Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I don’t know what that evil could be or how it’s connected to that night I killed that man for trying to take my little sister. And really, how important could it be? It’s been twelve years. If there was some big, important secret out there that needed to be known, wouldn’t I know it? Or be suffering some kind of consequence for not knowing it?
It all feels dumb.
I walk back up the hill to the Revival and slip into the security tent where I left Mercy. She’s lying down in a corner, not even tied up, paying no attention to anything.
When you tell a dog like that to ‘go to bed’ that’s exactly what they do. That command is no different than ‘sit,’ or ‘stay,’ or ‘bite.’
No one else is in there, everyone’s on duty. And I’m neglecting my post on the north side, but I’m sure Amon has someone over there. Even if it is just a bunch of construction workers.
“Let’s go, Mercy.”
She gets up, walks over to me, and I snap her lead on. Then we head back on out for patrol.
I find Amon at his post near the east gate. The children’s choir is singing not too far away, so ‘Pie Jesu’ floats through the air like flowers on the wind as I make my way over there.
He’s watching me as I come towards him. Like he knows something just happened. “What’s up?”
I let out a breath. “I need to talk to you in private. But not here.”
“Whyyyyy?” He draws this word out. And not in a mean or irritated way.
“Because I just learned something that I think you should know about.”
Amon lets out a breath. “Why can’t we do it right now?”
I consider his request, then settle on this. “We need to SCIF this one.”
His eyebrow goes up. “Really.”
“Truly.”
“Shit, Collin. What’d you get caught up in now?”
“It wasn’t me. It’s just… we’ll talk later at the compound.”
“Is Lowyn coming?”
“For sure.” Then I walk away with my dog and head for my post. But as I’m walkin’ I’m calling Ryan.
He picks up first ring. “What’s up?”
“Where are you?”
He’s eating something because I hear chewing. “South gate. Right where I’m supposed to be. Why? Where are you?”
“Heading to north gate. I need you to set me up a SCIF for tonight.”
“Why?” He’s still fuckin’ chewing.
“What the hell are you eating? You sound like a cow.”
“Funnel cake. Dude, do you know MacyLynn? Is that a real name? She’s running the funnel cake tent.”
“What? Who cares? I need a SCIF.”
“The SCIF is already set up in the bunker. Do you know MacyLynn or not?”
“Uhhh…” I think back. “Kinda. I did, at least. In high school.”
“She’s fuckin’ adorable. I’m gonna hook up with her. She mentioned she’s a widow, which makes her sound old, but she doesn’t look old to me. Late twenties, I figure.”
“Why are you tellin’ me this? I don’t give a fuck about your love life, Ryan.”
“Asshole.” Then he ends the call.
Mercy makes a little noise here, like she heard that whole call and she’s laughing at me. I look down at my dog and give her a look. “Mind your business, girl.”
She answers me with a sneeze.
This is when I notice that people are lookin’ at me. And whisperin’. I catch a few words here and there, but don’t stop. Just keep walking.
But then, there she is—Rosie fuckin’ Harlow off to my left, about ten feet away. She must be a full-time character because apparently she is not needed elsewhere and can just lollygag around, followin’ me, most likely, trying to stir up trouble.
She points at me and I brace for it. And then, just before she opens her mouth, she winks. “That’s him! That’s him! The murderer!”
Another group—all from Disciple and dressed up in dresses much like the ones Lowyn wears—turn and gasp. Spitting out their lines.
“Someone should run him out on a rail.”
“I heard he killed a lot more than just one man.”
“And he steals too!”
Fuck’s sake. “Yes.” I direct this word at the nearest group. “I’m the bad guy. So what?” I pan my hands wide and turn a slow circle. “Get a good look, ladies.” Then I’m facing the strangers. The guests from out of town. “You like what you see?” A couple of teenage girls giggle. A couple of boyfriends or husbands laugh. “Get a good fuckin’ look.”
I’m not supposed to swear at the guests—this has always been a rule—but I don’t care.
I finish my circle, let out a breath, and Mercy and I go on our way.
But every step I take there is someone whisperin’ about me.
Fourth of July. Fourth of July. I repeat this in my head over and over as I make my way to the north gate. When I get there, I find a man fillin’ in. He’s blond, blue-eyed, and probably early twenties.