Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117336 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 469(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
I'm a little surprised he hasn't shown up to gloat. To say, see, I released the drakoni and it was no big deal, I don't understand why you're so upset. But he doesn't show up. It's almost like he's giving me space.
I punch my pillow, hating it—and Azar—and everything about all of this. Flinging myself back down on the cot, I glare up at the moonlight. I'd better get used to sleeping here, I warn my body, because I'm not going back anytime soon.
If ever.
Part Three
Chapter
Twenty-Nine
MELINA
Months Later
I tuck a warm sweater around myself, skipping the flowing dress in favor of sweatpants and a long-sleeved shirt. We don't get many cold days in Texas, but today is just brisk enough that I feel it inside the clinic, and I'm glad I shut all the windows last night. With a yawn, I touch the soil of my rosebush. It hasn't grown much, but the leaves no longer fall off at the slightest breeze, so I take that as a win. Daniels has wrapped the entire pot, covering the roots so my fragile plant won't be disturbed by the cold.
It still hasn't given me a single rose, but that's all right. I've come to love the darn thing anyhow. I love it for all its stinginess, and for how difficult it is to love. It reminds me of the person that gave it to me.
Ah, Azar. My ruthless, monstrous husband. The guy I keep waiting to fall out of love with, and instead, I just…keep waiting.
It's been months since Azar freed the drakoni. Months since I moved back into my clinic to stay. Things have remained strained between us. A lot of that is my doing. I told him to leave me alone and to give me space. He's done so, to the point that now I feel neglected. Which is stupid. I should be furious that he lied to me (and part of me still is) but for some reason, I still worry about him. I still hope that he's safe and the stress of ruling the city isn't too much for him. I worry that the thing in the Rift is still talking to him, that he's going to snap under all the pressure of trying to save the world.
Hell, I'm not even sure Azar wants to save the world anymore. Maybe he doesn't. Maybe now that we've more or less broken up, he's decided to change the plan. A smarter, less emotional woman would probably remain in his bed, ensuring the fate of humanity. But I'm tired of being the martyr.
I want a real apology from him. A genuine, heartfelt realization that what he's done is morally wrong. I haven't seen that, though. So far, Azar has only released the captive drakoni because I told him to. That's not a good enough reason for me…and so I stay on at the clinic.
I suppose it's for the best. I peek out the door at the full sickroom and sigh. It's like we recover from one thing and another hits us. This time it's not the sickness from ingesting the bugs but a more common winter problem—the flu. In the Before, the flu was a pain in the ass but rarely ever deadly. Here, though, we've very little medication and no hospitals. I don't have anything to combat the flu except a bit of chicken soup. So they show up in my clinic, coughing and congested, and they stay until they slowly recover or they die.
Far, far too many people have died.
I press my head to the door, fighting back fatigue. Lately, I've wanted to just run away from everything. Fort Dallas has been getting busier and busier. News of it being a “safe” zone has spread, and refugees from outlying settlements show up regularly, squeezing in behind the fort's car barricade. That puts a strain on everything—food resources, housing, medical attention—and we're all feeling the strain. Azar continues to feed everyone as I'd requested, but the meals have been getting slimmer as we head into the winter, since the gardens won't be producing much. I've seen the militia hard at work at the edge of town, building a new patch of garden just outside the gates and erecting a fence around it for the spring. If we can keep the wild drakoni from burning everything, we can grow more fruit and vegetables. We won't be reliant on canned foods or expired goods from the Before. I'm glad to see it, even if my clinic is bursting at the seams with sickness.
At least I have a few regular assistants now. I take a deep breath and step out, ready to face the day. I smile at Gary, a nerdy man with heavily duct-taped glasses. Gary flunked out of medical school back in the day and recently arrived in Fort Dallas. He seems content to let me run the show, though he probably has more textbook medical knowledge than I do. I wasn’t sure how he would handle taking orders from a black woman, but so far, so good. "Morning, Gary."