Chapter 11
ELEVEN
DAKOTA
Amelia sits beside me, shoulders hunched, arms wrapped around herself like she’s trying to hold something in.
Or keep something out.
She hasn’t said a word since Julien carried her back inside, and the silence between us stretches wider than the space on this threadbare church carpet we’re sharing.
Her neck still bears a thin red line. A crimson reminder of my failure. I can’t stop staring at it, memorising the way it rises and falls with each breath she takes. She’s alive despite me, not because of me.
The church feels colder tonight, and the walls that sheltered us now feel like a trap.
The zombies outside. The empty spaces where our supplies used to be. The car we used to barricade the gate might buy us time, but for what? To die more slowly?
Beside us, Cameron and Sienna whisper, their heads bent close. Rosa continues her knitting, and my mother strokes Amelia’s hair whenever she walks by, as if making sure she’s still real while my father clutches a half-empty bottle of whiskey he found God knows where.
“Found these.” Julien enters, carrying a cardboard box that he places in the center of our circle. His sleeves are rolled up, revealing the bandage Rosa wrapped around his forearm earlier. “Had them stashed in the choir loft in case we lost access to the kitchen.”
The reverend crawls to the box, retrieving a can of beans.
My father straightens against the wall. “You hid food from us?”
“I hid food for us,” Julien says, not even looking at him. “Standard precaution.”
Cameron walks to the box. “Should last another day. More if we stretch it.”
“Hopefully enough time for those things to move on,” Sienna adds, glancing toward the windows where darkness gathers.
After heating up the cans, Julien begins distributing the food—one can, one granola bar, and one water bottle per person.
When he reaches Amelia, he kneels beside her, voice dropping. “Here. You need to eat.”
“Thanks.” She accepts the can with shaky fingers. “But you don’t have to worry about me.”
He nods and hands me my portion, his fingers lingering on mine. “Eat.”
It’s not a suggestion.
I nod, but my stomach clenches at the thought of food after what happened. Amelia huffs, and I glance over as she struggles with the pull tab.
“Let me.” I reach for her can.
“I can do it.” She yanks it away, but her hands tremble.
“Meli, please—”
“I said I can do it.” The edge in her voice silences me.
The tab finally pops with a metallic snap. Little victory. She lifts the can to her lips, taking the smallest sip of sauce before setting it down between her legs.
“You need more than that.” I nudge the can closer to her.
“Not hungry.”
“You have to keep your strength up for when—”
She turns her face away. “I’m old enough.”
“Sorry,” I whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine.” But her voice says it’s anything but.
My gaze drops to my own can. I should eat. Set a good example. But my throat feels lined with sandpaper, each swallow a conscious effort.
“Hey, hey.” Sienna drops down beside me, her shoulder bumping mine. “This seating arrangement is getting real cozy.”
I attempt a smile that probably looks more like a grimace. “Yeah.”
“So.” She scoops beans. “I’ve been thinking. We should totally start a zombie apocalypse book club. I’m thinking ‘World War Z’ for our first selection. Too on-the-nose?”
A small laugh escapes me. “You think we can find that here?”
Amelia stares at us, disbelief etched across her face. “How can you joke right now?”
Sienna blinks, taken aback. “I wasn’t—”
“We could have died today,” Amelia says. “I had a knife at my throat. They took everything. And you’re sitting here chatting like it’s a girls’ night out in the movies.”
Sienna’s smile fades as she sets down her can. “I was just trying to—”
“To what? Make light of me almost dying? Of those men—” Amelia’s voice cracks, tears welling in her eyes.
My chest tightens. “She wasn’t making fun of you. She was trying to help.”
“Help? Like you helped by wandering off when those men came? Where were you?”
“I was—” In the bell tower. With Julien. While my sister had a knife at her throat.
“It’s not her fault,” Sienna says.
“I didn’t say that,” Amelia says.
“Sounded like it.” Sienna shrugs her shoulders. “Those assholes would’ve gotten in whether she was here or not. And you know what? Your sister volunteered to go with them so they wouldn’t take you. She put herself in danger for you.”
Amelia’s mouth opens.
“So cut us some slack,” Sienna continues. “We’re all doing our best to survive this fucking nightmare.”
My sister’s eyes dart to mine, then away. The fight seems to drain out of her all at once, her shoulders slumping.
“Eat.” Sienna taps my can with her spoon. “Being hangry isn’t good.”
I grab my can and shuffle the beans inside my mouth.
From across the room, I catch my father observing us and tilting a flask to his lips. If this is his last one, we might be fine.
