Page 12 of Famine
Like the fact that at least two other rooms I walk by are filled with Famine’s frightening plants, more of my fellow housemates lying limp in their clutches, their bodies badly decayed.
Fear and the overpowering smell drive me outside. I take in several lungfuls of air then, gathering together my courage, I wander into the tavern next door, looking for food.
There are more plants, more dead people, more horror. I keep my eyes down and mostly hold my breath as I make my way to the kitchen.
I have to work around another twisting tree as I search for food, ignoring the dead cook. Decomposing bodies, I’m quickly discovering, are nightmarish things.
I’ll never be able to wash away the sight of them.
Most of the tavern food has gone bad, but I quickly grab what little remains, and then I leave.
That night, I sob as I wash my wounds.
Partly the tears come from the pain. Several of the cuts are deep and they’re still infected. But another part of it comes from the fact that I cannot escape the rotting city that surrounds me. There’s death in the streets and inside every building, and I feel like the horror of it is going to break my mind—if it’s not already somehow broken.
And then I cry for the women I worked alongside—for Elvita who sheltered me, and Bianca and Cláudia and Luciana who, if they were here, would’ve helped me tend to my injuries, just as the women did every time a client crossed the line.
And then I cry for the other girls, dead in their rooms or strung up in the trees somewhere else in this city.
I cry until my head pounds from the effort. When it feels like I have no more tears left in me, I draw in a long, ragged breath, then another.
Each breath feels like a small victory. I shouldn’t be alive, I really shouldn’t. And with every breath I take, my resolve hardens.
I’m going after him.
Even if it means certain death, I’m doing it.
That evil fucker made one huge mistake coming here: he didn’t make sure I was dead.
And now he’s going to pay for it.
Chapter 6
I spend the next couple days breaking into homes and businesses and grabbing what supplies I can.
To properly go after the horseman I need some form of transportation. My shaky legs carry me down the streets of Laguna. I grimace at the sight of birds screeching at one another as they fight over the remains of some poor soul.
For the love of God, Ana, look away.
I take a steadying breath, trying to force down my nausea.
The first time I saw what Famine could do to an entire town, I hadn’t stuck around long enough to see the bodies decompose. Now, my injuries have given me no choice.
As it is, my breath is ragged, and I sway unsteadily.
I make it to the post office, where they have horses and carriages and—
They’re all gone. All the horses.
Inside the post office’s stables, the horse stalls hang open, each one empty. The only explanation for how they came to be that way are the spindly plants that snake up the front posts of each stall, their vines still curled around the latches.
Famine released the horses?
I stare for a little longer before I leave the stables. It’s probably for the best that the animals are gone. I’m in no position to feed and water and shelter a creature—especially one that spooks easily.
The post office also has rows and rows of bikes on their property, several which are already hitched to carts. I snag one of these, and roll it back to the bordello. From there it’s simply a matter of dumping all my supplies into the cart. Food, water, blankets, a first aid kit, a tent. Shit, Ana, who knew a hussy like you had a campy side?
I stack a hefty amount of weaponry into that cart too. I don’t know who I’ll come across, but considering how my last encounter with an outsider went, I’m feeling pretty fucking stabby at the moment.
