Redemption of the Dead by A.P. Fuchs Read Free Book Online Page B

of him not making it out alive . .
.
    “You can’t do this,” she whispered quietly. “It’s stupid
and dumb. It’s one thing to let him in as a partner against the
undead, another to even consider going beyond that.” The thing of
it was, she knew a part of her was hoping he’d fill the hole in her
heart left by Josh. In a world like this, one where loneliness
presided, emotional walls were built, death was carried out as
easily as breathing—it began to wear on a person. It began to wear
on her.
    I’m not going to get all mushy-gushy with him. If anything,
I’m lonely, there’s needs, I’m sick of nothing but rot and decay.
Don’t use him as your glimmer of sunshine. It’s not fair to you and
it’s not fair to him. “Besides,” she said, “he’s got issues of his own and is too
busy having a pity party over another girl.” You’re doing the same thing to yourself so don’t
even go there. “Oh, but to go
there . . .”
    She looked
at the can of chickpeas. Man, how she hated those things. Mushy and
gritty, like damp dirt, but they were healthy and if this was all
there was for her and Joe, then that was the way it was.
    “Got to get it to him, though, which means I got to get up
there.” She grunted. “Why couldn’t he have been the one
holding the can?”
    * * * *
    Joe sat with
his back to the door, legs drawn up, forearms resting on his knees.
His thumbs were getting sore from all the twiddling. He ran a hand
over his head. It’d been so long since he last shaved it, the hair
was coming in pretty good, thick and bristly. He didn’t want it to
grow back. To let it come in like he used to, he’d look like the
old Joe—Joseph—the person he’d been before the Rain. To see that in
the mirror every day—no, no way.
    He
got up from the door. Maybe
there’s a razor or scissors or something in one of the medicine
cabinets. I need a shave anyway. He yawned and opened the door. Tracy stood a few feet from
it, staring at the can of chickpeas. She seemed startled by his
sudden emergence.
    The two looked at each
other.
    Guess this one might be up to you, he thought. Don’t string her along. Get back to surviving. No time for
this other nonsense. “Um . .
.” he said and ran his hand over his head, once again hating the
hair growing on top.
    Tracy faced
him, arms at her sides. She raised her eyebrows, obviously
signaling he was the one that had to speak first.
    But if that’s true, what was she doing up here to begin
with? He slowly exhaled.
“Okay, fine. Look, I’m sorry.” There. That wasn’t so bad.
    “And?”
    And? Okay, maybe it is that bad? “I shouldn’t have left you out of it.
It’s hard to explain why. Can you just trust me that I had my
reasons, but now realize it was a dumb choice and just move
on?”
    “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you
going to do it again?”
    “Are you ?”
    “What?”
    “Sorry. What I meant was, yeah, I
won’t do it again if it can be helped.”
    Her eyes bore into him. “What do you
mean?”
    “What?”
    “If it can be helped?”
    “I mean that if it’s okay for you and
I to take on the undead together, then we will.”
    A puzzled
look came over her face.
    “Okay, start over. If there’s a
situation where we’re separated and we have to fight alone, we’ll
fight alone, otherwise we’ll fight together. Cool?”
    She seemed to consider his words and
began rolling the can of chickpeas back and forth between her
palms. “Okay, deal, but for a guy who’s supposed to be a writer,
you suck at words.”
    “Gee, thanks.”
    Tracy smiled. That sweet
smile.
    No, not sweet. Stupid! He reached forward and grabbed the can of chickpeas from
her hand. “Come on, let’s get this over with. I hate these just as
much as you do.”
    “How did
you—”
    Joe didn’t
bother to answer and hated himself for having hinted at how similar
they were.
     
     
    * * * *
     
     
    6
    You Can ’ t Die in
Hell
     
    H ead barely
above the water, Billie tried
to