My mother sits beside him, spine rigid, refusing to acknowledge the drinking or anything else happening in the room.
As darkness settles completely outside, Cameron clears his throat. “Alright, everyone, we need to talk about tomorrow.”
Conversations stop. Even my father lowers his bottle to listen.
“We move tomorrow,” Cameron says. “We can’t stay much longer. Supplies are limited, and those things outside aren’t going away. This location isn’t sustainable.”
“But they took the cars,” my mother says. “Do you expect us to walk?”
“We still have the truck and minivan.” A tiny smile lifts the corner of Julien’s mouth. “I had the keys.”
Relief hits me. “You sneaky…”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” He winks at me.
“It wasn’t.”
His lips twitch again. “Still taking it as one.”
Amelia looks between us, and I lower my head.
“You stashed a rocket launcher somewhere, too?” My father’s words slur slightly.
“Oh, cállate.” Rosa sets aside her food. “Just fall asleep already. Reeks like a distillery here.”
“You—”
A howling followed by another cuts him off.
“Oh great,” Sienna says. “Not only zombies but wolves that want to eat us.”
Julien stands up. “We’ll head out tomorrow. Tonight, we double the watch. Cameron, Sienna, and—” his eyes land on me “—I stay up. I take the first. Cameron and Sienna, you take the second.”
At least he acknowledged me.
The group breaks apart to prepare for sleep. Blankets rustle. Bodies settle. And whispered good nights float through the dimming light as Cameron blows out all but two candles to conserve them.
Amelia lies down first, turning her back to me. Message received. I swallow hard and cuddle into my blanket.
“She’ll come around,” Sienna whispers, settling beside me. “Give her time.”
I nod, my eyes drifting to my father, who’s finally stopped drinking and now stares at the ceiling, mouth set in a bitter line, while my mother sleeps beside him.
I close my eyes, feigning sleep, because each time I drift off, I see the same scene.
A man holding a knife to my sister’s throat because I wasn’t there. And her fingers curling into Julien’s shirt.
I wake with a jolt. The church is still dark, pre-dawn light barely seeping through the high windows. Most are still asleep, a soft choir of snoring filling the room.
Cameron sits by the door, fire poker balanced across his knees. Sienna and Julien are nowhere in sight—probably checking the perimeter or at least Julien finally catching some sleep himself.
I pick my way across the floor, stepping carefully.
Cameron looks up as I approach, offering a tired smile. “Hey. You okay?”
“Bathroom.” I point toward the corridor.
“Be quick.” He nods, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Don’t go anywhere else.”
I slip through the door into the darkened hallway, guided by the faint glow of the rising sun.
“Dakota, wait.” Cameron’s hushed voice stops me mid-step. “Can we talk for a moment?”
“Sure.” I glance back as he closes the door and jogs to where I stand.
“I’ve been wanting to talk to you. About the wedding and everything.”
I cross my arms. “You don’t have to—”
“I do. I shouldn’t have volunteered for the marriage. The whole thing was fucked up from the start, and I just… I made it worse.”
“Cam—”
“Julien’s always the one fixing everything.
” He shifts his weight. “Always swooping in, taking charge, handling the hard stuff. I thought maybe this once, I could be the one to help. To take the burden off him, you know? The family business needed saving, and I figured… Turns out I couldn’t even get through the ceremony without screwing everyone over. You—”
“Stop.” I drop my arms. “You fell in love. That’s not screwing anyone over. That’s just life.”
He blinks at me. “You’re not mad?”
“We didn’t love each other, Cam.”
“Still. I promised—”
“A promise made under blackmail isn’t a promise.” I soften my tone. “And honestly? I’m glad you found Sienna. At least one of us got something good out of this mess.”
“I really am sorry.”
“I know.” And I mean it. “But you don’t need to keep beating yourself up about it.”
“Thank you.” He squeezes my shoulder once before returning to the room with the others.
I continue down the corridor. The bathroom is three doors down, but I stop as I hear a soft clink of glass against wood from the direction of the kitchen.
Should I get Cameron?
Another clink, followed by a muffled sound that might be a sob.
I edge toward the kitchen doorway, peering around the corner, and freeze.
My father sits at the small table, head bowed to a nearly empty bottle of amber liquid. He’s over the limit, and if someone else finds him like this…
I step inside. “Dad?”
He looks up, eyes red-rimmed and unfocused. For a moment, he doesn’t seem to recognize me. Then his face softens in a way I haven’t seen in years. “There’s my little girl.”