fingers, his jaw dropping when he spotted blood. It decorated the foliage in splashes. Isaiah’s heart sank and he shouted louder, cupping his mouth in his hands. He glimpsed movement up ahead and recognized his son from behind and his shoulders sagged with relief.
“Ben, thank the Gods. Where’ve you been?”
Ben turned around. Blood stained his clothes and a chunk of flesh was missing from his hand. Isaiah stumbled back.
Ben lurched for his father. Torn by the love for his son and his own safety, Isaiah turned and ran. He ploughed through bushes, ignoring the whip of the foliage that chastised him with every step until he stumbled into camp, almost running into his daughter.
“Dad, what’s wrong? Where’s Ben?”
“He’s… he’s gone.”
“Gone? Gone where?”
Before Isaiah replied, Roman strode across.
“What’s all the ruckus about?”
Isaiah stared at Roman and clenched his fists. He felt his blood pumping through his veins, throbbing at his temples. Overcome with rage, he ran at Roman but Lucy’s scream halted him in his tracks. He glanced back at his daughter and followed her gaze.
Ben lurched into camp, his expression feral, hungry. He lunged for his sister. Lucy shrieked and tripped over her feet as she backed away.
“What’s going on? Lucy? Isaiah?” Anna shouted.
The noise attracted the attention of the other people in camp and they ran across to see what was wrong, halting when they saw Ben.
One of the brethren crossed himself. “He’s not an ordained immortal. This can’t be right.”
Roman tutted. “Blasphemy.”
Isaiah ran back and pulled Lucy aside. Ben lunged for him, arms flailing, head cocked, mouth open in preparation to bite. He grabbed his father’s sleeve. Isaiah didn’t try to pull away. He stared into his son’s eyes, but they were empty, devoid of life and he knew that the son he loved was no more.
Ben leaned in to take a bite and Isaiah readied himself for the pain. Without his son, what was the point of living? But Ben’s head suddenly flew back and he collapsed to the ground. Isaiah dropped his gaze and spotted a crossbow bolt protruding from Ben’s forehead. Lucy screamed. Isaiah’s jaw dropped. He saw Roman lowering a crossbow, and heart pumping he charged across and started punching and kicking in a frenzied attack, nostrils flaring, relishing in the sensation as each punch connected with Roman’s face.
“You bastard. You killed him.”
After a moment a couple of men grabbed Isaiah and pulled him off, pinning his arms up his back to restrain him. Roman straightened up, his face bloodied. He wiped his sleeve across his lips.
“He was damned. Everyone bitten outside of those ordained is damned.”
“He was my son.”
“Now he’s at peace.”
Isaiah slumped forwards and the men released their grips, allowing him to drop to his knees. He heard Anna shouting in the background, but her words were drowned out by the blood pumping in his ears. He looked across at Ben but couldn’t see him through the tears that blurred his vision.
CHAPTER 17
“He’s dead,” Isaiah said. “Ben’s dead and Roman killed him.”
Anna stared at her husband, her eyes wide, unblinking. She heard the words but didn’t want to believe them. Her baby boy, dead. This couldn’t be happening. It was a dream. A nightmare.
Isaiah’s eyes were red and puffy. He kept sniffling and wringing his hands in his lap.
This was all her fault. If she hadn’t taken her family out of Sanctuary, Ben would still be alive. But if she hadn’t taken them, then Lucy would be dead instead. She lost either way. Tears prickled the corners of her eyes and she sobbed loudly.
Isaiah grabbed her hand and squeezed. Anna leaned forwards and placed her head against his chest and he held her in his arms.
Roman would pay for this. She would make certain.
They spent the next couple of days making their way back to Sanctuary. Anna and Isaiah hardly spoke as no words would ease their pain. Zeke and Lucy were equally as morose. Even though they squabbled as a family, none of them wished to lose Ben.
Anna felt empty. She trudged along like one of what Jones called ‘the zombies’ and felt equally dead inside. With the death of her son, the spark had been extinguished from her life. The sight of Sanctuary in the distance only heightened her despair.
Roman entered the Governor’s residence without knocking. Isaiah, Anna and a couple of enforcers followed him in.
The governor, Carmichael sat at his desk eating some fruit.
“Governor, we have our offering back, and the bitch that took her.” Roman glared at Anna. She flinched at his words and noticed Isaiah’s cheeks reddened.
Carmichael waved a hand dismissively. “Very good. Now make arrangements for the offering to be remade. Out with the old, in with the new.”
“Very good, sir. What about the mother? She needs to be punished.”
Carmichael bit into an apple. “I’ll leave the situation in your capable hands,” he said while chewing.
Isaiah stepped forwards. “If I may have permission to speak.”
“What is it?”
“I realize my wife overstepped her bounds—”
“I didn’t overstep anything. This whole lottery, it’s a sham. My daughter wasn’t selected. Roman fixed it to teach me a lesson. And those aren’t Gods outside the walls. They’re men and women. Dead men and women given a semblance of life. Because of them, my son’s dead.” She glowered at Roman.
Carmichael struggled to his feet. “Silence. You’ll speak when I say you can.”
“You can’t silence the truth.”
“I said—”
A sudden explosion ripped through the wall, sending the people in the room flying.
CHAPTER 18
Jones sat in the saddle, gun propped on his knee. At his side, his men reloaded a large field gun and fired it, sending the shell blasting into the prison. His horse reared back a little and then settled. Jones smiled and puffed on his cigar as he watched part of the structure crumble. He heard screams emanating from inside the walls. The sound made him feel warm inside.
His men opened fire with their small arms, targeting the men in the towers while the field gun was reloaded and fired again, the shell exploding into the structure.
A moment later a soldier ran across. “Sir, things are getting a little hairy. All this noise is attracting the zombies. Look, they’re coming out of the trees from all directions.”
Jones glanced around and puffed out another cloud of cigar smoke. “Good. More to kill.” He lifted his rifle, took aim and fired at an approaching zombie. The bullet struck the zombie in the head, sending the thing toppling back. “Bulls eye. Or should that be dead eye?” He chuckled to himself.
