is what made my birthday so grim. Nevertheless, I appreciated Kemper's attempt at a do-over. I sensed that he wanted to replace the bad memories with a new one.
“My grandfather taught me to have pride in everything I do. If he were alive, he would have told me to keep baking cakes until I got it right—especially if he knew it was for someone as beautiful and perfect as you.”
Kemper continued while blushing, “So, Ash, wanna blow out the candle?” He puffed out a blast of air, and minty fresh breath wafted towards me, mixing in with the sweet chocolatey smell of the cake.
My chest rose and fell, and my breathing felt labored. I almost forgot that Kemp was waiting for me to answer.
“Yes, I’d love to,” I replied while walking with him over to the counter. “And for the record . . .” I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes. “I liked your faulty cake. I prefer effort to results.” It was important to me that he understood that I didn't expect perfection, especially after seeing his rebellious side just moments before. Now I found myself craving it.
Kemper smiled then, a genuine, heart-stopping smile. It brightened the entire room. While sliding the birthday candle into the spongy cake, he hummed then ignited the wick with a lighter he produced from his too-tight pockets.
“Happy Birthday, Ash,” he whispered.
I blew out the candle and watched the smoke carry up my unspoken wish.
Chapter Thirteen
The Bakery was abnormally slow the next morning. Aside from the few stragglers and my breakfast regulars, there was an odd quiet about the General Store that had me on edge. Even Lois lacked her usual inquiring gaze.
I was wiping down the wooden countertop when a shrill siren erupted throughout the store and echoed on the streets. It sounded like a muffled, squealing pig and made me cover my ears.
"What is that?" I exclaimed to Lois who was practically running towards the windows to inspect what was happening. Three loud beeps sounded, and the sirens stopped.
"There's an infected Walker loose on the town," Lois said in an annoyingly giddy tone. She peered down her nose out the dusty window, and I followed suit. "When the alarm beeps three times, it means it's on the main strip. We might even see it!"
I was shocked by Lois' excitement over seeing a Walker, but she lived a relatively mundane life, so I assumed that any excitement was enjoyable to her, no matter how morbid.
"It’s been a good eight months since we've had an infected Walker!" Mark exclaimed while scratching his stomach and adjusting his glasses so that he could have a better look, too.
I scanned as far as I could, and in the distance noticed a figure wobbling down the road, holding what appeared to be a bundle of blankets.
"What'll happen to the Walker?" I asked in a whisper, almost dreading the answer.
"Cyler or Huxley usually will shoot them with their bow. They're our most skilled marksmen, don't you know," Lois said with a grin.
"Right they are, dear. I'd almost say they're the best in the Empire, wouldn't you agree?" Mark candidly replied.
"Yes, yes. Most definitely." Lois nodded eagerly.
The Walker moved closer to us, and I noticed that it was a woman. Long, white, matted hair clung to her neck, and bloody sores oozed down her arms. The bundle she held looked strange against her robotic movements and vacant gaze.
"Something's not right," I said mostly to myself.
"Oh, don't you worry, darling. The poor infected Walker will be put out of its misery in just a moment. I'm surprised she isn't already dead, she looks to be in the final stages of the disease," Lois pondered aloud.
The Walker continued to trudge closer, and a gnawing feeling in my gut told me to go to her. I placed my hand on the door, and Lois screeched, "Stay inside, you fool!"
I ignored her and opened the door. The air was hot and humid, the air was heavy and smelled like smoke. I slowly made my way towards the Walker. It was as if a magnetic force urged me forward. I was drawn to her, fate demanded I give this infected Walker my attention.
"Ash! Don't go any closer!" I heard a familiar voice yell from behind. Huxley. “We don’t know if she’s violent!” he shouted.
I should have felt fear but felt nothing. A calm washed over me.
"I'm fine, I just need to see something," I yelled over my shoulder while keeping my eyes