Chapter 43

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I was still on edge the next day. My instincts were trying to spot more hints of what was going on, and it was altering my behavior slightly. I knew just enough to fire up my suspicious nature, but not why they wanted me to stay. The tension left me feeling like an overtightened guitar string.

Those in the kitchen didn't seem to notice any difference as I peeled various vegetables. Several women occasionally came over to take the baskets as I filled them, thanking me as they had the last two days.

I listened to the various discussions as the morning passed by, noticing that there wasn't a single mention of zombies, which was rather strange when so many of the creatures roamed outside the fence.

When another woman walked over with an empty bowl to replace the one I'd filled with diced potatoes, I commented, "I don't think I've seen Nina around. What does she usually do during the day?"

I kept my tone idle, as if I was just mildly curious. What I hadn't expected was how nervous the question made her.

"Uh, she usually stays inside the fence. Helps out here and there. She assists the doctor in the hospital sometimes. Do you want me to go find her for you?" Her words were rushed, yet chosen with care, as if she knew I would be able to smell any lie.

"No thanks. I was just curious. What does Daniel usually do?"

She relaxed marginally. "He often patrols the area and tries to keep feral zombies away from the small groups working outside the fence. The animal tenders, people working in the gardens, and such. He tries to check on them regularly in case of any trouble. He helps haul large trees out of the forest where our men can cut them up and bring them back. If there's a task that requires a lot of strength, he usually helps with that as well."

That was enough to keep him fairly busy. The more-elaborate answer flowed more smoothly and naturally – unlike her first response regarding Nina. Unless the woman simply didn't know what she was doing, which was possible since some people seemed to take turns with many chores here. It still gave me a lot to think about.

To keep the woman and the dozen or so other intent listeners in the kitchen from thinking too much about my two main questions, I also asked, "What does this place do about zombies that show up at the fence?"

Every time I had inspected the fence, there was almost always a feral zombie pressed against some part of it.

"People on quads or horses usually lead them away. There's a ravine to the east, and if the quad drives across the narrow bridge and turns left or right, the zombies fall into it. It's too steep for the normal ones to climb out, so they end up following it far away."

"And Runners?"

"Daniel usually intercepts them." She quickly added, "So far, we've only found feral ones."

This was a better opening than what I had hoped for.

"And if a sane one showed up?"

"If their control wasn't in question, they'd be invited to visit or stay for as long as they liked." This time, there was no hesitancy in her words. From her tone, they'd probably try to convince the zombie to stay.

I tilted my head, as if confused. "I still don't understand why you welcome zombies inside so easily. No other place I've been to would have even considered letting one stay."

The question was a risk after overhearing that conversation last night, but I felt it was worth asking since we were on the topic. There was no point in mentioning that I'd only ever gone inside one Stronghold previously.

She hesitated before meeting my eyes solemnly. "It's hope. Hope to survive for another day; hope for our children. Hope that the day I grow old and can't run, I don't have to worry about feral zombies every minute of the day. This place would have fallen four times if Daniel hadn't been here. The thing is, he can't be in two places at once, and our lives hang in the balance. Having even one more sane zombie around would be an immense relief."

I was silent for a while before replying, "I see."

And I did. Her deep-rooted fears were the type that probably plagued every surviving human on this planet right now. This place was likely one of the few who decided the answer to their problems was the sane version of their nemesis.

However, the rest of the people in the kitchen were tense, watching and waiting with bated breath, as if expecting something more. Something that hadn't been said yet.

The woman sat on the other side of the table and grabbed a paring knife instead of carrying the full bowl away, waiting for any other questions I might have. She didn't elaborate on her original answer, pretending there wasn't anything else, although the unease in her scent – a very rare odor in this place – said there was, indeed, more than what was said.

It was proof there was a secret underfoot. And I still didn't know what it was.

"How often do Runners come here?" It wasn't something that interested me, but it was probably wiser to ask other questions until the group in the kitchen relaxed a bit more. Perhaps they'd even get the misguided impression that I was considering staying, which would give me more time to heal and disappear.

"Not that often, thankfully. We're not on a major highway, so even Daniel only comes across one or two a month."

I continued dicing up a potato. "What do you usually do if one shows up when Daniel isn't around?"

The question made a lot of people in the kitchen tense up, which I hadn't expected.

She made a face. "They normally find one of the groups outside first. The last time that happened, someone died. If we see them in time, or if they come to the fence, someone sounds an alarm. Runners can climb out of the ravine, so we usually trap them in a rigged-up cattle hauler until Daniel returns. The quad drivers have small glass vials of human blood, and they toss one into the hauler as the driver goes by. So far, the Runner has always run inside searching for the source of the scent, and someone on top drops the door to contain it."

