Love in an Undead Age, A.M. Geever [best contemporary novels txt] 📗

“Don’t go there.” Miranda touched his arm. “She wouldn’t want you to.”

“She’s not dead,” Gabe snapped, shaking Miranda off. “Don’t talk like that.”

Mentally, Miranda kicked herself. She looked Gabe in the eye, hoping he would see her sincerity. “That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” he muttered. “It’s just…”

“I know.”

Miranda walked up to the crack of light and pushed against the door. Rusted hinges squawked in protest. The musty room was warm from the fire in the fireplace; pieces of furniture fed its hungry flames. The curtains on the windows were moldered but intact. The smell of oil hung thick in the air from everyone’s chain mail being re-oiled to keep it from rusting after their dip in the reservoir. Naomi lay on her stomach on a narrow single bed against the wall, an army blanket draped over her. Everyone else was huddled around the fireplace, where steaming clothes hung from the simple mantle like Christmas stockings.

Connor stepped aside from his place by the fire as Miranda approached. She took his spot and sank to the floor. Delilah wriggled past her and edged as close as she could to the fire’s warmth to stretch out on the hearth.

“We can’t take her with us,” Mike said. His intense expression seemed to sharpen his rounded features. “She’s got third degree burns all over the back of her body.”

“We can’t just leave her here,” Connor protested. “She’ll die for sure!”

“She’s going to die no matter what. I wouldn’t even be in the same building with her except those brambles outside are so thick, and the rain will mask our scent,” Mike said. “I’m telling you, man, we cannot take her with us.”

Seffie kept her eyes trained on the gun she cleaned with an oily cloth. “I’d be worried about the Padre not wanting to leave her behind, but she’s not gonna make it through the night.”

Miranda listened to them argue as the fire’s warmth rolled over her. Her clothes, still wet from being rinsed out, began to steam. She should care about what they were saying, but she was so tired, and the fire was so warm.

“Are we going to leave Mario behind, too?” Connor asked. “He’s seriously injured. He might even be bleeding again.”

Miranda snapped back to alertness. Connor wasn’t serious, but a spike of anxiety rushed through her. The idea of leaving Mario behind made her stomach heave.

Mike scoffed at Connor. “It’s not the same thing and you know it. Mario’s injuries aren’t life-threatening. He’s ambulatory. He’s not broiled like a goddamn burger!”

“I’m sitting right here,” Mario interjected mildly. “It’s almost four a.m. and we’ll be here three, maybe four hours. Let’s get some sleep.”

Miranda could not help but notice how worn Mario looked, yet he was also calmer than either Mike or Connor. It’s like he takes this in stride, she thought, wondering how that could be. It’s Mario, she reminded herself, he doesn’t care about anyone but himself.

“Whatever we do is Doug’s call, not ours. He’s mission leader,” Mike said as he stood up. “I’m going to join him on watch.”

“Work on him is more like it,” Connor muttered.

Expending the energy to stand was more than Miranda could manage. She lay on the floor with her head near the fire. She could see Naomi from where she lay. She shut her eyes. She didn’t want to think about Naomi.

A hand touched her shoulder. She opened her eyes and turned toward Connor’s voice.

“You okay?” he whispered.

“Yeah,” she whispered back, turning on her side to face him. “Are you?”

Connor didn’t answer right away. “What do you think we should do?”

She had to fight to not bite her lip. If she did that, he’d know she was lying. “I don’t know, Connor.”

“You think we should leave her, don’t you? You just don’t want to say it.”

Miranda squeezed his hand in hers. “I don’t want to leave Naomi,” she said, meaning it, “but I don’t see how we can take her with us. If she could move on her own, that would be one thing, but she can’t. And Seffie’s right, she probably won’t make it to morning.”

“And if she does?”

Why can’t he let this go? Unless we turn back, she’s going to die and we can’t go back, not now.

Her thoughts must have shown on her face, for Connor said, “I can’t believe you think it’s okay to abandon her, Miri.”

Miranda felt torn between wanting to soothe Connor and wanting to tell him to grow up. “We’ve barely slept the last forty-eight hours,” she said, too tired to defend herself. “Try to get some sleep.”

Miranda turned over. Connor slipped his hand over her waist and tucked his knees behind her own. She was grateful for the warmth of his body next to hers, the soothing feel of his breath against the back of her neck. On the other side of the fireplace, Seffie was already out. Miranda looked at the stitches on Seffie’s forehead and tried to remember how long was too long for someone with a head injury to sleep. It can’t be much more than a few hours, and we’ll be up by then, she decided.

Naomi’s raspy shallow breathing was audible now that everyone was settling down to sleep. Mario leaned over Naomi and checked her pulse. He pursed his lips and for a second, he looked almost stricken, but his face went blank when he realized Miranda was watching. He threw some more wood on the fire and settled himself just inside the net of warmth it cast.

Mario’s eyes glittered in the firelight. He looked at Miranda for a long moment, his expression unreadable, then turned away to face the wall. A few moments later, Delilah left her spot by the fire. She padded up to Mario and began to lick his face.

“Go lay down with your mom,” Miranda heard him whisper, but the little pit bull had a mind of her own. She nestled herself along the line of Mario’s back and would not budge. Miranda shut her eyes. Exhaustion pulled her under.