Chapter 20
Jordan
Kate seems to have retreated further into herself. I want to know how I can fix it, but I stop myself every time the question comes across my tongue. We’re already blurring the lines between us. Besides, I refused to answer questions I deemed too personal. Perhaps she would do the same.
We travel in silence again, the sound of our feet against the pavement and our supplies clanking together in our backpacks the only noise we make.
Not having Kate barraging me with questions has me on edge. It isn’t until the sun is directly overhead that Kate pants, “Can we stop for a second?”
I turn and find her face flushed, sweat wetting her hairline as she nearly stumbles. My reflexes kick in and I race for her, grabbing her under the elbow as she rights herself. She smiles weakly and I notice her lips are chapped and dry.
“Are you not drinking water?” I ask, sounding like a teacher scolding a student.
Kate lowers herself to the ground before breathing, “I ran out yesterday.”
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. “Why didn’t you say anything?” I reach around my backpack and pull my water from the side pocket. “Here.”
Shockingly, she doesn’t put up a fight, unscrewing the top and taking large gulps. I watch her basically inhale the water, her throat working with each swallow. She lets out a sigh once she’s done.
“Thanks.”
“Why didn’t you say that you were out of water?” I repeat, irritation building in me.
“I thought I’d be okay.” She shrugs. “And I didn’t want to bother you.”
My mouth hangs open. “You telling me that you’re out of water would not bother me. What would bother me is you dying from dehydration.”
“I didn’t want to be a burden. You’re doing everything for me and I hate how useless I am.”
Her words almost knock me from my agitation. “You aren’t a burden,” I murmur softly.
She gives me a humorless laugh. “Right. I’m clearly pulling my weight here.” Her tone drips with sarcasm, revving up my annoyance.
I crouch in front of her and grip her face, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t think like that.”
“You had to save me from the infected, you cook, you tell me what direction to walk in, you do everything. You were right—I’m deadweight.”
I wince. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? It’s the truth,” she shoots back.
“No,” I argue. “I was angry. I don’t mind doing these things for you. I…I actually enjoy it.”
She blinks at me. “You like that I’m useless?”
“You aren’t useless,” I huff. “You’re intelligent and determined and brave.
Not wanting to kill the infected because of the possibility that they’re still in there shows how much you care about people.
You care about what’s right.” A strand of her hair floats across her forehead, and I gently tuck it behind her ear.
“We have different skillsets, and that’s okay. ”
Kate chews on her cracked bottom lip for a few moments, seeming to mull over my words.
I continue, “The only way you would be a burden to me is if you don’t speak up when you need something. Don’t go without when you don’t need to.”
She releases her lip and nods. “Okay. Sorry.”
“Let’s just…start over,” I offer. “Can we do that? No more playing games, no more fights. Two people, working as a team.” I hold out my hand, hoping she’ll take it.
Her eyes dart down to my outstretched hand, to my offer. She grins and slides her hand into mine.
“Deal.”
We shake on it, and I help pull her to her feet.
Walking side-by-side, the air feels lighter than it has in days.
The house we’re in tonight is no different from the ones before. The furniture is covered in dust, cobwebs block entrance ways, papers are strewn across the floors. A few children’s toys lay on the floor, discarded and forgotten.
After I survey for any hidden infected, Kate and I set up for the night, moving through the living room, dining room, and a small back room that looks like a family room.
My gaze snags on a console piano pressed against the wall, chairs facing the instrument, as if the family had a pianist that they’d sit and listen to each evening.
I don’t even register that I’m walking over to it, my fingers gently skating across the dusty keys.
“Did you used to play?” Kate asks behind me.
I clear my throat, my face heating at being caught ogling. “In my previous life,” I try to joke, but my voice is gruff. I force myself to stop touching it and turn away as if it doesn’t exist. “Let’s set up for the night.”
Kate’s curious eyes dart from the instrument and back to me. “How long did you play?”
This is dangerous, dredging up memories. Things from our lives that no longer exist. “Eight years.”
Her eyes grow distant, sad. Not sympathetic like she pities me, but sad like she knows too well what it is to lose who she is to survive.
“I loved listening to music,” she says quietly. “I’m not musically-inclined—I played flute in middle school for a couple years but was never any good, so I quit.” She focuses on me again, a vulnerability now shining in her green eyes. “Would you play something?”
My stomach clenches. “I don’t want to draw attention to us.” I immediately regret it. Kate’s face falls, and I find myself offering, “But…maybe a quick one.”
She blinks in surprise before giving me a tentative smile. “A quick one is great.”
I lick my lips nervously before turning to the instrument again, pulling the bench out and sitting. It’s like seeing an old friend. My fingers stroke the keys before I turn and look over my shoulder.
“Come sit.”
Kate hesitates for a moment before joining me on the bench, looking at me expectantly.
“I’m rusty,” I mumble, trying to fight the inevitable embarrassment of playing the wrong note.
Kate doesn’t seem to care. Her face is open, eager. Curious, as always.
I place my fingers into position and start playing the first song that comes to mind. Music fills the space. The piano needs tuning, but the sentiment of the notes is the same.
As I move across the keys, I disappear, losing myself in the melody. The chords wrap around me, bringing me back to playing for my parents, my grandparents, at recitals put on by my piano teacher. I’m no longer worried about the sound attracting unwanted visitors; I’m not in this world anymore.
Until I play the last chord and the song is over.
Reluctantly, I pull my hands into my lap, my gaze wandering over to Kate beside me, where I catch her wiping her eyes with the back of her hand.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
She shakes her head, tears clinging to her light eyelashes. “I haven’t heard something so beautiful in…a long time.”
A fist clenches around my heart. “Oh,” I murmur, a small kernel of pride sitting in my stomach.
Kate sniffles and whispers, “Thank you.”
“My pleasure,” I stammer, because I’m not really sure what to say.
It was a rare gift I gave myself, a small moment of reprieve. I didn’t realize it would be the same for her, too.
She stands from the bench and wanders to another part of the house. I sit at the piano for a moment longer, letting myself hold onto this moment and tucking it away for when it all feels like too much.
Now that the energy between Kate and me has calmed, the beast is banging on the door, demanding time with her in a different way. It wants her body, her taste.
I try to shake off the thoughts. They aren’t appropriate, and trying to fuck her is going to make everything worse.
She wants to, the beast croons.
I roll my eyes. No, she doesn’t.
Yes. She’s easily aroused by us, it purrs.
I let out a frustrated huff, which catches Kate’s attention. She raises her eyebrows in question, but I mutter, “Nothing. Just lost in my own thoughts.”
She shrugs it off and looks ahead, scanning for trouble.
The streets twist to avoid a valley to the right, luscious greenery reaching for the sun.
Kate lets out a gasp, and it puts me on high alert, looking around for the threat.
A growl slips past my lips at this invisible danger, ready to rip whatever apart.
Kate stops walking, and I follow her eyesight into the valley. Below, drinking from a stream, are two horses, saddled up.
“That’s my horse.”