Chapter 35
This is a horror story
Amo
“Where should we live?”
Moros warms me from left side while Wilson’s hand warms mine on my right. We’re walking down the main path in our community, housing and shops lining each side. There are baskets of goods, treats and foods to trade, all sitting out, dotted by the plants and herbs between.
Owners and workers all watch us as we go, some with suspicion, while others offer up soft smiles as they sweep stoops and package up items.
I’m not even paying attention to the ones that run inside like we’re the decomposed walking the street freely.
Assholes.
“Who said anything about living together?” Moros asks, though his normal gruffness is not quite as harsh as it once was. Or maybe I’m just getting used to it? Could be that I find it endearing instead of annoying now, maybe.
Which it is.
His roughness has grown on me like the vines up the walls of the treehouse, especially since having Wilson’s softness balances it out.
It really is like the two of them are half of the same whole. Logs split from the same tree. Leaves off the same vine, though Moros would deny it.
And I love them both.
My smile is wide, and my steps are light as they lead me to the edge of town where the farming starts and Wilson takes a long, deep breath.
At first it seems like a calming one; he does always seem at peace when he’s surrounded by vegetation.
But then Moros becomes tense at my side.
“What is it—”
A high-pitched whirring alarm cuts off my words, and a chill runs down my spine.
A horde is coming.
“No. Nononono.”
The gasp catches in my throat when Wilson grabs me around my ribs, his arm too stiff and boarding on painful.
He swings me up and I scream, even as his arms wrap around me and his powerful legs spin us around. Away from Moros.
Who’s running toward the sound.
“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare, Wilson.”
I push against him. Thrashing and smacking at his biceps and chest.
“Baby, please st—“
“Put me down.” I struggle and his fingers dig in harder. “Moros! Don’t leave me.”
But Wilson’s already carrying me away, back towards the center of our community, and my eyes burn as Moros disappears in the distance.
“Amo, baby, I need you safe,” he puffs between the sound of the sirens, his words too stiff. “Fuck, I never should have left my post.”
I don’t even bother to stop the tears as the sounds grow louder, the sirens growing longer, their purpose making my everything bind up so tight, I feel sick.
“I’m gonna follow you. You can’t leave me here alone.”
Wilson’s jaw works with a clench, his gaze hard and set ahead of us.
It only takes us minutes to get back to the edge where the shops start and the bustling people’s concerns filter in around us like static.
“Please,” he murmurs thickly as he sets me on my feet and reaches around me. “Don’t follow me.”
My world tilts when he grabs my hands, my wrists, and starts wrapping something around them.
“Wilson,” I cry, fat tears rolling down my cheeks. “I can help. Let me help.”
But my words are too small, and my emotions are too big.
And when he looks down at me, brown eyes swimming, I know that all he sees is a sniveling, uninfected kitten staring back.
Someone to protect. To coddle and hover over. Someone that will never go into the forest alone or face a decomposed without help.
I step forward, stopped only by my bound hands.
“Don’t do this.”
His hands, warm and calloused, encase my face.
He bends closer, his hot breath tickling my lips for only a moment before he claims them with his own.
It’s rough and forceful when he shoves his tongue into my mouth, like this might be the last time and I let him.
Every word he’s ever kept, every feeling, is embodied in this kiss he’s giving me, and I give it everything I have back.
“Please,” he begs softly, panting as he presses his forehead to mine. “Don’t follow me.”
And then he’s gone.
Running back toward what might be his death.