War (The Four Horsemen #2) - Laura Thalassa Page 0,41

about. I never imagined they’d be this agile.

Then again, judging by the massive man heading my way, I’m guessing that War chose only the freshest, most equipped dead to linger on while the rest rotted away.

These final few zombies must patrol the area for any last living people who dare to move through the city.

I pump my arms and force my legs to move faster, though the weight of my weaponry is slowing me down. I don’t dare drop any of it. I fear I’m going to need it again soon.

The thought of escape seems like a dream. I’ve abandoned all hope of fleeing War and his army. All I want now is to return to camp with my life.

I make it barely a block before the corpse has nearly caught up to me. I swivel around, unsheathing my sword.

The man comes at me like a freight train, swinging his weapon with unearthly expertise. The left side of his body is awash in blood. Other than that, he looks almost completely untouched.

I fend him off the best I can, but he’s relentless, untiring. He swings his sword over and over again, and with every blow I block, I feel myself weakening. Despite my earlier adrenaline, weariness is setting in. I’ve been fighting too long, and I’ve just about spent the last of my energy.

The sound of hooves thunder at my back.

“Cease!” War’s deep voice rings out.

At once, my attacker falls to the ground, inanimate once more.

The hoof beats at my back don’t slow.

“Miriam!” War roars.

I turn to face him, my entire body rising and falling with my labored breathing.

The unflinching warlord is stoic no longer. His face is a mask of fury.

The horseman is off his mount in one fluid movement. And then he’s running to me. “What in God’s name are you doing?” he bellows. When he gets to me, he grasps my upper arms. He obviously doesn’t care that I’m still holding a sword.

I heave in and out, gasping for air. I glance down at the dead man at my feet, and an unbidden shiver racks my body.

Dear God, I’ve never seen anything so frightening and unnatural in my entire life. And it couldn’t be stopped.

“This morning I asked you to be safe, and this is what you do?” War demands. “Did you come out here seeking death?”

I’m still trying to catch my breath. All I manage is a shake of my head. I didn’t even know there were still zombies patrolling these streets for survivors. Of course I wouldn’t have come if I’d known.

“You could’ve been killed!” he says, his eyes wild.

I almost was killed.

War releases me to curse, running a hand down his mouth and jaw.

I take a shaky breath and pace away from him, trying to regain my composure and, more importantly, not to piss myself.

“Where do you think you’re going?” The horseman’s voice is calmer now, more under control.

Still, I don’t respond.

In front of me, one of the dead begins to twitch. Then, like a marionette, the man rises. He’s one of the grotesque dead, half of his face bashed in. He approaches me, and now I stop, my hand instinctively tightening on my sword.

But the creature doesn’t attack. Not that he needs to. All he has to do is walk towards me, and now I’m backing up, backing up until I bump into hard, warm flesh.

War’s hands close over my upper arms, shackling me in place once again.

In front of me, the dead man collapses to the ground.

“You will answer me,” the horseman says. “And you will not leave.”

My anger rises, filling me like poison in my veins. I rotate around in War’s arms so that I can face him.

I mean to tell him again how much I hate him, how repulsed I am by him, but one look into the horseman’s eyes, and he knows. I don’t know if he cares, but at least he knows.

“Why?” I say instead. “Why did you have to kill everyone?”

Now it’s his turn not to answer.

“Why?” I say again, more insistent.

War’s upper lip is curled, his face grim. He doesn’t respond.

He still holds my upper arms captive, but that doesn’t stop me from pushing him.

“Why?” I repeat. Another push. “Why?” Another. And another. “Why why why?”

I’m asking it like a chant and pushing him over and over. The horseman doesn’t so much as sway. I might as well be pushing a boulder.

Now the tears are coming and I’m angry and sad and I feel so, so