Chapter Four
T he inside of the church is a wreck. I pause just inside, taking it all in.
Pews are knocked over or hastily shoved up against the walls.
The candle stands that are still upright are rusted, covered in wax.
Wind whistles through broken windows, all of them shattered except for the huge, stained glass one that faces the doors.
The sun finds a gap in the clouds, sending a beam that hits the glass and lights up the entire church. My breath catches. Autumn jerks her head up, eyes going wide.
Religion is nothing new to her. It is doing better than ever within the Citadel’s walls. But this? This must be new. There’s little space for luxury there, and no money or artisans for something like this.
“It’s beautiful,” she murmurs, then flushes, glancing around to see if anyone heard.
I keep my eyes fixed forward. Beautiful it is, but there’s an unsettling feeling in here, too. None of the town is as destroyed as this church and its graveyard.
Maybe no one came up here after whatever happened. But that makes little sense, considering the relative intactness of the town.
I explore the church, ignoring whatever crunches beneath my boots, and make my way to the altar.
The silence pushes in on me, heavy enough to make me want to go to my knees.
I don’t know the figure in the window before me.
They’re a stranger, hand outstretched in welcome, surrounded by bright, shining light.
It takes effort to tear my gaze away, my breaths coming faster.
The graveyard is the first mystery to solve.
How would a virus even work on bone? Long-dead bone, at that?
Because that’s the slow conclusion I’m coming to—that all the dead out there burst out of their graves, only it doesn’t make a lick of sense because a virus can’t just wriggle its way into dead bone and make it move all by itself.
Zombies don’t look like that. They can’t. Rotting, bloated, skin sliding off glistening, deteriorating muscle, sure… But all bone? No. It takes a zombie longer to decompose than a regular corpse, but in time, they’re nothing but bone, too.
“Fuck!” Blake’s voice echoes around the church, making all of us jump. I glance through one of the holes in the ceiling. Fat, grey clouds float overhead.
“Really? Let me—”
I sigh at the condescending tone of Dane’s voice. The stiff silence that follows tells me how pissed off Blake is. I wander in the direction of their voices, into a vestibule, where there’s a solid door set into stone.
“Locked, is it?” I ask.
Blake gives me a venomous look.
“Blake can’t get in,” Dane says. On the surface, his tone is friendly, but it’s edged with frustration. “I thought I’d try instead.”
“You’re not going to do any better,” Blake spits.
“What do you think is in there?” I ask. Worth listening for any telltale sounds of zombies before they spend all this time on it. What if that’s what all this destruction is about? If the town herded all their afflicted up here, Dane might be about to release a horde.
“Can’t hear anything,” Blake says mulishly, answering my unspoken question. “But they might have shoved everything valuable behind this door.”
Hm. I lean back against the wall, watching.
That’s the other thing, of course. When we’re out here, we can take what we like.
Things abandoned belong to no one, or at least no one who is expecting to retrieve them again.
Besides, if someone really wants to come out here, they can.
The Citadel is always recruiting hunters, even as they train all the orphans to do this job.
Surviving out here is the skill. So finders keepers.
It’s another way to increase the living we make, and it’s not necessarily the fanciest, most valuable things that help.
Extra food, medicine… All the staples we might have had in a former life are hot commodities once we’re back behind those walls.
“You find anything out there?” Dane asks. He sits back on his haunches and his hands fall away from the door.
Blake murmurs something under his breath and takes his place, sliding his picks back into the lock.
“No zombies or anything. Just…” I trail off when a flicker of interest sparks in Dane’s eyes. It’s different from what I’ve seen from him before. It’s as though he’s actually listening to the words coming out of my mouth.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. I don’t like that at all.
“Just?” Blake prompts, eyes still fixed on the lock.
“Just all the graves,” I say. “They’re all empty. Maybe they dug up their dead to make sure they were staying that way.”
Blake scoffs and shrugs, disinterested.
Dane’s eyes bore into me for another few seconds before he turns his attention back to the lock. “Maybe,” he says.
I leave them there. Autumn is up in the pulpit when I exit the vestibule. Rae opens the door to the confessional and wrinkles her nose.
Otto is sitting out on the steps by the door. I opt to join him, pausing at the threshold to study the sleepy landscape.
