“Maybe pecans?”
He doesn’t have to say anything—I can feel Ryan’s annoyance rolling off him in waves that crash over me again and again. But I don’t care if I’m being too blunt. Vin is the rudest person I know. I don’t owe him any attempt at etiquette.
Vin eyes me shrewdly. “He died.”
“No kidding. How, though? Marlow did it, didn’t he?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because he lied to him.”
“About what?”
“About everything.”
“Nats said you were an orphan before the fall. How did your mom die?”
Ryan nudges my arm. I scoot away from him.
Vin shrugs. “I don’t know. I never knew her. She ran when I was born.”
“Why didn’t your dad raise you?”
“He did. He was a drunk and a druggie. As soon as I was old enough to run away, I did.” Vin sets his food down and leans across the table, giving me his full attention. When he speaks, his voice is flat. Dead. “I lived on the streets and I took care of myself. When the illness came and everyone started dying, I thought it was great. I thought that finally all of the worthless, lazy deadbeats out there would be gone and all that would be left were people like me. Smart and fast. Tough. So I went back to my dad’s house a few months after it started. I wanted to see his fat corpse banging around inside his tiny, filthy apartment. I wanted to be the one to bash his head in. But you know what I found instead of a zombie? That SOB was still alive. He’d stolen food and drugs, probably killed living people to get it, and he was still alive. He attached himself to me after that. I couldn’t shake him and for some stupid reason, I couldn’t kill him. I prayed for him to get bitten, but it never happened. Eventually we took up with Marlow when he was just getting started. Dad sold Honey for him, but he took more of the drug than he sold. He got into trouble and Marlow put him down. Tossed his body in the Sound while I watched. He let me keep his ring, though.”
“Why do you keep it if you hated him so much?” I ask quietly, stunned by this amount of information from Vin.
He holds his hand up, showing me the ring. “Marlow said to wear it and remember what happens to traitors. It kept me in line. Now I wear it so I’ll always remember not to be stupid like my dad was. Stupid and weak won’t get you anywhere but dead. It’s the only thing that loser was ever able to teach me.”
He slams his hand down on the table, the ring making a sharp sound against the metal of his battered plate.
“Anything else you want to ask me, Kitten?” he asks calmly.
I shake my head stiffly. “No, I’m good.”
“Great. I gotta hit the head.”
Vin stands abruptly, his legs knocking the table and spilling my cup of water. The liquid runs over the uneven surface, chasing the path of least resistance until it finds the edge and begins to drip down onto my leg.
“Maybe don’t go digging around in people’s pasts anymore,” Trent recommends before taking a bite of apple.
“Trent, I don’t say this as often as I should,” I reply, feeling exhausted and stupid, “but I think you’re absolutely right.”
Chapter Nineteen
I don’t see Vin again after that. He leaves to go get his castle and he doesn’t find me to say goodbye. I don’t know much about people, but I know I messed up. I know he’s mad at me and fair enough. I would rage out on him if he did the same thing to me. Especially in front of other people. I thought I was being blunt and calloused the way he always is, but now I’m not so sure. I think I might have just been a jerk again.
Not long after Vin leaves with his small army, we head south in the largest gathering of human beings I’ve seen in years. Once you take everyone out of their tents and away from the trees, you can see how many there really are—a buttload. We picked up more people willing to fight from the stadiums. I think the count I heard was around one hundred, but when you consider the number we lost to Vin heading north, we’re about where we were before. He even took the girls from the stables with him. I’m not surprised in the least that Freedom knows how to fight. Her temporary pimp Dante even came out of The Hive with them, leaving me amazed at the amount of loyalty that’s built into that place. Their sense of family is a lot like the cannibals’: it’s everything to them.
I’m already nervous about marching across the city to an area I’ve never been to before, but what makes it worse is that we have company.
There’s a horde of zombies following us. A big one. The Vashons actually gathered it together! They hunted these things down from all over the city and drew them to the park. I thought it was insane, but they weren’t worried. I guess this is part of what they did when clearing their island. You get as many together as you can in a contained area and destroy them as a group with fire, explosives, whatever. I guess it uses less physical effort and lowers your level of one-on-one contact with them. It makes you far less likely to be bitten because you never get that close. The only real danger is the herding—you have to give them something to follow, and once you do, you better hope it knows how to run.
And what are we leading these zombies toward? What’s our endgame?
They’re a gift for the southern Colony.
“A guest should never arrive empty-handed,” Alvarez had explained with a wink.
The majority of us left camp well ahead of the herd to make sure we had a buffer, but we still come across random strays on the way. There’s a circling group of Vashon soldiers constantly jogging by, up and down our caravan, keeping up a patrol. Even if a Z does show up, none of us has to deal with it. I feel weird about that. About being taken care of. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to.
“Good to see you found him again,” Ali says, showing up beside me out of nowhere. I jolt, wondering if she’s been taking shadow lessons from Cren.
“Good to see you with us again. Were you sick?”
Ali falls silent. It drags out for a long time, making me worry. And wonder.
“Yeah,” she finally says, her voice low.
“Are you feeling better?”
“Almost.”
“What’s wrong with you?”
Ryan subtly nudges my arm with his. I look up to find him shaking his head at me faintly.
“What?” I ask.
“Just leave it.”
“Leave what?”
On the other side of me Ali chuckles.
“She doesn’t know she’s being rude,” Ryan tells her. “Sorry.”
“I’m not being rude!” I protest. “And don’t talk about me like I’m not here. I was trying to be nice asking how she’s feeling.”
“I’m fine now,” she assures me, still grinning.
“Good,” I grumble, feeling stupid and annoyed with the whole conversation. And yet for some stupid reason, I keep talking. “I grew up alone. I haven’t spent time with people in years. I’m not good at it.”
“Yeah, me either,” she says lightly.
“You’re better than me.”
“I have more practice. It’ll come to you.”
“If everyone doesn’t run screaming from me first.”
She looks at me sideways, her eyes flitting to Trent and Ryan next to me. “Certain people never will.”
“I don’t know about that.”
“I do. My moods are pretty touch and go. I have good days and I have bad days.”
“And you have really bad days,” Sam chimes in.
I look behind us to find him walking a few paces back. Always close to Ali.
She gives him a severe look that’s ruined by the grin tugging at her lips. He smiles sweetly at her.
“I do,” she admits. “I have really bad days. But people like Sam are still with me.”
“And Jordan.”
Ali nods, pursing her lips thoughtfully. “Yup, Jordan has never run screaming. Not even when I told him to.”
“Why would you tell him to?” I ask.
“Because I love him and I feel like he deserves better than me.”
Yeah , I know the feeling.
I want to know what’s making Ali sick even though I’ll never ask about it again. I told Ryan he’s my social compass and if he tells me to leave it, I’m going to leave it. No matter how much it haunts me. I have a couple of theories, but none of them really make sense. Leading contender based on bad moods that make her dangerous?