Odium III by Claire C. Riley - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Claire C. Riley
Tags: Zombies
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“suicide mission.”
“My husband used to be a real man, all brawn and fighting talk. Went down like a real hero too,” Joan said, slurping her drink again.
I looked away from her, not being able to bear the pained look on her face. I thought of Mikey and wondered, not for the first time, why I hadn’t just told him the truth about Rachael being a nutjob and swear him to secrecy. Was my pride really that important to me? Wasn’t he allowed to be a little distrustful of others and me after everything that had come to this world? I mean, I was one of the most distrustful people still alive, it’s only fair that he would be too. I pinched between my eyes and took a heavy breath, feeling irritated about my decision, but more irritated that I still couldn’t let go of the hurt that he didn’t trust me. I guess my pride really was still important to me. After all, what did we really have left to hold onto in this world if we didn’t have pride?
“Oh, I can bet he was,” Nova said with another sharp laugh. “Joan, when did you get here? I used to live here a while back, and I don’t remember you.”
Joan’s smile fell, her face looking haggard and aged again. “I wasn’t here long before the dead got in,” she said softly. “That was a sad day. It made me think back to when it all began, to when the dead first came.”
My interest was even more piqued at the realization that she couldn’t have been tested on if she’d only just arrived when this place fell to ruins. So she was just totally nuts then. Great.
“Do you know how they got in, Joan?” I asked carefully, not wanting to startle her with my question and send her back in on herself again.
Joan’s eyes looked up to meet mine. “The man let them in.”
My eyes searched out Nova’s, and I was glad to see that her frown matched my own.
“A man?” I asked carefully, seeing that she was barely clinging onto this moment. Her moments of lucidity seemed to be few and far between, and she was already beginning to slip away.
“Yes, the angry man.” She looked across at us, and I noticed that her hands were shaking, the hot liquid spilling over the sides of her mug and over her bony fingers. It should have been burning her hand, but she didn’t flinch, the horror of the past too alive in her mind in the moment to register anything. Her eyes were glazed and far away.
“He came while we were sleeping. It was dark, and people were running around and screaming, begging and pleading.” She finally dropped her cup, the contents spilling out by her feet. “There was so much gunfire, I couldn’t hear myself think.” Her chin trembled as she looked over at Nova, coming back to the here and now. “He said he was delivering retribution for the sacrifices of the many.”
I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry—pasty, almost—like I’d swallowed cement. “When was this?” I asked. Though the smoke that had brought us here told me when it was, I still needed to hear it, still needed to know for certain.
“Yesterday,” she said quietly as she began rocking back and forth again, her eyes falling to the ground. “The angry man came yesterday, but it’s okay, you’ll meet him soon. He said he was coming back to burn this place to the ground.” She blinked rapidly.
“When did he say he was coming back?” Nova looked across at me, her features hard and dark.
“Do we have any chocolate? I miss chocolate,” Joan said, a wave of emotion crossing her face as she looked up at us brightly, all traces of her previous doom-and-gloom statement vanishing. “I used to love a hot cocoa right before bed, too.”
“Joan, I need you to answer me,” Nova said as softly as she could.
“With marshmallows in it! Cocoa with marshmallows was my favorite!” Her eyes shone, lighting up with excitement. “Oh, perhaps we could toast some marshmallows!” She stood up.
“Crazy Pants!” I yelled, drawing her attention to me.
“My name is Joan,” she
“My husband used to be a real man, all brawn and fighting talk. Went down like a real hero too,” Joan said, slurping her drink again.
I looked away from her, not being able to bear the pained look on her face. I thought of Mikey and wondered, not for the first time, why I hadn’t just told him the truth about Rachael being a nutjob and swear him to secrecy. Was my pride really that important to me? Wasn’t he allowed to be a little distrustful of others and me after everything that had come to this world? I mean, I was one of the most distrustful people still alive, it’s only fair that he would be too. I pinched between my eyes and took a heavy breath, feeling irritated about my decision, but more irritated that I still couldn’t let go of the hurt that he didn’t trust me. I guess my pride really was still important to me. After all, what did we really have left to hold onto in this world if we didn’t have pride?
“Oh, I can bet he was,” Nova said with another sharp laugh. “Joan, when did you get here? I used to live here a while back, and I don’t remember you.”
Joan’s smile fell, her face looking haggard and aged again. “I wasn’t here long before the dead got in,” she said softly. “That was a sad day. It made me think back to when it all began, to when the dead first came.”
My interest was even more piqued at the realization that she couldn’t have been tested on if she’d only just arrived when this place fell to ruins. So she was just totally nuts then. Great.
“Do you know how they got in, Joan?” I asked carefully, not wanting to startle her with my question and send her back in on herself again.
Joan’s eyes looked up to meet mine. “The man let them in.”
My eyes searched out Nova’s, and I was glad to see that her frown matched my own.
“A man?” I asked carefully, seeing that she was barely clinging onto this moment. Her moments of lucidity seemed to be few and far between, and she was already beginning to slip away.
“Yes, the angry man.” She looked across at us, and I noticed that her hands were shaking, the hot liquid spilling over the sides of her mug and over her bony fingers. It should have been burning her hand, but she didn’t flinch, the horror of the past too alive in her mind in the moment to register anything. Her eyes were glazed and far away.
“He came while we were sleeping. It was dark, and people were running around and screaming, begging and pleading.” She finally dropped her cup, the contents spilling out by her feet. “There was so much gunfire, I couldn’t hear myself think.” Her chin trembled as she looked over at Nova, coming back to the here and now. “He said he was delivering retribution for the sacrifices of the many.”
I swallowed, my mouth feeling dry—pasty, almost—like I’d swallowed cement. “When was this?” I asked. Though the smoke that had brought us here told me when it was, I still needed to hear it, still needed to know for certain.
“Yesterday,” she said quietly as she began rocking back and forth again, her eyes falling to the ground. “The angry man came yesterday, but it’s okay, you’ll meet him soon. He said he was coming back to burn this place to the ground.” She blinked rapidly.
“When did he say he was coming back?” Nova looked across at me, her features hard and dark.
“Do we have any chocolate? I miss chocolate,” Joan said, a wave of emotion crossing her face as she looked up at us brightly, all traces of her previous doom-and-gloom statement vanishing. “I used to love a hot cocoa right before bed, too.”
“Joan, I need you to answer me,” Nova said as softly as she could.
“With marshmallows in it! Cocoa with marshmallows was my favorite!” Her eyes shone, lighting up with excitement. “Oh, perhaps we could toast some marshmallows!” She stood up.
“Crazy Pants!” I yelled, drawing her attention to me.
“My name is Joan,” she
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