A rather logical way of doing it, although considering that the rest of the kitchen crew was suddenly on edge, it only led to more questions. I pointedly glanced at the others in the kitchen before facing her again.

Forcing myself to quirk my lip up in humor, I asked, "What? Did I just uncover a plan to lock me in an animal hauler?"

Judging by the horror-struck look on her face, my joke had completely been taken the wrong way.

"Wha- No! No, no, no." She shook her head fiercely, as if she couldn't even imagine such a thing. "We'd never do that. Unless you went feral or something, but I can't see anyone trying to lure a feral Nightstalker into that trailer in the dark. We'd probably rely on lights for protection until dawn."

"Relax. I was joking." My tone was dry, which apparently was a better suited version of humor for me since she and a lot of others relaxed.

"Still, we wouldn't do such a thing to any sane zombie."

Subtly, I took a deeper breath, but her scent rang with the truth behind her words. It still didn't reassure me that much, not after last night's conversation and whatever she had left out earlier.

"Glad to hear it. What other hazards might lurk around this place? Any pitfall traps I should know about?"

This time, my joke didn't fall flat, but she still took it far more seriously than I'd expected. "Um... No pitfall traps. With your glasses, no one would mistake you for a feral, so there isn't really any threat. Uh, we do have several Runners in a barn to the south. We, er, just moved Mack in there the other day – he was the guy who was infected."

Her fidgeting betrayed her nerves on this topic, as if I might take offense that they had trapped feral Runners instead of letting them roam the countryside.

I shrugged. "I heard he lost control, and I'm not too concerned about what you do with those who go feral."

Considering the alternative was killing them to eliminate the threat, locking them up was the only kindness they could offer a former friend or relative. She relaxed but still seemed uncertain.

"Have you met any sane Runners?" she asked.

"A few, here and there."

"Do they, um, have problems with control?"

"Most do. It's why there are so many feral Runners compared to sane ones."

She nodded and continued helping me cut up the large mound of potatoes. I didn't ask any more questions, still thinking about what I had just learned.

When lunchtime rolled around, I left the kitchen and went to the dining area. I grabbed some food and began walking to where Nicky was sitting. This time, she had managed to secure a corner table, but now that I was paying attention, I knew it hadn't been a coincidence.

The table had four chairs and was just big enough to seat four people – one of the smallest tables in the room – and if I remembered correctly, a larger one had been here yesterday. The nearby tables had also been pushed away from it, as if ensuring it would never be crowded by people coming or going. One of the paths leading to it was wider than before.

Someone must have either noticed my hasty departure yesterday or had overheard Nicky's comment about trying for a corner table. It was a bit unnerving, but I still had to give these people credit for their ingenuity.

I also had to admit the recent changes gave me the bit of extra space my instincts needed at the moment. While walking over to Nicky, several people at various tables invited me to join them, although I declined, just as I had yesterday.

I finally reached the table and sat in the corner seat. No one approached our table or asked to join Nicky and me. Then again, other than Nina or Daniel, no one else had tried to sit at whatever table I was sitting at.

As we ate lunch, Nicky raised her eyebrow at me, somehow noting the subtle tension in my body. I glanced around the room; lunch was much quieter than dinner since most groups staggered their lunch breaks or simply took food with them. There were fewer than fifty people in here, and luckily no one was close enough to overhear a quiet conversation.

"If you still plan on traveling with me to the next Stronghold," I murmured, "I think we're going to want to leave quietly with no one realizing it."

She yawned, but I could tell that she was focusing intently on the conversation. "Trying to avoid a goodbye party, huh?"

I chewed a mouthful of bread before replying, "Something isn't quite as it seems. Do you think you can get a map showing the area and local Strongholds without anyone knowing? Preferably before we go to the forest this afternoon. I want to compare it to mine."

"Already planning our first stop once we make a break for solitude?"

"With you around, it doesn't count as solitude. But once my leg heals, making a break for it might be the wisest idea."

Her eyes flickered over to me in surprise, and she hummed thoughtfully. "Let me see if I can get a map on the quiet side. I think I saw one in a small office. I'll come find you later on; it might raise suspicions if we disappear all afternoon again."

I nodded. "I plan to walk the perimeter of the fence before hanging out on the roof for a while."

Her eyes got distant, likely thinking about the map and what I might be hinting at.

"Oh, Nicky?"

"Yeah?"

With a smirk, I said, "For my sanity, please avoid coffee for the foreseeable future. It really scrambles your wits."

She grinned at me. "Can I still chase people around in the morning occasionally?"

"Sure."

"Deal."

I almost pitied those people.


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