Sleeping . Is that what it feels like? The town lies at our feet, and when I turn my head, I see a forest curving around on the left. Fields roll out in the direction we’ve come from, as silent and still as the rest of it.
“Strange, isn’t it?” Otto mutters.
I hum in agreement. It doesn’t matter if he means the town, the locked door in the church, or the graves… All of it is strange.
“I wasn’t supposed to be on this job.”
“You weren’t?”
Otto shakes his head. “I had another one lined up. They switched me last minute. You know, I don’t think anyone’s been this far north before. The further away we are…”
The more likely things are to go wrong. “Hm.”
“The line we’ve been clearing is forty miles away. So many places between here and there. Why here?”
I glance back. It’s difficult to see much in the church from here now that the sun has ducked behind clouds again. Autumn is wandering near the altar. Rae is a few steps behind her.
“I don’t know,” I say. “Do you think Dane might?”
Otto shrugs. He knows what I do—if there’s any hidden agenda behind this job, any instructions to be delivered, Dane will know them. As far as the Citadel is concerned, he’s in charge.
“Stay alert,” I say and take the steps down back into the churchyard. “With everyone.”
“You too.”
I circle the graveyard again and stop to study more of them.
Most are old—a century or more—but I fix my attention on those that were marked twenty or thirty years ago.
By the time Dane and the others exit the church, I’ve stopped at the same grave as before and am trying to make out the full dates.
“Something interesting?” Dane asks, coming up behind me.
When I glance back, his expression is speculative. I don’t like it.
“Just trying to do some maths,” I reply with a little shrug. “Must’ve buried whoever this was not long before the outbreak.”
Dane leans past me, taking in the gravestone himself. His gaze lingers on the name, but he says nothing when he stands straight again. “Must have,” he agrees. “I bet they were the last person buried up here.”
I survey the mess. I could ask him if he knows something. If he’s working something out. He’s experienced, might have seen something like this before.
“Come on,” Blake calls from the path. His boots have stopped right at the edge of the grass as though he doesn’t want to walk on it. “We’re going to lose light.”
Dane’s arm brushes mine as he passes me. I clench my teeth before I follow. As we begin our descent down the hill, I fall back, casting a final look back up at the church once we’re halfway there.
The grey clouds are growing darker as the sun begins to set. Standing inside, I thought it might be a sanctuary.
Now it looks menacing. It looms over us like there’s power in the building itself, and my throat gets tight.
I swallow and don’t look back again.
Back at the butcher’s, we don’t really talk. Everyone busies themselves getting ready for the night. Zombies can attack at any time, but they seem to be more active when it’s dark, and obviously we’re at much more of a disadvantage when it’s difficult to see.
The flat above the shop is a one-bedroom, though none of us is eager to take the bed.
We push the dusty sofa back against the wall and everyone sets up in the living room.
I lay my sleeping bag out right under the dormer window.
From here, I can see the roofs of nearby houses and the church above.
There’s a crack down the centre of the window, but the glass still holds.
I’m not terribly worried about that. Zombies can use the stairs, but the door to the shop is reinforced, as is the one to this flat. They’re not going to be scaling the front of the building.
Dane and Blake take up space by the front door. Autumn and Rae are over by the bedroom, but not in it. Otto lays his out in the centre of the room, unafraid to take up space, and I shake my head and hide a smile.
“It’ll be dark in half an hour,” Dane says as we eat.
Autumn pulls a face at the first mouthful of her rations but chokes it down all the same.
“Who’s taking first watch?” he asks.
Rae eyes Autumn with concern. She was twitchy on the train, and now all the excitement and terror of being outside the Citadel are catching up with her. I’m not surprised. We might not have hunted today, but this is her first trip out.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
“And me,” Otto adds. He’s already finished and is lying on his back on his sleeping bag, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankle. His eyes are closed like he’s halfway to falling asleep himself, but I know how quickly he can be up and alert should he need to.
“I’ll watch with you two, then,” Dane says.
Blake’s head jerks around to look at him. “What?”
My expression has to be an echo of Blake’s disbelieving tone, but Dane only shrugs. “There’s something off about this place, and it’s our first night. The more manpower, the better.”