Page 155 of Romancing in Rot

A smile tugs at my mouth.

We don’t go far. Just past the second line of trees, checking Earl’s traps while we scavenge, the walkie clipped to my belt. We can’t afford to leave any good rabbits or other food sources behind.

Earl was going to check the traps, but I volunteered after I finished assembling our surprises. I told myself it was practical. Extra food. One less thing for Earl to handle.

But really, I needed this.

A minute alone with Poppy. A chance to ask how she feels without half the camp listening. Leon said she was okay with us, but I know my daughter. I know how quickly she says the right thing if she thinks it will keep someone else from hurting.

Another scar Russ left behind.

Poppy bends to grab a handful of walnuts beneath a tree. “Do you think Leon likes walnuts?”

My hand stills on the berry bush in front of me. “I don’t know,” I say carefully. “We can ask him.”

She drops the walnuts into her bag. “He seems like he’d eat anything.”

“He probably would.” I laugh under my breath. “Poppy, I want to ask⁠—”

A twig snaps.

My hand goes to the knife at my belt.

Poppy freezes.

Her eyes cut to me, wide but steady. I lift one finger to my lips, then point toward the tree line. She nods once and reaches slowly for her bow.

The woods hold their breath.

A bird explodes from a branch overhead, wings beating hard against the gray sky.

Then something moves behind the brush to my left.

Dead things don’t step that carefully.

The camp flashes through my mind. Earl with his maps. Edith by the fire. Barbara near the vehicles. Luis still too quiet, still learning what safe is supposed to feel like.

If these people find them before the recon team gets back, we’re screwed.

“Poppy,” I whisper.

She’s already backing toward me.

Too late.

A man lunges from behind a tree. He’s broad and filthy, beard matted with dirt and something darker. His jacket is torn at one sleeve, and his teeth flash yellow as he grabs for Poppy.

She drops under his arm.

He curses.

I move.

My knife clears my belt, but another body slams into me from the side before I can reach her. The knife flies from my hand and disappears somewhere in the leaves.

We hit the ground hard. My shoulder cracks against a root, pain burning down my arm. The man on top of me smells like sweat and spoiled meat.

Living filth.