Love in an Undead Age by A.M. Geever (good non fiction books to read .TXT) 📕

“Are you ready?” he asked.

“I just need a minute,” she answered. She dumped the pestle upside down. Most of its contents went into a small glass jar, but some spilled on the counter.

“Goddammit!” she muttered under her breath.

Miranda and Mario traded a curious glance. Bethany’s exclamation was the first time they had heard anyone curse since their arrival. Having been warned that swearing by a woman was especially out of line, Bethany’s cursing, however tame, was all the more surprising. Realizing what she had said, Bethany looked up at Finn, her expression trapped and verging on tears.

The dark circles under Finn’s eyes weighed down his weary face. To Miranda and Mario, he said, “Why do you not go outside and get some fresh air? We will join you in a minute.”

“Of course,” Mario answered.

He handed Miranda the crutches that leaned against her cot and gave her a hand up with his good arm, then ordered Delilah to stay. The dog whined as she lowered her head onto her paws before letting out a long-suffering sigh that seemed to start at the tip of her tail.

Miranda swung herself out into the damp air and breathed deep, happy to be free of whatever was going on between Finn and Bethany, but intensely curious as well. As Mario pulled the door shut, she heard Finn say, “You will not be chosen twice.”

Miranda’s excitement at being outdoors was abruptly tempered. Zombie moans tickled a chill up her spine.

“They’re all on edge today,” Mario said. He stopped beside Miranda just outside the door. It seemed the whole of New Jerusalem’s population was hurrying by, their faces grim.

“I heard Bethany’s helpers whispering about a faith walk. Do you think it’s about that?” Miranda asked. She shifted her weight to adjust the crutches. Designed for someone shorter, they dug into her rib cage.

“Maybe,” Mario said with a shrug. “Are those crutches okay?”

“I wouldn’t want to do a marathon on them, but it’s better—”

Mario’s hand rested on the small of her back. When had that happened? Mario looked at her, a question in his eyes for a moment before realization of why she had stopped talking filled them. Behind them, Bethany opened the door.

“Oh God, I’m sorry,” Mario said. The weight of his hand disappeared as he stepped away, nonplussed.

Fuck, Miranda thought as Bethany smiled weakly at her before melting into the flow of foot traffic. Bethany had seen Mario practically leap away from her. A husband apologizing for touching his wife looked bad.

She could still feel where his hand had been, still feel the crackle of attraction that had arced toward him when she realized he was touching her. It was the spike of aching desire, or the drowsy sensual drift into him, that pulled her up short, that made her aware they had stumbled into an intimacy they no longer shared. Sometimes the light would catch his eyes, or his lips would curve in a smile, and she had to turn away and shut her eyes as she willed the attraction into submission.

Finn joined them, oblivious. He motioned forward. “This way.”

“So,” Miranda asked. “What’s a faith walk?”

Finn stopped short and looked around as if he was trying to judge how many passersby had heard her comment. His golden eyes narrowed. On the sharp angles of his face, the expression made him look severe.

“You are no longer in the world you know,” he said soft but sharp. “You must be more…circumspect. The Prophet All-Father prefers that His Children learn of His Will from He alone. It would anger Him to hear you speak so casually of that which you do not understand. That can be…unpleasant.”

“I’m sorry,” Miranda said. “I didn’t, I shouldn’t have pried.”

Finn turned and set off at a faster pace. Mario hurried ahead so that he and Finn were two abreast, leaving Miranda crutching doggedly behind them.

“I apologize, Finn,” Mario said. “Miranda didn’t mean offense.”

“Learning the ways of a new place takes time,” Finn answered. “But belief in the Prophet’s teachings runs deep. Most are not as understanding as those of us who have seen the outside world.”

“There must be a lot of pressure on you to be a good example, being his son.”

“Being his child is hardly unique,” Finn spat.

Hardly unique? Mario’s question had not just taken Finn by surprise… It had angered him. Maybe they could use that anger. Father Walter’s voice echoed through her head. Always trust your instincts, Miranda. They’ll never steer you wrong.

Finn and Mario were now at least ten feet ahead of her near the entrance to the large plaza farther into the village. People were bottlenecked at the entry points. In the crush, Miranda lost sight of them.

Some fake husband I’ve got…doesn’t even wait for his crippled wife.

A moment later, Mario was back in front of her. “You doing okay?”

She nodded.

“Nice try back there with the new-in-town question.”

Miranda sighed. “Too obvious.”

Mario did not contradict her but smiled. “Finn said we’re going down via a harness since we’re not nimble enough for the ladders.” He pointed to the far side of the plaza. “We’re supposed to go over there.”

“Going down?”

“There’s some sort of meeting enclosure,” Mario said uneasily. He fixed her with that penetrating stare, the one that made her feel like his brown eyes could see right through her.

They worked their way over to Finn. The zombie moans were much louder here than outside the infirmary. The air crackled with tension. The inhabitants of New Jerusalem were joining long lines that stretched across the plaza. One by one, the first person in line disappeared over the edge through openings in the rails and protective netting.

Miranda leaned against the rail and peered through the netting to the forest floor below. The instinct of fight or flight seized her. Her leg began to throb as if underscoring just how vulnerable her injury made her. Mario’s sharp intake of breath hissed past her ear.

On the forest floor below, partly underneath the plaza, sat a large rectangular building with a steeply angled roof. Hundreds of zombies churned around it, desiccated mouths opening and closing, spindly fingers snatching at the air. New Jerusalem’s inhabitants descended rope ladders that ended on a small widow’s walk at the center of the building’s roof; from there, they disappeared inside. The ladders were attached to the widow’s walk, but they swayed out from over the safety of the building’s roof.

“If they slip and fall, they could miss the platform,” Miranda gasped, horrified. “Hit that roof with any momentum and you slide right off.”

Mario’s brown eyes reflected her own disbelief, but beneath it, she saw a fierce resolve.

“We stick together, Miri,” he said.

His hand wrapped around hers. She held on tight.